#it took me a few months to gather this many text posts

[aphel1on]

text post meme (misc)

[prodbymaui]

Stress No More

and you're my centre, you keep me tethered

PAIRING: jung jaehyun x reader

GENRE: stress relief

WORD COUNT: 1.6k+ words

WARNINGS: consensual somnophilia, sub space, daddy kink

SYNOPSIS: Stressed because of work, CEO Jaehyun seeks the comfort of his wife. So when he finally clocks out of work, he didn’t waste any time to quickly drive and get home.

A/N: this was a revised version of one of my fics months ago. thought I had to at least post something as a compensation of my long overdue series. forgive me for the typos, grammatical errors-- yadda yadda yadda. enjoy reading! share your thoughts?

Jaehyun sighs as he starts to clean up his desk and gather his things. Fashion week just finished and the whole company had been busier than ever. As the CEO, it’s his responsibility to make sure everything falls into the right place with no flaws and show a much better performance than other brands do.  Utmost success doesn’t just come immediately, it demands sleepless nights and burned out minds. Responsibilities as the owner of his own company requires him to spend most of his time signing papers, going over proposals and designs, visiting and participating in the outside works himself, and many more.

Guilt fills Jaehyun’s body when he sees the texts you had sent him earlier, he scolds himself for not replying to you not even once despite clearly, it was his work that had hold him back and made it quite impossible for him to check his phone, especially during meetings. Turning his heels, Jaehyun quickens his pace, urge of going home burns inside him as seconds passes by.

The moment he arrives, he calls out your name softly, announcing his arrival. A couple more and he is yet to receive a response. Oftentimes, when you are free from the shackles of your own job, you like relaxing at the patio, chewing on your strawberry cheesecake all the while laughing at whatever film you’ve decided to watch—or there are times where Jaehyun finds you in your shared bedroom, playing on your phone or taking a nap. After going to the patio first and sees no sight of your figure, Jaehyun opted to head to the second in ranking of your favorite places.

There he finds his lovely wife all sprawled out on the bed, sleeping peacefully with your black silk nightgown that he loves so much. A smile of adoration appears on Jaehyun’s face, walking towards your peaceful sleeping figure while taking off his coat and tie. He settles his things on the table not far from the bed, resting his knee on the mattress and takes in the sight.

Jaehyun feels his breath hitch at the look of your exposed collarbones and thighs. Like a cue, one of your talks prior the busy weeks pricks Jaehyun’s mind. In that very conversation, you had mentioned about wanting to give somnophilia a try. Jaehyun was clueless back then that an explanation was needed. Being the gentleman that he is, Jaehyun expresses worry over the procedure and said that having sex requires verbal consent, he doesn’t want to disrespect the only woman he loves other than his mother. It took quite a few convincing and batting your eyelashes before he agreed.

Cheerfully, you assured him that he have your consent of touching you anytime, anywhere—conscious or unconscious. There are words you’ve established to signal any discomfort or want to stop the actions anyways. Too caught up with work, you didn’t have time to try it. But Jaehyun thinks that this might be the right time.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheeks, as he stares at you lovingly for a minute. Jaehyun tugs the hem of your nightgown upwards, there lies the flimsy fabric barely covering the plum cheeks of your pussy. He feels his pants get tighter.

Parting your legs slowly, Jaehyun thinks it’s pathetic to torture himself like this. The thin fabric doesn’t do much of covering what is between those legs, partially showing your clit. He curses under his breath, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to let his hard cock breathe some air, eyes never leaving your cunt.

Jaehyun settles comfortable in the middle while unbuttoning his shirt. He wets his lip as he parts the pussy lips with his thumbs and diving into the pool of sweetness. Jaehyun must’ve saved the world in his previous life to be rewarded by this delicacy. Sliding his tongue in, from the hole to the clit, tasting his wife’s arousal. He closes his eyes as he gets lost to the sweet wetness, licking and sucking on the clit, hungry for more. He looks up to watch your face without stopping the work of his tongue, he can see the calm breathing as it turns heavy and the peaceful face changes into a confused frown.

Your husband observes you, dipping his wet muscle inside the tight warm hole completely. Ghosts in your house would think he’s the one getting eaten out by how he moans and hums at your taste. He flattens his tongue and licks up to the clit, letting his middle finger enter the warm cave, flicking his tongue lightly at your button of pleasure.

Soon, three fingers are already inside and your pussy is now all puffy from all the sucking and licking. He pulls away and stares at how his digits move in and out of your soaping cunt. Letting a muted moan, stirring a bit, Jaehyun chuckles lowly when your legs spreads wider as if to give him more access. Even in deep slumber, you wouldn’t hesitate to offer yourself to him.

Jaehyun presses a kiss on your clit before pulling out his fingers, taking off his pants and boxers. He strokes his cock at the delicious sight of his pliant wife. God, he is certain he’ll come anytime soon just by looking at you, so fucking rewarding after all the stress he had gone through since morning. Without wasting any time, Jaehyun hovers over you, hands beside each side of the your head to hold himself up as he slowly penetrates your soaked hole. Jay lets out a long moan. You feels so good, so warm, so tight.

His thrusts becomes rough and fast almost immediately, not even bothering to lower down his moans and slow down for his wife. You like it like this. The way his cock rubs the insides of your walls is so enticing that you were pulled out from your dream, fluttering your eyes open as the feeling of being full registers in your brain. Whimpering at your husband’s appearance, sweat peeks at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his mouth and chin wet. You are not dumb to be unaware of what just took place, not dumb to know that it’s your wetness that lies on his face, not dumb to realize that what you thought is a wet dream is indeed happening. Fina-fucking -ly.

“Oh, daddy.” You whimpers, hands shooting up to grip on your husband’s biceps, hips bucking up to meet the purposeful thrusts. Jaehyun opens his eyes and sees the pleasure in his now awake wife. He leans down to finally have a taste of the mouth he had been craving ever since this morning, wrapping his arms around you to feel the warmth that he had been seeking after all the stress work had given him.

Picking up his pace, Jaehyun orders you to hold on to him, whispering filthy shits against your ears, knowing how it pushes you to the edge even more. With his wife’s beautiful noises and the clenching of your pussy in his cock, Jaehyun feels himself getting close. He used to last longer than you, but due to the pleasuring clenches of your walls and the beautiful sight of you falling apart in his arms, it’s embarrassing to say that he can cum in just a few minutes.

“Fuck baby, you’re bulging.” Jaehyun looks at your stomach stretching up whenever he thrusts in, the shape of his cock making an appearance. He presses a hand at that very part and starts to pounce roughly, wanting to feel how big his cock inside your small hole.

Sobbing at the merciful thrusts, you tighten your arms around his neck. He feels so so big that you could feel him almost literally breaking you into two. Jaehyun leans back to sit up, placing his hands on his your waist as he fastens his pace, giving you more than what you can take. Your arms goes everywhere, not knowing where to place them, you need to grip on something.

Jaehyun groans when your hands proceeds to grab the big teddy bear on the side of your bed, giving the illusion of innocence with how you’re crying and hugging the stuffed toy like a bullied little kid. Jaehyun puts both of your legs on his shoulders to thrust deeper and harder, You can’t do anything but to scream about how good Jaehyun is making you feel. The complaints from the neighbors are definitely guaranteed.

“Daddy daddy— gonna c-cum— ‘m gonna cum— daddy cum!” You thrashes underneath him and starts to clench on his girthy cock. You want to come so bad, fuck. Your tummy tightens as you discard the stuffed toy to the side and makes grabby hands to your husband. Immediately, Jaehyun complies and leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck once again as he whispers encouragement to your ears.

“Come for me, baby. Come on princess, show daddy how good you are for him.” With a few more strokes, you are clamping down hard on his cock and Jaehyun is thrusting uncontrollably. His cum mixes with yours as Jaehyun moves slowly, riding out your high. Once you’ve come down from your climax, he pulls out of you carefully and grabs a towel on your bed side and starts to clean up the mess made by the both of you. Your hand prevents him from going to the bathroom, “Where are you going?” Gosh, those teary eyes—will anyone blame him if his flaccid dick gets hard again by the mere doe eyes?

“To the bathroom, I’ll prepare our bath.” You shake your head.

“No?” Tugging Jaehyun to lay beside you. Your husband only lets it be as you puts his arm around you and buries your face in the crook of his neck.

“We have all the time to do that, let’s just rest for now.” You sleepily say, yawning.

Just a few more days. A few more days and you will be consistently woken up with him fucking you dumb, just like what you had always begged him to do. Jaehyun smirks, a few more days.

[bloodyymaryyy]

Gossip girl xoxo ~

F1 grid x driver! Reader

Side note : I don't know why it took me so long to write this but here we go

The reader is a driver on red bull at checo's place

Request : no

Part 2 /part 3 / masterlist

It all started when y/n a young talented woman joined the f1 in red bull racing, having won 2 World titles at f2 finally getting the recognition she deserved.

When she was younger she looked up on a lot of drivers that had retired by the time she joined at 2019 like Sebastian Vettle, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Michel Schumacher, Niki lauda and a few others.

Having her room filled with posters, signed photos, cups, shirts, pictures of her and her idols, paddock passes and everything.

Her childhood crush on Jenson Button was a best kept secret,. Very few knew about her crush and she preferred it that way because it was going to be awkward because if it got out, because come on they work together in a sense, he had interviewed her multiple times.

Driving along side max both at 17 had both good days and bad, with competition racing against your idols, your friends was a bit of a struggle in the beginning but as the months passed they all learned to not take whatever happens on the track outside of it and then she and a few others like Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Pierre and some other people getting more serious with the races.

The fans favourite moments were when before they race they waving at one other from inside of their cockpits, or traditions they did before the race, or even when they gathered around gossiping when and if they could whenever they were. Outside at a cafe? Yes!, at their hang outs? Yes!, at their grid walks? Yep! And the fan favs at press conference and before the races. Twitter going crazy about that.

There are so many talks.

When you spend almost half of your time on a place With so many people, either loud or whispers you Will learn so many things and hear so many things which you probably shouldn't hear or know but it's hard to not acknowledge them like an engineer from Mercedes fucked someone from redbull in hopes of learning information about the car so Mercedes could be better.

Or that a redbull engineer got his wife little sister and best friend pregnant the same month that he got his wife pregnant With his second child.

Some times you hear rumor regardless of whether that may be true or not....

Christian horner talking and fucking a girl from his team which when you learned that you didn't know what to do because Christian was a father figure to you and Max having shity fathers. Be cautious when you were around him? Desapointed? Sad? Or disgusted? You didn't know for sure either way and you went to max first with the information you had. At first he was just like you. A wave of emotions washed over him like it did to you, then you both discuss and decided on what to do and that was to wait and see if it's true or not, to not tell anyone nor his wife which you were close to or anyone for that matter and never mentioned it again... Verbally anyway when you saw him texting someone in the presence of his wife you exchanged looks, knowing looks or side eyeing each other when you saw them together talking a few meters from everyone else whispering . Which a few months later the texts of them were linked and you learned that a week or so from the first race of the season when you were tagged in a post about it

(Side note: I took actual tweets of that because I can't be bothered to make fake ones but also I am trying to edit it to have her be mentioned in them)

Hey I am gonna do a part 2 because it doesn't let me put more than 10 so.... Sorry

[pedros-frozen-pizza]

Don't Tell Sarah

Pairing: fem!reader x no outbreak!joel miller

Description: You're visiting family on your spring break when you make an unexpected reunion with your best friend's dad, Joel.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post is 18+

No outbreak, age gap (reader in early 20's, Joel in early 50's), unprotected p in v, pet names (no use of y/n), fingering, cream pie, squirting

Word Count: 3k

As your plane lands, you quickly switch your phone off of airplane mode to check your texts. Your brother is supposed to pick you up, but he always forgets these things. 

‘Are you here??’, you quickly text him as you start to gather your belongings.

Before you stand up, you remember to text your best friend and roommate, Sarah, that you've made it safely. 

You make your way off the plane and into the terminal to head towards baggage claim. When you finally exit the airport, you see him, your brother who you haven't seen in months. He somehow grew a beard. 

“Jeez, took you long enough to get out here,” he pokes. “They made me move my car twice.” You give him a quick side hug before he takes your bag and loads it into his trunk.  

The drive was long, between the Austin Airport and your childhood home, but it was nice to catch up on all the family drama you missed while away at college.  It's your junior year, and this is the first time you've come back to see your family. Most of your classmates are on beaches in Miami, or taking breaks in Italy, but this is how you chose to spend your spring break. 

A text from Sarah snaps you away from the conversation. 

‘So glad you're safe! When you have time, don't forget to bring that gift to my dad!’ 

You already almost forgot. Sarah had crafted a mug for her father, detailed with a large owl on the side of it. She was a talented artist, and was excited to gift this to her father when she saw him next. Unfortunately, she had to stay behind this time to finish up a project for her internship. 

‘I'll make sure he gets it!’ you type back and set your phone down.

It had been years since you had seen Joel. You grew up with Sarah as your best friend, with many late nights at her house. It'll be good to see him again. Just as good as seeing your own family even. 

You make it back to your family's house and exchange greetings with your parents. Your mom has planned out your entire week while you're there. Sunday brunch, dinner with extended family on Tuesday, and so forth. It'll be good to reconnect and spend time together after being apart for so long. 

Monday rolls around, and your mom only had plans for the morning. It was getting to be late in the afternoon when you decide to head over to Joel's. 

“Can I borrow your car?” you ask your brother. “I have to go bring a gift over to Joel from Sarah.” 

He shrugs and throws the keys to you. “Don't wreck it,” he jokes as you head out the door. 

Joel's house wasn't far from your family's, but with rush hour starting, the traffic was awful. When you finally make it, you find yourself nervously walking up the steps. You've never felt this flustered around him before. Perhaps it's just that it's been so long? That must be it.

You knock a few times before he answers. 

“No! Is that really you?” he exclaims when the door finally opens. “Sarah said you'd be by this week, and I'm so glad she was right! Look how beautiful you are.” He gives your body a quick scan, but you can't quite tell his intentions with it. His hair had grayed out a bit, but otherwise really has not aged at all since you last saw him. 

“I just got off work and was about to shower,” he starts. “But if you want to come have a seat, I'll just be 10 minutes.”

You make your way into their front sitting room. Everything is exactly as you remember it from your childhood. Sure, he's gotten new furniture, but the pictures and decorations are exactly as Sarah had left them. 

He walks back down the stairs with a clean pair of jeans and a dark gray t shirt on. His hair messy from a quick towel dry, and his scent strong from his woodsy cologne, you forget for a split second that he's your friend's dad; no having thoughts like this about him! 

“You want some coffee?” He gestures towards the kitchen.

Of course, how did you already forget what you were here for? “Coffee sounds great!” You follow him into the kitchen. “Actually, I'm here because I have a gift from Sarah for you.” You beam, and pull the box holding the mug from your bag. “She made it and was really excited for you to have it.” 

He opens the box and pulls out the hand-crafted mug. “That girl,” he starts, but trails off. He smiles as he turns it around in his hands, almost as if he's inspecting every angle. “We should get her on the phone.” He states after a moment. 

You pull out your phone and dial her number to video chat. “Guess what?” you ask, quizitively when she answers. “He loves it!” You face the phone over to him. The three of you talk for a while, sipping cup after cup of coffee until it's nearly dark outside. 

“Well,” you sigh. “I shouldn't keep you any longer.” You start to get your bag. 

“It has gotten pretty late,” Joel shrugs. “Did you want to stay for dinner? Since it's late, I was thinking I'd just order delivery.”

You take a moment to actually consider, before deciding to stay. You quickly text your mom. ‘Hey I'm staying for dinner at Joel's. I'll be back later tonight :)’

After a few moments, he sets down his phone and says, “Well, delivery said it'll be here in 45 minutes. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod and follow into the living room. He puts on some action movie. You haven't seen it before, but it seems extremely predictable in what will happen next. As the movie goes on, you find yourself inching closer to him. When you're close enough, you lean your head on his shoulder. He jolts a little at this motion, and turns slightly to face you. You have know idea what's gotten into you, you've never had feelings like this towards Joel. He just… the way he looked over you when you first got here, and how fresh he was after the shower. Ugh, and how he smells now. You can hardly contain yourself. You lean your face towards him and to your surprise, he does the same. Before you even have the chance to think, you kiss him. You jump back a little bit, and lock into the most uncertain eye contact you've ever experienced. 

You start to stutter. “I don't… I didn't… I… I’m sorry, I didnt…” But before you can get any real sentence out, he kisses you again. This time with more passion. You kiss him back, and don't stop this time. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his into yours. He tastes so good. At this, you decide to swing yourself up onto his lap, straddling his legs. Oh God, he’s so hard. Without even questioning what sort of boundaries should be in place, you start to grind down on him just ever so slightly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, then let's out a grown. He grabs both sides of your waist and gently bucks his hips up into you. He slows down after this, pulls back, and whispers, “Are you okay with this? I don't want to cross any boundaries.”

Oh God, what would Sarah think? Never mind about her right now. “Yes,” you breathe out, nodding your head. “Yes, please Joel,” you manage to get out before starting to slowly grind on him again.

He feels his way up and down your body. Grazing your back with his palms, circling around to grip onto your waist, neck and, jaw at times. After a moment of this, you guide his hand up under your shirt, and slip it off over your head. He plays around with your tits through your bra, before reaching around and unclasping it in the back. You're sooo glad you matched your bra with your thong today. He groans at the sight of your newly freed tits, your nipples hard against the cool air. He pinches them first before going immediately to suck on them. He sucks and pinches and bites until each breast has been thoroughly loved. Still grinding on his hard dick through his jeans, you reach your hand down and ask, “Can I take this out, Joel?”.

He considers for just a moment before nodding. “You sure you want this baby?” he asks, genuinely. 

“Yes Joel, fuck, I want it so bad,” you manage to stutter out. 

“Okay baby girl, I’ll give you this dick, but there's only one rule.” he stops completely, waiting for your full attention. “You don’t ever tell Sarah.”

Fuck, you have to stop thinking about Sarah. She can't know, it would break her. You nod your head, “I promise, I won't tell her,” you whine. He grabs onto your hair at the back of your head, and pulls you down closer to his face. 

“Say, ‘I promise Sarah will never find out about this, Joel’” he says into your ear. You repeat the words back to him. “Good girl,” he spits out before letting go of you. 

He kisses you again, more sloppy this time, and slowly starts to un-button his jeans. Your hands immediately go to help, and you finally get a feel of his hard cock. It’s so fucking huge, so thick and long. You pull it out completely and immediately start feeling it up and down. 

“Hm-mm,” he shakes his head. “You take these off first.” He gestures to the leggings you had thrown on to come over here. You oblige, remove yourself from his lap, and hook your thumbs into your own waistband. You slowly slide them down until they reach your ankles, and kick them off to the side. You stand there for a moment, Joel observing you, the only light from the movie still playing behind you. “Turn around for me,” he commands. As soon as you do so, he grabs onto your ass, gently squeezing, then pulls you in closer to him. He kisses your ass cheeks, then your thighs, then wraps his arm around your waist and slowly goes to feel your mound. His large hand gives it a squeeze before yanking your thong down until it falls to the floor. 

“You're such a little slut,” he let's out a short laugh. “Really gonna let your best friend's dad fuck you.” 

You giggle slightly at this, but really, he needs to stop reminding you that he's Sarah's dad. She would kill you if she ever found out. “Joooel,” you playfully groan. At this, he slaps your ass, hard. You jolt a little bit, but allow him to continue. He wraps his arm around the front of you again, hand going straight to your cunt. He sits on the edge of the couch, holding you close to him. His finger slides up and down your folds, making you jump when he grazes over your clit. 

“You like that, do you?” he teases. 

You nod your head aggressively and let out a quick “mm-hmmm, give me more Joel.”

“Oh I'll give you more,” he says with a tone you've never heard in his voice. He sounds possessive, so dominant. He starts circling around your clit with his fingers. “Fuck, I love your wet pussy,” he groans. “Let me taste it.” 

He doesn't wait for you to give any permission before he spins you around and immediately starts licking through your folds. Kissing and sucking on your clit, and moving down to fuck you with his tongue. Fuck, it feels so good. You start to have a hard time standing up. Your vision starts to blur, fuck, you're so close to finishing. “Fuck… Joel!” You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself. “I'm gonna… I'm!” But before you can come, he completely lets off of you and pulls you down to straddle his lap again. “Fuck” you scream. You were so fucking close. 

“Not yet, baby girl,” he jides. “Not yet, not till I say you can.” He let's out a devilish laugh at you. 

Before you can even protest, he slides two fingers up into you. He slides them in and out several times before going right to your spongy G spot. He plays around for a moment before finally saying “Now you're gonna ride my dick baby, you got it? Be a good girl for daddy?” 

You moan and nod your head. He pulls his fingers out of you and lifts up his massive cock. Lining it up to your entrance for you, you smash down hard onto it. Lifting yourself and slamming down again, over and over. Your cunt takes every inch of him, like it was made just to fit. You start to move faster and faster on his dick, until you're basically twerking with it inside you. 

“Yessss,” he hisses out. “Yes baby, fuck, your tight little pussy feels so- ah, so good on my fat. cock.” Suddenly he holds onto your hips, pulling you down and making it hard to keep going. Now you get it, he's trying to edge himself too. With you now sitting still, but his dick still inside you, he decides to pay attention to your throbbing cunt. He takes a finger first and rubs gentle circles around your clit. Listening to your soft moans and whimpers, he starts whispering in your ear.

“Yes that's a good girl,bbaby. Love when I play with you like that, huh? Your wet little cunt so tight around my dick.”  This is all you need. His fingers speed up on your clit, and he bucks his hips up ever so slightly. He keeps whispering those sweet words into your ear until finally, “Come for me baby. Come all over this big cock.”

You let out a moan at this. “Fuck daddy, I'm so. fucking. close.” you let out with a shriek. His fingers working you over so quick on your clit. “Fuck I'm gonna-” your words break off. You squeeze your eyes shut, and can only hear the blood rushing through your ears. You don't know if you scream, or curse, or moan. All you know is that you completely shatter. Your cum bursts out, encasing his entire dick in the thick liquid. 

When you finally regain your senses, you make a quick eye contact with Joel. “How was that baby?” he asks, with just a touch of shyness. “Do you think you could keep going?”

Fuck, absolutely you could keep going. You need him to come inside you. You need it so bad.

You nod your head aggressively at him. “Please. Please keep going Joel.”  He gives you several long kisses before weaving his arms around you, and flipping you so that you're on all fours on the sofa. After a moment of him admiring your body, every shape and curve, he sticks a few fingers into your hole, feeling his way around before abruptly removing them. He lines up his cock again and slowly slides it in. He does this several times before picking up his pace. A low groan escapes his mouth. 

“Can't believe I'm fucking this tight little pussy. So- tight around my cock,” he says, breathlessly before letting out another groan. “Wanna- come inside it baby. Can I fill you up with daddy’s cum?”

You moan. “Fuck yes, come inside me daddy,” you whine. “Fill me up, give it all to me.” You're seconds from coming again when he decides to pick up the pace even further. His pelvis slamming into your ass, and balls coming up to graze against your clit are enough to make you go insane. You're moaning now with every thrust, his calloused fingers holding tighter and tighter onto your hips. 

Suddenly, you feel your walls clamp down onto him, and you come again. This time your heat spreading all over the front of him and down onto the couch. Still in your euphoric state, you hear him shout “fuck!”, before completely unraveling inside you. His hot ropes of cum pumping inside of you, being forced further and further up. He finishes completely and pulls out slowly. 

“Here, let me go get a towel for you,” he says, but before he can get the chance to move, you sit up and catch the cum that drips out of your entrance. You want the rest to stay in you, as a reminder for the rest of the night. You teasingly bring your fingers up to your mouth and suck each of them clean. His mouth opens slightly, and once you've swallowed all of it down, he gives you several long, passionate kisses. 

“You're so sexy,” he says quietly, still observing your every move. 

“Can we do this again before I leave?” you ask. 

“Ahh baby girl, yes of course we can. Just don't tell Sarah,” he gives a wink at the end of this thought. 

The two of you eat your dinner, which had been sitting on the porch for some time. Apparently the driver knocked a while ago, and you didn't even hear it. Once finished, you say your goodbyes and head back to your family's house. 

“Jee, what took you all night?” your brother prods when you enter the front door.

“We just were on video call with Sarah and got carried away,” you say with a teasing look.

“Oh that's a relief, I was starting to think you two were fucking,” he jokingly wipes sweat off his forehead. 

You flip him off as you walk to your old bedroom to start getting ready to shower. He has no idea how right he is. You look down at your phone and see a text from Sarah. You curse to yourself before reading. 

Hey thanks again for making that visit to my dad. I know he’s been a little lonely without me there so I bet he really appreciates the company. Love you girl.  ‘Don't tell Sarah,’ you think to yourself over and over again. She can never find out about this.

[aspenwritesstuff]

REPLAY : Stars and Raindrops

REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 3.5k | Seungmin x Reader

warnings: angst, post-breakup sadness, longing, sex mentioned/implied (no details, sorry lovies), symptoms of anxiety (skin picking), hurt&comfort

synopsis: After a year of dating, you and Seungmin had ran into an issue many couples do - consistent bickering. After having enough, you'd made the difficult choice to break things off. When you return to his apartment to retreive the last of your things, will you still feel the same way about your relationship? Or was a reminder of all of the love you'd shared all it took to reignite the once-encompassing flame?

“When you say that everything is useless and meaningless, but only good memories come back."

Despite the apathy Kim Seungmin’s friends accused him of, he found himself incessantly dwelling on the last words he’d heard you say. 

“What’s the point, Min? What are we even fighting for anymore?”

Even now, he felt the devastation of those simple sentences wreak havoc on his heart. How could you have summarized the entirety of your relationship into two heartbreaking questions, forsaking every bit of joy the two of you had shared? How could you have forgotten every inside joke and comforting embrace? He didn’t hate you for it, though.

In fact, Seungmin wished he could abandon them, too. It would be easier that way. 

The knowledge that you were coming by his apartment today poignantly lacked the excitement it used to carry with it - knowing that this would likely be the last time you willingly spent with him souring the idea of getting to see your face again. He stood from the couch, ignoring the dent his body had left after days of rotting away alone, grabbing an empty box in which to gather your things. 

He started in the bathroom. There was a certain sadness to halving the amount of things in a room, even without the attachment of a breakup. Seungmin bit the inside of his cheek to maintain composure, fighting the urge to shed any more tears, as he lifted the glass perfume bottle he’d gifted you a few months ago from the counter. 

You’d been eyeing it for a while, not that you’d ever said anything to him about it, but he had a keen sense of awareness - especially when it came to you. He’d asked you if you’d wanted it before, earning a scoff and a wave of your hand as you assured him that it wasn’t really that important. 

But he hadn’t let it go. 

He’d grabbed it after his shift at the cafe across the street from the parfumerie, grinning from ear to ear as he carried the pale pink bag back to the apartment. You’d gotten a text from him, saying it was of the utmost importance that you came over after your plans with your mom, and had later scolded him for worrying you. 

He’d always remember the concern in your voice as you’d come in the door, “Minnie?” you’d been sliding off your shoes when you called his name, “Is everything okay?”

He was far too excited to feel bad about having worried you in the moment, nearly vibrating with glee as you rounded the corner into the dining room. When you took in the uncharacteristic grin on his face, your concern quickly morphed into confusion. It wasn’t until he’d pulled that pastel bag out from under the chair that the understanding of what he’d done for you overcame them both, replacing any worries you had with a growing endearment towards him. 

Seungmin sniffled as he remembered the way your voice sounded, muffled into his neck as you’d embraced him tightly, telling him that he was the best. 

If only he’d been able to keep you believing so.

Placing the glass bottle gingerly into the box, he gathered the rest of your toiletries and moved on to the bedroom. The scent of your shampoo wafted up from the bedding as Seungmin flopped down onto the mattress, opening the drawer of the bedside table you’d claimed as your own. A humorless scoff came from his lips as he remembered your indignation at having nowhere for your things. 

“If you want me to stay over here, I don’t want to throw my things wherever!”

Shaking his head, and the recollection of your cute pout from his mind, he pulled the drawer open. The inside was pretty bare, containing but a few knick-knacks and keepsakes. He lifted them one-by-one, heaviness growing nearly unbearable on his shoulders as he felt the lump in his throat grow. 

The first thing he packed was a slip of paper from inside of a fortune cookie. He’d tried to make you a nice dinner on your first overnight, only to end up forgetting to set the timer and burning the salmon beyond saving. He’d felt horrible, terrified that he’d made an incompetent fool of himself in front of you and that you wouldn’t want to stay - but you surprised him. 

You always surprised him. 

You’d comforted him, pecking him on the cheek before pulling the menu for China Garden off of his fridge, asking him what he wanted as you dialed the number into your phone. You ate your takeout together in front of the TV, poking fun at the overrated rom-com rather than actually paying attention. After the credits, you’d excitedly handed him a fortune cookie - giggling as you counted down from three - insisting that you open them together. 

Seungmin could no longer remember what his own had said, though yours would forever reside in the most cherished part of his memories - even without having it physically in his hands. 

“The love of your life is right in front of you.”

You’d teased that maybe it had been talking about the male lead in the movie that you’d just watched, but quickly changed your tune at the gaping of Seungmin’s mouth - laughing at your own dumb joke before launching yourself into his lap, smothering his face in kisses until his angry facade broke down into tittering laughter. 

He placed it delicately, as though it would break, into your box of things before picking up your photo-keychain. It held three photobooth-style pictures. The first was of the two of you posing politely - your smile brilliant and glowing, while Seungmin’s seemed more relaxed. In the second photo, you’d puffed out your cheeks and made a funny expression, Seungmin looking towards you with visible affection in his gaze. In the third, his hand had been on your cheek, the camera catching the tiny space between his lips and yours before he’d kissed you.

He’d kissed you deeply and desperately, as though trying to give you every bit of love through his lips. It was an amazing kiss. A kiss that the two of you swore to never forget.

A kiss that lasted until a disgruntled patron flung the curtain open, unhappy with having to wait so long for their turn. 

He breathed out a laugh, ignoring the prickle of tears in his eyes as he remembered you nearly cackling after grabbing the string of photos - head thrown back without a care in the world - as you dragged him away from the booth and the angry line that had formed during your intimate moment.

You’d nearly dragged him back to your apartment after, attacking his mouth with desperate kisses the moment the door shut behind you. Your hands had snaked under his shirt, lifting it over his head in a brief moment of silence before wrapping your hands in his hair. 

He stopped himself before he remembered the moments that followed, unsure if remembering the first time you made love would be something he could do without completely breaking down.

It was then that a knock brought his attention to the time - a quarter past three. You’d always been punctual, showing up right on time if not early. Seungmin wished that today, of all days, you’d have been late. That he’d be able to hope you’d tell him you’d changed your mind, that you’d tell him to return your things to their places, that you didn’t want to leave.

These desires brought tears to his eyes as he trudged towards the door, opening it to let you in. 

He tried not to stare, though he’d never been able to keep his eyes off of you for long. He noticed that you looked tired, dark circles prominently framing your uncharacteristically dull eyes. You were in a large hoodie and leggings, hair piled atop your head in a messier-than-fashionable bun. This a look he’d typically only seen you have on days where you didn’t feel like ‘peopling,’ as you’d put it. 

His heartstrings tugged at the sight of the red rings around your eyes - showing him, at least, that he wasn’t alone in his grief. 

You stared at him, too. The lack of color in his cheeks and the disheveled way his hair lay atop his head cracking the cold exterior you’d been determined to wear. When you caught a glimpse of empty cups and bowls around a blanket-covered indent on the couch, the crack broke you completely. 

“Hi.”

Your voice came out as more of a choke than actual speech as you stepped inside, sliding off your shoes without breaking eye contact. 

“Hey,” he responded, voice thick with obvious strain. 

You hated this, every bit of it. The awkwardness that had never existed between the two of you, the heaviness of the air in the apartment you’d once called a second home, the way the typically-confident Seungmin looked sunken in on himself. 

“Do you…do you wanna sit down?” he asked, breaking the eye contact to turn towards the couch and reclaim the spot he’d lived in for three days. 

You followed him, sitting a polite distance away despite the overwhelming urge to scoop him up into your arms. 

Neither of you spoke for several minutes, looking anywhere but at each other. The discomfort in the air was making you anxious enough to absently pick at your nails. You hadn’t quite realized you’d started to do so, not until Seungmin’s shaking hand covered both of yours. 

“You’re doing the thing,” he whispered, meeting your widened eyes with a nervousness of his own as he slowly pulled his hands back to his lap. 

“Yeah…thanks…” you returned, separating your hands from themselves so as not to fall back into the nervous habit. 

You wondered if it were possible to actually suffocate in silence, exhaling a deep sigh at the same time Seungmin had done the same. You looked into his eyes, giving a soft smile to break the tension - heart clenching in your chest as he did the same, looking away in an attempt to disallow you seeing the way his eyes welled with tears. 

He hadn’t been quick enough. 

“Seungmin…” you reached a hand out to touch his shoulder, only to be stopped short by the man sounding smaller than you’d ever heard.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, a humorless laugh leaving his lips, “Please, don’t comfort me right now. It’ll…” he took a deep, shuddering breath, “It’ll just make it harder. Please.”

“I still care about you, Min,” you sighed, placing your hand against the thin cotton of his tee despite his protests, “I’m not just gonna sit here and watch you hurt.”

“Why, then?” he whispered, shoulder immediately shaking under your careful touch. You could hear the thickness in his voice, something so foreign to you until the last month you’d spent with him that now felt too painfully familiar, “Why just…leave me? Like it’s nothing…”

It felt as if he’d reached into your chest and gripped your heart with all of his strength then, briefly knocking the wind out of you as a mixture of angry and anguished tears sprung to your eyes. 

“You think it was easy, Min?” you choked, trying and failing to keep your emotions in check, “You think it was easy for me to leave? I tried, Seungmin…I tried my best for as long as I could I just –”

“You just gave up on me,” he muttered, trying to sound annoyed though it came out sounding much more pathetic than he’d hoped, “You gave up on us, without a second thought.”

“Do you really believe I didn’t think this through?” you asked, incredulousness dulled significantly by the way your voice distorted through tears, “Do you really think I’d have left if things were fine?”

"I'm not saying they were fine," he near-whined, leading you to drop your hand from his shoulder to rest atop his own - a clenched fist against his thigh relaxing just enough to bring color back to his knuckles at the gesture, “I’m just saying…we could’ve been. We were once.”

“Min–”

“No, let me say this!” he pled, finally looking back towards you. The desperation in his voice and rivers from his eyes made it impossible for you to argue. You nodded, encouraging him to continue, “You…you asked what we were even fighting for,” he flipped his hand, lacing his fingers smoothly between yours comfortably, “You asked that like there’s nothing good here.”

“I–”

“I’m not done,” he whispered, a reminder moreso than a reprimand, “Do you really think that way? That there’s nothing here worth fighting to save?”

“I never said there wasn’t, Minnie, I just–”

“You just what? Forgot?” his words were bitter, but not meant to hurt you. He was trying to understand. Trying to figure out exactly when and where you decided that a relationship with him no longer held any value. 

“We’ve been fighting so much,” you tried to explain, squeezing his fingers between yours in an attempt to reassure him despite the weight your words held.

“Why does that have to negate everything else, love?” 

The softness of his tone combined with the affectionate petname broke you - completely, irreversibly, down to the very core of your being - as you let out a sob. 

And then another. 

And another. 

Until you were letting out each bit of pain you’d been hiding behind assurances of being fine when your friends would ask how you were feeling. Until you were shaking, tears flowing rather than falling from your tired eyes. Until Seungmin’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest with the gentle strength that only he’d been able to show you. 

“Please don’t cry…” he spoke into your hair, breath tickling your ear as his fingers danced along your back in comforting circles, “Please…I didn’t mean to make you cry…” 

You couldn’t respond, fully drowned in the emotions you’d been refusing to accept for the last few days. You didn’t want to leave in the first place, having said goodbye in the midst of rage and hurt. It was only because you didn’t want to seem like a pushover, mind swayed easily by an apology, that you hadn’t ran immediately back into his arms. 

“Love, please, look at me…” he urged, trying to pull back from your trembling frame with little to no success. Your fists held tightly to the back of his shirt, pressing your face in the center of his chest as you finally allowed yourself to let go. 

Finally allowed yourself to feel. 

He simply held you then, allowing your ragged breaths to slow back to a pace less concerning on their own time, content - as messed up as it may be - to just be able to hold you. Even if it were the last time. 

The steadiness of your breath, followed by the relaxing of your hands as they slid from their hold on his back, made him realize that you had - as you often did after crying - fallen asleep. He considered waking you up, reminding you of why you’d come here. That would be the right thing to do, all things considered. But he didn’t want to do the right thing, not this time. Not if it meant letting you go. 

So, as selfishly as one could perform such an innocuous act, Seungmin planted a gentle kiss to your forehead and fell asleep. He slept holding you to his chest with an innocent possessiveness - scared to let go, the possibility of you being gone when he opened his eyes being far too real for his liking. 

The sun had long since set when you awoke, wrapped in the comfort of a pair of arms you’d be able to identify even if it weren’t for the soft glow of the lamp. You swallowed hard, wondering if you’d managed to make some kind of mistake running to Seungmin for comfort. You sat up, carefully placing his hands back down to his sides so as not to disturb his slumber. 

He looked peaceful, despite puffiness evident around his eyes. You didn’t want to hurt him, but knew that sticking around might just give him false hope - which, you realized, you may have already done sleeping in his arms.

Even if it was the best rest you’d gotten since you’d left. 

You rose from the couch, careful to avoid the parts of the floor you’d learned would creak, and made your way to the bedroom - ready to gather your things. Atop the plush comforter you’d bought him for his birthday - insisting that his thin blanket was far from enough to aid in a restful sleep - was a box.

Your name was written on the box in Seungmin’s surprisingly neat handwriting, showing you that despite feeling hurt he’d still prioritized making life easier for you.

Your chest ached.

You padded over to the bed, sitting on the edge before pulling the box into your lap. Its contents were mostly mundane - shampoo and face wash, a toothbrush and comb, a few shirts you’d left behind. Those didn’t matter so much, though. Especially not after the shine of the moon off of glass caught your eye. 

You lifted the perfume bottle slowly, turning it in your palm as you remembered the absolute joy on Seungmin’s face when he’d presented it to you. He’d never been one to outwardly show such excitement, opting instead to appear aloof in most situations, but that day? That day he was like a proud puppy who had just brought the ball back during fetch, eagerly anticipating the praise and happiness of his counterpart. 

You placed it back in the box, blinking away tears as you felt the familiar plastic of the keychain you’d gotten beneath your fingers. You didn’t need to pull it from the box to know what it was - the memories of that day burned into your brain for the rest of your life. The memory of the way he’d kissed his way into your heart that day was precious - even now, knowing it was ending. 

Seungmin had woken up whilst you were looking through the box, instantly feeling cold as he realized you were nowhere to be seen. Had you left already? Without so much as a goodbye? He rose to his feet in a panic, checking the entryway for your shoes. He felt as though a ton of bricks had been pulled from his chest as he realized your worn down sneakers were still there, unmoved. 

Knowing you were still here made it much easier for Seungmin to move slowly, peering into each room as he searched for you. He considered calling your name, but quickly decided against it, not wanting to risk waking you - just in case you’d curled up in bed.

He heard you before he saw you - a soft sniffle followed by poorly contained sobs. He quickened his pace then, sprinting towards the doorway to the bedroom, completely prepared to comfort you as long as you’d let him. 

You’d picked up the fortune from the box, holding it gingerly between two fingers whilst covering your mouth with your free hand. 

“Are you alright?” he spoke through panting breaths from the combination of the speed at which he reached you and panic at your cries. 

You looked up from the words - the love of your life is right in front of you - and felt any remaining anger from the arguments the two of you had melt away. 

“Are you okay?” his brows knit together in confusion as you remained quiet, glancing back and forth between him and the wrinkled fortune you pinched between your fingers. 

“Minnie,” you started, fighting against every bit of fear, “I…”

He sat next to you then, tilting his head to the side as he waited for what you had to say. 

“I want to stay.”

His entire face changed, then. Brows raising, eyes widening, jaw dropping all in a display of shock. He carefully put his hand on your knee, speaking barely above a whisper, “You mean..?”

“I mean I wanna stay, Min. I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna leave you, I want us to work, I want–”

You were cut off by his lips crashing into your own, needy without being forceful as his strong hands cupped both sides of your face. You both cried openly then, sharing uneven breaths between your mouths as all of the hurt - and relief - swept through you at once. You moved your lips against his with fervor, relishing in the moment you thought you’d never experience again.

When the two of you pulled back, your bloodshot eyes met in a knowing glance - he didn’t need to say anything for you to know how much he missed you. He understood just as well, pressing his forehead to yours rather than saying anything at all. 

You knew right then that everything would be okay. It had to be, after all.

The love of your life was right in front of you. 

[whiskehorange]

“A Somewhat Helpful Presence”

A long commission with permission to post for you all!

Michael, at this point in your relationship with him, was quite an easy book to read. Maybe he didn’t throw tantrums like a child or even as typical adult males would, or verbally accused you of everything under the sun, but from what you could gather from a “Michael Mood” changer was apparent. Think about it, what does he do? He stands and he breathes, barely. When something has gone awry in that brain of his, you can point it out like a sore thumb. Heavier breathing (but still relatively quiet for anyone else wearing a mask like his 24/7) and a slight twitching in his step. He’s harder to move from where he stands and he sneaks up on you an eerily amount more than before. He hasn’t quite stopped his stalker nature, you can’t blame him.

While it would be a lie to say that Michael has never been keeping an eye out and about with your daily activities and schedule, he's never been one to go through your phone. I’d be surprised if he ever took the time to learn how to work a smartphone properly. He’s old fashioned, if he wants to know where you are and what you’re doing he’s going to follow you around and figure it out the hard way. It was different to hear your phone buzzing and lighting up at odd times of the night once you started your new job, however, and it didn’t take him too long to catch on. 

Again, with new age tech Michael was not privy to it so opted to stay out of it when you were on your phone and even tuned out your buzzing most of the time. But even he can’t help but notice that little ting and buzzt almost every ten minutes. Shifting his eyes over towards your direction like knives every time you’d pick up your phone when he heard it, but too nosy about what was on your phone screen to notice the disgusted, aggravated eye roll and lip curl you did before dropping your phone back face-down on the couch.

After three days of constant let down notifications (which felt like a month), Michael really began to take notice, which was ultimately both a good and a very, very terrible thing. “Damnit,” you huffed under your breath. Setting down the ladle and rubbing your face with both hands. This was the 12th message you had received in the five minutes you had started making dinner. Bzzt; eleventh. Ting, bzzt; thirteenth, the classic double text. You had to admit that at first when you started your shifts with the guy he was nice and friendly, but you also regret putting your number down in the book next to the phones for emergencies. Was it nice making a few friends living here in Haddonfield? Absolutely, but maybe just not this guy. Giving a polite excuse of being busy you ended your part of the conversation and put your phone on silent for the rest of the night.

Michael wasn’t too on the case around this time, but much more so around day seven of the constant notifications and what escalated to be phone calls at any time of the day. “No, no thank you I’m actually busy that day,” “Well maybe next week,” “Aw, thank you, but I actually can’t that day.” No matter how many times you had to decline coffee and brunch was starting to wiggle itself into your schedule for as much as he started to call you, but what caught Michaels eye was your nervous fidgeting and the painful look on your face every time you had to decline what the person on the other line was saying. To put it bluntly in Michaels brain, you have no friends, so the amount of calls you got and dates was off to him. Watching you silently from the doorway, you give him small comforting smiles as you continue to decline and agree to small talk questions. “Yup, seeya,” you finish unenthusiastically. Michael stands there.

“It’s just this guy I work with, he’s really taken a liking to me I think,” you sarcastically laugh, “He just keeps calling me and asking me out to the same coffee date over and over even though I’ve declined him… over and over.” You wipe your face and look up at Michael, giving him yet another comforting smile before resuming your show, urging him to come sit down with you on the couch. There continued to be buzzes and messages during the night while the two of you watched the TV before you mindlessly turned your silencer on. It was comfortingly quiet now, despite the sound from the speakers and laugh tracks of the show, but quiet enough for you to slowly slouch into Michael's side and sleep. That didn’t stop him from seeing the small blue light illuminating from under the screen on the couch, however. Picking up your small phone in his giant hands, the most recent text on your lock screen being “You’ve got real pretty brown eyes.” Only to be quickly removed by a new text: “Could you do next Thursday for coffee? I’d like to spend more time with you, I really like you Pratt.” You seemed to be taking this quite well, through Michael's eyes at least, but you really couldn’t stand having to work the same shifts with this guy every week. It was only a matter of time before you quietly tried to change your shifts without him attempting to do the same.

Ruffling your hands into your bangs and fixing up your dark hair you look at the four consecutive texts. It was only 8:00am and you finally had your first day off working a different schedule than him and he still made time to text you while being at work. Shuffling your way down to the kitchen in your morning clothes you make your way past Michael, doing his routine checking of the house for intruders even though you try to convince him that the new security system does it for him. You leaned over the kitchen counter, waiting for your keurig to finish brewing, eyes closed and thinking about how you could possibly give this guy something that would make him be quiet. You loved your job and adored every other coworker there, so quitting was out of the window. Reporting him would do the trick, but did you really have the heart to do that to him? Maybe he just doesn’t know how to make friends, maybe he’s just really lonely. Either way you were close to doing it anyway. 

Ring, ring, ring. Michael hands his hand out to you, sipping your mug at the kitchen table, pointing to your screen. You could see that there were three previous missed calls, the call ringing through your phone ended and making it four. “Thank you, love,” you sigh, taking the phone and inevitably ruining your casual looking-out-of-the-window o’clock. You didn’t have to worry about calling back as you were certain he would within the next 15 seconds, which you were correct. Taking a moment to collect yourself you finally connected and gave a terribly fake, surprised greeting as if you didn’t know what question he was about to ask you for the twentieth time this week.

“I’m good, no you didn’t I was already awake,” “You're on your cigarette break? But it’s only 8:30,” “Oh yeah? That's nice,” ''Yup,” “Oh,” “Mhm,” “Wow, yeah, yeah I get what you mean,” “Brunch? Well, I mean…” Rubbing the bridge of your nose you sigh, really debating if working there was even worth it. “That sounds… good. Coffee at, what time is it now… coffee at 11? Yeah?” Your eyes were closed, your face defeated as you took a deep breath, Michael could hear a muffled “Do you want me to come pick you up?” before you perked up and practically yelled no over the phone. “No! No, no I can do it, it’s okay. I have to head that way anyways, don’t worry about it.”

Spending a few more seconds attempting to end the conversation you end the call, slouching into the table with your head in your arms, groaning. Composing yourself and sitting back up you put the chair in and lean your head into Michael’s chest, “I’ll be back later, I’ll bring you home something you might like from the shoppe,” and slip back upstairs to get dressed and head out.

You were dead set on not impressing this guy at all with your time and outfit, but you knew it wasn’t going to matter in the end. Throwing on whatever you touched first in your closet it looked like you were going to attend a college lecture early in the morning in a cold classroom; old but fitting sweats with something light to cover yourself with, and your hair in the same way you had it when you fixed it early that morning.

As soon as you rounded the corner towards the coffee shop you could see him sitting there at one of the tables in the front, staring at your seat like he was trying to manifest you there out of thin air. You had purposefully taken your time walking here rather than driving to take as much time to yourself before wasting away your day. While it was only about a 20 minute walk from the Myers house you knew he would be there early anyways, hoping to catch as much time of yours as he could, and sure enough, there he was, sitting there for who knows how long and you’re still 10 minutes earlier than you’d like to be.

Unbeknownst to you, Michael had his own plans. It was much harder to sit and watch you in these parts of town seeing how busy they are with people and drivers at almost all times of the day as long as the sun is up. Michael held no remorse for not giving you an ounce of privacy (also unbeknownst to you) these last few days. Every time you went out Michael was somewhere close by, blending in perfectly around the town like the shape he is. There was nothing you could do about it even if you did find out. That was something Michael took a small pride in: knowing you could do nothing about him nor really stand up to him, he’d cut that idea into anyone, literally. All those recent nights of you having time taken away from him by your phone was stacking in his consciousness and it wasn’t being taken very well. Michael had spent so much of his own time corralling and subtly dictating your way into his heart just for you to be going out of your way to spend it out and about?

If Michael truly had his complete way, you’d be a hermit just like him, minus the killing part. If there was one word to describe him, it's territorial. The deep trust he’s put in you and you alone to not only be alive around him, but to confide in him and show him any ounce of attention and love is immeasurable rare. While he doesn’t necessarily think you’re cheating, he doesn’t think you’re stupid enough to really go out of your way to do that to him, he still does not like this lack of… well, you. Michael’s mind is difficult to no end and being able to get him out of a funk like this without any disasters is not an easy job. You having a social life that consists of just going to work was hard enough to get him to settle with, but going out of your way to go out with someone that wasn’t him? Michael might be smart, but he can certainly be blinded by rage easily enough.

Michael festered in this toxicity, stalking you endlessly throughout the week just to notice you coming home to him every night to give your undivided attention to him, it was odd. He certainly didn’t grow up with this level of trust that you had in him let alone the trust he put in you. Quite frankly, he didn’t know how to act. He stood there, across the street, just watching you. Watching you walk into the shoppe, watching that man greet you. Watching him closely, watching him put his arms around you for a hug, boiling in his own skin as he stood there motionless.

“Hey, sorry for the wait-” “Don’t be! I’ve been waiting here early, it's okay, I promise!” Embracing you in an unexpected tight hug, you stood there stunned, looking around nervously before slightly tapping his back. He let go after numerous uncomfortable seconds, beamed back at you with a toothy grin. “You look so nice today Pratt, I’m glad I took off of work to finally have this coffee date with you. It seems like forever since I’ve seen you!” He boomed at you, practically yelling at you despite only being four feet away from you. You felt strangled by his presence, looking down at the coffee he had already ordered for you. Smiling, you cup the warm mug in between your hands, looking down into the dark brown espresso before you. God please let this be over soon, you thought to yourself, still trying to shake off that hug. There were always plenty of coworkers that you could give friendly touches and side hugs to at the right times, but this guy just didn’t understand how to take a hint. The room would always go quiet whenever he came in, everyone seamlessly slipping back into working to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with him.

“So, how was your day? You look tired, that’s why I ordered you that coffee, figured it is a bit early,” he let out a chuckle, snapping you out of your woeful thoughts. You reciprocated his laugh, nodding, “Thank you, I’m just normally a tea drinker at this time in the day, coffee upsets my stomach.” A lie, of course, you’d never catch yourself drinking something from him that you didn’t watch him bring to the table. Quite frankly, it actually smelt quite good, but you’d take your losses. The tea here was quite good and you’d stop by here frequently on your way home from work to pick you up a tea and Michael something fruity. Of course, he had also taken it upon himself to order you a tea; his choice of tea. All the while talking about his subtle love for you and whatnot, occasionally commenting on your appearance, your eyes, and even your complexion, all of which he’s been doing for the last 25 minutes. Every uneasy agreement, nod, and attempt at guiding the conversation literally anywhere else but on you fell of deaf ears. 

“I know this might come as a shock to you, but I find you very pretty, Pratt. I’d really like to get to know you better.” You smiled blankly at him, giving a half-assed half head tilt of confirmation to him “Really? I never would have guessed.” He beamed at you, the grin on his face not budging at all, leaning over the table towards you he grabbed one of your hands with both of his. Giving a slight tug to get your hand free he only tightened his grip, pulling your arm closer to him to get you to look at him. You glared at him, snatching your hand away and rubbing it between the fingers of your other hand, “Please, don’t touch me.” “Pratt, I just want to be honest with you,” He shot his hand out again in an attempt to catch yours but you pushed yourself away from the table and out of your chair.

You decided it was your time to go, you had been sitting here for almost 45 minutes trying to be nice, but you just couldn’t do it anymore. “Listen, I’m in a relationship and I’m not comfortable with how you touch and talk to me constantly. I’d really appreciate it if you stopped texting me outside of work hours too, I really just feel uncomfortable with this.” You slowly back towards the door, looking him dead in the eye as you spoke, pivoting on your heels and clutching your to-go tea in one hand and your phone in the other. You could hear him protest behind you, but you booked it out the door and down the corner, tears welling in your eyes from anger.

It was about time since Michael gave you a piece of his mind, cutting you off before you had even made it home. Seeing you leave the shop so quickly he knew something was wrong, however with how far away he was he couldn’t tell you were crying until he got up and into your face, blocking your way. You gasped as you bumped into him, catching your breath as he pulled you into the alleyway. “Damnit Michael, you scared me. Please don’t do that.” You huffed, looking up at him to see him not only unmasked but angry, almost as upset as you. “Here take this, I don’t fucking want it.” Shoving the tea into his chest for him to take you work your way around him, heading back home but Michael grabbed your arm, pulling you back in front of him. His stone cold face never wavering, he glared into your eyes. You yelled, for the first time, at Michael,“What? What else could possibly go wrong for me today Michael? Please, let me go home.” He stared at you, same expression, but slowly noticed your shaking body. Rubbing your hard gently you avoided eye contact with him, waiting for him to let you by. Moving his hand up to your shoulder rather than your arm he gave you a slight nudge to make you look at him. He tilted his head down towards you like a nod, tell me is what he was saying.

You gave one last huff before wiping your face, pushing your fingers gently under your eyes to keep the tears away. “He-” you started, but couldn’t finish before warm tears streamed down your face. You pointed back the way you came, unable to speak in full sentences as you explained to Michaels menacing figure before you just what had gone down in the shop, what he had been texting you, and how he made you feel. “He grabbed my hand, not hard or anything, but it just made me feel so gross,” you started again, before crying into your sleeve. Michael pulled you into his chest with one arm, keeping the other one by his side as you let it out into his shirt. He was fuming, but not at you. Seeing your expression this morning and your unwillingness to arrive there on time definitely sparked questions to him, but having you connect the pieces for him was enough to snap him out of his one-track thinking. You had no reason to lie, he practically witnessed it himself.

You composed yourself and looked up at Michael for a split second, avoiding his sharp eye contact once again. Bringing his hand up to your face he brushed his thumb over your wet cheek, swiping away the last tear. “Can we please go home now?” You quietly begged Michael, holding his hand in yours. With a gruff huff, Michael let you lead the way, following behind you closely as per usual. He knew that you hated when he’d put his mask on and stalk his way around town, but he knew his way around. Michael knew how to not get caught. Michael wouldn’t get caught.

[wifelinkmtg]

you guys i’m starting to think magic story might not be that good

I’m really really happy the Phyrexia essay found its intended audience, and i’m glad it resonated so deeply with so many of you! People have asked me if they can quote it or lift concepts from it, and the answer is yes, absolutely! Please attribute it to me if you do, and if you want to send me whatever you’re using it in I would love to read it, though that’s optional. That’s the first thing.

The second thing is, man, was March of the Machine story a wet dud or what? I try to set my expectations low with official WotC stuff, but I did not have them set anywhere near low enough. Consequently, it’s been difficult to muster the energy lately to do things on this blog because, like, jeez, what an unceremonious and largely consequence-free waste of potential all of that was (except for the Ixalan story. The Ixalan story had everything: amazing kaiju fights [sorry Ikoria] and Magic’s best lesbian couple [sorry Gruulfriends, also congrats Gruulfriends.] “But what about the Ravnica story?” you, an incorrect person, say, “I thought the Ravnica story was really good,” you continue, incorrectly. The Ravnica story was very bad! It had really good ideas in it, but it was exceedingly-poorly written. My most charitable interpretation is that there was a miscommunication, and the author expected there would be a thorough editorial pass, and instead they just published it as-is. Sad! I would have really enjoyed a well-written version of that story. </hater>) But also it’s been difficult to muster enthusiasm to do Magic stuff lately because of WotC’s extracurriculars (increasingly-predatory attempts to more thoroughly monetize D&D, the fucking thing with the fucking Pinkertons.) But today I took an Adderall because it’s one of the rare days I actually have to focus on a task at work, and I’m using the residual focus to post an overdue update here, hello!

And I’m not done with this blog! Far from it. I’m going to keep posting dumb horny card art reviews here, for sure, but here’s some other stuff you can expect to see in the next few months or so:

1. a follow-up to the Phyrexia essay digging into the question of what a “fascist aesthetic” is, what it’s for in fiction, what it means to enjoy things that contain those elements. I think this is a really interesting topic with a lot of depth and hopefully nuance to it, and I really only skirted it in the original essay, and oh man did people have things to say about that (most of them polite). I addressed a similar topic previously on this blog when I talked about the conquistador vampires in Ixalan, but I don’t think I’m satisfied with that post. I think we can also talk about how we engage with a text, and how we engage with a text like Magic: the Gathering specifically. This is a lot to cover, and it may end up getting trimmed down, or I may succumb entirely to the seduction of scope creep. Who can say!

2. an essay on chivalry in its historical contexts, how it’s been used, what purposes it serves in a society (its role, for instance, in sustaining white supremacy in America), and what it means when we encounter it in “sword lesbian” media (the Locked Tomb books, Revolutionary Girl Utena, etc.) This is going to require a great deal of research and I have no idea what my ultimate conclusion will be, but it’s a topic I’m personally very invested in for a whole host of reasons.

3, maybe. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing MtG fic for a while, because they keep wasting potential and I think I could do a better job. If I do, I’ll post it here, but no promises. Fiction isn’t my main genre, and fanfic isn’t something I’ve gotten seriously into before, despite being on tumblr since 2011. But someone needs to do Avacyn justice, so we’ll see.

4. other writing. I’m a lightly-published poet in real life, and I’m currently working on my first chapbook, so maybe I’ll try putting some of it on tumblr, and since this blog’s readership has surpassed my personal, I guess? I’d put it here? Or, possibly, the short horror stories I infrequently write. Again, we’ll see.

5. Obviously I’m going to keep doing the horny Magic card art reviews. I’m not feeling the new stuff right now, but there’s a lot of older sets I haven’t done yet. The Tarkir block is next - and in fact, I think that will be the next post on this blog. I think it’s time we started appreciating Monastery Swiftspear for more than her brutal efficiency in aggro decks, because frankly she’s a snack and this should be acknowledged.

Anyway, thank you all for reading, hit me up if you wanna play some Commander, and I’ll see y’all in the next one!

[ghost-in-the-corner]

"Master Bruce, is everything alright?" Alfred asked as he set down a steaming mug on a coaster.

"Hn." Bruce barely responded, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

Alfred followed his eyes to the news article currently taking over the Batcomputer. "Ah. Did your Variety interview not go well?"

Bruce sighed. "It's not that it didn't go well, Alfred. I got asked that question again."

"Again?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. "That must be the third time this month."

"Fourth, actually. Jason texted me only a couple minutes after this was posted to update the tally."

Alfred hummed, staring at the words written in bold. "Hm. Well it seems you need to find a way to put an end to this."

Bruce finally looked at him, picking the mug up and blowing on it. "How would you suggest I do that?"

"Have you considered giving Clark a call?"

~~~

"No fucking way, Bruce." Tim crossed his arms, glaring up at him. "You did not call a press conference just for this."

Bruce adjusted his deep red tie in the mirror, pointedly looking away from his son. "I had no other choice. People wouldn't stop asking me about it, and it may compromise my identity. I need to lay this to rest once and for all."

Tim stared at him incredulously. "It's not that serious."

"Except it is."

"Bruce. I need you to listen to me carefully." Tim clapped his hands, and Bruce finally looked at him. "You asked your best friend in the world to fly to Gotham and dress up as Batman just so you, in your civies, could walk up on a stage in front of dozens of reporters and compare your asses?"

"The people of Gotham need to believe that the butts don't match, Tim. Because if they ever find out that they do, then everything I've done for the past 22 years means nothing." Bruce adjusted his cufflinks before heading over to the door. Tim grumbled and followed him out.

Sure enough, the room was packed with reporters and even some civilians. Bruce was certain they were more people outside. This joke had been the talk of Gotham for months, now. Everyone had an opinion on it. He'd been getting asked about Batman's butt in every interview for the past 3 months.

It was past time to end this.

Tim stopped at the staircase as Bruce walked on stage and to the podium. He tapped the mic set up in the center, gathering all the attention in the room on him. The crowd fell silent, the only noises being a few camera shutters.

"Good afternoon, Gotham. As I'm sure you've all heard, in recent months, there have been many comparisons between my own back end and that of Batman, with the argument that it proves he and I are one in the same. I'm here today to lay that rumor to rest." He explained with his best Brucie smile. "Before we begin, I'd like to take the time to highlight my upcoming fundraiser for the American Cancer Association."

He took a moment to explain the event, clearly boring the audience exactly as he'd intended. There'd be no room for argument after this.

"Now, without further adieu, please welcome Batman to the stage!"

Clark jumped in through an open skylight, absolutely dazzling the crowd. There were cheers, camera flashes, and quickly shouted questions. Clark ignored them all, clearly pouring all of his energy into recreating Batman's signature stoic look.

Bruce approached him as he stood, reaching his hand out to shake.

"Thanks for doing this." Bruce whispered, trying to pour as much relief into that statement as he could.

"You owe me for this." Clark replied. He let go, nodding at the audience as he turned to face the back wall.

"Tim, could you come here and hold Batman's cape?" Bruce called.

Suddenly, all the attention was on his disgusted son. Tim grumbled, smashing on his best PR face as he strode up the steps and over to Clark.

Bruce quickly returned to the podium as Tim gathered up Clark's cape. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for." He smiled before standing next to Clark, facing the wall.

Tim lifted up the cape.

The first few seconds, there was a rush of noise. Cheers, camera, scribbling.

Then it got quiet. Really, oddly quiet. Bruce was tempted to turn around, but he wanted the crowd to see this for as long as possible; the butts did not match.

Finally, there was a yell from the middle of the room.

"Well, no wonder he hides that behind a cape."

[just-my-type-x]

Brad's birthday is coming up, can you write something about birthday sex?

! Ok so i took the opportunity to post this ahead of the other imagines, i'm trying to post the requests as chronologically as i can because it's fair this way. But since it's true and it's only a few weeks away, i chose to write this first since i don't know if i can get it written in time.

Birthday King

Tristan and i waited in Brad's parents' bar along with his friends for Brad to appear. We've been plotting this surprise party for nearly two months now, trying to get in touch with all his friends and gathering them all in one place for tonight. Keeping secrets from Brad is hard as it is, but trying to keep a birthday party surprise away from him is almost impossible, especially when my phone was blowing up with texts from his closest.

"Oh wow he takes a lifetime to get here. Where did you say he is?", Tristan asks Brad's dad and i bite my nails nervously. His mom takes my hand in hers and squeezes it in a comfort manner. I smile at her and put my head on her shoulder.

"It's gonna work out fine, honey, don't worry so much", i give her a reassuring smile and look towards the bar door, waiting for Brad to show up.

"He said he is parking, we don't really have many parking spots here, might take him five minutes or even thirty seconds", Derek answers and Tristan exhales.

"He's coming!", one of his friends shouts and we all turn our backs to the door like we're normal customers of the Simpsons' bar. We hear the door open and Brad talking on the phone and we all turn around amd shout at him happy birthday. He hangs up and yells with joy, hard for him to believe everything is for him to enjoy. Brad hugs Tristan first, him being the one who pushed me just to be the first one. I laugh along with the people who saw that and i do the same to Tristan when i see he keeps staying with my man. They both laugh and Brad hugs me tightly, rubbing my back.

"So this is why your phone was going off all the time?", he asks me, face buried in my neck, kissing it, on my jaw, under my ear and my cheek

"Yes, I'm sorry i got you suspicious", i bite my lip, looking at him. He cups my face and kisses me softly.

"A little, but it was worth it. I love you so much, babe", he kisses me again and i mumble an i love you back, since he didn't want to stop kissing me.

We drink the night away, eat cake and walk from friend to friend to catch up with them and most of them to be officially introduced to me by Brad.

"This was such a great night", i exhale relaxed while i throw myself on the couch in our apartment.

"I know right? You two killed it. I had so much fun", Brad throws himself on the couch next to me and leans his head back on the cushions.

I smile and turn my head to look at him. He has his eyes closed and through his unbuttoned shirt i see his chest moving up and down, slowly, calmly. I bite my lip and put my hand on his thigh.

"You're gonna have much more fun. The night isn't over yet.", i move my hand higher and move it between his legs, touching briefly his crotch. He looks down at my hand, then at my face, smirking.

"Is that so?", his voice cracks and i chuckle. I sit myself on his lap, my legs on either side of him. I grab him from behind the neck and bend down to kiss him, Brad's hands traveling to my ass. He slaps it and i moan into the kiss. Brad slaps it one more time to gain the same reaction from me. He takes the opportunity and slips his tongue into my mouth, becoming rougher and rougher with every kiss. I unbutton his shirt, taking it off him immediately and i move my hands up and down his abs, tracing every line of his muscles, which drive me crazy every time. Brad takes my top off and i grip his biceps when he starts kissing on my exposed breasts and on my neck.

"So you're telling me that all my friends saw you without a bra today?", he looks up at me, eyes dark and shiny.

"Don't think they noticed.",i push his head between my breasts and a muffled moan escapes his lips. It's enough for him to lose it at my sudden action. He picks me up and i giggle when he hits the sofa on the way to the bedroom and almost drops me to the floor.

We open the bedroom door and we're welcomed by the candles i arranged throughout the room after he left with business somewhere in the city, perfect timing for my surprise. He stops in his tracks and looks around the room, smiling wide at the arrangement and the i need you written in rose petals on the bed. Brad looks at me, still holding me, and smirks at me.

"I need you too, baby"

He drops me on the bed and starts unbuttoning my jeans, sliding them down my legs and he does the same to his. He hovers over me and positions himself between my legs, creating friction between us. The fabric of both our underwear becomes soon an inconvenient and he takes them off. He gets back on top of me and kisses me, while his hands squeeze my breasts and move down my body. I flip us around and i see the surprised, yet naughty, expression on Brad's face. I move my hips on his length a few times, wetting him a little bit. When it feels like it is enough, i raise myself a bit so i can grab his member and i guide it between my legs. I slowly sink it inside we both gasp at the amazing feeling. I let out a cry as my walls suddenly stretch because of the width change and Brad chuckles.

"Just relax, you know you can take it in one go", he smirks, biting his lip while watching me get lower and lower, while he was getting deeper and deeper inside me.

"I love how you talk to me during sex, Bradley", i lick my lips and slowly start moving up and down on his dick, my hands on his chest while one of his hands grabs both my wrists. I speed up and gasp when Brad digs his fingers in my ass, bouncing it on his member.

"Fuck, baby, you make me feel so good",i move a few more times and he flips us around. He puts my legs around his waist and starts thrusting in me, fast and rough, making me dig my nails into his back. Brad takes my chin between his index finger and thumb and motions my head to look at him. I meet his eyes and flushed cheeks and we both smile at each other. I want to look away, but he moves my head right back. "Can i have one more wish for my birthday?", i nod impatiently and Brad grabs me by the legs. "Scream my name"

I gasp and he immediately starts pounding inside me, holding onto me for better grip. He moves fast and hard, going as deep as he can and i start massaging my boobs. I moan when i feel Brad's fingers circling my clit and i almost join him because the pleasure is too much to take. I feel myself getting close and i arch my back when Brad's moves get sloppier, my clit gets more sensitive and a tingling sensation washes over my body.

"Brad, baby, I'm cuming", i groan loudly and his hand grabs my neck, chocking me lightly, while his needy thrusts go deeo inside me.

"Fuck, wait for me.", he whispers and i try to hold back my orgasm. Brad moves a few more times and i feel him harden. I clench my walls around him, unable to control myself anymore and i feel my orgasm hit hard, moaning his name and pulling at his curls. With a loud groan, Brad cums immediately after and buries his face kn the crook of my neck. He rides our highs and collapses next to me, heavily breathing.

"Happy Birthday, king", i turn my head to face him, his face half buried in the pillows. He gives me a smile and comes closer to me, kissing my shoulder.

"I want all my birthdays to be like this"

"Just your birthdays?", i taunt him and turn on the side to give him a kiss. He gets up and brings me a towel from the bathroom so i could clean myself.

"Come on, let's have a well deserved bath. Maybe order some take out", Brad gives me his hand to help me get out of the bed and we head to the bathroom.

"It's 2AM, whi brings us food at this hour?", i laugh and turn on the water

"It's my birthday, everything should be open today", we both laugh and i turn around to give him a hug, our naked bodies glueing one to another.

"My legs are still open", i smirk, biting my lip and Brad bites under my ear and then my earlobe.

"Then i don't need any taken out anymore"

[welcometothedeaddadclub]

I.

November, 2017.

Worst month of my life, so far.

I wouldn't find out until the seventh, though.

It was a Tuesday. I took violin on Tuesdays.

It became a super fun day of the week for me, honestly. It was the only day of the week either of my parents got off early enough for me to leave school when it actually let out, not several hours after. Up to this point, my dad had been the one to take the day off to pick me up. We always made such a day out of it. His side of the family was made up of New York Italians, second generation citizens, after his grandparents immigrated to the US. Pinochle, a card game that not many people in the Southeast aren't too aware of, was much more popular up north. It became a Tuesday favorite of ours. Sometimes, he would pick up a pepperoni pizza for lunch and save me some for when we got home. I'd have my first slice of pizza, he would have an extra with me, and we'd get the cards out. I remember pissing him off so bad if I'd win. I'd always get runs, or four of a kind, or even worse double pinochle. But it was funny, we would laugh about it. I didn't have a good poker face, but there was nothing he could do about it by the time I saw the cards I had. If he lost too much, he would insist on puling out the blue-colored deck of cards, as opposed to the red we were using, as if the red cards were somehow against him. It became such a pleasant, albeit short lived tradition of ours, and something I still miss at times to this day. No matter who I share this wonderful little card game with, it's just never quite as fun, quite as competitive, quite as playful. It is one of the more pleasant things I lost with him.

I didn't realize that the week prior would be my last time relishing in this tradition, or maybe I would've breathed the air in deeper, I would've laughed a little harder.

After cards, he, almost always accompanied by my mother, would take me to dinner, then to attend my weekly violin lesson. It was about a thirty minute drive, one I found entertaining. It was a great chance to talk and bond with my family, something that up until about half a year prior, I never had the privilege to have.

I was a freshman in high school. I was in Spanish I, fulfilling the foreign language credit required by the state I live in. It was nothing special. End of the day. I was getting antsy as it was. I had an easy time in the class, and had already finished my work for the period. I was pulling my phone out of my bag every few minutes just to check the time.

2:57.

3:08.

3:14.

Hannah.

That's strange, why is my sister calling me? I'm sure it was an accident, she knows I have school.

She hangs up soon after, confirming what I had thought.

But she texts back a minute or so after.

"I'm picking you up."

Why?

"Dad's in the hospital."

Well, that's strange. But I'm sure he's okay. He's not that old.

So she did. I trudged through the post-final-bell crowd as quickly as I could, hoping to get to the hospital to see what the fuss was about. As I walked outside to find my car, my eyes glazed over hers, my brain still hoping I would see his first. I climbed into her car, throwing my book bag in first on the floorboard, then following in. On my tongue sat a slew of questions I had gathered in the last sixteen minutes of my school day. Like, what happened? When did it happen? How bad is it? Is he, god forbid, dying? Certainly not, but I felt I should ask, perhaps as more of an absurd dark joke that she would laugh at and assure me otherwise. But, to my dismay and shock, all she could say was, "I don't know."

Well, what do you mean you don't know? Surely you know he's not dying, right?

Well, she hoped he wasn't, but she didn't know.

We drove to the hospital, which by some act of god, was very near my high school.

In some time, of which the length and activity is a blur to present-day me, we met my mom in the emergency room. We didn't wait too long to be seen by a doctor, though in a room with a few chairs; four chairs facing one to be exact. And, distressingly, three boxes of tissues. And, more distressingly, a chaplain.

My father, as told by the doctor, was found in our home, after asphyxiating. He was still conscious, he had called 911. What is asphyxiation? It is when the lungs fill with fluids from the body, effectively drowning the patient. Well, that isn't too bad, right? When they got there, he was conscious. Right? I'm sure they had it under control. They did! They performed CPR for 45 minutes. He had completely coded for about 30 minutes total while in the ambulance. But he was breathing now!

No, said the doctor, because when someone exists for thirty minutes without receiving oxygen, their organs swell. Which would be fine mostly, except the brain, arguably the most important organ, is encased by non-malleable bone that will crush it as it expands.

And we won't know, the doctor continues, until after they have medically dropped his body temperature for twenty-four hours, to prevent further swelling and promote a shrinking of his already swollen organs. Then, they will run all their little tests to see. As he put it, if he is actually fine, it could be days, weeks, months, hell, even years before he's found a quality of life similar to what he had before. If ever.

Well, what are the chances of things? Will he die? Will he live? What are some likelihoods if he's alive in there?

The range of conditions, the doctor finished solemnly, could be anywhere from temporary amnesia, to death.

Well, that was a pretty wide range. Maybe we had a chance. Still, the lump in my throat threated to choke me - no it didn't, that was a poor choice of thoughts - and there was still grief to be had, even if at the time, we all thought we would wheel him out of the ER as he looked around with a confused, amnesia-induced wonder.

If he may, the chaplain stepped forward, he would like to lead a prayer.

At that age, I had already faced my doubts on the religion front. But I knew people didn't pray so pleadingly, so longingly, over a heart-warming, positive, ideal situation. They prayed like this when tragedy struck, when someone receives a cancer diagnosis, when someone gets in a car accident, when you are a chaplain and you are in a hospital room designed not for treatment of a patient, but for the delivery of bad news, and there is a mother and her two children nervously eyeing the boxes of tissues surrounding them, wondering who will reach for theirs first.

Everyone kept their eyes closed during his prayer. It was well spoken, it wished for our well being, for our strength, for "His will" to be done in my father's life.

That was when tears fell. At "His will."

"His will" means that, no, he can't promise he will live. But believing there is some big, great reason for his death, may help you through this time. And it didn't. He still wasn't here. It was Tuesday, and I should've been winning at fucking Pinochle, while the worst thing happening should've been the threat of the blue deck of cards being used to carefully, methodically, plan the demise of my winning streak. We should've been staring at the clock, thinking we could fit just one more game in before we had to leave for dinner and violin.

Instead, we were being pulled from the menacing, bland, sterile hospital room, so the next family could hear all about how their beloved father, mother, sister, brother, was dying, and the chaplain could say his next pitiful prayer.

~~~

First real post. Thank you for reading, if you're out there.

[hikari-kaitou]

Capcom's Official AA Fanclub Surveys - DGS Edition

Many Western fans may be familiar with the Turnabout 4koma comics that get posted on the official AA fanclub site that Capcom runs, thanks to some lovely fans on tumblr and elsewhere who have shared their translations. What fewer people seem to know about is the character surveys.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom's official AA fansite every few months where they'd write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like... 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn't help because the content was password locked and you can't get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them.

Cut for length...

"February has begun, and the DGS cast is nearing the end of their journey aboard the RFS Alacrei. Which of them acted the most strangely?"

Ryuunosuke ~ Exhausted from his intensive study session, he decided to try some katana swinging practice as a change of pace and to combat his recent lack of exercise. But because he wasn't used to handling the katana, he swung it too hard and it went flying out of his hands and got stuck in the wall right next to Sherlock, who had just entered the room. Sherlock asked him, "aren't you supposed to be studying right now, Mr. Naruhodo?" and handcuffed him to his desk.

Susato- worked on developing a curriculum for Ryuunosuke. 'If we keep going at this pace, he won't be able to learn it all in time... It'll be hard on Naruhodo-sama, but we'll have to work hard through a couple of nights together.' With that thought, she created a harsh study schedule, and almost seemed to be looking forward to it for some reason.

Sherlock- Driven by excitement over the thought of returning to England after a long absence, he went up on deck to stare at the ocean. Being February, it was very cold out there and he ended up being chilled all the way to the tips of his fingers. He returned to the ship cabins and amused himself by putting his frozen hands on Ryuunosuke, who was stuck in his room studying.

Van Zieks- Upon hearing from Vortex that there was a Japanese exchange student coming to England to study law, he smashed a Lord's Bottle. He apparently also didn't care for the fact that that Japanese student wouldn't be alone, because he proceeded to shatter his chalice, too.

Hosonaga- in order to provide a respite from studying, he provided some hot chocolate. They enjoyed a pleasant tea time, marveling over how sweet and delicious the drink was until Sherlock piped up with some unnecessary trivia: 'Actually folks, chocolate has long been used in Europe as an aphrodisiac!' Everyone promptly spat it out."

"The long winter is nearly over and spring is on it's way, putting the DGS cast members in a celebratory mood. Who found the best way of enjoying spring?"

Ryuunosuke: the Yuumei University faculty members were holding a flower viewing event, and he joined the assistance committee. He exhausted himself keeping the blankets clean so the intense shower of flower petals wouldn't pile up too high on them, delivering sake and snacks, and mediating whatever pointless fights arose. To top it all off, for some reason his compensation was only a single piece of leftover candy. Talk about a sad result!

Susato- her father and the others living in his dormitory were  holding the flower viewing event, so she got up early to prepare the bentos. But her father carelessly forgot to tell her that they wanted tea cakes, so she had to go around the house and neighborhood collecting sweets. For some reason, she ended up being able to gather caramels, biscuits, candy sticks, basically everything but tea cakes, for the tea ceremony.

Sherlock- he disguised himself as a beat officer and infiltrated Scotland Yard to have some fun. There was a real beat officer napping on his feet in the spring sunshine, and while observing him, Sherlock ended up falling asleep too. Detective Gregson gave them a good scolding when he found them, but then Sherlock revealed his true identity with a "hey, it's me, folks!" "What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Gregson shouted, his rage growing even more, and Sherlock ended up making a run for it.

Van Zieks- went to the vineyard to oversee the production of the contents of his Lord's Bottle. As he viewed the still unopened grape blossom buds, he thought about how they would someday grow up to fill his Lord's Bottle, and ended up going around to look at each one. But the farm hands couldn't stop wondering whether the bottle itself or its owner's heel might come flying at them and were quite uneasy.

Asougi: exhausted himself running around since early morning helping with the professors' flower viewing event. When it was over, he took a break, sharing his reward candy stick [the name of the candy literally translates to 1,000 year candy] with Ryuunosuke, who had also been helping out. 

"I wonder if the candy's effect is halved if you share it with someone."

"That still gives us 500 years."

They laughed and enjoyed looking at the flowers until dark. Then they parted ways with a handshake and a "see you later, best friend."

(This one was something about celebrating New Years. For some reason I didn't save the original question)

"Ryuunosuke ~ To celebrate New Years, he planned to pound mochi with everyone at the office. He somehow managed to get his hands on some mochi rice and he and Sherlock started pounding. Iris was having such fun watching them that she steamed a whole bunch more mochi rice so they could have some to share, and he and Sherlock spent the whole evening pounding mochi like crazy.

Asougi~ Because it's New Years, he went around to a bunch of shrines. When he drew his new year's fortune, he got a "horrible luck" result. "I'm not worried about it," he claimed, and headed up to the mountains early on New Years morning and work hard on a full training course of purification by water, meditation under a waterfall and wooden sword practice. It seems that he was working really hard to clear his mind of all earthly thoughts

Sherlock- Agreed to help Ryuunosuke pound mochi. As Ryuunosuke was flipping the mochi over, he carelessly dropped his badge into the bowl and Sherlock mixed it in without noticing, so they had to crack open both the hard and soft mochi to look for it. Fortunately they found it in the 4th one they checked, but apparently Sherlock got his hands and face covered in sticky white mochi in the process.

Susato- Wore a furisode and went with her father to do the first shrine visit of the year. The shrine was incredibly crowded and they had to wait in line for a long time, but she brought the Encyclopaedia of British Law and a copy of the Strand Magazine in her sleeves to secretly read as they waited so she actually ended up enjoying the wait.

Van Zieks- Ryuunosuke cheerfully gave him some mochi as a New Year’s (which at that time was celebrated at the same time as the Chinese New Year) gift, which he accepted confusedly, wondering “...Can the Japanese not even keep track of when the New Year is?” Because Ryuunosuke referred to it as a rice cake, he tried to eat it like a regular cake without softening it with heat first. It was so hard that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be food, and ended up misunderstanding the Japanese even more!

"Autumn has arrived, and the weather is starting to cool off, which means that everyone is becoming more active. Which character chose the most pleasant autumn activity to keep busy with?"

Iris was making bread but her hands are small and it’s difficult for her to knead the dough, so she asked for Ryuunosuke’s help. She wanted to make enough to hand out to Gina and all the other homeless children in the East End, so she made a massive amount and Ryuunosuke was stuck kneading this massive mountain of bread dough all day. Apparently he became such a expert at kneading that he could be a baker now.

Asougi was practicing with his sword, slicing autumn-colored ginko leaves as they fell from the tree. He cut so many leaves, though, that he ended up making a big mess on the ground, the number of fallen leaves now having increased, and it took him a long time to clean it all up.    

Sherlock: Ryuunosuke told him that he was making anpan (bread filled with sweet red bean paste, the bane of my Asian-dwelling existance) and asked Sherlock to help by being in charge of getting the poppy seeds they’d need to sprinkle on top, so Sherlock went out and gathered a ton of poppy seeds. In fact, he got so many of them that no one knew what to do with them all cuz they had a huge amount of leftovers. Sherlock said, “Well, they’re only the size of poppy seeds! Surely you two can deal with them somehow! Ahahaha!” and Iris scolded him.   

(I couldn’t capture it in English, but Sherlock’s line contained a pun, and a pretty stupid one at that, so that’s part of why he got scolded)

It’s grape harvesting season, so Van Zieks commutes to the winery regularly to direct the production of the contents for his “Lord’s Bottle.” He demands perfection in everything from the selection of the grapes to the way they’re squeezed, and the winery staff is terrified by the “grim reaper’s” gaze and heel swinging (i.e. the leg thing he does in court) so they grumble as they work. 

"Hearing that there’s a holiday in the West called Halloween, the people involved with the court in Japan decided to try it out themselves. Naturally Halloween is a big deal in England as well. So, which member of the DGS cast had the best celebration?"

Team Ryuunosuke and Asougi- Asougi got Naruhodo up on his shoulders and they draped a white sheet over themselves to make a ghost costume. They went out like that, but Naruhodo had such exaggerated reactions to the fear of the people who saw them and to bumping his head on tree branches that they ended up losing their balance and falling on top of each other?!   

Sherlock Holmes- went wearing a horse’s head mask. Iris used her skills to make it a fancy horse covered in stars, but the eye holes weren’t well made and he had to wander around blindly. Because of that he tripped hard over a pile of coal! He ended up getting so dirty that the stars on his costume were covered up!

Van Zieks- took inspiration from his nickname and dressed up as the grim reaper. He covered himself up with a skeleton mask and hood figuring no one would know it was him. Unfortunately he got angry when he saw Megundal (McGilded) pass by and started throwing bottles and glasses and ended up giving himself away.

"November has arrived, and autumn is nearing its end. However, the DGS cast is still keeping busy, even on their days off. Which character chose the most interesting way to spend their late autumn day?"

Ryuunosuke- Thinking that he’d better learn more about British culture if he was going to be a defense attorney in Britain, he went down to the East End with Gina for a little observation. However, because an Asian like him stood out so much, he got mobbed by the other children. On top of it all, his arm band got stolen from him and he had to send a replacement request to Yumei University on the other side of the ocean.

Asougi- He went for a meal at La Quantas. The customer at a nearby table got a persimmon for dessert and scarfed it down, saying “Mm! This is it! This sweetness makes it worthy of being called a treasure among foods!” Asougi tried to comment on this by saying, “The customer at that table sure is enjoying his pershim--gak!” but he may or may not have accidentally bitten his tongue in the process and been unable to finish his sentence.

Iris- She accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and prepared a bagpipe and kilt costume for him. “This outfit sure is breezy,” Ryuunosuke said shyly upon trying it on. With Ryuunosuke now dressed, he, Iris, and the others from their office headed over to Gregson’s place to get him to treat them to some fish and chips.   

Sherlock- He accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and cooked up some European style curry for dinner. Thanks to the fact that his secret ingredient was a large amount of Chinese herbal medicine style spice, it caused some strange side effects and Ryuunosuke, who’d eaten it, ended up passing out and falling over.

“Another taxing trial for Ryuunosuke has finished and now it’s December. As the year draws to a close, which character acts the strangest?”

Ryuunosuke- he was recruited to help with snow removal around Yumei University and the courthouse and he enthusiastically began his task with the help of a large shovel. He got a little carried away, though, and ended up accidentally burying his umbrella, which he’d left propped up against the side of the building, in the snow he’d just finished shoveling.  He had no choice but to share Asougi’s umbrella on the way home.

Asougi- On the way home, he nods silently to Ryuunosuke’s question of whether he’d finished his travel preparations and changes the subject: “...Come to think of it, it seems that tomorrow is celebrated in the West as God’s birthday.” “I’ve heard that they eat chicken as part of the traditional celebration. Wanna try it?” Ryuunosuke asks invitingly. Asougi is strongly opposed to that particular menu item, however, and they end up going out for their usual beef stew that night instead.           

Susato- in addition to her year-end travel preparations, she also was busy with straightening up the book room in her home. She managed to get the law books in order when she suddenly stumbled upon some old issues of Strand Magazine! She hurried through the rest of her cleaning, then began flipping through the magazines she’d found, trying to decide which to take with her on her trip. She accidentally lost herself in her reading and didn’t realize it until it was already the middle of the night.

Sherlock- he was in the middle of a long ship voyage when Christmas night came. His mind on his partner in a far-off country, he made a toast alone on deck, when suddenly the crew began shooting off fireworks with a cry of “Merry Christmas!” Sherlock had to dart back and forth across the deck to prevent the fireworks from hitting him and setting off the explosive chemicals he carries with him.

Main series edition

[room-archive]

By now, some of you might have heard about the situation in Poland. The following text was posted on FB by a Polish friend of mine following the events of 07. August 2020 in Warsaw. It describes what happened, and the context of what led to the events of yesterday. Please reblog and share this post to spread awareness about the current situation.

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For a very long time it has not been easy for me to write and talk about my country. Publicly, for a very long time I haven't. Disagreeing with most of what the current government stands for, that would have become a full-time job. Feeling that one is powerless, one can easily become indifferent and either emigrate abroad or immigrate inside to the bubble of like minded friends, trying to just go on with life regardless, to wait out the storm, to hope for the world to change one day on its own. I am guilty of doing both. But yesterday, I believe that Poland came to its turning point. We went to sleep in a troubled democracy and woke up in an authoritarian country that uses the full force of the state apparatus to oppress and unjustly prosecute members and allies of the LGBT+ community.

No good person can stay indifferent facing these circumstance.

General context:

👉 It all began members of the activist collective "Stop Bzdurom" (eng. Stop the Bullshit) spray-painted and cut the tires of an anti-abortion van. This van was taped with graphic images of dead fetuses and frequently driving through the streets of Warsaw. While the activists spray painted the van, the driver intervened and it came to a light physical quarell with pushing and elbowing. This is the video of this altercation: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1324521857722944&id=137358556439286

👉 On the basis of that, the Public Prosecution (which is under total political control in Poland - the Minister of Justice IS the Attorney General) decided to press charges of violent assault and destruction of property against one of the members of the collective - Margot. Margot identifies as a non-binary person (it will be important later in the story). Under those charges Margot could face up to 7 years in prison.

👉 Some weeks ago, Margot was dragged out of her apartment by police in civil clothing. At that point, police refused to give any information about her whereabouts or charges. It took many hours to establish that she was taken to the prosecution office for interrogation and to provide her with a lawyer. The prosecution filed for two months of arrest, awaiting trial. The court initially denied prosecution's request and released Margot. At that stage, this story could have ended as yet another, relatively harmless episode in our disfunctional democracy - unjust and infuriating of course, but at the end smoothened out by the somewhat independent parts of our judiciary.

👉 In between that and yesterday, the same collective hanged rainbow flags from monuments in Warsaw. One of those was a statue of Jesus. This was follwed by a wave of arrests under the charges of "desecrating monuments and offending religious feelings". The arrested were charged while our prime minister and president were visiting desecrated monuments and placing commemorative flowers.

And then yesterday happened:

👉 The prosecution appealed the court's denial to put Margot under arrest. Another court, for reasons still unclear, reversed the decision and decided to put Margot in jail for two months before any trial. There could not possibly be any reason to make such a decision legitimate. Margot is a special case because Polish arrest and correctional facilities are an extremely dangerous place for a (visibly) queer person like her.

👉 When Margot learned of the decision, she happened to be in the office of the biggest Polish LGBTQ+ NGO - Kampania Przeciw Homofobii (eng. The Campaign Against Homophobia). With the police on the way to arrest her (quite symbolic, isn't it), a few NGO’s asked people to gather in front of the office in a demonstration of solidarity. A few hundred people and plenty of journalists showed up, including multiple members of parliament from left and center opposition parties.

👉Margot decided that if she has to go, she won't just go quietly but as publicly as she can. She walked through the demonstration up to the police officers, offering herself to be taken away. They refused to arrest her. We thought they got scared of the public support and the cameras. It looks like we couldn't have been more wrong.

👉 The spontaneous demonstration moved to a nearby allegedly desecrated monument. There, peacful demonstrators were met by an excessively large police force seperating them from the monuments. And then someone has given an order to make an example out of demonstrators and turn the arrest into a show of power.

👉 First, an unmarked car approached. A bunch of police officers in civil clothing dragged Margot inside. For all that has happened later the crowd remained non-violent.

👉 Then, demonstrators sat down around the car to prevent it from leaving. (see Photo) The police attacked with an unprecedented brutality. Tens of undercover police officers arrived and together with their colleagues in uniforms they begun brutally attacking, beating, suffocating and throwing the demonstrators into police cars driving away with them. All that during broad daylight, in front of TV cameras. Without any shame or hesitation. Multiple photos of police brutality bellow. All questions about the basis of the detention were met with laughter. The protestors were not even called upon to disperse. Just faced with violence for the sake of power - no law, no order. TV cameras have caught police officers giving eachother orders to arrest "three random people from the crowd". Bystanders and people passing by were also arrested.

Yesterday in Warsaw is was enough to be in a wrong place, wrong time. We witnessed a straight up round up.

👉To paint the picture of the excess of the police brutality in more detail, I'll quickly describe one of the detentions. During that whole time, MPs (Member of Parliament) were present at the site. Now, they hold immunity from being arrested, but I don't believe anyone in Poland ever imagined that this immunity would have to be used in such a way. Among the photos below, there is one of a blonde woman, holding her hand on the back of a demonstrator, who's being pushed to the ground by the police. That women is an opposition MP who left yesterday's protests injured by the police and described in detailes what had happened. She saw police officers throwing the protester in the picture to the ground and kneeing her down. Her head was bleeding on the pavement. The MP run torwards them screaming to let go and pushing the police away. She lied down on the protester to guard her with her own body. Only then the police let the MP to put her purse under the bleading head of the protester (seen photo) and take care of the head-wound. The protester was then taken away by the police to an unknown location. That story is just one among many horrifying stories from yesterday.

👉 Later, noone knew where exactly the detained people were taken. We guess that around 50 people were arrested.

50 political prisoners.

Police has been refusing any information. The demonstration has moved under the main police stations and the second wave of random arrests happen (you can see it on the video: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=295720058542451&id=107750507339408).

👉Members of parliament and attorneys have been present at the police stations all night trying to get any information and to provide legal help to the detainees. In order to prevent this contact, police has started to move the arrested people out of Warsaw- a tactic straight up from the harshest repressions of the communist times. On one of the photos below you can see two MPs standing in the way of a police van in the middle of the night to prevent that from happening. People were being dragged out of the police stations to the transport vans. They were shielded on the way to the car by other police vehicles to make identification impossible. Few of them managed to scream out their last name. Attorneys were immediately requesting access to their clients, and were met by police officers bluntly lying that such a person was never there.

👉 To paint the picture in more detail, again, of what was happening on the police stations- below you have a photo of a lady reading a piece of paper standing in a window with bars. That's yet another Polish MP, reading a list of the people being held at that particular station to the desperate families searching for their loved ones.

As for today, we are still unsure about what is going to happen.

We know that the arrested people are being presented with bullshit charges, citing ”the participation in an illegal gathering with an aim of violently assaulting a person or a property". Those charges don't stand on any grounds - not only we have photos and videos - the whole peaceful protest was on live TV.

We know that the Polish Ombudsman and the National Mechanism for the Prevention of Torture has started visiting the police stations.

We know that the first international institutions have started to speak out. Example is in the photos below. With the gravity of what is happening, I'd urge for more and sooner.

Poland is not living up to any standards of a free country. Poland is below anything, that should ever be accepted within the European Union. The long-standing aspiration of my country to become a part of the "West" has shifted towards countries like Russia in a matter of a night.

I will fight this, my friends will fight this. We will not let this go gently into silent night.

But I am not sure how much more fight we have in us.

I'll end with asking all of you abroad for support. Let people in your countries hear about this. We in Poland may not be enough.

[featherymalignancy]

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

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Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

[celestialrry]

a little jealousy never hurt anybody, right?

6.7k

HIIHIHI this was requested by the lovely @angelsuestyles (their ask is in my recent posts!) ALSOOOO THANK YOU FOR 222 BILLION FOLLOWERS (∩˃o˂∩)♡ (not really but 222 :0 !!! I love all of you guys!! thank you, it literally means so much to me <<<<<333333) 

edit: I forgot to put this in here when I first posted but this IN NO WAY is hating on Camille at all (she's literally so hot PLS! she just inspired harry’s 2nd album so she worked for the story) and you guys shouldn’t hate on her either!!! 

summary: Y/N and Harry are idiots.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and illusions to a boner ¨̮ ( I think that’s it...)

Y/N regrets quite a few things. 

Like that time when she took her senior photo and didn’t realize the small bit of concealer she had blended under her eyes would flash back so much. Or when she was being introduced to a set of twins and even though she had been completely sober that night, accidentally ended up kissing the both of them, not realizing who was who (she didn’t even remember who she wanted to kiss in the first place). And of course, she regrets somehow being able to put a check in one of those super specific love-cliche boxes.

It really wasn’t her fault for falling for Harry. How could she not? Ever since he asked her to join him on his sophomore tour after she played some guitar for his album, she knew there was no way to crawl out of the hole that had just been dug. All thanks to her her friend Sarah, who introduced the two at her intimate birthday party, just months before Harry started producing and writing for Fine Line. 

When an “Oh, shit! You’ll have t’show me sometime!” erupted from Harry after Sarah mentioned Y/N played guitar and even partnered with Mitch on a few projects of his own (that unfortunately, not even after Y/N’s begging, would never be released to the world), Y/N was sure that she would never end up showing Harry, and he was just being sweet. But when a few days later, Harry texted her explaining how he got her number from Sarah and asking if she could get together so he could hear her play, Y/N realized he had been serious, and well, the rest was history.

Harry had insisted she play for a track, then one became a few, then a few became practically the entire album, and soon Harry was talking about how “sick” it would be if she went on tour with them, and after arranging things with her uni and taking a leave from her job, she was ready.

Tour had no shortage of interesting moments, from the time Harry almost broke his ankle during rehearsal and tripping on the microphone wire (why he insisted it have a wire, Y/N had no idea) to Mitch getting really drunk after one show and blabbering on and on about British culture and how different it was from American culture, and YN was sure she’d never seen or heard him talk this much, but no one was complaining.

Y/N had found some sort of companionship in everyone on tour. Sarah had always been like a big sister to her, and the protective instinct really kicked in when they were in a different country, Y/N noticed. Charlotte was pretty new, just like Y/N was and they bonded quite fast over that, and their love for fashion they could never afford. Adam was more open and bubbly, and he took Y/N in like one of his own kids. She truly didn’t think being 23 was so different than everyone else being in their late 20′s and early 30′s but after being treated like a fragile puppy, she noticed that no one else felt the same as her-- she really wasn’t complaining though, it just meant she had all eyes looking out for her, and she kind of needed that to be honest.

Mitch practically became her older brother, and although he was a bit closed off and shy when they first met (which was a few weeks before Y/N met Harry) eventually he was joking around with just her, and teaching her new things on the electric guitar she hadn’t known before.

Finally, Harry. It would be an understatement to say Y/N and Harry got really close, really fast. He was always really good at making friends, but with Y/N it seemed they became great friends in a heartbeat. He opened up about almost everything, fame, missing home, his heartbreaks, his accomplishments, and everything in-between. Y/N did the same, told him how paying for uni was an absolute bitch (to which he offered to pay and she immediately turned him down), how her parent’s divorce impacted her own relationships (Harry had nodded in agreement with that), and about how being on this tour changed her life. By week 2 of tour, the two had become so close, even the fans had picked up on it just during their banter and contact during shows.

“They’re ‘shipping’ you guys,” Mitch had said, taking a sip of water backstage as everyone was gathered in the band’s dressing room. Harry was still getting dressed and ready, so it was everyone but him. “It’s quite cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s brow raised in confusion. “What- why? We act normal like we always do.” She pointed out, firm in her statement. A snort from Charlotte made Y/N turn her head to the strawberry-blonde and gape. “What? Do we- do we not act normal?” She asked, looking around at everyone, now flushing out of embarrassment. “You two act like you’re dating sometimes, love,” Sarah pointed out. “It’s nothing to worry about though, he’s just really affectionate, friends or partners, and we can tell you do too, so it’s inevitable that someone will mistake you guys for a couple.” 

“Mistake who for a couple?” A familiar voice asked, and everyone’s gaze wandered over to the door where Harry had walked in with his billowing dress shirt, and dress pants for the night. “You and Y/N.” Adam said, and Y/N’s head had snapped towards him to give him a death stare, but before her eyes could burn into his skull, her attention was dragged away by an arm draping across her shoulders and the dip of the couch next to her. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a soft smiled before squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “Makes sense, s’like we’re practically married.” 

“I’m waiting on a proposal.” Y/N said with a grin, and Harry smirked, pulling her in closer towards his body. “You’ll get one soon, pet, don’t worry.” The conversation had then shifted to Mitch and Sarah who were literally work-wife and husband, not yet anyways, but everyone knew he would ask her soon enough. Y/N always like this before shows, happy. Not that preforming and the adrenaline rush afterwards wasn’t enough, but everyone was always together, and she liked that a lot. 

She also liked how Harry’s arm had slid down from her shoulders to her waist and how his fingers splayed across her hip, how they gently squeezed, and how his thumb mindlessly ran up down across her skin. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that stayed on her mind the entire night.

。:°ஐ

Harry was always positively buzzing after a show. His narcissistic side loved it when everyone’s attention was on him for hours at a time, screaming his name and shouting their declarations of love.  He loved to be told how talented he was, how handsome he was, and how funny he was, it was safe to say he had a bit of a praise kink, if he’s being honest. But if it was even possible, he loved hearing it all from Y/N even more than the thousands of people in the crowd. He told himself many times that it was just because she cared about him, and he cared about her, and hearing praise from someone he knows and respects (not that he didn’t respect his fans) was just so much more fulfilling.  

So after every show when he’d rush offstage with he rest of his band, his attention always went to Y/N, waiting for her praise, and he always got it.  He, of course, complimented her back, and watching her smile was more than enough to keep him happy the rest of the night. This night had gone the same as all the others, an amazing show, running offstage, and hugs and kisses being thrown around like a beach ball at a rave. “That was awesome H, your whale seems to get better every time.” Y/N had commented, and he had attempted helplessly to keep his cheeks from flushing. “I’ve just got strong lungs, pet. Could never compare to your guitar playing though, the real star of the show. Don’t tell Mitch I said that.”

She waved off his compliment and laughed, pulling him into a soft hug with a soft kiss on the cheek that he was still thinking about when they made their way to a bar for the night. He couldn’t take it off of his mind, not even when there was a pretty blonde in front of him, her hand running flirtatiously over his arm and her smile as blinding as the sun had been earlier.

 Of course she was pretty, there was no way to deny it,  she just wasn’t as pretty as Y/N. No one was, not after he’d laid eyes on her and began using her beauty to determine everyone else’s attractiveness. 

So when his attention from the woman in front of him fades, he’s looking around for the familiar face that he can’t enough of. He meets Y/N’s eyes and immediately her own dart back to Charlotte, biting the inside of her cheek and praying he didn’t catch her staring at him with envy. 

Envy of the girl in front of him, who go to express her attraction towards Harry without hiding it, and not worrying about if he feels the same way or not, because of course he finds the girl in front of him attractive, who wouldn’t? 

It’s then, that Y/N starts to pity herself, physically and romantically. The partners she’s had before always seemed way too good for her, and she had never been the one to end it.  To say that destroyed her self-confidence in the long run would be an understatement. 

It wasn’t like she needed a partner to make her confident, no, she was perfectly capable of doing that on her own, but for the first time in a long, long time, Harry made Y/N feel really good about herself. Good about her personality, her humor, everything, because if someone she looked up to that much, if a man like Harry Styles wants to be friends with her? She thinks it just meant she was doing everything right.

So Y/N, in short, was jealous. So jealous and wound up by Harry showing attraction towards that girl, that everyone else seemed to notice she was a bit off. “Y/N, you okay?” Mitch asked from across the booth, his thick brows twisted in concern. “Hm?” She looked up from the wooden table beneath her to see everyone, sans Harry, looking at her with the most pitiful eyes she had ever seen, and god, did she feel disgusted. Disgusted that she had fallen so hard for a man she could never have, that everyone around her noticed and felt bad for her. 

“I’m fine, but I think m’gonna call it a night. I’m pretty tired after today’s show.” She said with a tight-lipped smile, hoping it would convince everyone that she was okay. Of course it didn’t though and Adam caught on. “Funny, I was about to say the same. I can’t stay up late like I used to anymore, wanna catch a taxi back?” He asked, and Y/N nodded with a real smile this time, albeit the fact it was small, because she really didn’t want to go back to the hotel alone, and Adam always knew what to say.

Sarah and Mitch slid out of the booth to let Adam out, and Y/N simply stood up on her side because she had the outside seat. Harry was supposed to sit next to her on the edge, but seeing as he went to the bar to grab everyone another round and then ended up talking to someone else, that didn’t happen. She slipped on her light beige coat and grabbed her purse, slinging it on her shoulder as Adam put on his jacket as well. When Y/N looked to the bar where she had last seen Harry, he was still standing there animately talking to the woman in front of him, dimples prominent in his rosy cheeks, and all she could do was hope he didn’t notice the two of them slip out as they made their way to the door.

Alas, Y/N could never be that lucky.

“Hey! Where are y’guys going?” 

Y/N and Adam turned around at the sound of his voice and that was when Adam went in full protective mode, slinging his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulling her in closer. She made a note in her head to thank him immensely when they escaped this bar. 

“Heading out for the night, we’re both pretty pooped.” Adam explained, eyes darting from Y/N to Harry who now stood in front of them, his own eyes darting from Y/N to Adam then back to the girl who was now avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

“Oh, alright then. Are- Y/N are you okay?” He asked softly and only then did her eyes meet his own. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel like such a baby when I’m around you guys.” She joked, her lips curling into a small smile. 

Adam chuckled at that and so did Harry, but Y/N could tell the curly headed one was still concerned. “Well we gotta catch a cab, so…” She trailed off, her thumb poking back to the door. 

“O-okay,” Harry nodded. “Get back safe, yeah? Have a good night.” He said in parting and Y/N and Adam both nodded, wishing him the same before turning back around and pushing through the door. Harry watched the two of them leave, and his stomach bounced around in an odd way. 

The cold air whipped across the duo’s faces, and and Adam rubbed Y/N’s shoulder comfortingly as he hailed a cab. They didn’t talk until they were settled in the back and Adam told the driver the destination. “Wanna tell me what’s up? Cause I’m not gonna bother you anymore when we get to the hotel.”

She smiled at him and scoffed a bit before trilling her lips, a soft noise releasing from her mouth at the movement. “Um,” She began, running her hands through her hair. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” 

At her words, Adam just raised a brow at her. “What? You guys all looked at me like someone just killed my puppy back there!” She defended, raising her hands. “Okay, fine, fine. It won’t help if you keep all your emotions bottled in though, you know?” 

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I know.”

After getting back up to her room, doing her nightly routine (which really was just her washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing into the t-shirt Harry gave her a few weeks ago and her Spongebob decorated fluffy pajama shorts that she got in college as a joke but really ended up being her favorite item of clothing she owned, other than Harry’s shirt, of course) she slipped into bed and began scrolling on her phone. 

Only what felt like 15 minutes later, a knock on her door broke Y/N out of the trance she was in and she sighed a bit, pulling the covers back and grumbling as she made her way to the door, annoyed at whoever was behind it-oh.

Harry looked at her as she swung the door open for him and he immediately grinned. “Hi, love.”She could never stay mad at him. “Hey, H.” She smiled at him, still a bit confused. “What’s up?” He ran a hand thorough his hair and retained eye contact with her, before speaking. 

“Sleepover?” 

She nodded and let him in, and immediately he went to her suitcase without a word, pulling out some her biggest sweatpants and stripping to his boxers, slipping the joggers on and keeping his shirt off. Y/N suddenly was reminded of all of Harry’s tattoos she knew none of the meanings behind. 

Sleepovers were common with the two of them, and they always occurred in Harry’s suite, Y/N on the way too comfortable couch, and Harry guiltily on the bed even though she insisted she take the couch because “We can’t have your back hurting when you preform!” And he couldn’t say no when she also said “Please?” and looked at him with those soft eyes. 

So now it was a bit different, being in her room, because 1, there was only one bed that they would both consequently end up sleeping on, and 2, Y/N and Harry’s feelings had both developed a bit further than friendly (although neither knew about the other’s).  

She hesitantly crawled back into her bed and patted at the area right beside her, which Harry quickly traveled over to, lifting his side of the comforter and pulling it over the both of them while Y/N leaned over to the night-stand and grabbed the T.V. remote. She plopped back into the pillows and started scrolling through random channels, trying to find a decent movie for the two of them to fall asleep to. 

All the while, Harry was attempting to look at the T.V. but the light was shining on her face in a way that just made her look so pretty, not that she wasn’t always pretty, but she seemed to always look the best when she was in her natural state, no makeup, no nice clothes, it was just all so domestic and the feeling overwhelmed him when he realized he wanted to be the one to see her like this every night.

Her eyes darted from the T.V. over to her right where Harry was curled up in the covers, and she could feel the burn of his eyes on her. Now that really didn’t help with her insecurities, and as she continued switching through the channels she found herself burying under the covers more and more.  Soon, she landed on a stupid rom-com that she’s seen a few times before but she never really knows what it’s about because her attention gets easily dragged away from it.

She puts the remote back on the table and flips back around to be face to face with Harry, who was now looking at her with furrowed brows. “Why’re you burying yourself under the covers?” He asked with a frown, and she lulled her head away from him then back, biting the inside of her cheek. “M’just a bit cold.” 

His brows raised because he knew full well it wasn’t cold at all in this room, in fact it was quite hot, but he didn’t want to deal with her lying and thinking she could get away with it, so he pulled the covers off of himself, which actually cooled him off a good amount and piled them all on top of her. “Hey!” She cried out, muffled by the fabric on top of her. “M’hot, so I figured you could have my covers.” 

He heard a bit of grumbling and the covers were flung off of the bed entirely in a few seconds, Y/N sitting up and leaning on her arms breathing a bit heavy and turning to Harry with a stink in her eye. He just flashed his signature cheeky grin and she grabbed her pillow and hit him over the head before placing it back and pulling the sheets over her body. 

“Ow! You fucker.”

。:°ஐ

 Harry was sure about a lot of the things he did. 

Like when One Direction split up, he didn’t remain in constant contact with the boys, and while it was difficult at first,  they all needed a break, and it just made it so much better when they met up to hang out again. Or when him and Camille both decided it was for the best that they break up and they remain friends to this day. And of course, he was sure about bringing Y/N on tour. 

She was possibly one of the best people he had ever worked with, and one of the best friends he’s ever had. He was sure about getting close with her, and he was sure about keeping her close. Only, now keeping her close meant keeping her arms length apart, because if he got any closer he wouldn’t be able to handle being with her any closer than a few little touches and hugs and cheek and forehead kisses, not when he couldn’t have her. 

So it was safe to say when he opened his eyes the next morning with Y/N flung over him, her leg between his own, her arm wrapped around his chest with her face pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and her warm soft breaths hitting his bare skin, making goosebumps pimple, he freaked out. 1, because friends did NOT cuddle like this, and 2, the close contact was making his chest clench and his lower abdomen heat up. 

He let out a shaky breath and thanked his lucky stars Y/N was a deep sleeper, and slowly slid out from under her, ignoring how his arms were wrapped around her and his hands were touching her bare skin where her shirt (his shirt really, and that just made it about a billion times worse) had ridden up in the night. As he was pulling his torso from her body after getting his legs out, she let out a whine and her grip on his back tightened. 

His heart beat wildly fast, so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down and saw it moving through his skin, and he stilled, terrified that she was awake. A few minutes went by, and she didn’t stir anymore, so after chalking her movements up to a dreaming Y/N, he moved a hand and gently took her soft hand off of his bare skin, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

Finally he’s out of bed, and slipping on the clothes he wore the night before, folding the sweats he borrowed and putting them back in her suitcase.  He grabs his phone off the other side table Y/N never used and reaches her door, making the terrible mistake of looking back. Y/N’s face is smushed into the pillow he put under her head, her lips sightly open as she slept and her arms now curled around the pillow Harry had used last night, and he would swear on his mum’s life that she was breathing in his scent if not for the fact that he was certain she didn’t like him the way he liked her, and he didn’t want to barter his mum’s life on something so uncertain. 

His chest clenched for what felt like the billionth time this morning and even if he didn’t know it then, he had already decided that he couldn’t handle this anymore, whatever this was, and began to push the sleeping girl out of his mind and heart, in order to save himself from future heartbreak.

 。:°ஐ

When Y/N woke up, her bed was empty, and she had never felt akin to a bed until that morning. 

。:°ஐ

The last time Harry really spoke to Y/N was the night he slept over.

It had been a little over a month since then, and she was trying really hard not to let it get to her, but seeing as Harry interacted just fine with everyone else, and his problem seemed to be with just Y/N, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that she had somehow scared him off. 

A week after he slept over, the only times he spoke to her were for performances and work-related things, and her mind had been swarming with questions. Did she say something about him, or to him while she was sleeping? Sure, she had a dream about him, but it wasn’t anything dirty (although that had happened a few times before), they were just at a carnival and there was a ride in which they got to fly, it was quite fun. Did she cuddle him too much? Sure she could be really touchy when she’s tired, but so can Harry if his wandering hands (only in appropriate places) when they had movie nights were anything to go by.

So her questions went unanswered, and her attempts to speak with him were fruitfully ignored, whether that be he pretends he didn’t hear her the first time, or if he excuses himself before answering because he had to talk to someone about something. 

Everyone else in the band noticed, and Y/N didn’t know it, but everyone at tried to talk to Harry about it at least once. Adam mentioned how Y/N and Harry seemed to have drifted apart and Harry only hummed in agreement, making it obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Charlotte had asked Harry if he was doing okay, to which he responded “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” And she didn’t feel like it was her place to tell him that Y/N had come to her crying about Harry’s actions, or lack thereof, towards her and she didn’t know what was wrong. Sarah was blunt with Harry, telling him how it was obvious Y/N and him weren’t speaking and asking what had happened to which Harry shrugged it off and told her that “people grow apart”, and it wasn’t anything personal.  Mitch had tried to the same, to no avail, despite being even more blunt than everyone else.

And that led them here, 15 minutes before Harry’s second, and last night in L.A. on his tour before they head to New York. He was quite looking forward to it, excited to see the few friends who couldn’t make it the night before. It was easy, going out with people after the performance, not having to think about Y/N as he drinks the night away. 

He looked in the mirror in front of him, patting the invisible dust off of his pearl adorned blazer and pants, the wife-beater under his coat so thin his tattoos could be traced. Usually after he was dressed he would pop into the band’s dressing room just to shake off the nerves beforehand, but he stopped doing that after he began to push himself away from Y/N. There would be no where else to sit but next to her, and that didn’t help his overwhelming need to hold her.  So instead, he made his way to the couch in his room, relaxing for the few minutes he had.

Y/N on the other hand was sitting in the dressing room with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte, and Adam, all conversing about how ready they were, the energy in L.A. the night before had been off the charts, and they were more than excited to feel it again. All Y/N could think about, however, was that this just meant there was one more show to play, then tour would be over, and there would be no more reason to be in Harry’s band. Not when he clearly didn’t want to be friends with her anymore, and she thinks this is the worst she’s ever felt in a long, long time. 

。:°ஐ

The first part of the show goes really well. Harry is hyping up the audience, and everyone is smiling. “She” was the next song they were to play after Harry stopped interacting with the audience and Y/N was excited. It was one of her favorite songs to play, and she loved just stopping and listening when Mitch did his solo. He usually did the more detailed guitar work, while Y/N worked with the backing chords. 

“Alright, the next song we’ll be playing is “She”, let’s make sure not to get Mitch’s ego too high afterwards though.” Harry had laughed into the mic, walking back to the stand and clicking the mic into place. Then, it began. It was good, it really was, until Y/N noticed that Harry had faltered a bit in the chorus, and her eyes followed his own to the blonde hair in the VIP section. It was her, Camille, the muse behind this entire album.  Her heart stuttered as she noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was gorgeous, prettier than all of the pictures she’s seen.

And Harry was looking only at her in the crowd.  It was then, that Y/N started to go a bit haywire. He began to sing the chorus, and she guesses her fingers held the pick a bit tighter, and strummed bit harder, because after 10 seconds of playing she realized she could no longer hear his voice. Almost immediately did she soften the strumming and look up to see Harry turn to face her, confusion and anger, maybe, written all across his face.  She ignores it and continues to play until the song is over. She’s not listening when the crowd cheers, but she regrets tuning in when Harry introduces the next song on the set list, how he says that it’s possibly one of his favorites, and meet’s his ex’s eyes when he starts to play Cherry.

It’s then that Y/N breaks. She keeps her eyes down, and her strumming quiet, just incase she falters (which she does about 2 times), and when her mouth moves up to sing the backing vocals she realizes that her eyes are welling up and her throat is closing in.  She closes her mouth and continues to play the guitar, missing Harry’s look back at her, and the rest of the band’s attempt to conceal the fact that she had stopped singing in the middle of the verse. 

The rest of the show goes on, and her tears are held back when they all wave goodbye, and when they rush offstage, and when Harry’s hand brushes her arm that she’s sure was a mistake (it wasn’t), and they continue to be held back until she bursts into the unisex restroom just a mere 20 feet away from the dressing rooms. She locks herself in a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat, shaking hands covering her face as she chokes on her sobs, knowing she would never be enough for Harry, thinking about how he want’s nothing to do with her, and how big of a mistake she made going on tour with them, because if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Harry, and she wouldn’t be feeling this way. 

What feels like hours, but was actually just 15 minutes of her crying all the tears she could cry, she decided it was better to mope in her own hotel room rather than in a public place where anyone could walk in. She steps out of the stall and doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, only washes her hands, then rinses her face, patting it dry with a cheap brown paper towel. She crumples it up and tosses it in the trashcan, walking out of the restroom to see Harry outside of his dressing room, his arms wrapped around Camille in an intimate embrace. 

Intruding would be a good word to describe how she felt right then, and quickly did she speed walk the other way, trying not to let any more tears fall as she opens the door to the bands dressing room to see Sarah and Mitch packing up her things. One look at her was all it took to break the dam that held her tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, her head falling down and her other arm wrapping around her stomach, maybe it would make things better.

 Sarah quickly hands Mitch Y/N’s bag that held her sweats, sweatshirt, purse, and phone she brought to the venue, and takes the girl into a much needed embrace. She cried into Sarahs chest for a bit, snotty apologies from Y/N that Sarah waved off, insisting it was okay, and that she would be okay.

After calming her down a bit and receiving a hug from Mitch, she takes her bag and walks into one of the privacy divider boxes, changing into the clothes she would wear tomorrow on the flight, and tonight to sleep in. Mitch and Sarah lead her out of the venue with all of their arms locked, and bring her to the car, the hotel, and lastly her room.

“We’re right next door, if you need anything. Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Sarah asked, biting her lip in anxiousness. Y/N shook her head, her puffy eyes hurting from the movement. “No, I’m gonna be okay. Thank you- um, can-can you not tell anyone? I just-”

“Of course we won’t tell anyone,” Mitch interrupts her, making sure she won’t start crying again, because if there’s something he wants least, it’s to see her cry. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/N nods, and they all hug and part with declarations of love and goodnight’s.

。:°ஐ

Harry just arrived at the hotel after a quick late dinner with Camille at her flat, catching up and eating some really good Chinese take-out. It was always good seeing her, they weren’t super close anymore of course, she had a new boyfriend now, he was there too actually, a really fine lad that he thinks Camille deserves, but he enjoyed getting to see her with no bad-blood.  

So the night was going good, other than Y/N’s weird guitar mishap and her faltering voice during the show, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Well, it was going good, until Mitch called him after Harry sent him a text talking about how he was back at the hotel, and told him that he was really stupid. Told Harry that Y/N seemed really hurt earlier, and how he thinks that Harry ignoring her caught up to her. Of course, Mitch knew it was partially untrue, but to remain loyal to Y/N he couldn’t tell Harry why she was so upset, and exactly how upset Y/N really was. 

Upon hearing this, Harry’s mood deflated and he rushed to Y/N’s hotel room, knocking a few times with a soft “It’s me, Harry.” through the door. Y/N heard it, but there was no way in hell she would open the door for him, so she feigned sleep and hoped he wouldn’t attempt to wake her up. “Are you awake, love?” No answer. “Pet?” No answer. “Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to you, um, but we can do that tomorrow, I-um, I’m sorry.” 

He left, after that, leaving her to curl up in her covers alone, tears leaking from her eyes.

The next morning was anything but fun, they were to wake up at 6 and catch the 7:30 AM flight from L.A. to New York.  Of course, everyone one in the band and a few others got first class, while the rest of the crew rode on Harry’s rented private jet, to hold all the equipment that wasn’t provided at the venue. 

So this meant that Y/N and Harry would have to be stuck in the same cabin of a plane together for about 5 and a half hours. Luckily they weren’t designated to sit next to each other, but Harry had other plans. 

He switched tickets with a hesitant Charlotte and got the aisle seat, where Y/N would have the window seat. He got on first, and got settled in,  biting his lip in nerves, he wasn’t really sure how he would be able to explain away all of his actions to her, but he knew that he had to, he didn’t want to loose Y/N.

Y/N stepped onto the plane, flashing a fake smile at the flight attendant who obviously noticed her puffy eyes and frowning face. Her eyes darted from the row number and seat letter to the ones on the top of the cabin, and when she found the matching pair of seats, there he was, in all his sweatpants-sweatshirt covered glory. 

Her mouth opened to tell him she didn’t want to sit next to him, but when he looked up at her with a soft smile, all she could do was close her lips and sigh, squeezing past him to plop down in the seat with the window. 

He didn’t try to speak to her, and she did the same, but he really wanted to. Wanted to ask her how she was, what she had been doing when they stopped talking (or when he stopped talking to her), if her Mom was still working at the job she wanted to quit or if she finally did it, if she still wanted to get a cat when tour was over, but he just couldn’t. 

He had no idea where to even start, does he talk to her, then hope the conversation will lead to a place where he can apologize, or does he just apologize straight up, but have no explanation as to why he hurt her in the first place.

The internal battle lasted until they landed, when they got off the plane, traveled to the hotel, and when they went to their respective suites.

Y/N considered herself lucky that Harry had decided to not speak to her on the flight. That wouldn’t have given her an option to opt out of the conversation, and she knew he was smarter than that.  She didn’t know however, that when she opened the door to her hotel room after a hasty knock, expecting another member of the band, that Harry would be standing in front of it, his eyes widened in anxiety. 

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting her and walking past her into her room that she hadn’t invited him into. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, and-and not talking to you when you tried to talk to me. You didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.”

Her brows raised in surprise and she shut the door behind him, staying near the entrance.  As her mouth opened to accept the apology, her mind raced through how she had been feeling the past month and instead she said, “It’s been a fucking month Harry, I-I thought everything was fine, and then one day you just decided to cut me out?”

“I know,” He stepped closer to her, guilt rushing through him. “I know, it was stupid of me, and I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t even know what to say. You wouldn’t even look at me on the flight and I-“

He was interrupted by her walking up and pushing her finger against his chest. “I wouldn’t talk to you?” She scoffed, tears brimming her eyes. “I-what did you expect after you pushed me away for a month, no warning, no reason-”

“Of course I had a reason!” Harry raised his voice, eyes watery as well.  “I fucking love you! That’s why, and-and we were getting too close than friends should, and I couldn’t handle not being with you.”

Silence. 

“Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry-mmph!”

His apology was silenced by her lips on his, and his eyes widened as he realized what was happening.  They fluttered closed, and his arms wrapped around her torso, while her hands were placed on his cheeks and wowthiswasreallyhappeningandhewasn’tdreamingwashedreamingnohewasn’t-

Y/N pulled away with a deep breath in and laughed a bit, her forehead resting against his. “If you didn’t catch on with that, I love you too.” 

Harry laughed and cheekily grinned, pulling her even closer than she was before. “Really? I’m not sure I got it, can you help me understand a bit more?”

She swatted his chest and kissed him once more. “Cheeky bastard.” 

[someonestolemyshoes]

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one! 

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration) 

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.  

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

**

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

**

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.  

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.  

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."  

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."  

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Internet Friends

For Maribat March day 4 theme internet friends

Master List

It was peaceful for once in the manor. Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass, and Babs were all in the living room doing their own thing. However peace cannot last forever and the silent atmosphere was interrupted by one Timothy Drake-Wayne. 

“Guys come check this out!” He exclaimed, his phone facing the others in the room. They all gathered around the phone, some more annoyed than others. On screen was a video and Tim hit play. 

It showed a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin motioning for someone off screen to come over. There was music going on in the background and the girl was obviously getting impatient. The figure came on screen and they were all shocked to see it was Jason. Then at the top of the screen the words ‘Doing this trend with my overprotective best friend’ appeared and now they were very confused. Jason had never mentioned this girl before.

The music stopped and the girl repeated the lyrics “Look at my ass, look at my thighs” as she turned around. But before she could turn around Jason picked her up and carried her off screen before the video ended. 

“What was that?” Dick asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“It’s a trend on tik tok that girls usually do with their boyfriends, but in this case Jason and this girl are just best friends.” Steph answered. 

“How does Jason even know this girl?” Dick pointed out, asking the question that was on all of their minds. Unfortunately, no one, not even Tim, knew the answer. 

Cass then spoke up, “Watch more.” She grabbed Tim’s phone and played another video, however this time it was Jason holding the camera. He came over to the strange girl who looked to be baking something. She looked up at him weirdly, asking something that couldn’t be heard because of the audio playing, luckily they could read lips. 

‘What are you doing?’ She asked

Jason responded with ‘Just listen.’ 

She turned her attention to the camera as the lyrics “That’s my best friend, that’s my best friend” played. Jason was moving to the beat and that seemed to convince the girl to also move to the beat. The song continued with more lyrics playing “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my best friend”. Then suddenly the lyrics “I just fuck her her from time to time” played and the girl whipped out her spoon and started whacking him on the head with it. She was screaming ‘LIES’ just before the video cut out. 

This led to them going on a spree of watching their tik toks. Apparently this was their shared account and both of them had separate accounts they planned to look at later. An hour had passed of them just watching their tik toks before they stumbled upon an intriguing one. The caption was ‘You guys asked for it, so I’ll explain. This is going to be my side of the story.’

It showed Margot, as they had found out her name was, sitting on her bed recording herself painting her nails a blood red as she talked. 

“Ok so you guys have been asking for this for a while so here it is. How I met Jason part one. And Jason will also be doing his side of the story, just so you’re aware, watch that after this. But this also takes place after the whole ‘Hawkmoth and Lila Incident’ so if you haven’t watched that storytime on my personal account, you should probably go do that.” 

One look at each other and they knew they were gonna look at the story afterwards. It was getting too good to leave now.

“So a long time ago I had a venting account on Instagram. Now I had many venting accounts, all with different usernames, including Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, all that good stuff but Instagram is where I met Jason. I posted something about how death could never stop me because I had died by the hands of an akuma before but ladybug’s cure brought me back to life. But then later on in the post I said something about how if this one boy, you all know who he is, couldn’t take a hint then I would rather let death take me than bother living in this mortal realm. Jason ended up seeing the post since we were following each other at the time and DMed me. Now he said and I quote ‘Yo, my username at the time, if you need me to come and beat this guys ass I would be more than happy too. I would gladly let death claim me as well without your shit posts to relate to.’” 

She had tried to make her voice sound deeper and had stopped painting her nails so she could do air quotes. “Looking back on it now, that is such a Jason thing to say, but at the time I was pretty confused and mildly concerned. And time’s up, part two will be posted right now.” 

“Wait, what the heck is an akuma and ladybug’s cure and why did she die from it!?!?!” Dick shouted once the video ended. 

“Dick you don’t know what she’s talking about?” Babs asked in disbelief. 

“Tt, Grayson, and I thought you were one of the smart ones in this family.” Damian scoffed. 

“Does everyone here, but me, know what she's talking about?” Dick questioned, getting yes and nods from everyone in the room.

“Okay Dick,” Tim began, “This is gonna be pretty unbelievable and complicated so I’ll try to explain it as best I can in a short amount of time so we can finish her side of the story before dinner. So while I’m explaining don’t interrupt me.” 

He waited for Dick to nod his head before continuing. “There are jewelry called miraculous that house mini gods that grant powers to whoever has the jewelry. Each miraculous houses a different god thus a different power. Miraculous themselves, including the gods bound to them, are neutral so they can be used for good or evil depending on who wields them. 

Hawkmoth and Mayura used the butterfly and peacock miraculouses for evil purposes and were basically emotional terrorists to the people of Paris. Hawkmoth was able to send out a butterfly with magic to a person feeling negative emotions and manipulate them to do his bidding. These butterflies and villains created by the butterflies were called akumas. If you were or became an akuma you were akumatized. Mayura was able to send out a feather with magic that also used negative emotions to create a monster that aided the akuma. The feathers were called amuks and the monsters were called sentimonsters. 

That was when the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir also came along and fought Hawkmoth. Ladybug had the ladybug miraculous which granted her the power of lucky charm and miraculous ladybug. Lucky charm gave her an item needed to defeat the akuma and miraculous ladybug reversed all the damage a fight caused. She also had the task of purifying the akuma, turning it back into a butterfly. Chat Noir had the black cat miraculous which granted the power of cataclysm, which made it so he could destroy anything he touched. The 2 worked as a team for around a year before they brought in other temporary heroes who are not that important. Eventually all their temp heroes’ identities were outed and they could no longer use them so they were back to square one. 

However many people noticed that Chat Noir was not taking his job as seriously, he began sitting out battles, flirting with ladybug while there was an akuma, and even getting civilians killed, relying too heavily on ladybug’s cure. We’re not exactly sure what happened, we assumed she snapped because one akuma attack Chat Noir was not there. Instead, there was a whole new team of miraculous wielders including Murder Hornet wielder of the bee miraculous who had the power venom which let her temporarily paralize her opponent, Red Illusion wielder of the fox miraculous who had the power mirage which let him create illusions, Peridot Protector wielder of the turtle miraculous who had the power shelter which allowed him to create indestructible shields, Medusa wielder of the snake miraculous who had the power second chance which allowed her to reset the time line as many times as needed to win the battle, Mustang wielder of the horse miraculous who had the power voyage which let him create portals, and a new black cat holder, Midnight. 

The team took 6 months to defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura, who turned out to be Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancour. The Justice League tried to recruit them but they all wanted to live normal lives. Ladybug still checks in every 3-6 months to reassure everyone she still has all the miraculous. I don’t blame them, especially Ladybug, for wanting a normal life. This whole thing started when they were around 13 and ended when they were around 17.”

Tim then clicked on part two of her story, not even waiting for Dick to recover from the huge information dump. 

It was the exact same place she was at in part one, and she was still painting her nails the same shade of blood red. “Okay guys part two of how Jason and I met. If you didn’t watch part one go watch then return to this one. So picking up where we left off I Dmed him back and we ended up having a very long conversation about murder, people not understanding the word no, and spineless cowards. This went on for quite a while of us just messaging each other and eventually we gave each other our emails and then phone numbers. I gave him my phone number just before I moved out of Paris. After like 6 months of texting we planned to meet up at some park in New York that was near the apartment I lived at at the time. Now in hindsight that was a very dumb move on my part so to all the kids watching don’t go meeting up with strangers you meet on the internet. Do as I say not as I did. I almost regretted my decision to meet up with him because he is intimidating as hell! He’s like over 6 foot tall, with muscles the size of my head! I honestly thought that I had put myself in a very bad situation but thankfully he was just as nice in real life like he was over text. We ended up hanging out a lot more and long story short we’re best friends!” 

It was at this point that she looked directly into the camera with a glare that could rival Batman’s, stating, “Literally just best friends to all the people who think shipping us is okay!” And just like that, it was gone, “Anyways see you guys next video, bye!” 

And with that the video ended and the Wayne children, minus Jason obviously, were left wondering how they missed the fact Jason had a female best friend. One where they declared their friendship on the internet nonetheless!

“Well that was certainly something.” Steph commented. 

“Yeah, who knew Jason could have a non hero friend that we didn’t know about.” Tim joked. 

“So are we gonna watch Jason’s part?” Dick asked. 

“I don’t think we have time for that, but we can watch it after dinner.” Tim suggested, “Alfred is probably on his way to get us right now.”

“Tt, what do we do now?” Damian questioned. 

It was then that Cass stole Tim’s phone and started to play a new tik tok. And it showed Margot trying to teach Jason how to do the WAP dance. They were never letting him hear the end of this.

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I am literally so sorry for that huge information dump with the miraculous. I did not expect to get that carried away while writing and by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had to post. Honestly because of how much I wrote I will probably use the miraculous holders names in a future fic, cause I’m lazy. :P Also if you wanna guess their identities feel free to! Anyways tomorrows prompt fic thing will be like a prequel for this one, it’s basically why Marinette now goes by Margot and why she lived/lives in New York. The prompt “Betrayal" will be connected to this as well. :)  Also sorry this was posted so late, I had things to do, that I still need to do...I hate procrastination

@maribatmarch-2k21