#they DO wear simple shirts or t-shirts sometimes but......its way more likely to find them in a hoodie

[azttore]

For the ITs Leader trio, who pulls off Dress and who pulls of Tuxedos Best?

Also, favorite winter down/past time?

oh wow ! i am assuming this is in reference to my au art …? i am going to be honest, i am unsure what you mean by leader trio, as narukami is the only one ever considered a leader. so excuse me if i misunderstood ^^” but in context with my au post

narukami 100% is the best dress wearer and absolutely pulls off any fit he tries. my idea of narukami is that once he met mitsuru, the gloves were off in his gender presentation game. he saw her and was like “…wow! i can be like that! i too can be a girlboss!” then proceeded to do exactly that. i think narukami would favor those thigh-knee cut slim fit dresses, like in the spy movies- or those floor length slim fits with a little tail. something showy and bright, give him an excuse to bring makeup and jewelry too. i like to think that once he grew comfortable with his identity, he tried to one up mitsuru in anything he pulled off when they were working on something together. friendly girlboss competition.

between naoto and yosuke, they fit two specifcially different types of suit to me. i am not a fan of being tapped to the narrow box of tuxedo, so i hope you don’t mind me expanding a bit.

naoto is likely “the best” with pulling off a suit, but that is inly due to his nature. when you are the great detective prince, you have to carry a sort of air that comes with learning how to be fashionably acceptable. while he could certainly pull off a tuxedo, without a doubt, i actually think naoto would be a little more… uniquie, about it. tailored suit and simple tweaks to the existing style to give it more of a princely sense of theme, is what i personally see. i will have to draw it at somepoint, i am not the best as explaining things, my apologies. my main point of inspirational reference for naoto and the suits he would wear is older, royal like dress shirts and vests/blazers, coat tails and embroidered patterns- some much similar to that of the jouin uniforms of smtv.

yosuke would be the perfect picture of just a guy in a suit and i love that for him so fucking much. i feel like it solidly depends on the type of event on whether he really dresses it up or not. sometimes he can be in a rather quickly put together, budget buy tux. looks like a guy going to prom for the first time. probably needs help tying his tie. when he does put in the effort, however, yosuke can pull off a really well-put tux with no problem. between narukami fashion osmosis and having to learn how to be taken seriously in the field of law, he caught on pretty quickly on how to care for a suit and dress to a t. you just gotta convince him whether or not the occasion is worth it or not- because otherwise? this mans sense of fashion is a fucking disaster i love him so bad but he dresses like a middle aged dad in hawai’ian shirts and khakis. he wears those fucking tshirts with the tuxedo printed on the front. probably wears fucking socks with sandals and freaks out over those water shoes with the toes.

outside of those three, if you would have asked me about the entire investigation team-

both answers would be rise. rise can pull off any shape of dress just as good as she can suit, and i think she opts for those very dress-like suits with frills and tails. rise, narukami and naoto working on pulling off some of the most elaborate, unique fashion takes meanwhile yosuke is standing in the enterance way wearing a shirt that says “man i love fishing” in a pair of shorts that have ten pockets and big ass sneakers too big for his damn feet. i like them so bad. i do think rise and yosuke go in brand name shopping sprees together, she helps him find the cool shit. rise is naoto’s biggest supporter in fashion choice and likely has a hand in getting him a lot of custom work done. as a note to the au, i like to think rise is qprs with the trio. they all hold hands sometimes.

as for your last question!

vacation. oh my god this team needs a fucking break. they are overworked to shit please just give them sometime to hang out and breathe.

in those moments of peace, i think they each are still figuring out their pursuits and hobbies. the only one i am really sure of is that i think naoto is writing in his off time. i feel he has a big attachment to literature, or at least knowledge, and wants to have his own book of sorts. not too sure the type of book, ill get back to you on that, but it feels right to me that he’d be writing in his off time (even though it is still technically work and needs to be convinced to take a break).

sorry this is a world wall i am a little autisitic about them

[ye-local-simp]

Hello! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ ♡

Congratulations on the 400+ followers!!! ☀️

Can I request a match-up please?

I'm short, about 5'1-5'2 almost like an IKEA nightstand and slightly plump like a padded bag chair. I have pale pink dyed hair and brown eyes. I also have a lot of moles on my body and barely noticeable freckles. Usually i wear comfortable loose clothes, something like sweatpants and some kind of oversize T-shirt, not super luxury.

I’m gemini, ISFP and i can describe myself as a person who have trust issues, so it’s hard for me to open up to people at first. Despite of this i love affections in various expressions. Compliments, hugs, smooches - I really like to show attachment to my family and friends! Even if it seems so clingy tbh.

To my family and close friends I seem like a crazy chihuahua - constantly on the move, hard to shut up and just a kind of chaotic personality. Actually, even if i more on introverted side i'm eccentric and active in some ways. I mean who one day came to work with invoices mustache and beard just because wanted to? Yep, me. A little weird me. I have specific tastes in everything from eating french fries with ice cream as sauce to non-standard combination of clothes and colors.

A little aggressive, sarcastic and sometimes rude, if I’m overwhelmed with emotions. It maybe sounds oddly but i like strange and absurd memes, dumb puns and black humour, and i quite often use them in conversations.

I adore astrology and mysticism. Some kind of mystery of the world attracts me, gives me ground for reflection, thereby forcing me to spend almost all my free time on it, and I find it really interesting. I also like everything related to maritime culture and mythology. Warm rainy days, autumn season and evening time of day when the sun slowly sets over the horizon. And I also really like such simple little things as cute pebbles that can be found not only on the beach, but also on an ordinary street, key rings and other seemingly unnecessary trinkets.

What about dislikes? Well, at first it’s wasps. Thank God that I didn't have to come into close contact with them. In my opinion, it's better to run from a flock of geese than from a gang of wasps. The second is acute. I can't and don't like too spicy food and dishes. One day I ate very spicy noodles and my lips cried from burning for half an hour. Not a very good feeling, especially when they are cracked...

When I was a little girl, I attended every school circle, but I didn't stay in any of them due to my frequent variability in both character and interests, and it's a little difficult for me to understand which hobby has sunk into my soul more, heh. I knitted, drew, and excelled in sports - everything in a row, but a little. If singing in the bathroom is considered a hobby, then this is one of them that stayed with me throughout my growing up, ha ha. I will give preference to drawing and writing more, perhaps.

Thank you for your work, I hope you have a wonderful day! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

I will match you up with...

Malleus!!

-Poor man probably also got trust issues due to everyone judging his looks so at some point you two just found each other relatable and found trust in each other.

-Even though it may not look like it, Malleus is also big on physical touch so hugs and quick smooches are actually things you would do when you see each other.He doesn't actually find your clinging to be annoying, as long as you dont do it with Sebek around.Thats the one of the reason why most of your dates are walking around Ramshackle at night.Its actually a pretty neat date since Malleus could always protect you at night, there won't be people around, its calming and he can have a full view on the gargoyles.

-Furthermore, Malleus also has an interest in simple things as you can see from the obsession of gargoyles so he wouldn't really question you if you had an interest in some random trinket you walk past.Plus Malleus is the type of guy who would get your dark joke at random times of the day or the middle of night.As you know, Malleus loves ice cream so you can imagine the shock on his face when he sees you dip a fry on it. He would probably question if humans really did that or it tasted nice. In the end, he tried it and he can not actually say it is bad. Oh well, as long as it was better than Lilia's cooking.

[outtooman]

What does the swimsuit maker teach you about swimming trunks?

If they don't make you feel confident on the beach, what's the point? Lots of options from Swim Shorts to beach pants, and beachwear for men. A simple Internet search can sometimes leave you feeling overwhelmed by too much information. Go in the right direction. Fortunately, swim shorts manufacturer China can guide you towards inclusive beachwear for men and has over 20 years of experience in swimwear manufacturing. It can also help you build your swimwear brand and is the manufacturer that brands can trust when choosing their products. The following suggestions are also suitable for brand owners to choose products as a reference.

Good Swim Shorts must be able to accommodate a variety of body movements, be comfortable, and be able to cope with UV rays and salt water. For all this swimming, sports, talking, and walking, you need the right swimsuit. Men's swimwear is doing its job. A quality garment should be functional and stylish at the same time. That's why so many people gravitate toward versatile trunks that are suitable for any activity. Unlike typical trunks, these trunks are made of quick-drying materials that protect you from the waves and the sun, and they look right at home when you go for dinner and drinks. Win-win, right?

Choosing a men's swimsuit is not just a matter of appearance. They come in different shapes and materials; Finding the ideal swimsuit can play an important role in comfort.

Experienced swimsuit makers tell you:

There are two different categories of men's beach wear: elastic and non-elastic. The former is tight and small in size. The latter is made of fabric (such as nylon, polyamide, microfiber, or polyester) and looks more like shorts. Stretch beach wear, you have three different styles/lengths to choose from. Panties are classic swimsuits that are very popular in Europe. They're low-key, comfortable, and come in a variety of waist-heights. Low-waisted shorts: These shorts are almost as short as panties, but slightly longer. They will still expose most of your thighs. Shorts: Shorts are similar to high briefs. Choose non-stretch beach wear. X Shorts: These are shorter versions of classic shorts. Shorts: This is a more casual swimsuit with a length of 36.6cm, just above the knee. Boxer: They're about 41.5 centimeters long. Big Shorts: Very popular with surfers around the world, these are soft, lightweight shorts that reach up to the knee and are 50.5cm long.

Think about choices in these terms

Start with the Right Pair of Trunks Appropriate length Be Picky About Fabric a Solid or Simple Pattern Flat waistline

Start with the Right Pair of Trunks. The most important thing is to start with the right panties. If you're looking to feel at home away from the pool or beach hut, wearing tropical print shorts may not be the best option

Make sure to choose a pair of swimming trunks that are the right length for regular shorts. That way, you'll be comfortable all day, and you know you'll have a T-shirt that fits them. If you tend to wear longer in regular trunks, such as board shorts, choose shorter styles that look like regular shorts. Keep board shorts for surfing and swim panties for pool decks, and opt for medium-length styles.

Choose high-performance fabrics that keep you comfortable but don't look too sporty. You want them to be lightweight and stylish, so they don't look like basketball shorts. Our trunks are made from a unique 100% recycled polyester material, a fabric that is great for swimming and playing as it provides all the properties needed for a pair of trunks but looks like regular shorts fabric.

Nothing says "Swim Shorts" like a tropical print or a funky fish print, so if you want to take your shorts to dry land, it's best to opt for a softer look. If you want, you can opt for classic neutral bottoms that make it look like you're wearing jeans or khakis. If you like patterned shorts, that's fine! We recommend sticking to less fussy patterns, such as stripes or checks.

Drawstring waist panties are great for helping you create a fit, but in this case, you'll need to pair them with a shirt that covers your waist to tone down the swim trunks. You may want to choose a pair of flat-waisted pants that look more like regular shorts.

Look for a better fit

Thankfully, our world is becoming more inclusive, and the men's beachwear industry is emblematic of that change. No matter what type of body type you are, there is beachwear for men that will make you feel confident at the beach or poolside.

You are tall and well-built. You have the physique of a true athlete. From briefs to Bermuda shorts, any swimsuit will suit you. Choose a color that suits your skin tone. If you have light skin, choose bright colors. If you have a dark skin tone, choose a color that provides a sharp contrast. If you're extremely muscular, you may want to avoid wearing panties and stick to mid-length shorts instead, unless you want to be a bodybuilder.

You are slim and tall. Your legs are thin, and your shoulders are about the width of your hips. Shorts or plain shorts are a good choice. Avoid underwear or swimsuits that are too short or elastic. They make you look taller and draw attention to your skinny legs.

You are tall and strong. Swimming trunks or regular shorts (elastic or non-elastic) are ideal. Choose solid colors or simple patterns to give you a balanced look.

You have a well-proportioned muscular body, but you are not very tall. The swimsuit that suits you best will make you look taller. Avoid knee-length shorts. Briefs, X shorts, and low-waisted shorts are good choices to make your legs look longer and accentuate your abs.

You are not very tall, and slim but not very muscular. I think there are probably a lot of people here. Stretch shorts are ideal for you. Avoid long or baggy swimwear, as they may draw attention to your lack of height.

Can you wear your Swim shorts as shorts? Yes, there are warnings

We're all for swinging Swim shorts in the pool or at the beach, but what does the style book say? A Swimwear Manufacturer China recommendations are also appropriate for reference, and swimwear brands are sourcing from them. By and large, it's perfectly okay, even the norm, to wear Swim shorts as shorts, mainly because so many styles look like they came right out of a regular shorts drawer and no one will even notice. But there are a few rules to follow to make sure you don't push the trend too far. You want to make sure you adhere to the dress code at your frequent resort, restaurant, or bar. If the rules explicitly state that swimsuits are not allowed, you may want to avoid swinging your swimsuit in the facility. That being said, if they look like regular bottoms, go for it. Just make sure you never wear them inside when they get wet or dirty. You also need to make sure to wash your trunks after a day at the pool or beach to ensure you don't introduce sand, dirt, and smelly chlorine into a nice spot.

[holysabltd]

7 FASHION JEWELRY TRENDS FOR WOMEN IN 2022

Jewelry has been a fashion statement for all women that have existed on this earth for centuries and still is one. Trends have gone and come, but the fashion of jewelry is considered to be there for eternity. Jewelry for women is not an ornament for them. It is a piece of luxury, and a fashion statement that they wear that represents their nature and compliments their beauty. It’s said, “The right Jewelry changes our view of the world and the world's view of us".

Jewelry was worn in ancient societies because of its mystical attributes; people thought the ornaments served as amulets to ward against illness and bad fortune. The significance of donning fashion jewelry underwent a dramatic transformation in the Middle Ages. By enacting Sumptuary Laws, the clergy and the royal family made their opposition to wearing this item by commoners clear. These restrictions were created to control extravagance and the attire of the lower classes.

It's interesting to note that the nobility believed they had a certain right to wear jewelry. Thus the same rule didn't apply to them. Fashion of jewelry has transformed and expanded with time so much that trends in the type of jewelry change with this rapid pace of time, and believe me, all women want to be head-to-head with the trend and wear the best and trendy jewelry.

Today, we all can express ourselves through the accessories we wear, whether it's because they symbolize our style or have symbolic importance to us. You've come to the perfect place if you want to keep up with the most recent trends in fashion jewelry. Find out more by reading on

1.Vibrant and Bold Accessories

The winter is coming. It usually draws people to monochrome outfits, but adding a burst of color to your style with quirky accessories won't harm it.

Do you intend to follow this trend of colour? 

Then choose jewellery with vivid colours and big dimensions. Sometimes all your outfit needs to liven up the monotony is a bright accessory.

This can be done by accessorizing yourself with the great jewellery that holysab provides, like our aesthetic-looking “Royal Blue Oxidized Silver Classic Studs” and with our gorgeous-looking “Ebony Disc Chain Bracelet”

2.NOVELTY JEWELLERY

Brands like Moschino and Balenciaga are bringing back quirky jewellery, which was popular in the past. Jeremy Scott revived this motif in his baby-inspired collection, and Demna brought back beaded friendship necklaces but did so more sophisticatedly.

Put on a crucial Ebony Disc Chain Bracelet, some, and a Ebony Pendant Necklace to complete the retro look, and you're set to go and rock that aesthetic look.

3.Return of Logomania

The popularity of Y2K fashion on catwalks, in celebrities ensembles (including Olivia Rodrigo, Bella Hadid, and Rihanna), and in TikTok videos makes Logomania not the most shocking trend. This fashion is undoubtedly diverse; it includes t-shirts, bags, belts, and other accessories like venice crystal pendants necklace.

This fashion trend most recently appeared in the spring '22 collections of companies like Fendi, Valentino, and Balmain. Do you want to join the crowd? Then, to make these brand earrings the focal point of your style, pair them with a simple attire (jeans, ankle boots, blazer)

4.Chokers: A Popular Jewelry Style

A few years ago, chokers were quite in, and models like Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner couldn't get enough of them. This cherished jewellery is currently making a reappearance.

There are numerous ways to wear it. For a touch of glitz, try a delicate Venice Crystal Pendant Necklace with shine. It enhances the traditional girly appearance beautifully (high-waisted black skirt, crop top, and heels).

If you prefer grunge-inspired clothing that doesn't appeal to you, go for a black agate rectangle accent choker instead. You're all set to go with the addition of some high-heel combat boots, high-waisted torn jeans, a band t-shirt, a black belt, and a leather jacket.

5.Bringing Back Memories: Buy Silver Ring For Women Online

Silver Rings in various shapes and designs are whimsical, vividly coloured, and reminiscent of the party favors from the 1990s.

You can see that vibrant silver rings will be around for a while if you look at today’s fashion trends and aesthetic looks. 

Add simple Meg Pearl Necklace from HolySab when styling silver rings. You can dress it up with looks like Eris Baker by pairing it with a vibrant, striped sweater or down like Bella Hadid by choosing a subdued military jacket.

6.Necklaces by Holysab

At the moment, fashion is all about empowering ourselves, having fun, and expressing our individuality. Fortunately, holysab jewellery can achieve that.

Picture charms with trees, pearls and many more designs. They'll give whatever clothing you wear a touch of fun and memories. You can embrace these memories by buying a Nora Pearl Necklace online from Holysab

However, it's reasonable to say that this style (given its most colourful and bold) may not appeal to everyone. Holysab presents might be a terrific option if you want to give a loved one a gift that is a little more understated but still customized and enjoyable.

7.Massive affordable Gold Chain Necklace

Rappers would often wear outrageous links in the early 2000s. One of the major jewellery trends for 2022 is affordable gold chain necklaces. The runaways at Hermes and Valentino included this daring adornment.

Try large gold chains to embrace the season's audacity. They are beautiful as a focal point.

C Fashion is driving us to look for simple ways to improve our appearance now more than ever. In the most recent fashion month, we have shown that accessories have this capability.

Since fashion jewellery may easily transform a good dress into a spectacular one, reach for it whenever you feel like your appearance is "too basic."

Remember, also, that due to pandemic limitations in the previous few years, you may have missed getting dressed. Make up for a lost time, and don't hesitate to explore with more daring, vibrant, outlandish items. After all, fashion is about experimenting with new looks to see which ones suit you the best.

Do you desire to get trendy jewellery? Then take a look at our selection. We, holysab, are here to help you always.

[alienahellsparkle]

sister №4

🏳‍🌈 Natalie Claine.

(created on picrew)

• | 10/09/2000 (Virgo, Metallic Dragon) |

• 164 cm, 63  kg.

• Polyromantic+sexual. 

                                                   - - -

A clumsy and somewhat absent-minded girl who has a habit of rushing often and no matter where - to an important meeting or doing something ordinary, which can make everything fall out of her hands. Also, she can often forget something and sometimes, she does not manage to remember everything, and this infuriates her.

Noisy and friendly joker, good listener, usually gets along with anyone easily, but tends to be on her own and won't say much about what she really thinks about someone or something, and it's better to let them know about it with their actions or actions. Also, Natalie may not immediately ask for help or tell her what is bothering her, even if it is small things, hoping to try to cope with the problem herself, because of which her sisters were angry with her more than once for her silence, especially if it was something something important.

Despite her absent-mindedness, the girl is used to and is trying to control and keep something in order - in the house, in her thoughts and things, wanting everything to be right, to be in its place and not to cause chaos. She also tries to keep to some of her schedules of planned cases.

Flirtatious, she likes to flirt, but she doesn't do it with everyone she meets. However, it is difficult to attract her with phrases, which, usually, she does not pay attention to, and she herself does not use them in her flirting, believing that it sounds mediocre and of the same type.

Cunning and sometimes greedy, when it comes to some things dear to her that Natalie got with difficulty or was looking for a long time. And it also happens that she wants some special things to be only for her, which would make her a lucky woman who has something that not everyone is lucky to find, subconsciously, the girl wants to be envied.

Due to the fact that she usually appears somewhere quickly, she manages to keep abreast of many fresh news and gossip, regardless of whether she accidentally heard them or not. Therefore, Natalie is the first to notify her sisters about the novelties of life and is not able to keep someone's secrets and keep silent about something.

                                                        * * *

• Natalie is university student and wants to try her hand at being a photographer or animation maker, as those are her favorite hobbies.

🍕 Clothing preferences: Prefers "Urban Chic" style, but can also stray away from some styles and wear simple jeans and shorts with tops, tees and t-shirts, often wearing them with transparent retinas (mesh tops).

🍕 Likes: Staring at the stars, take photos, the themes of the East (Arabic) and the signs of the zodiac and the elements, decorations in the form of crosses, tart fragrances of perfumes, Chinese culture, Sumerian mythology, the smell of spices.

🍕 Favorite drink: Ginger tea, pumpkin juice, pumpkin latte.

🍕 Favorite color: Green, dark red, light brown, orange.

🍕 Favorite food: Croissants, pizza, carbonara pasta, mozzarella with potatoes.

🍕 Favorite sweets: Pumpkin desserts, dark chocolate and chocolate with nuts, almond cookies, Red Velvet cake.

🍕 Favorite season: Autumn, summer.

🍕 Favorite animals: Dogs, platypuses, porcupines.

🍕 Dislikes: Themes of robots and cyberpunk, films and series about american schools, gothic, stereotypical glamor (pink clothes, bows, rhinestones, lurex, etc.), vampires, expensive gifts, floral perfumes, bias.

🍕 Least favorite drink: Pure milk.

🍕 Least favorite fruits: Apples, pineapples.

🍕 Least favorite color: Gray, lime.

🍕 Least favorite sweets: Marshmallows, apple pies.

🍕 Least favorite food: Scrambled eggs.

🍕 Facts: She became aware of her orientation and caming-out at the age of 19.  

She has charm and a way of flirting, thanks to which she manages to charm and attract the attention of many people.

Does not drink or use drugs, but smokes electronic cigarettes, however, does not have a strong dependence on them.

Despite the fact that she is a Christian, Natalie never thought about how she relates to God and is neutral (does not believe, but does not deny existence).

She has a sound sleep and it is difficult to wake her up with something. But at the same time, she does not need alarm clocks to get up before important matters, she can wake up herself, and even earlier than necessary, if she knows what will happen the next day.

She is an owl with a hint of a lark (may not sleep at night, but get up in the morning).

May not change her phone or laptop for a new one for a long time, because she is not strong in installing programs and is worried that she might do something wrong and not return the necessary social networks and apps.

🍕 Fun/Interesting facts of creation: Her clumsiness was taken from Mirabel Madrigal from Encanto, and her habit of not being able to keep silent about something is taken from Dolores Madrigal.

🍕 Skills: Creating computer animation, photographing, orienting by the stars, baking, cooking sweets.

🍕 Phobias: Robots, cyborgs, androids.

(Her aesthetic moodboard).

[toestalucia]

how many hoodies does gran have, tell us their secrets

i would like to not answer that.

[skinnyducky]

coinkydinks // v.h.

a/n this was fun to write. though, didn’t really know how to finish it so the ending is pretty lackluster and cheesy (not that im unfamiliar with cheesiness). anyways, hope you enjoy! 

vinnie hacker x fem!reader

Word Count: 957

WARNING: language, fluff, and that’s about it.

---------

It was a day like any other. The sun hung over the city of Los Angeles, providing light and warmth for its citizens. Birds chirped as they flew across the sky, singing their little hearts out. And cruising down the highway was our little Y/n, mouthing the words to whatever song was playing on the radio. She hadn’t planned on coming out today, wanting to spend her only off-day snuggling in bed with her cat and wrapping up the second season of her favorite show. But, with a little coercion from her friend, Vinnie, she decided to show her face.

Speaking of Vinnie, that’s all she could think about on her journey to the Hype House. They were friends…or at least that’s what they convinced the public. The truth was simple: they liked each other. They knew it, and their friends knew it. Unfortunately, there was little they could do. With Vinnie’s fans being as…passionate and protective as they were, there was fear between both parties about how things would go if it came out that they were dating. So, they kept their affections to themselves and hoped they’d dwindle down sometime soon.

After pulling into the circular driveway of the Hype House, Y/n quickly parked her car and got out of it. Before she made her way to the front door, she looked over her outfit. It was a simple white t-shirt, a pair of Purgatory sweats, and her favorite sneakers to bring the look together. It was simple, but cute.

Considering she was no stranger to the Hype family, she let herself into their home and walked to the kitchen where everyone was sure to have gathered. "Hey, people." She greeted, a toothy grin on her face. Her body was filled with delight as she met the faces of all her pals. However, confusion consumed her as she noticed everyone sharing the same look of shock. But it wasn't shock exactly. It was more like they were trying their hardest not to laugh. But what could possibly be so fun that it left them on the verge of pissing themselves?

It wasn’t until she peered over at a particular Seattle native that she noticed what had everybody biting back their laughter. Leaning against the wall, a few feet across from her, stood Vinnie…wearing the exact same outfit. Y/n scoffed, "Wait, what?" She stared him up and down, her smile growing wider by the minute. "This is a joke, right?"

At that moment, the room went into hysterics, with both Y/n and Vinnie joining in. Eventually, the hysterics turned into cooing as everyone began to find the situation more cute than hilarious, including the victims themselves. "Have you been stalking my story or something? Because there’s no way," she asked. "This can’t be just a coincidence."

"No, I didn’t watch your story." Vinnie chuckled, walking up to her. "At least not today."

"Then how else could you have known what I was wearing today?"

Vinnie shrugged and crossed his arms. "I don’t know. It’s not like it’s a common outfit. It’s just a shirt and sweats." While Vinnie did have a point, it wasn’t a strong one. Yes, this outfit combination is common, but in their case, it was incredibly uncommon for them to wear the exact same thing, from the shirt to the shoes, even to the little chains adorning their necks. They were identical.

"Then, how else could this have happened?"

"Maybe it’s a sign," piped Mia. "Maybe something’s telling you to give into your feelings and just get together. You know, spare your friends the pain of watching you two flirt every fucking second."

She was right, and despite Y/n and Vinnie knowing this, they were still cautious. "You know why we can’t do that." Y/n said, earning an eye roll from the brunette.

"Because you’re worried about what the fans will say, but still, you two shouldn’t worry about making them happy. You should be focused on your own happiness. Sure, some fans might be bitter. Who cares? If today isn’t a clear indication that you are meant for each other, then I don’t know what is." As she finished her spiel, everyone nodded in agreement, proceeding to add their two cents and profess how adorable both Vinnie and Y/n would be together.

Once again, Mia was right. Y/n and Vinnie were so worried about what the fans would do and say, and spent so much time trying to keep them happy, when in reality, they should focus on their own happiness. No amount of hate or slander could dispel the way they feel about each other.

Y/n turned to face Vinnie, finding him staring right back at her. "She’s got a point. It’s time." She muttered softly.

"Are you sure," questioned Vinnie. "We don’t have to do this if you’re still worried."

"I’ve never been surer." With that, Y/n laced her arms around Vinnie and brought her lips to his. The kiss was passionate and electrifying, with tiny jolts of love and affection running through both their bodies. They were so busy lip-locking that they didn’t even notice Jack sneaking up and snapping a picture of both of them. It wasn’t until they pulled away seconds later and their phones started going off that they caught onto what he did.

Glancing at their screens, the two were flooded with notifications from both fans and tea accounts. While they were a bit upset with Jack for spilling the beans about their newborn relationship, they were even more relieved to find that fans were far more supportive of it than they had thought. As the young couple lit up with joy, they couldn’t help but be thankful for this odd yet cute coinkydink.

[saturnsstufff]

okay as a chubby girl myself I struggle with how I see myself and this idea makes my heart KSHDHSJS

okay so imagine IMAGINE

Request maybe 🤔🤔🤔

Okay,, you’re standing in the mirror yk in your mirror at technos house/cottage in your underwear and stuff, grabbing at the chub and stuff looking upset and not feeling good about yourself, and techno walking into the room and seeing this. yk him being upset that you feel that way Bc he thinks youre just so pretty 🥺.

IT COULD EITHER GO INTO A SMUT( 😏 where he SHOWS you how much he loves you and how pretty he thinks you are in the mirror) OR FLUFF WITH SOFT WORDS AND CUDDLES or both idk

*slams hand on desk* IVE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS

I went with both, because I like options. I also based this off a little personal feelings so I hope it works!

My Goddess- Technoblade

Warnings: self conscious reader, swearing, NSFW

   The mirror. Your best, but worst nightmare imaginable. Some days you could look into it and see beauty within your curves. Spend endless minutes hyping yourself up. 'Man I look good' 'I am the fucking shit' 'damn look at that' all little things you tell yourself in pride. Because in those moments, you feel powerful. In those moments you feel like you own the world, that others are just lucky to breathe within your presence.

   However, there are bad days. There are days when looking into the mirror brings shame. Days when all you can do is grab at your stomach, and ponder of what you could have done, or what you will do. Its pressed that everyone is perfect in our own imaginable ways. Yet when you look at others, you cant help but be envious. Others can get away with wearing tight clothing, baggy clothing, any type of clothing. Yet when you try it on all you see is a box, if you wear tight clothing, every roll and muffin top pops out. It can be embarrassing.

   Techno never saw your curves as embarrassing however. He loved them. He loved the plush, soft skin of your tummy or your thighs. Your hips? don't even ask what he thought on hips, as long as they were yours. They were perfect.

   With that said, when he saw you saddened about your form he was slightly hurt. You thought he was beautiful, a hybrid of a monster. But yet you couldn't find the beauty within your rolls? Your plump little form? The very thing that made up you? If he ever found out who planted these seeds of lies in your mind, he would have words.

   If you felt confident enough to take the world by the horns, he let you. He would build you up with sweet words of encouragement. 'Well don't you look amazing...' 'you are looking beautiful as ever'. They were small phrases but they meant a lot to you.

   Techno isn't verbal with his love, or compliments really. He chooses to show it, words are just that. Words. Actions are done, are shown. They are physically put into motion. That's why he prefers it. But he also understands sometimes words are needed. They are needed to ease your nerves and doubtful mind.

   when he catches you glaring at your plump form in the mirror, he cant help but quickly move to your side. Kneeling and kissing up your body. Your arms, your thighs, everything. In the beginning he would let you look away. The idea of someone liking your body type left you uncertain, many times you would ponder if his endless kisses were done as a joke. But each and every time he would reassure you that it was real. That him loving you, loving your body. It wasn't in pity, it was in genuine love.

   Tonight was one of those bad nights. With Techno in the bath, you were left to change for bed. Wait for him to come out, and then cuddle the night away until the sun kissed the horizon.

   But well you changed your eyes fell to the mirror. Your eyes casually roamed your body. You were used to looking at it so nothing stood out of course. But as you shifted, you caught a few stretch marks within the candle light. They looked like streaks of lightning that were dragged across your skin. With a quick glance away, you pulled something over your form. Wanting to cover your body and deal with that mental baggage later.

   Of course the Hybrid that stood tall within the door frame held other ideas about that moment. The one thing that always put you at ease was Techno's size. Before you were in a relationship with him, you feared you wouldn't be able to wear your lovers clothing. Being a bit plumper meant "one size fit all" did not fit all. But luckily, with your roughly 6ish/7ish foot Piglin Hybrid of a lover, all of his clothing was a bit baggy on you. Technoblade was a very Built man, this came from his never ending training and his natural born strength of course. But even with him being built and big, the first time he asked you to sit on his lap had you hesitant. What if he found you too heavy? The idea of him asking you to move off would leave you completely mentally ruined. Of course when you finally sat he didn't utter any words besides praises. His hands running gently over your thighs, with a tight grasp he kept you close. When Techno saw you ease into his lap more often, he took pride in knowing you were comfortable enough to do it on a daily basis. That was when he upped the bar again. The day he asked you to sit on his face was the day you had a heart attack. You were so paranoid you would crush him. Of course he was all bemused smirks well you tried to think of excuses. Yet this man was able to ease your nerves and reassure you until you were comfortable once again. You would never forget how giddy he was to be between your thighs. That was the day he found his favorite spot.

   Before you could ease some bottoms over your underwear, this man had his arms around you. Pushing against your hands. His nose was nuzzled into your neck muttering gently "Please, leave them off for now..." with a brow raised you complied. You let the shorts drop to the floor, assuming you would be coming for them in a brief moment. You could smell the lingering sent from his shampoo. The fresh smell giving you great comfort.

   Techno moved you back to face the mirror, his head moving briefly so he could see you face yourself. With a light stubble scratching against your neck you felt the goosebumps rise. Your eyes met his ruby ones within the mirror. "Do you know, how beautiful you are?..." he asked rhetorically. Dragging out the words that he felt were important. You wanted to say no, but knew he wouldn't want that answer.

   "I think I'm alright..." you said softly. He hummed and pressed a loving kiss to your neck. His hands slowly fell down to the buttons of the shirt you were wearing. Skillfully he undid them without thought. When you had pulled a shirt on you didn't think much, but now saw that it was his you wore. Of course he didn't mind, he never minded.

   With the buttons undone he opened the shirt to expose your naked form. Every curve and roll on sweet display for him "You are beyond 'alright'... alright is basic. You know my goddess is beyond mortal definitions..." you gave a gentle smile at his charm, glancing away from his eyes. He didn't allow this tonight however. Instead he took your jaw and gently redirected it to the mirror. Meeting his gaze again.

   "My love... My goddess, you know your body rivals the gods, yes?..." you slightly shrugged, unsure if this was true. With another loving kiss he continued. "Persephone had rolls... She was just as plump as you my love..." you fallowed his eyes gently. Him comparing you to the beautiful goddess left you feeling better. If someone so divine could have rolls why couldn't you?

   He didn't stop there however. "If you cant see your beauty. Let me show you how beautiful you are..." his tone was pleading. Like a animal begging for spare scraps. You watched his eyes, his finger and thumb having control over your chin. You thought on his words and gave a brief nod to him. Trusting him and whatever he had planned.

   Instead of immediately kissing you all over, he pulled away. Firmly telling you to keep your eyes on the mirror. You felt a bit awkward standing there, your legs shifting closer underneath you. He soon came back however, his crown in hand. You could also see he had a simple gray towel around his waist, showing he was fresh from the bath.

   Your curiosity with the crown lingered, but you watched as he put it on your head. "You are a queen... My Queen... You will always be reminded of your everlasting beauty for as long as you are with me..." for not complementing a lot, tonight he was on a roll. Your eyes ran over the crown. The delicate and bright stones contrasting the shimmering gold well against your skin.

   He walked around to the front of you, leaning down to meet your lips in a loving kiss. His hand found a firm places on your hip, and on the plush skin of your ass cheek. With a gentle, but firm grasp he moved and rolled the skin beneath his hand. Loving how soft you were. With his hands working soft whimpers and moans out of you, his mouth devoured them. Eating every noise you made, cherishing them deep within his heart.

   Leaving your lips swollen he moved down. Kissing your jaw and neck. Planning to leave you a work of art. A show of how much he loves you.

   After your neck it was your chest. Soft plump breasts fitting ever so sweetly within his hands. With firm grasps he had you flushed red whimpering. Your eyes half lidded with the sweet lingering pleasure. Yet you still watched yourself and him, knowing to not disobey him.

   With soft kisses placed to the tops of your breasts and nipples he moved to your stomach. This is where you craved to look away. Wishing to hide yourself in his neck.

   "T..T-Techno..." he hummed acknowledging your words. But he still pressed light kisses down to the hem of your underwear.

  “Keep your eyes on the mirror." He said, pulling them down. Helping you step out of the discarded clothing. You couldn't see his face. Only his backside was facing the mirror, and even then his long wet hair hid most of his toned back.

   His fingers ran through your slit briefly. His rings offered a major temperature difference between your heat and the cold metal. With a little squirm his hands moved and held you in place. Desiring to keep you in place before he moved his head in and started to devour you. Eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

   With a ever so sinful cry, you gripped at his hair. Begging for your knee's to not give out. With one hand on his head, the other one flew to the crown on your head. Trying to keep it on well you easily hunched over from the overwhelming pleasure. Techno never failed to leave you speechless- or should we say, he never left you quiet. Even if you could see yourself, you didn't think you would be able to focus much. Your eyes were tightly shut well your mouth ran between being in a 'O' and being locked shut.

   He did pull back from your folds to speak. Earning a cry from you. You were getting close and him pulling away was painful. "You can cum. But you have to keep your eyes open" you nodded profusely. Agreeing to anything if it meant feeling his lips back on you. He lingering a moment. Making sure your eyes opened before he leaned back. Taking his time to show your clit attention before going back to his main course.

   With your eyes looking back at you. You were unsure if you were ashamed with how blissed out you looked or happy. The whole scene in itself was erotic. You were incredibly small compared to the giant between your legs. His only drive to please you completely. Your eyes never left the mirror as he ate you out to your climax. Your hips stuttering and bucking, but proving no use to his iron grip. When you came he waisted no time at cleaning it up. He had no shame, that your cum was running down his chin. He was happy when you were pleased. And he knows you are definitely pleased after that climax.

   But he wasn't finished. With your legs weakening he helped you down onto his lap. He let you collect yourself against his chest for a few moments his hand ran over your back.

   "Doin' ok there Princess?..." you nodded slowly. Your chest rising and falling fast well you try and calm yourself. "Think you can do one more?" You nodded again well he pressed a kiss to your forehead, acknowledging your response. Adjusting his crown on your head, he moved so the mirror was beside you two. Showing both of your bodies, with the towel acting as a thin barrier.

   When you both were situated he did remove the towel. With a strong arm he lifted you up and positioned his hardened cock at your entrance, wasting no spare moment to fill you up. Well you did try to hide within his neck, it proved no use. He made sure to turn your head to the mirror.

   With your eyes hitting the mirror you saw how his head was beside yours. Your cheek was pressed to his chest well his was pressed to your forehead. His eyes lingeried your body. Drowning in your blissed out form. He found you utterly perfect.

   Well your bodies were connected, it almost looked like art. With techno's sharp gaze and your blissed out reddened cheeks, the contrast was there but yet they went together in perfect harmony. With the roll of his hips he made sure to keep your eyes on the mirror. Wanting to drag out every cry and moan you could utter. He set his pace at a rhythmic thrust, wanting to not only pleasure you, but himself as well. Well you griped to his sides, he kept his hand on he back of your head gently. Wanting to keep your head facing the mirror. With sweet sinful praises he coached you to a second orgasm, his fallowing close behind. He kissed your head gently, keeping you close to him well he felt himself soften. when his eyes met yours in the mirror he smiled softly. 

“Look at how beautiful you are... Always so, so beautiful Princess...”

[blackacre13]

omg debbie and lou in a simple favour au (but they end up together)

Debbie Ocean had never dreamed of having a child. She’d never even asked for a doll. She was far more fascinated with toy cars and puzzles and logic games. Happily waiting in the doctor’s office as she swung her legs back and forth under the chair with a notepad of Sudoku or even the crossword puzzle from The Times she’d stolen from her father’s spot at the kitchen table.

She never expected to have a child, and she certainly had never imagined having to raise one on her own without much of a warning. But fate had a funny way of working sometimes. Not that she’d call the accident fate at all. It had been the worst day of her entire life. But life was good at bringing you the things you never thought you wanted in the most inconvenient of ways and making you realize that you couldn’t fathom never having wished for it at all. And that was Danielle Ocean. First, her niece. A few years later, a car accident in between, and a hell of an adoption process after, her daughter. It was what Danny and Tess would have wanted and Debbie Ocean let her life be turned upside down completely to make it happen.

And while she’d gotten more than used to the idea of Dani being hers, sharing their favorite things about Danny, and having breakfast for dinner, and helping her brush her hair, she still didn’t think of herself as the perfect mother. Or even a mother at all. But the other moms at school had other thoughts. Debbie just knew that life had dealt Danielle a rough hand and she wanted anything in her control to be completely perfect as possible. And most of the time, that meant saying yes whenever she could.

And this time, Debbie’s yes to a simple playdate with a girl in Danielle’s class would bring her further into the world of the elusive and mysterious Lou Miller and flip her world on its head once more.

“Pleaseeeee, Aunt Deb,” Dani pled, bouncing up and down in her carseat as Debbie chuckled at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“You’ve already got my yes, love,” Debbie laughed. “But you know the playdate rule, both moms have to say yes, alright?”

“If Stevie’s mom is at drop-off can we ask her?”

“Her name is Stevie?”

“Yeah! Like Stevie Nicks from Big Mac!”

“I mean that’s half right,” Debbie mumbled before she nodded, granting Danielle’s request. “Of course we can ask her. You know, I’ve never heard you talk about Stevie before.”

“She’s new!” Dani smiled, showing Debbie her toothy grin as she zipped her backpack up, noticing Debbie was pulling into the school parking lot. “She used to live with kangaroos!”

“She’s from Australia?” Debbie mused. “Wonder what they’re doing in New York now.”

“You already know, Aunt Deb,” Dani sighed, smacking her face against her cheek as if to prove that Debbie was the most ridiculous person in the world. “You wear lots of clothes.”

“I wear lots of clothes?” Debbie laughed. “Thank you, D. That’s very helpful.”

“You’re welcome!” Dani sang as she giggled, cheering as they parked in a spot. Debbie shook her head with a grin as she got out, carefully buckling the little girl and taking one of her hands and her backpack as she closed and locked the car, walking them across the street. “There she is! That’s Stevie!”

Debbie followed Danielle’s excited pointing finger to a sleek black car where a blonde woman in a dark green, velvet suit was leaning against the side as a miniature blonde spoke excitedly at her, shaking a ziplock bag up and down as the woman chuckled, before checking her watch and calling something to someone inside the car.

Seriously? Debbie thought. Who used a driver to drop their kid off at elementary school?

“I have to be going now, sweetie. But we’ll find her mum after school, alright? I promise.”

“That’s Dani!” The little girl suddenly squealed, pointing to Debbie and Danielle as Dani tugged excitedly at Debbie’s shirt before sprinting towards the black car, the tall woman turning to them with a smirk, aviators sliding onto the bridge of her nose to cover deep blue eyes from the sun as she swiveled, waving with a single posed finger.

“I take it this is Danielle,” the woman chuckled, as Dani darted towards Stevie and the two danced around showing each other their beaded bracelets.

“And the famous Stevie,” Debbie smiled. “Debbie Ocean.”

“Lou Miller.”

“Lou Miller?” Debbie repeated. “Like the Louise Miller who designed my shoes?”

The blonde made a zipper motion across her lips as she smiled.

“What are those? An 8? Want them in another color?” She smirked. “My treat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Debbie laughed. “But if that’s not a joke, yes, I’m an 8. Actually, I was dragged over here to see if you’d be alright with the girls having a playdate. Maybe this afternoon?”

“Dragged over?” Lou tsked, amused. “I consider myself to be very exciting company, Debbie Ocean.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie sighed. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t apologize,” the blonde rolled her eyes. “I hate when women apologize. You don’t owe anyone shit.”

“That’s a bad word,” Dani sang.

“You don’t owe anyone…salt?” Lou tried, lower her glasses as she turned to Danielle. “That better, kid?”

“Much better!” Danielle giggled, turning to Stevie.

“I’m not around this afternoon,” Lou frowned, turning back to Debbie. “But I can make some time tomorrow evening. Maybe you two would like to come over for dinner? I make some mean drinks.”

“Oh, I don’t let Dani—“

“For us,” Lou snorted. “Stevie lives off of juice boxes and sprite. Who do you think I am, Debbie?” She laughed, looking amused once more at Debbie’s naivety.

“Yeah, yeah,” Debbie backtracked. “Dinner would be great. Would 6 work?”

“It’s a date,” Lou smirked, waving Stevie over as she hugged the child before pushing her off with Dani as Danielle sent Debbie a small wave before the two ran inside. “Here’s my number,” she murmured, slipping a business card into Debbie’s pocket as the brunette swallowed thickly. “Do you like steak?”

“Oh, Dani doesn’t—“

“Do you like steak, Debbie?” Lou smirked again, one long leg starting to climb into the back of the car and hesitating, her multi-ringed fingers tapping against the car door as she waited.

“One of my favorites,” Debbie nodded.

“I think we deserve better than dinosaur chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese, don’t you?” Lou chuckled, making Debbie’s stomach flip deliriously. “I’ll see you and Dani tomorrow,” she added, climbing into the car and closing the door before Debbie could answer, the dark car speeding away as Debbie stared after it with her mouth hanging open, unsure of what the hell had just happened.

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[sweetwritertanya]

Perfect Timing

Summary: Taehyung wakes up alone in bed but soon finds you roaming around in the kitchen… almost nude. And a particular remark on your part leads him to uncover a certain kink he wasn’t even aware he had.

Warnings: SMUT! With a hint of fluff, like it’s my usual, but it is 95% smut! Beware of: swearing, erotic body touching, dirty talk, fingering, oral (female receiving), handjobs, marking (just a tiny bit), size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (well, duh. But be safe IRL!!!), kitchen sex, doggy style, multiple orgasms (female receiving)

Word Count: 3894

Taehyung woke up slowly, barely opening the lids of his eyes before closing them again to protect from the low light coming in through the small breeches of the blinds. He felt his body hefty and tried to fall back asleep, but his mind was already too much active for that. Rolling over his body, his heavy hands searched around the bed for another figure, your fluffy warm physique that he particularly loved holding in the early mornings. But you were not there, the bed cold without you, even in the warm summer morning.

Frowning, he opens his round sharp eyes just a slit, noticing the moved empty sheets on your side of the bed. Stretching and yawning, Taehyung reaches for his phone and realizes it’s already past ten in the morning. After a few minutes checking his social media and answering a few text messages, he decides to get up.

Getting out of the bedroom, clad in only his boxers and an old red t-shirt, he moves silently down the hallway as he hears rummaging in the kitchen. Peeking his head in the doorway, he smiles and stays slightly hidden from your field of view. The unmistakable scent of freshly made pancakes filled the air and he was sure you had been preparing breakfast. Right now, you were bending down next to a tail-wagging Yeontan, filling his bawl with dry food for him to eat too.

Taehyung licks his lips and his throat grows dry as he notices you are just wearing small cotton panties and a white tank top, probably because you had the tendency to overheat at night during summer. Your fleshy thighs, with dimples of cellulite clinging in the back, and your round ample ass were on full display for him when you bent down and a burning stirring feeling shot straight to his groin.

You smile as you pat the little furry dog’s head, the feeling of being watched making you turn around to notice Taehyung leaning against the kitchen’s doorway. He still looked sleepy, dark hair messy and untamed from turning in the bed, barefoot, eyes with heavy monolids.

“Look who’s awake, Yeontannie! Your daddy is finally up. Do you think it was the food calling him?” You say in a typically high-pitched voice, the one you always used around cute animals.

You go back to the kitchen’s counter, gathering the things necessary to set the table for you both to have breakfast, smiling sweetly at Taehyung before focusing on your task. You didn’t find his silence unusual, sometimes he stayed silent for long moments in the mornings, just taking his time to get fully awake and ready for the day. This time, however, it was for a completely different reason.

You had no idea what you had just ignited in Taehyung. Never before had you referred to him as the ‘Daddy’ of his small dog, and now he had vivid images of young little versions of himself and you running around the house, playing with Yeontan, falling asleep in his arms or cuddled up in yours. Oh, the idea of your stomach rounding and protruding with his children added an uncomfortable stiffness inside his boxers that was beginning to cloud his judgement.

Two arms wrap around your already pillowy middle, long fingers brushing your hair to one side, exposing the back of your neck for hungry lips to attach to the skin there, sending goosebumps down your spine and making your body tense and shudder slightly.

“Sorry I didn’t stay in bed so we could cuddle, babe. I got hungry and didn’t want to wake you up, so I just got up” you explained, thinking Taehyung was just craving your usual morning embraces.

“That’s okay” his even deeper than usual, very coarse from the morning, voice murmurs against your left ear, under which he stamps another kiss.

Large hands start wandering around your body, one sliding up and down the almost naked curve of your hip, the other moving up until it was trapped on the underside of your soft boob, thumb tracing an invisible line at the side over the tank top. Your breathing becomes shallow now, heart flipping inside your chest and muscles paralyzing as you began to wonder if this was more than what you assumed.

“Babe?”

“Love you” that toe-curling masculine tone of his interrupts, mouth kissing down your shoulders now. If you had any doubts, the hand that moved to squeeze your breast and the semi-hard bulge that he was pressing against your ass, fingers clawing at your love handles to keep you in place, made it abundantly clear where this was going. And the fire under your skin that his administrations were gaslighting made you have nothing against it.  

“Me too” you reciprocate in a sigh, giving in to him as you allow your body to fall back into his, one hand covering up the one he still had holding your chest and the other coming up to pull at the hairs behind his neck, moving your head to the side and pulling him in for a kiss.

He takes no reservations deepening the kiss, devouring your willing lips until his mischievous warm tongue of his found its way past your teeth, delving deeper and tasting you to the fullest he wanted to, a highway of sprinting electricity running up your spine and hazing your brain as he swirled around and coaxed your own to respond.

Taking hold of your wide waist, Taehyung turns you around and resumes the heavy smooches, pulling your fluffy body close to his lean one, greedy hands unable to chose a place to settle in, constantly running up and down the expanse of your body he could reach. As the tip of his tongue flicks against yours and roams the sensitive inside of your gums, your body shudders and you moan, the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming insufferable.

“Taehyung...” You whisper into his mouth, pulling at his hair and grasping his form close, hinting at your needs by the sway of your hips.

“My dear Y/N…” he mumbles back, eyes still closed before he cradles the side of your head and captures your lips once again. But this time, his wandering hand pulls down the side of the panties that were biting at your flesh and delicious fingers find their way to the shameless damage he had done.

A deep groan escapes him at the same time a soulful moan leaves you when his middle finger goes past your damp folds and slides directly against your sensitive slit. Taehyung keeps his mouth occupied on your skin, leaving your lips vacant so he can hear the beautiful sounds you made. Pulling the collar of your tank top down with his available hand, he finds your breasts covered by a simple bra that he too pulls the cups of it down, exposing your tits for him to play and tease as his other hand rubs between your legs, your own hips starting to move against his digits on their own accord.

When those expert fingers find the little hardening bud at the top of your lower lips, the fingertips press hard circles around it before flicking it mercilessly, enticing your raspy wail and the buckle of your knees, making you almost fall down as you lose your strengths for a moment at the sudden abuse.

“Counter” is all he says when he catches you, pulling you by the waist up.

You just nod and take a few steps until you reach the kitchen’s counter. Taehyung kneels down and you are confused for a moment before he pulls your panties all the way off your bulky legs, starting to kiss up your thighs, hands indulging on the malleable flesh of the back of your legs and moving up to your juicy rump.

“God, Tae!...” you stutter out, letting your head fall back and hands grasping the corner of the counter with iron strength as soon as he lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder and dives in.

The use of both his tongue and fingers leave you absolutely disoriented and unsure of how avoid losing your stand again. He had his eyes closed as he laps on your pussy, lips settling around your clit and ravishing upon it, taste buds flicking the fleshy pearl and then sucking on it for long enough to drive you mad and not enough to send you over the edge. The introduction of his fingers changed that. He first slid the middle finger that had been teasing your entrance, wiggling and curling it inside before withdrawing it unkindly. Then he inserts three at once and you cry out, not from pain but from the absolute pleasure the fullness gave you. His digits drown in your fluids and start rocking back and forth, curling and massaging your inner walls every other time.

It doesn’t take long at all for this overload of stimulations having you pulsating around Taehyung’s fingers, body spasming as an orgasm rips through you suddenly, hoarse cries filling the air. The fact that you had one leg around Tae’s shoulder keeps you from giving out completely, doing your best to pull yourself up as you gripped the counter.

“So beautiful… My magnificent Y/N…” he praises as he brushes your leg off his shoulder and slowly raises back up, all the way kissing your available skin.

Taehyung pauses at your belly, hands pulling the tank top up so he can kiss the soft skin there and knead at the flesh for a moment.

“This round stomach would look so pretty fuller…” he whispers, although now in a more perceptible voice. You raise your eyebrows at that, unsure of what he meant by that.

Further up, he kisses the valley between your tits as his thumbs play with your puckered nipples, only to then lick and suck on both of them in turns, making you arch your back to him.

“These breasts… how much bigger would they get?” It’s a murmur against the sensitive skin of your left tit but you still heard it and the realization sends magnetizing shockwaves to your core.

Your hands claw at the underside of his arms as you try to pull him up, intending to talk about what he meant by all of this, but the look on his face shut you up before you could even formulate the first question in your mind. Eyes hooded and dark with desire, it was both an animalistic gaze as much as it was absolutely vulnerable.

“My cherub Y/N, bearing my seed inside for everyone to see how stunning you are.”

His words are held an inch away from your silenced lips, staring at your confused eyes with purpose, before merging mouths together with a bruising force, ferociously kissing you senseless. The truth is that Taehyung already envisioned you both together until the end of his days, growing up together, getting older together. The proof laid hidden at the bottom of one of his drawers, in a small velvet red box, waiting for the perfect timing.

“Y/N… I want… I need…” he struggles to say, biting at the sides of your neck when the words didn’t come out.

But you already knew perfectly well what he wanted. And you were a bit ashamed of how arousing the idea sounded to you, to partake in what could ultimately tie you and Taehyung together for a lifetime, to have him want to - with you. It was something that had come to you in dreams before, something you never voiced with fear of ruining it. But not now.

Hand brushing down his chest and strong abdominal area, your fingers insert themselves past the hem of his boxers and you take him fully in your hands. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how hard he already was, hot and heavy, how the tip was already staining the palm of your hand with pre-leakage. Your walls throbbed with longing.

“Do it” you determinately whispered back.

The eyes that had closed when you took him in hand shot right open again, finding yours with a cautionary hesitance.

“Are you sure?” He seriously asks, eyes searching yours.

In response, you start stroking his mouthwatering length, hand curled powerfully around his thickness but careful to not scrape the skin, thumb brushing the sensitive red tip every time it reached it. Taehyung almost chokes and his whole-body tenses up as he tries to not give in to the need to thrust his hips into your inviting hand.

“Fuck” he curses, something you tend to only hear from him in such moments.

Suddenly, he takes a strong hold of your hips and spins you around, pinning your front to the cold marble of the counter as he raises your hips up towards him, everything on full display for him. A moment for him to send his boxers to the other side of the room and he teases your hot center with his hard member, rubbing his cock between your folds and coating himself with your overflowing juices. You whimper before biting down on your lips, hands in fists so tight your knuckles turned the palest colour you had ever seen.

“Taehyung…!” you sigh on frustration, looking over your shoulder back at him.

“Want me to fill you up?” he smugly asks, even with the undertone of wistful thinking from himself too. “Flood this pretty pussy with my seed?”

A ravenous spasm goes through your body. He keeps rubbing his dick against your silky middle, the tip brushing against the engorged clitoris with maddening slow strokes.

“Y-Yes. Give me all you got. Put a baby in me, Tae” you talk back.

A growl from the depths of his throat comes up and he bends down to kiss at your shoulder blade before biting into it, surely leaving a purple bruise but you didn’t care. Your body was boiling with need and your senses overwhelmed with him, all of him, only him. You were sure he could even draw blood from your skin and you wouldn’t even feel it.

In an instant so quick that caught you by surprise, Tae stands back up and pulls his hips back from you only to subsequently impale you with his length in a swift thrust. You arch your back, raising your chest off the counter, moaning loud at the sudden but more than welcome intrusion. You never realized how much of a barrier the condom created until now, feeling him bare inside, every inch of his skin, every indentation, every vein pulsating hot against your overly sensitive walls. Taehyung was having similar thoughts, in disbelief of how good you felt around him, how wet and slick you were, how enhanced the pleasure was. He had no idea how he would ever go back.

“Shit, Y/N…! You’re so… fucking… wet.” He stressed the last words with slow but strong thrusts of his hips, the sound of skin slapping skin and the squelching of your bodies together joining your own embarrassing uncoherent pleas.

Taehyung was a big man, which was the reason he preferred to always start with warming you up with his fingers whenever sex was in the cards, usually using more than two fingers to do the job. And still there was always that stretch burn when it was time for the real thing, but always tolerable and more often than not actually welcomed. Any slight hint of pain was more than thumped over by the pleasure of him filling you up, especially when he bottomed out and the tip of his dick reached and perfectly matched the curve of your cervix.

This position in particular was perfect for that effect and he knew it was the quickest way to push you to the edge in record time. When you arched your back, Taehyung reached with his hands around your middle and squeezed your hanging tits, still spilling out of the cups of the bra he had pulled down. Tweaking and pinching your nipples, the lean hips of the man behind you set on a nice rhythm, sliding back until only the tip remained inside before pistoning back in with measured force, making your eyes roll back in your head since the action made him constantly brush the perfect spot at the depth of your tunnel.

“I want you filled with my cum to the bream. I want it to overflow from this tight pussy and see it spill on the ground. And then do it again without wasting a single drop” he said in labored breathes, fingers digging in to your protruding love handles tighter, hips rocking quicker against yours. “Wanna see your stomach swell up with our babies. Play with these tits when they get heavier with milk. Eat you out when you’re pregnant just to know if it’ll taste different.”

You squeal as the dirty talk contributes to your ever-approaching end, this unbearable tight knot in your womb constricting the muscles of your body so severely you feel a vein might pop off. You are sweating profusely, the warm weather not helping for such endeavors, eyesight getting blurred, breathing strenuous and brain shutting down.

“You are taking my cock so well, love” he claims, taking his eyes off your form to witness the way his dick disappears inside you, over and over again, glistening with your juices. Your insides squeeze him at that, making him hiss and close his eyes again. “You like that? You like knowing how good you take care of my bare cock? Do you wanna milk me dry? Want to suck my cum with your pussy, hum?”

“Ta-Taehyung!” you scream out as the first waves of orgasm crash over you, knot unfolding abruptly and a molten pleasure erupts throughout your system, scourging every inch of you, forcing you cry out in delight.

The boy slows down to an almost stop, both to prolong your pleasure but also to restrain himself from following you just yet, when he had other plans. As soon as you come back down from your high, his hips start moving again as he pulls your back flush against his chest, lips attaching to the skin up and down your neck. You are holding yourself up with the palm of your hands pressed against the cooler counter, whimpering once he starts picking up the pace, last orgasm still very much fresh. And yet you can’t help the way your hips move back to meet his, the chase of a new climax claiming your body fast, your head tilting back to rest on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“That’s it, my love. Do it once more for me, yeah?” he whispers almost sweetly into your ear, one hand still fondling your exposed breasts and the other going down to your lush belly, skin sinking to his touch as he rubbed circles there. “Let me knock you up and show off my pregnant wife for everyone to see! We’ll make the most beautiful children.” You never doubted that. With him as their father, how could they turn out anything but perfect.

The hand at your chest drops to dig the bulges of your waist, Taehyung pouncing harder now. You are already more than half-way there and the fact that you can feel the spillage from the tip of his cock when he fastens up, a tell-tale of his own approaching undoing, leaves you at the edge of the precipice.

“Fu… Cum with me, Y/N…! Let’s… let’s cum together” he pleas in your ear.

His digits dart away from your stomach to make way to your mound, where he quickly finds your cluster of nerves and presses harshly and violently against it, at the same time his thrusts hit the spot deep that he reaches so well with debauched speed. The fierce assault of your senses has you mewling in a pitchy voice as the climax spills, so intense and sharp that white noise blacks out your vision and disorienting pleasure claims your turned-to-mush brain.

Taehyung feels with relief your inner walls collapsing on him and he finally allows himself to reach his own end, drilling into you a few more times until he is buried as deep as he can go, spilling his essence into your womb, balls tightening and tingling as warm spurts filled you up, his perspiring body shuddering before stiffening with blissed out relief.

You fall on your elbows forward, barely able to hold yourself on the counter. It takes both of you a good few moments to collect yourselves. When Taehyung pulls out of you, the feeling of fluid stickiness starts to run down your legs and you hear the boy tsk.

“What a waste” he says.

You turn around at that, rearranging your almost nude state and about to question him about something when he pulls you by the waist across the room.

“Wait, Tae, what are you doing?” you wonder, looking confused up at his now fully awake face.

“Taking you to the bedroom. You should have been laid down for this” he explains, seemingly a bit angry with himself as he frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“The probability of pregnancy is best when the female is laying horizontally. That was not the best position to get you pregnant.”

You halt your step and take him by the hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Hey, Tae, that’s okay. If this didn’t work, we’ll just do it better next time, okay?”

He does seem to perk up at that, eyes enlarging and lighting up like a kid only to revert back to a smug knowing look, accompanied with a cocky grin.  

“So… Already thinking of doing this again, are we?” His arms sneak around your waist and he rocks you both in place, leaning down to level his eyes with you.

“As if you weren’t thinking about it as soon as you pulled out” you rebut, to which he just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “You… You are really serious about this, Taehyung? About me? Us?” You can’t help but make sure this whole thing wasn’t just a spur of the moment, a very dangerous erotic fantasy that would disappoint him if ever actually coming true in reality.

Taehyung kissed your cheek and pulls you in for one of the tightest hugs you ever got. You smile against his shoulder and hug him back, hands meeting at his back.

“I was never so sure of anything in my life as much as I’m sure of this” he guaranteed.

Later, after a much-needed shower, both fully dressed for the day, siting at the table eating the now cold pancakes for what was now more of a lunch than breakfast, something occurred to you and you tilted your head to the side as you chewed.

“Taehyung?” you call, the man in question not even raising his eyes to you as he devoured the plate in front of him.

“Humm?”

“This morning… did you call me ‘wife’ during sex?”

Taehyung choked until his cheeks turned bright red and it took him several minutes and countless glasses of milk to regain his normal breathing. Maybe there was no such thing as a perfect timing when it came to these things, he realized as he went to get the red box hidden in his drawer.

[itcanbegoodagain]

Gentle Love

More Everlark fluff, because, really, is there ever too much?

Word Count: 1821 (not really proofread)

Now that the need isn't so dire, it's harder for me to rise before the sun does. And, most times, it isn't a problem. There's no need for me to be up so early in the day. Summer, though, was a different story.

The sun was too damn hot!

So, with heavy and unwilling limbs, I rolled out of bed, straightening the sheets before washing up.

Minutes later, when I crossed into the kitchen, Peeta was already there, finishing breakfast at the table. He broke into a grin, making my lips lift into a smile back. He stood and grabbed the warming teakettle off the stove, filling a mug and placing it at my spot on the table.

Then he took a step over to me and gave me his customary good morning kiss on the crown of my head. At first, I teased him about doing it everyday, but now I wrap my arms around Peeta's stomach, not-so-secretly craving this gentle love every morning.

"Hi," I said softly, grinning and pressing a kiss to his shirt. He hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. My eyes fell shut again, craving to return to sleep, while I basked in Peeta's steadiness. This little ritual we do always starts my day off on the right foot. The beat of his heart had almost lulled me back into a light sleep when he quietly said my name.

I squeezed him tighter, holding him close for another moment, and unwound myself from his embrace. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face. "I gotta head to the bakery now." His thumb lightly ran down my cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Have a good day," he added, and I replied in kind.

I heard the door shut behind Peeta as I sat down to my now cooling tea. Sipped it and, ah yes, the perfect temp. He even remembered to add the extra mint leaf. Quite a spoiled wife, I am.

By the time I finally deemed myself alert enough not to fall out of a tree, the sun was already climbing high in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day.

--

The animals are much smarter than I am, evidently. They were staying home, in their cool dens and nests, as one should on a day as blistering as this. Sweat was pooling in, just, all of everywhere. I was tired and uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The added bonus of nothing to show for the day really topped it all off.

It was a relief to finally return home, dumping my bow and bag as soon as I entered the door. I peeled my shoes off next, leaving them in the entryway. I'm usually the one fussing at Peeta for doing just that. When I reached our bathroom, the first thing I did was turn the shower on. My clothes were quickly shucked to the floor, the tie from my braid promptly following.

I closed my eyes as I stepped into the cool stream of water, running my fingers through my hair to get it thoroughly soaked. I spun in a slow circle, grateful for the simple luxury of a shower. Still, not one to be wasteful, I indulged in a few more minutes of sitting in the steady stream, then I stood and shut it off.

With the towel wrapped around me, I pondered what to wear as I looked at my closet. I tend to favorite pants, but there is no way. I decided on instead wearing my soft dressing gown, the thin fabric only brushing my knees surely going to keep me cool.

--

I sighed, pulling the fridge open. My lack of kills from this morning's hunt became glaringly evident, what with all these vegetables staring back at me. I reached in and grabbed a few different things, shutting the door with my hip as I turned around.

Then I got to work, cleaning and chopping as necessary, and put together a pretty nice salad, if I do say so myself. Light, fresh veggies from our garden out back, with a squeeze of lemon juice and cracked pepper sprinkled on top.

Air conditioning has yet to make it out to many places here in Twelve, so all of our windows were thrown wide open, the curtains moving in the summer breeze. I could hear Haymitch's geese honking over in his yard, and I grinned to myself. Geese, of all things to raise.

Peeta came in as I was setting my plate into the rack to dry, using a towel to wipe my hands. I leaned back against the counter, looking him up and down. Took in his sweat-soaked shirt, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair. I rose a brow. "Hot day in the bakery, was it?" I asked, breaking into a grin.

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, shooting me a snarky grin as he grabbed a glass of water. He quickly downed it, filling the glass up again before reaching over to snag my arm and bring me closer.

I backed up a step, his arm falling into the space between us. He sent me an exaggerated pout. "Nope, not until you take a shower. I'm already rinsed off, so no touching until you are, too."

Peeta tried to reach out again, this time for my other arm, and I evaded it. I gave him a look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I'll go shower." Then he grinned, and I knew that look. "But not before I do this!" he said, quickly darting in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Before I even reacted, he took off for the stairs, yelling behind him, "Okay! Going! Love you!" as he went. I watched him go, touching my cheek as a flush spread its way across my face. His casual show of love sometimes still makes me shy, but I'm learning to take in every little moment he tells me that he loves me in a different way. I try to do the same for him in return -- he deserves that at the very least. At most, more than anything I could ever give him.

But I'm too selfish to let anyone else have him. And nobody else compares to me in his eyes, so there's really nothing to worry about at all, is there?

My smile slipped off my face over the next few minutes, but it easily returned when I caught Peeta's eye as he came down the stairs. He was wearing his undershorts and a t-shirt on top, also doing his best to stay cool. I stood and made my way over to him as he followed me with his eyes.

He took his hand and ran his fingers up my neck, over my jaw. Cupped my cheek, pulling my head closer as he slowly, deftly, kissed me. My breath caught in my throat, just for a moment. "Am I clean enough for you, now?" he asked, pressing his lips to mine again, gently biting at the bottom one. "I missed you almost as much as I melted in the heat."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, I know. It's merciless out there. I don't even want to think about how hot it is in front of all those ovens."

"Precisely why I closed up early, my dear." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I said to hell with selling what was left in the case, so I shut off the ovens and passed it out on the way home. Knowing you were here may have aided in my decision, but really, who's to say?" He smiled at me again, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

My heart swelled at his words. How I ended up with such a generous man as my husband, I will never know. Everything he does somehow makes me love him more, and I don't know how there can be much more room in my heart for it to keep growing.

"It's gonna be a meatless day today - no luck hunting this morning," I told him. It's not a problem if I don't get anything out on my hunts; we don't rely on what I bring home, but we vastly prefer it over the butcher's cuts. "There's also a salad in the fridge if you're hungry."

"A personal chef, just for me," he said, pulling the door open and taking the plate out. "Thank you."

I joined Peeta at the table, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window. Took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The need for sleep returned now that I had a full belly, and I closed my eyes. Oh, perhaps it's okay not to do anything the rest of the day. I could give myself this day of doing nothing. Perhaps I could convince Peeta to do the same.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look back at Peeta. He was already watching me, his features soft in the sunlight. Yes, I thought, tilting my head, he will be easy to convince.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you scheming up over there?"

I hummed. "Oh, nothing, really." Then I stood, walking around the table, and planted myself in his lap. One of my arms rested on his shoulder, my hand easily finding its place in his damp hair. Peeta's eyes fell shut as I lightly combed my fingers through his curls. He let out a small sigh. One of his hands traced back and forth on my thigh, the other one twining with my free hand in our lap. We stayed like this for a while, comfortable in the other person's company.

At some point, he began bestowing the lightest and softest kisses along my neck, his closest access point. Using the hand already in his hair, I brought his face up to mine, kissing his lips. He tasted like lemon.

"What do you say," I started, "to lazing around the rest of the day?"

He grinned. "Way ahead of you, my love." Kissed me again, this time with more pressure, my heart racing in response. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing...." he added, pulling me ever closer to him.

I laughed, feeling the warm pressure of our bodies against each other. "I thought that was a given in the term 'lazing around.'"

"It is. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it."

I bit my lip, holding back a sarcastic response. My thumb tilted his chin up, our lips meeting in the middle for another kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat when I lightly scraped my nail along his skin, and I grinned against his lips.

A good day to laze around, indeed.

[maplecornia]

chapter 9

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.61K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: this chapter makes me laugh, especially the scene with Jojo and Namjoon.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags:@kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne

You’ve been waiting for an hour.

Tilting your head back, you sigh, extremely bored.

You've tried everything you could think of to bypass the time. Reading, writing, watching YouTube, then switching over to Netflix, even attempting to doze in the slightly uncomfortable waiting room chair.

None of them have worked.

Currently, you're doodling in your sketchbook, but no concrete idea comes to mind for the sketch. Leaving you with tiny flowers, faces, and body parts on the page as though it were a practice sheet.

Peering over the sketchbook, you scan the room for any sign of life, but as the day has dragged on, so has the crowd.

You don't see any sign of Kim Namjoon anywhere, and the receptionist hasn't called you over ever since you turned in the forms she gave you. Uninterested, your eyes glazing over, you pull out your phone, peering at the time.

12:30 pm.

Heaving a sigh, you tilt your head back, the music playing through your GalaxyBuds. Yet it does no good to lift your spirits.

You suppose it's only fair, you made him wait, now it's his turn.

Setting your phone down once more, you purse your lips, as your gaze falls on a flower swaying in the wind outside.

It's the only flower you can see amongst the bush. It stands almost forlornly in the midst of multiple of its fellow brethren withered around it. Still, it stands strong, unwilling to fall victim to the harsh weather outside.

A thought crossing your mind, you turn to your sketchbook, quickly turning the page and beginning a vigorous sketch before you lose your idea.

Unbeknownst to you, as you progress halfway through the sketch, Kim Namjoon bursts into the lobby, looking out of breath and flustered.

He wears a bright white T-shirt, one with a small black Nike emblem across his left pectoral muscle. It hangs sort of loose around his neck, his collarbone visible as cooling sweat causes him to glisten like a bright star.

It's not as noticeable, considering that he wears a thick black sweatshirt zipped down around his shoulders. It's simple, with thin white stripes running down the sleeves and white soft underlining to it.

The black sweats he wears seem to fit with the outfit, the same white stripes running down each pant leg. Each piece of clothing has a Nike emblem on it and pairs well with the white Nike AirForces he wears on his feet.

They’re simple but rich clothes and bring to mind the same clothes Jungkook was wearing before.

The cooling sweat on his skin and the way his hair falls a bit messily underneath his cap could lead to the presumption that they were doing a major dance practice before all of this.

No matter the case, he didn't expect the meeting to take this long, and he feels terrible for making you wait, despite everything. As he looks for any sign of you, he doesn't find any.

Worried that you have already left, he knocks on the front desk, gathering the attention of the receptionist that helped you earlier. Kim Jojo raises her head, and as she catches sight of RM, her eyes widen just the slightest bit, but not enough for him to notice.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Namjoon, what can I--”

“Yes, yes hello.” Namjoon interrupts her, too panicked to care about formalities.

He wants to catch you before you get tired of waiting and leave. First impressions are everything to him, and if he has a bad one…Shaking the worry away, he leans forward over the counter separating the receptionist from him and she flinches away at the sudden closeness.

RM either doesn't notice or doesn't care, but either way, he meets her with an intent stare, every word uttered from his lips urgent and careful.

“Has anyone by the name of Lin Yen come in?” The receptionist opens her mouth to respond but before she can say anything, he holds up a finger.

A thought having crossed his mind, he reaches into his back pocket, bringing out his phone. He tries to bring up the picture of you while Jojo stands there, half in shock, half in annoyance. As soon as he finds it, he lets out a little victory shout, one that startles her.

Grinning, he presents it to her, and she peers at a strange picture of you. After she looks at it, Jojo pulls back, her brows crinkling in confusion.

“She looks like this. If she came in, could you please tell me? I've been waiting since 8:00 this morning to meet her.” Jojo sighs, trying to gain her composure before responding.

“Mr. Namjoon--” she begins, but Namjoon interrupts once more.

“She’s my new assistant, you see, and I need to begin her training today. She needs to know the ropes before our busy season comes back around.” He explains, pulling the phone back and trying to pocket it once more.

Instead, he ends up knocking over a container filled with an assortment of pens and pencils. Surprised, he fumbles to pick it up but ends up spilling it all over the floor. Cursing under his breath, he reaches down to pick up some pencils that have fallen.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Jojo picks up the container, righting it on the counter with a loud thud. Startled, RM glances up at her eyes wide, and she smiles sweetly.

“Please, just leave it.” She says between her teeth. He shrugs, almost reluctantly standing. She sighs in relief, carefully putting the pens and pencils back in their place.

“Now...Mr. Namjoon, please listen--” once more, she cannot finish, Namjoon unable to shut up to save his life.

“I’m sorry, but if you need any more information on her I could--”

“Kim Namjoon!” This time it's Jojo's turn to interrupt him, her patience finally wearing thin.

RM instantly falls silent, a bit surprised at the outburst.

Jojo takes a steadying breath before continuing.

“Now, the person you are talking about has already come in. I told her you were in a meeting and had her wait in the waiting room for you to return.” At the information, RM turns to the waiting room where he catches sight of you for the first time in real life.

He notices you vigorously sketching out your idea. Smiling, he can't help but smile at the familiarities he finds in you. You look exactly like the picture Jaejin sent, despite how weird it was.

“I had expected to receive a notice of your return, so I could send her to you, but now that you're here….” Namjoon turns away from you and flashes his contagious smile at Jojo who is once more taken aback.

“Thank you,” Namjoon says with gratitude, reaching across the desk and holding her hand as he bows before turning away.

Jojo, watching him go, turns beet red before collapsing behind the desk in exhaustion. Another fellow receptionist cries out with alarm before tending to her in concern.

You, once more, having no awareness of the events happening around you, continue to sketch. Having finished the rough sketch you begin to define every line, detail, and curve. As you work, you bite the inside of your cheek, sometimes licking your lips in your trance of concentration.

When you're lost in your mind of imagination and creativity, nothing from the outside world can distract you.

And yes, that also includes a very tall, very real version of Kim Namjoon striding towards you.

You don't look up as he comes within a few feet in front of you. You don't even notice as he bends to your eye level, trying to catch your attention. It doesn't break your concentration, even as you reach for an eraser, lightly humming to the music playing in your ears. He smiles, almost laughing at your concentration before he covers his mouth, trying to be quiet so that you don't notice he’s there.

Trying to tease you, he carefully (as much as he’s able) sits down next to you. He was planning on pulling out one of your GalaxyBuds and surprising you, but as he catches a glimpse of your work, he’s stopped cold.

It's breathtaking.

You have created an awestruck image of a woman, on her knees. She wails out in agony as she sits amongst a pile of ash, flecks of it falling around her as though there's a fire burning nearby.

However, that’s not what catches Namjoon’s eye.

Amongst the ash, if anyone looks closely, they'll be able to see that there are small, scattered remains of bones hidden.

She sits amongst them, wailing, the look on her face one of pure anguish and sorrow as the ash from the fading bones stains her skin and her dress.

As though she has lost everyone she’s held, dear.

RM can't seem to look away, entranced by the grotesque beauty of the image and the talent of the artist.

He admires the way you set it up, the way you created the girl imperfectly, but still real. Because after all, who in real life is perfect? As he watches your pencil move expertly across the page, he can't help but think that with each stroke, the creation grows more and more lifelike.

As though she were truly crying out in the pain her heart brings. As though she were alive and breathing.

Almost against his wishes, his hand reaches out to touch the paper, if only to make sure that the actual sketch is truly a mere fabrication of pencil and paper.

As his fingers graze the parchment, that is when you snap out of your concentration.

Eyes widening, you jolt up straight, immediately turning to look at your side.

As soon as your eyes meet Namjoon’s, his hand flinches off the paper. He lets out a soft gasp as he flinches away, surprised by your sudden attention.

Just like with Jungkook, you're frozen in place.

Unable to move.

Unable to function.

Unable to speak.

And just like Jungkook, Namjoon is the same way.

But for a different reason.

He was caught in the act, and he doesn't know what to do.

Your eyes hold him in a sort of bind.

For a moment he forgets what he was doing there, he forgets what his purpose is, for a moment he even forgets why you are there.

For a split second, it's just you and him in a pocket in space.

Your eyes holding his, his eyes holding yours.

Kim Namjoon.

The leader of BTS. The first member of the group you have grown to love. Talented, handsome, a practical genius, he is just as mature and intimidating as you expected him to be.

Despite how close the two of you are sitting, he still seems larger than life, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even real.

He doesn't seem like it after all.

His skin seems too real, too perfect. His hair is too soft, too smooth. His eyes are too warm and too brown.

Almost exactly like the milky chocolate brown you’ve seen so often in so many photos, except for one thing.

As you stare into them, you can see life so clearly alight in them. How they reveal so many emotions at the same time. There are so many that it's almost impossible to read them at all. Serene and peaceful, they are poets' eyes.

So emotional, yet so mysterious and secretive at the same time.

Dreamboat eyes.

“Kim Namjoon?” you whisper, almost unsure if it's him or not.

As you do, his face makes that mixed expression between confusion and amusement as he chuckles softly, looking away and breaking the connection. Holding his hand up to his mouth, he nods, clearing his throat, but not saying anything for a moment.

“Yes, that's who I am, and you must be...Lin Yen?” your heart jumps at the fact that he knows your name.

Speechless, all you can do is nod mutely as he utters another adorable chuckle, one that always seems to remind you of Goofy.

“Jaejin didn't tell me you were an artist.” As soon as he says that, you notice that your sketchbook is still open, and showcasing your imperfect, unready sketch.

Panicking, you fumble to get it closed. Blushing, you hug it tightly to your chest, as though it could erase the fact that he just got a sneak peek into your very soul.

“What's wrong? It was good!” RM asks, worried.

Biting your bottom lip in trepidation, you shake your head, hiding your face.

“Don't lie….” you mumble.

You know it wasn't close to being done, and it wasn't nearly as perfect as it could have been. You're quite disappointed in it at the moment. You feel as though it was too rushed due to the many ideas pouring out from your brain at the exact moment.

As you take an ashamed peek at Namjoon, you find him staring at you, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“What's wrong, are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head as though you were a shy child. You smirk, playing along and nodding very slowly before he continues.

“I see. You should know, however, that you are very talented.” At the compliment, you snort in disbelief, shoving the sketchbook and pencils back safely in your satchel.

“Please.” You sigh. “I know I'm no Picasso, and certainly not talented.”

Finished with packing your art supplies, you are reminded of the reason you are here. A blush of shame appearing on your cheeks, you turn to Namjoon, a bit guiltily.

“And I’m also not known as the bird to rise before the worm.” RM seems a bit confused before you stand and bow to him in apology.

“I am so sorry for being late today. You see I….”

Remembering the receptionist's words from before, you decide to keep the reason to yourself.

“....I have nothing to say for myself. I'm sincerely sorry.”

“Please, there’s no need for that,” Namjoon responds, standing himself and tapping you on the shoulder.

At the touch, you stand straight, only to find an extremely tall man standing before you, looking more intimidating than before. Heart beating fast you gulp, stepping back a bit.

Luckily, he doesn't notice your act of distance and just smiles at you before continuing.

“After all, I was late as well, so let's call it even, huh?”

You smirk and nod, thankful that he’s not too angry about it, but it doesn't completely erase your guilt.

“But now that you mention it….” Namjoon starts and intrigued, you glance up to see him back up a bit as well.

Confused, you raise an eyebrow before he holds out his hand to you.

“My name is Kim Namjoon, I’ll be your boss during your time here. First and foremost, welcome to BigHit entertainment, I hope you enjoy your time working here with us.” He introduces himself, warmly.

Catching on, you take his hand, shaking it gently, and trying to ignore the fact that yours is much more like a child's compared to his.

“Hello, Mr. Namjoon! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my name is Lin Yen and I look forward to working with you!” you respond, returning his grin with one of your own.

After you're finished introducing yourself, he releases your hand and steps back, taking your satchel in his hands and handing it to you.

“Well, Ms. Lin, are you ready to begin?” He asks, and you accept the offer, hiking the satchel on your shoulder before looking up at him in expectation.

“Where do we start?”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: first day at work is finally starting, yall excited? eheheehehe get ready for some namjooon and yen moments to come

chapter 10 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Mountain Night

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-13/T (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Just kinda skimming back through ACOTAR and felt like it.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This has a couple extra headcanons of mine sprinkled in here, just to fill in gaps. Thanks. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I stood in front of the fireplace next to Rhysand, watching the flames. Somewhere within the Mountain, a bell tolled eight, agreeing with the clock on Rhys’ mantel. Rhys’ shoulders slumped. “Amarantha’s gonna be summoning me any time now,” he said. Dejected, exhausted. But not defeated.

I reached out and held him. “Not much longer now. The forty-nine years of Tamlin’s curse are almost over. Then… then we’ll see if we can break the spell on you and the other High Lords and get out of here,” I said into his shoulder. I traced my fingertips over his shoulder blades, where his wings met his back when he had them out. Amarantha didn’t even know he had wings—and he wanted to keep it that way.

“We can only pray,” he said, wrapping his own arms around me.

The mating bond thrummed between us. Neither of us had accepted it. Acted on it. If we did, Amarantha would smell it on us. Destroy me for what I meant to Rhys, just to torment him. It drove us both mad—wild, occasionally—but we’d fought it for years. We could fight it until we were free.

I kissed his barely-exposed collarbone, where the hint of his tattoos were poking out.

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand,” I whispered.

He shuddered. “Happy Starfall, darling,” he replied. His voice shook slightly. He blinked away tears and released me from the hug. Still holding one of my hands, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

His eyes, so dark blue they were violet, seemed to be piercing right into my soul. “I swear to you, when we’re free, we will never have to hide our love from anyone,” he said.

I smiled. “That will be nice.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Go. Be safe. Walk through the walls as a shadow so she doesn’t see you leaving.” He pressed his forehead to mine.

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I let his hands go. Darkness swam over my skin, almost like how they did with Azriel. Az… I missed our family.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I backed toward the opposite wall from the fireplace, my lower body passing through the unrumpled bed. I wiped the tears away, staring at Rhys for as long as I could before I was swallowed by the wall.

I lingered in the wall for a while, letting my tears fall in the privacy of the stone. Inches from Rhys, yet I may as well have been on the other side of the Wall on the farthest end of the human continent. Forty-nine years. So close, trapped, together Under the Mountain. Mates unable to accept their bond for fear of their lives.

I heard the door open to Rhys’ room. “Well, hello, handsome,” Amarantha’s smooth voice greeted.

The sound sent me running. I knew Rhys hated every single night she forced herself on him. I knew he wouldn’t want me to hear. Knew he was ashamed of it, but willing to keep doing it to keep our family and our home safe.

I loved him all the more for it.

Even if the dormant mating bond chafed against me at the thought of another female in bed with my mate.

Stupid territorial instincts.

I burst out of the stone in my own bedchamber. Small, not particularly grand. Sometimes I imagined it was the guest room I usually occupied in the Velaris townhouse. When I was desperately in need of comfort. Neither Rhys nor I had seen the sun much in the last forty-nine years. Sometimes, in midsummer, Rhys, Helion, me, and a few closely trusted people would gather in one of our bedchambers and let Helion glow, imitating the sun.

Then Rhys would cast a blanket of darkness through the room. Darkness and those glittering stars. A night sky we never got to see either.

Neither High Lord had enough power to hold the light or dark for too long, but the brief snatches we got of both were enough to keep hoping. Enough to keep us from breaking entirely. From shattering down to our very souls.

I collapsed on my bed. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared a few minutes later. Just to sit with me. Their touches were light as I cried. It felt like they were barely embracing me. But I knew they were there. Appreciated their care and concern. As well as their company. If it weren’t for Rhys and Helion, I would have certainly gone mad a long time ago.

“My lady,” Nuala said softly, “how may we ease your pain?”

I shook my head. “Just… just sit with me a while.”

The twins nodded. “We serve and protect,” Cerridwen said.

The three of us stayed on the edge of my bed for hours. Hours, I knew, Rhys was spending with Amarantha. On Starfall. Because she knew he loved it, and she wanted to deprive him of it. Just as, if she found out we were mates, she would want to deprive him of me. Slowly. Painfully. In every way possible before I finally died. Hoping to break him beyond repair.

But my High Lord’s soul was forged in hotter fires, even, than this half-century-long trial. He would never let her break him. Even if she found out about his relation to me.

Long after midnight, Cerridwen pulled a small comb out of my hair that I’d forgotten I’d put in. A small, silver thing with a single star engraved into the top. No jewels, just metal. A simple ornament to remind myself it was Starfall. To remind Rhys.

Even if I had forgotten I put it in.

The twins helped me with the stiff buttons of my tunic and shirt and then left me for the evening to finish undressing and climbing into bed.

I didn’t sleep.

Forty-nine years, and I never slept the night of Starfall. Nor the Winter Solstice.

—

Rhys slipped into my room well into the next morning. I was still lying in bed, eyes closed but awake. He set a hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes.

His wings were out.

I sat up quickly. “What—why—”

He just held a finger to his lips. “So you know it’s me. Not some illusion. She didn’t see. I didn’t let them out until I closed the door in here.” His wings tilted backwards and then disappeared.

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“This kills me,” he whispered. “I should never have brought you to that party. Then you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“It was my choice too,” I reminded him, sitting up from his shoulder. “I thought… I thought you’d need backup. Someone to distract anyone who came too near while you were getting into her head to make her confess. It kills me that I didn’t think to test your drink for curses. Sniff it for poisons. I want to kill her for all she’s taken from you. For the fact that we’ve lived like this for decades. That I can’t take you to be mine because of her. Some nights it makes me sick thinking about my mate being forced to bed a different female. This isn’t your fault, Rhysand. It’s mine too.”

I never called him his full given name to his face unless I was serious about something. He knew it too. Which was why his violet eyes finally met mine from where our knees were almost touching.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

“I feel the same way about you.”

He kissed my forehead.

Forty-nine years. The bond had snapped into place thirty years ago, even though we’d known each other for two centuries before that. Thirty years of not being able to even kiss him on the lips for fear of us both losing control and accepting the bond on both ends. Slamming our scents together in an unmistakeable sign we were mates.

“I promise, I’ll find a way to get us out of this,” Rhysand vowed, voice low.

“I’ll help any way I can,” I said.

It wasn’t a bargain, per se. Not the type that required a tattoo. Just a quiet promise between two people in love.

Nuala appeared in the room. “Amarantha’s calling a party for tonight,” she said. “Throne room. The usual.”

“Thank you,” Rhys and I said at the same time. She nodded and disappeared.

Silence stretched out between us for a few minutes. Long enough that it started to make me uncomfortable. I got out of bed and started selecting clothes for the day. Awful, immodest, wicked, Under the Mountain clothes.

“What do you think?” Rhysand finally asked.

“About?” I tested.

“The party tonight.”

“It’ll be just like all the other ones.”

“Wanna shake things up?”

“No. A party just like all the other ones is how we’ve survived this long.” I picked up a brush from where it sat on my basic vanity, set my clothes bundle where the brush had been, and started to detangle my hair. “We survive by playing our roles. Wearing masks even worse than those at the Spring Court, stuck to their faces. The people here—they know what you are. They know what I am. They know I will pretend to tolerate their company while the monster inside sizes up its prey. They know you do the same thing. Changing it now won’t be good for us.” I shook my head.

“What if you arrive in your most revealing gown and we pretend to be lovers that will use and discard each other?”

I didn’t answer until I finished brushing out my hair. “You know that would be dangerous.”

“It would distract Amarantha.”

I threw the brush across the room, where it bounced off the padded headboard, soaring an inch past Rhysand’s ear. “I’m not talking about Amarantha!” I snapped. Rhys looked startled, though the expression smoothed out after the blink of an eye. “You know why we can’t do that to each other. Not now. Because… because—” I squared my shoulders. “—because having you so close, playing that game… you know neither of us would be able to help it. We’d come back here, shred each other’s clothes, and tomorrow Amarantha would start slowly butchering both of us.”

He looked away from me, down to his knees. I crossed to the door that would lead to my tiny adjoining bathing room. “I know,” he said softly. He stood up and stomped over to me as something seemed to rile his temper. “But don’t assume for a second that she hasn’t noticed you have never taken a lover your entire time here. Everyone else has—except you.”

“So what?”

“She doesn’t like being beaten at her own game. Everyone else takes lovers because she expects them to grow more and more wicked and base as their souls wear down and break. For pretty much everyone else, she’s been right. She thinks she broke me like a prize stallion with very little effort. She sees that you’re not breaking—and she’ll want to start working on wearing you down. Tamlin’s deadline is crawling ever-nearer and she’s getting paranoid and restless. She’ll turn you into entertainment just for defying her like this.”

My shoulders slouched. “Even so, she’d never give up you. And I’m not about to take any other male while I’m here, knowing it’s you I should be taking.” The barest flicker of feeling twitched at the mating bond between us. Which emotion, I couldn’t place.

Rhys looked thoughtful. “She’d let me have a side-dalliance as long as she suspected there was nothing behind it. No care, no emotion at all. Just base, primal, carnal instincts we’d later toss aside.” He shrugged. I missed the sight of his wings sweeping the air with his shrugs back home.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

“Your choice.”

It was always my choice. Even when things directly impacted him, or hurt his feelings, it was always my choice. “What about your choice?”

“Well, given I suggested it, I think you already know what my choice would be.” He gave me one of his best, sensuous, seductive grins. Wickedly flirtatious. Appealing to that part of me that was absolutely feral deep down. My chest tightened and I clamped down on the longing rising in my heart.

“Fine. But we can’t let—we can’t let the bond solidify. She can’t know.”

Rhys grinned. “I think you’re going to need to choose a different dress, darling.” He gave me a wink.

If I hadn’t already thrown my hairbrush at him, I’d have done it again.

[americangirlstar]

World By Us Quotes

I know when we make aesthetics/art pieces, we like to have little quotes from the books below it! Here’s some quotes for the WBU girls– if it’s not said by them specifically, I put who said it at the end in [brackets], and if it’s not from their main book, I made a note in italics at the beginning.

Makena Williams

As I sorted through the new items on the bed, I wondered what kind of statement I wanted to make. I was going to have fun figuring it out!

As I looked at the outfit now, I realized it still needed... something. I closed my eyes and focused on how I was feeling. I was nervous, but excited, too, like something I had been waiting for was finally about to begin.

I added three gold butterfly hair clips to my twists. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation, and I knew today would be full of big changes. When I tilted my head, the butterflies looked like they were taking off.

On my way to the gym, I passed the big mural again. We Walk Together. I smiled, knowing that I had just met two new friends to walk with.

I have four names: Makena means “happy one” in Swahili; Lilias was my dad’s mom, who died when he was a boy; Cook, for Mom’s family, and Williams. They all matter, and they make me who I am.

“Fashion can be a form of activism. And I wouldn’t be surprised if one day that was your purpose.” [said by her mother]

I want to live in a world where who you are inside matters more than what you look like outside.

I rolled over and pressed the pillow around my ears, but Mom’s question was like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. Couldn’t he see that they’re children? Couldn’t he see? No, Mom! I wanted to scream. That’s the problem. He couldn’t see that we’re real people, with real names and lives and feelings. All he could see was that we’re Black. I cried sad and mad tears, because none of it made any sense.

I’m so much more than what you see / Don’t guess- ASK about all the feels inside me / Get to know who I am for real / Then maybe this world can start to heal / See me, hear me, know me!

My name is Makena Williams. Something happened to me, and I am not okay.

I am a person. See me for who I am. Hear what I say. Get to know me before you make up something about me. Judge me by my words and actions, not my race. See me. Hear me. Know me.

Do you see us now? We’re girls. We’re your neighbors.

I ran my fingers across the letters. There was my idea, my first design, in real life. I was so proud.

My eyes went back to Auntie Bling’s word power. Maybe I could give other people the power to tell their own stories. What if kids could show and tell the world who they really are, how they really feel, in any style they chose?

I’m Makena. I’m proud that my family’s roots in Anacostia go back four generations. I came up with the words on my T-shirt because people weren’t seeing the real me. They were only seeing that I was Black– if they saw me at all. I love West African kente cloth because the colors and patterns tell stories. The green in this skirt signifies renewal. I like wearing butterflies because they remind me that though change can be difficult, it can lead to something beautiful. With my fashion, I am always making a statement.

When everyone had made their statements, we all gathered onstage for a bow. The audience was on its feet, clapping and cheering for us. All the other kids hopped off the stage and started mingling. I stood there, watching adults talking to kid and kids from different communities talking to each other. Seeing so many people come together was powerful.

I believe that when you take time to get to know people, you get to see who they truly are.

I was so proud of what we’d done that I couldn’t stop grinning. Just before I went to join my friends and family, I glimpsed my own reflection in the window. It looked as if the river was flowing right through me. Maybe it does, I thought, along with the strength of my ancestors, and the bravery of Black people before and the bravery of everyone in this room who works for change.

Evette Peeters

When we made the sign last year, I painted a monarch butterfly above the words. Monarchs fly thousands of miles. Their strength and endurance remind me of the people who were on the front lines during the pandemic.

The one good thing about not going anywhere was seeing the gardens change. I never knew it could be fun to watch plants grow, but it actually was.

The bridge was coming up. Pretty soon, we’d be crossing the Anacostia. I’d been crossing that river all my life on the way to Gran E’s house. Every time I saw it, the river looked different. Sometimes the waves were rough, but today they were calm. The sunlight made the pale green water sparkle.

Why did people think skin color defines who we are? It seemed so simple: humans come in different colors, just like flowers.

I put them on and hung my heart necklace on my jewelry tree. Next to it was a locket that had an umoja symbol on it. Umoja means “unity” in the Swahili language. Gran E had given me the locket for Kwanzaa last year, along with a card that said, “Promise always to see umoja: unity in the family, community, nation and race.”

Still, I couldn’t help wondering, Is this how a rift gets started? Something goes wrong between people, and before you know it, there’s a rift between them. Was that how it happened with my grandmothers? And the most important question of all: Could a rift between people be repaired?

The grass was trampled, but seeing the riverbank free of litter lifted my heart.

With a day of hard work, we had healed part of the river. If only it could be this easy for my grandmothers to heal the rift between them.

“A world– by us,” I announced, writing it on a piece of poster board. I looked up at my friends. Somehow when I was with them, anything seemed possible. “That’s what we’ll call it– and that’s what we’ll make it.”

What I’m trying to tell you is not to judge a whole person for one thing they said or did. People can change and learn from their mistakes.

Well, we are one family. So we should all act like it, right?

I know the world has many problems, just as there are many kinds of pollution in the river. But with the sunshine and the music and good friends beside me, I felt a wave of hope rise in my chest. As long as we can imagine a better world, we can make it happen. When people come together, we can do remarkable things. The river taught me that.

Maritza Ochoa

from Makena’s Story: Well, we don’t need to wait until we grow up to make a difference. We can start now, making the kind of world we want to live in. 

At school, the girls always play with the boys. The girls are tougher than you think.

Before she passed away, I received a beautiful journal from her in the mail. Inside, she had written inspirational quotes from famous women athletes and leaders. On a note enclosed with the journal, she had written that I should add more inspirational quotes to the journal, because keeping a positive attitude was important when life becomes hard. I had to admit, it was hard to be positive during that time.

I stared down at the salteñas, thinking of what my abuelo said. Prayers weren’t enough, but sometimes prayers are all you have. Was there something more I could do?

The title of the piece was Tu lucha es mi lucha, which means “your fight is my fight.”

Remember, we’re young. Nobody expects us to be leaders, so we must expect it from ourselves.

There was incredible history here, and yet... so much more history to be made.

“She needs me to be her friend,” I replied. And as soon as I said those words, I felt them in my heart.

In soccer, if we see something wrong, we call it out so it can be fixed. I see something wrong, and I want to help.

Tu luca es mi lucha. I will lead with my heart and find a way to help your family.

We don’t just want to talk about injustice. We want to do something about it.

It was as if Tia Mari knew that someday I’d need this quote. Maybe I’m more like her than I even imagined.

All of us are united in our love for soccer, but we are also united in another cause that we want to share with you. Soccer has taught me many things, but most important it has taught me to be a team player and to be vocal if I see something wrong. This past week, I saw something wrong and I want to bring it to everyone’s attention.

If you were here, I would tell you what an inspiration you are to me. I miss you, Tia. I know I’ll always miss you and that’s okay. It will be an extra part of me that will make me stronger and kinder.