#this seems like it would be a fun one to continue...

[ohlawdthevoices]

PLS PLS PLS MAKE A MEETING SHOTOS FAMILY FIC I NEVER SEE ANY OF THEM 🙏

I literally love the way u write Shoto

him ->🧍

Meeting Shoto’s family | prohero!shoto x gn!reader

tags : pro hero shoto x gn!reader, mostly fuyumi and natsuo, fluff, shoto is very aloof but we love that, new years dinner, not proof read

word count : 1.8k

a.n : i had fun with this one lol so thank you so much for your request !!

shoto didn’t want to make his relationship public, so except his closest of friends, no one really knew you or even knew he had a partner.

that was sure annoying at times since shoto doesn’t get a hint when someone is flirting with him and usually doesn’t end the conversation, but you knew he did that for your own safety from all the medias.

so it was only when he took a very awkward selfie of the two of you— an almost constipated expression on his face, holding his phone with both hands like a father taking a picture, and sent it to his sister asking if you could join on their new year’s celebration— that his family finally learned about your existence.

shoto’s phone was blowing up the next 40 minutes or so, mostly his sister asking about you, your favorite food and dessert… you were nervous, sure, but fuyumi’s enthusiasm was definitely helping, you knew the rest of his family wasn’t like that but you still hoped somehow endeavor would be secretly chill.

still, when the day finally came and you were standing in front of the todoroki household—gift bag in hand, dressed in something that screamed “respectable but please still like me”—you couldn’t help the nerves climbing up your spine.

“last chance to pretend you forgot me at home,” you whispered. shoto glanced down at you, completely unfazed. “too late. fuyumi’s watching from the window.”

he wasn’t wrong. the door opened before either of you could even knock.

“YOU MUST BE Y/N!!” fuyumi beamed, launching forward to engulf you in a hug so sudden it nearly knocked the gift bag out of your hands. “i’m so glad you came! oh my god. you’re real. you know for a second a thought shoto photoshopped you in the picture.”

“why would i do that” he furrowed his brows,stepping into his home and taking his shoes off. you followed his actions a bit overwhelmed but still trying to keep up the polite and respectful act.

te house smelled like grilled meat and expensive furniture. it was quiet, warm, and intimidating in a subtle, rich-people way.

you barely had time to take your shoes off before someone else appeared around the corner—tall, broad-shouldered, and immediately recognizable.

endeavor.

your body tensed involuntarily, like your survival instincts kicked in. he nodded stiffly.

“welcome.” shoto didn’t say anything, just stepped a little closer behind you, like his presence would shield you from any lingering tension in the room.

“hi… thank you for having me,” you managed politely, though you weren’t totally sure your voice came out.

endeavor nodded again. the silence that followed was suffocating. you could feel Shoto regretting everything.

“anyway!” fuyumi saved the moment with a clapping gesture. “dinner’s almost ready, you can go sit in the dining room !”

dinner was… surprisingly normal. since his father left due to a work related emergency, the discussion seemed to be much more open.

at one point, fuyumi leaned over with a warm smile and asked how you two met. you blinked and said, “oh, at a coffee shop actually.”

“she yelled at me,” shoto added, like he was just stating the weather. “i did not yell at you,” you said immediately, glaring at him with no real heat.

natsuo raised an eyebrow. “this sounds promising.”

“she cut the line,” shoto continued, between two bites. you turned to him, raising your eyebrows “okay, wow. no that wasn’t it” he looked at you, calm as ever.

“there was a clear order. you broke it.”

“i was literally just going to grab a straw.”

“you had intent in your posture.” natsuo laughed while his sister clapped her hands like this was the best dinner she’d ever seen.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “anyway, he accused me of cutting, i told him to mind his business, and then five minutes later he offered to pay for my drink because he ‘felt bad about the misunderstanding.’”

“i did,” shoto said, already sipping his tea like none of this was unusual. “you were wearing a shirt that said ‘caffeine and violence.’”

“…and?”

“i was scared.” he went back to eating as if he didn’t just admit that.

after dinner, you all insisted everyone help clean up, which turned into shoto getting kicked out of the kitchen for trying to load the dishwasher wrong.

“how do you even mess it up that bad?” natsuo muttered, yanking a plate out. “you put a bowl in the plate rack.”

“It fit,” shoto replied simply, as if that were the only criteria.

you were drying dishes nearby, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. honestly, it was endearing. shoto could calculate the trajectory of an ice attack down to the centimeter but apparently couldn’t grasp modern appliances.

eventually, you were shooed into the living room with a mug of tea, tucked beside shoto on the couch while fuyumi and natsuo bickered over whether or not anyone wanted dessert.

the tv was on in the background playing some new year’s countdown show, all loud music and glittery stage lights. you leaned into Shoto a little, warm and full and weirdly at peace for being in the house of japan’s most emotionally complex family.

“they like you,” he whispered, you turned to him. “yeah?”he nodded “i can tell. fuyumi didn’t start stress-cleaning, and natsuo only insulted me twice.”

you laughed and leaned your head on his shoulder. “I like them too, they’re nice.”

there was a pause.

“…did you really tell fuyumi my favorite food?”

shoto didn’t answer right away. then: “i made a powerpoint.” you blinked. “you what?”

“for her,” he added casually,his eyes on the tv. “so she’d be prepared. she asked for a list of things you like, so I made one. it had slides.”

you stared at him. “you powerpointed me.” he nodded, entirely calm. “It had transitions.”

youwould’ve teased him, but honestly, your chest just swelled with affection so fast it kind of short-circuited your brain.

the countdown on the tv hit ten. fuyumi ran back into the room, waving sparkling cider and glasses, while natsuo complained about missing the remote.

everyone gathered around for the final countdown, and when it hit midnight, the room filled with cheers, clinks of glass, and confetti from god knows where (you suspected fuyumi).

shoto turned to you, eyes soft, and asked—completely monotone—“would it be appropriate to kiss now?”

“let’s not do that here yeah ?” you smiled at him as he nodded not really trying to understand why but he accepted it.

[wardenparker]

The Secret of My Success, ch 1

Harry Castillo x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When not even a professional matchmaking firm can help Harry Castillo find love, he turns his attention to helping his best friend meet their soulmate instead. The surprise of finding his own in the process will challenge the attitude Harry has taken toward dating for his entire life, and open up a whole new world of romance.

(This story picks up where the last chapter of The Unbearable Weight of Perfection leaves off, and will weave in a few other soulmate characters from previous stories just for fun. Don't worry if you haven't read those stories though! I'll be dropping the pertinent references in each chapter's note section to read along with Harry and his soulmate's adventures.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Reader is nicknamed Mack* Continuous warnings for: food/alcohol consumption, tobacco smoking. Mentions of past bullying and mistreatment, a bit of humanizing judgmental behavior. Summary: Harry attends his best friend's engagement party, only to find that Percy's old childhood partner in crime is quite charming in her own right. Notes: In this first chapter, we have references to Tamara's friend the fashion designer whose husband is from Mallorca. Wave hi to Javi G and his amor as you read!

The ringing telephones and buzz of activity from even down the hall doesn’t reach the plush, insulated capsule of this office. The windows are encompassing, giving a sweeping view of the city that would stun visitors and impress investors. The power harness from floor to ceiling views of the most powerful financial district in the world. His back is to that view, phone pressed to his ear as he talks. “I think that with that kind of margin, we would be stupid to invest.” He says bluntly, aware that the news won’t be well received but that’s not his problem. “No, they’ve significantly overstated their assets and at this point, it’s looking more like fraud than idiocracy.”

The knock at the door draws Harry Castillo’s attention, making him look up and frown as his best friend motions for him to wrap up the call. Shaking his wrist and looking at the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist makes him wince. “No, I understand.” He murmurs. “Tom, we will have to discuss this later. Think about what I’ve said.” He tells the man on the other end of the line, rolling his eyes with annoyance when the entire point seems to fly right over that man’s head. “Uh huh, uh huh.” He stands. “Yes. Well, that’s an interesting way of looking at it.” He shakes his head, nodding towards Percy Stokes, rushing him along. “Okay, well, I have a meeting that I’m walking into, so I’ll get back to you on that.” He says abruptly, finally managing to break through the endless monologue before saying a hurried goodbye and pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Come on.” Percy huffs. “We’re gonna be late.” He shakes his head. “And Tamara will kill me.”

Harry grins, sliding his phone into the inner pocket of his suit and pulling down the edge of his jacket to straighten it out. Luckily his tie was still straight and he hadn’t run a hand through his hair. “She would if you were late to your own engagement party.” He agrees.

“Which is why we’re not gonna be late.” Percy says with absolute certainty. He’s waving Harry toward the door with enthusiasm, checking his own appearance in one of the mirrors build into the walls of the office. Harry is technically his boss but he’s far more of a friend. He’d become that along the way, as they both came up through the financial game together. The Castillo family’s connections were pure gold and Harry hadn’t minded being a sort of big brother figure to the new guy in the family firm when Percy had started years ago. Now they’re each other’s number one fan and best supporter in work and out of it.

“Do you have her gift?” He asks, knowing that it’s customary to give your fiancée a gift before the wedding. He had voted on the Tiffany earrings, but he didn’t know what Percy had chosen.

Percy pats the breast pocket of his suit jacket and beams. “The earrings were perfect,” he tells Harry as they dash for the elevator. “I went with the platinum setting. Matches her engagement ring that way.”

“Nice.” He holds the door open for Percy and steps in after he’s in the car, pressing the button for the lobby. “The car is outside; we should be there with time to spare.” He promises.

"Only because your guy finds like...pocket dimensions to drive through." Percy jokes. Harry's driver, an older man named Stanley with a sharp tongue and a hell of a sense of humor, is a goddamn treasure and everybody knows it.

“He’s driven in Manhattan.” Harry snorts. “That qualifies as a combat tour.”

"You're not wrong." Percy snorts. He leans back in the elevator car as it drops swiftly down the controlled track from the thirtieth floor down to the ground. He's jittery and excited and can't stop grinning. Tonight is going to be perfect.

“So who all is Tamara gonna invite from her end?” He asks. “I know that you’re moving to L.A., but we’ve planned all the wedding activities here.”

“She’s got some family coming down, and a few people in from LA.” His Canadian-born fiancée seems to have friends and family everywhere, and he fiddle with the cuff of his shirt sleeve where it lays over the white ink maple leaf tattoo he has from her. “Basically her family and her bridesmaids. If I read the guest list correctly for tonight, the husbands are all home with their kids and the girls are making a weekend of it.”

“That’s a shame.” Harry chuckles. “Seems like I’ll never get to meet the famous Javi Gutierrez.” He jokes. “People say we look like we are related.”

“He’s coming to the wedding,” Percy assures him as the elevator touches down on the ground floor. “His wife is one of Tam’s bridesmaids and apparently he loves weddings, which doesn’t surprise me after having met a bunch of their friends.”

Harry hums as the doors open. “Good, I’ve been wanting to talk about property in Mallorca.”

The two men stride out the glass doors of their office building and slide into a car, but Percy scoffs even before they get settled. “So that’s the travel obsession this month? Mallorca?” Harry itches to travel but never makes the time for himself and everyone knows it. Last month he had been pouring over travel itineraries for New Zealand.

“Yeah, I was thinking that it could be a good investment.” He admits. “Maybe a diversity into a resort style property.”

“You’re going to buy a hotel?” Percy’s eyebrow ticks up skeptically.

“Why not?” He shrugs slightly. “No different than owning the apartment buildings in SoHo.”

“From finance heir to real estate mogul.” The younger man laughs, nudging Harry’s shoulder. “Hey man, if that’s what you want to do? Enjoy it. Make sure they keep an owner’s suite ready for you to drop by whenever.”

“Exactly.” He grins as Stanley guides the car out into traffic and away from the skyscraper. ‘Castillo Holdings’ is proudly proclaimed in large gold letters at the top of the building and on the plaque mortared into the stone pillar beside the doors. “Name it ‘Harry’s Place’ or some whimsical kind of thing.”

Percy snorts. “This from the man who gets a giggle out of taking business dinners to Harry’s instead of Delmonico’s. Of course you would call it Harry’s Place.”

He smirks slightly, tapping his fingers on his knee. Forcing himself not to trace the scars on the side of his thigh like he would do if he was alone. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.��� He huffs back playfully.

“Percy’s Palace,” he answers without hesitation, smirking right back at his friend. “Gotta have that alliteration.”

“Palace, huh?” He chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “I like it. It would be a place that people would talk about.”

“Hell yeah they would.” Taking the approval as a compliment, he grins. “Build it right on the Vegas strip. Blow Caesar’s out of the water.”

“Now you’re talking serious investment.” It’s almost immediately that his mind starts turning over that information. Running the numbers.

"Tam loves Vegas." Percy reveals, his smirk slipping into something much more besotted. After meeting at that fateful Met Gala a month ago, he and Tamara had flown to Las Vegas for a week and spent time wrapped up in each other learning everything they could about the soulmate they had been searching for, for so long.

“You’re lucky.” Harry will admit that easily, not a hint of jealousy, even though he knows that he hides really well. “Honestly, she’s perfect for you.”

"You're next." Percy insists. He leans back in his seat and watches Manhattan roll past the windows, contended as a house cat. "I know you're bummed about not having marks, but I know we can find you the right girl."

“Yeah.” Harry nods, not willing to bring down Percy with his own depressive thoughts. He had tried that route, went logical. Lucy had ended up breaking up with him. “She’s out there.”

"Who knows?" He's trying to be encouraging, but Percy is in that giddy, dreamy place of a new relationship where everything is love-centric. And more than that, his love-centric. "Maybe it's one of Tam's friends?"

“It’s possible.” He chuckles, doubting it. He honestly doesn’t know if he’s meant for love. Maybe he doesn’t have marks because he’s not suitable for that kind of relationship. It happens. It’s just convincing his mother than it’s not the universes fault.

They're a little bit quieter by the time they arrive at the party. The Clover Club is a favorite bar with excellent crafted cocktails, unique beers, and gourmet bar food that is a perfect choice for the intimate engagement party of two people who grew up casual but like to indulge in the finer things now that it's not out of budget.

Tamara, radiant in a white dress with pink flowers, squeaks with delight when she sees the sleek, black Maserati pull up to the curb. She is getting out of an Uber with her parents and little sister but her focus has immediately shifted.

“There she is.” Percy barely waits for the car to stop before he is jumping out. Harry chuckles as he follows behind him a moment later after the car actually stops rolling. “See? We arrived at the perfect time.” He calls out to Percy, waving to Tamara politely even though she only has eyes for her soulmate at the moment.

The couple murmur to each of quietly for a moment, savoring a few sweet kisses after three impossibly long days apart. When Tamara can finally do something other than gaze adoringly into Percy's eyes, she sighs happily and looks back to the people around them. She introduces her mother, father, and her sister to her newly-minted fiancé and Percy introduces Harry in turn.

They seem like nice people, although it’s clear that they are a little out of their depths. He doesn’t miss the speculative looks as they try to take everything in all at once.

"It's our first time in New York City," Tamara's sister Renee explains. "It's...a lot."

"It's beautiful," her mother sighs happily.

"We can't wait to show you the sights." Percy ushers everyone inside. They're the first arrivals, and others will be coming momentarily, but he wants to have everyone settled. "Harry's going to come look at venues with us this weekend but I promise we won't overwhelm you with it. We'll have fun while you're here."

“Yes.” Harry nods, motioning everyone towards the doors. “Honestly it should be quick to pick the venue.”

"Mack is coming too, right?" Tamara asks, glancing over her parents' heads at her soulmate as he holds open the door for everyone.

"Absolutely." Percy nods emphatically. "She's going to be our best ally."

“Mack?” Harry frowns slightly as he looks towards Percy. “The roommate I’ve never managed to actually meet?”

"She works nights a lot," Percy reminds him, waving it off. When Tamara's parents look curious, he goes on. "My best friend growing up became a wedding planner. The event business that she works for offered her a transfer from a smaller office so she took it. She only got to the city a few weeks ago, so there hasn't been a lot of chance to get everyone together yet."

Harry rolls his eyes at the slightly protective tone to his friend’s voice. He had asked about this friend, only to be stonewalled. It had made him a little apathetic about meeting “Mack”.

"You're gonna like her." Percy predicts, pointing one knowing finger at Harry. He'd been cautious about the introduction because he's protective of his friends, not because he thought they would butt heads.

There is no more chance to talk about it though, as they step into the club and Percy turns his attention to the staff. They've booked the event space for the night and paid premium for plenty of the gourmet food and drink options for all of their guests, and he wants the night to be perfect. As perfect as Tamara is. As perfect as their wedding and their future will be.

The warm lights reflect off the brick walls. Gleam against the tap that line the wall, but Harry is more interested in the whiskey. He slides up to the polished bar and taps his fingers lightly, eager for a drink.

"What can I get for you tonight, sir?" The bartender assigned to the private event space is a beautiful young woman with a bright smile and platinum blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She slides over to him with ease, measuring him up at a glance just the way everyone does in this city.

He shoots her a small smile. “Double Highland Park.” He orders. “Straight up.”

"Coming right up." Her interest at least momentarily piqued, she takes another glance before sauntering away to pour the whiskey that was so very rarely ordered. That's a hell of an expensive glass. Maybe this won't be just another average party after all.

“Thank you.” Harry watches her pour, admiring the way she makes it look elegant. The smooth amber colored liquor in the heavy crystal cut glass is slid across the bar to him and he nods. “Thanks.” The twenty in his palm is left in the lacquered top as he takes the glass to lift it for a quick sip.

There is a commotion at the door as more friends pour in. This seems to be a particularly punctual group of friends and Harry tucks that information away appreciatively.

Music starts to pour in through the speakers, a little more festive than most parties, but it’s fun.

Jovial chattering fills the space as more and more people arrive, and people come and go from the bar around him as guests truly join the party. About ten minutes into the stream of arrivals, a tall woman in silk walks through the door to be greeted by raucous shouts from Percy.

Turning towards the commotion, Harry watches as Percy grabs Tamara’s arm and rushes forward to wrap his arms around the woman and squeeze hard enough to make her squeal. Intrigued by the display and wondering if this is the Mack Percy had been talking about.

They're almost of a height, Harry notes with interest — Tamara being fairly tall for a woman he doesn't suppose that she often meets others her size. But the new arrival is decidedly curvier than the willowy actress.

"Let me breathe, Perce!" The woman is laughing, shoving Percy with an air of sibling playfulness. "And let me say hi to Tam Tam, for crying out loud!"

Harry finishes his drink, watching the entire time as the statuesque woman pulls away from Percy and gives Tamara an equally enthusiastic greeting. Whoever she is, she is confident. Many women might be intimidated by the radiating beauty and obvious size difference between her and a famous actress, but not her.

"My mother Bernadette, my father Joe, and my little sister Renee." Tamara introduces her family in turn. "This is Mack. She's been Percy's best friend since they were kids."

So it is Mack. Harry hums, trying to figure out how he is feeling about this development. Percy had never mentioned that his roommate was positively beautiful, confident and voluptuous.

"Next door neighbors," he hears her explain to Tamara's family with ease. "Our mothers served together and we ended up in the same class at school. We were pretty much connected at the hip for a long time."

"I thought you moved a lot when you were a kid?" Renee asks, trying to place all of the story's ducks into a neat row.

"Oh, I did," Percy nods. "We both did. We ended up in Fayetteville when we were...twelve?" Mack nods and he goes on. "I had been in Florida before that, and Korea. But I was born in Illinois."

Harry moves back over to the bar, asking for another refill as he continues to watch the introductions and the way that this friend interacts with the people closest to Tamara and Percy. Sometimes he wonders if he’s too detached, but he also likes to people watch. He learns things about people that way. Reading them.

"We're not doing official business tonight." He hears Mack insist. "We're here to celebrate, not split hairs. I'm gonna go get a drink before you start quizzing me on vendors."

The sharp click of heals announces the approach and he has the new glass of whiskey in his hand right as the figure draped in black silk approaches.

"Hi honey." You smile when the bartender comes over and it's a bright, confident dazzle of white teeth and red-painted lips. "What's the best thing on your menu for a rum drinker?"

"Do you like mint?" The bartender asks. When the woman identified as Mack say yes, the bartender smiles back. "I've got just the thing. Give me one second."

Harry studies you up close as you turn to appraise him. Noting the carefully crafted makeup, professional but bold with the red lipstick. Like you had come from work and dressed up the look with a quick trip into your cosmetic bag. “Rum is best on a desert beach.” He jokes. “Burned to signal a ship to rescue you.”

"Only if you're a snob," you counter, leaning against the bar and noting his simple, straight glass of brown liquor. A subtle whiff reveals it's whiskey. "Sometimes it's okay to just enjoy things because they're fun."

Okay, not a Pirates of the Caribbean fan. “And rum is fun?” He asks curiously, tilting his head as he watches you judge his drink. He lifts his brows and offers it to you to try.

"Oh fuck, that was from a movie?" You snort, laughing at your own self for being the actual asshole in this scenario. "Sorry, no, I clearly haven't seen it. Them? I'm more of a Star Wars girl." When he motions to his glass you raise your own eyebrow in turn. "What is it?"

“Expensive, snobbish, whiskey.” He smirks, wiggling the glass enticingly. Playfully. Something that is a little surprising to him, normally very serious in life. “Highland Park.”

"Sounds like something I can't afford to breathe near," you joke, but since it's just a sip being offered to you by a ridiculously handsome man at a private party being thrown by your best friend, you figure it's safe enough and also too intriguing to pass up. "Cheers." You raise his glass to him and tip it back, taking just a sip but immediately shutting your eyes and practically sighing over the deep, complex flavors.

The smirk turns to a genuine smile as he watches you appreciate the whiskey. The bartender brings back a drink and announces the name “Queen’s Park Swizzle.” She grins and Harry nods. “Another glass of Highland Park.” He orders with a wink and nod towards you. “I think she’s stolen mine.”

"Well I do drink pirate liquor," you joke, and have another sip since he's offered. Once you put the glass down again, you hold out your hand. "I'm Mack." The nickname is more than a decade old now, something that you've absorbed into who you are and made a part of you. So much so that it's obvious who knows you intimately versus who knows you through business based on what they call you. Friends and family? They've all called you Mack since you were fifteen.

“Harry.” He takes your hand and instead of shaking it, he bends down and presses a kiss to the back of it. Smelling the fruity, spicy fragrance of whatever lotion you have used.

Motherfucker. He's charming, too? Your stomach twists, but only because you're not used to this kind of thing. Gentlemanly behavior, most people call it. The men you spend your days around are usually either very in love grooms or very out of love grooms. The former can look right at you and still not see you, which is somewhat sweet. And the later are decidedly not gentlemen. It's such a distracting moment that it actually takes you another few seconds to process who he is. "Wait, Harry Harry? Like Percy's boss? Apparently the only competition I've ever had for the position of that weirdo's best friend?" You motion over your shoulder with one thumb and make a mental note to smack Percy soundly for not telling you his other best friend was so hot. "It's really nice to finally meet you."

“I was starting to wonder if you were real.” He admits as he smirks, standing tall but not letting go of your hand just yet. “Percy has been frustratingly tight lipped about you.” Now he wonders if it was because you were not built like supermodel, but he would hate to believe that Percy thought he was that snobbish.

"A lot of people..." Finance bros "find it weird that we're still friends after so long. They expect one of us to be gay, or for there to be some secret romantic history or something. And there's none of that. We're kind of...extra siblings." Maybe that's why he hasn't said much. It is certainly why you tend to be tight lipped about him to people you aren't sure of. But then...Percy is sure of Harry. He talks about him all the time. "Well, here I am. And here you are. Maybe he didn't introduce us before because he thinks we'll get along too well."

He contemplates that and shrugs. “Who knows?” He snorts after a moment, “maybe it’s because he thinks we wouldn’t get along.”

"Maybe." That has you smirking as you tip back another sip of the whiskey that you're sure costs more than your car payment. "You are a snob."

He chuckles, tilting his head as he picks up his new drink after it’s been delivered. “Tend to be.” He can admit that. “Only about certain things.”

"Like whiskey." Which, you have to admit, he's right about.

“I have been known to drink Jack Daniels.” He admits. “At gunpoint.”

You snort, shaking your head at him. The last sip of the pricey whiskey is gone a moment later, and you set the empty glass aside. "You would not like my liquor cabinet."

“Let me guess…..” he narrows his eyes playfully and looks up and down at you. “Tito’s vodka, a bottle of Whipped Smirnoff, Sailor Jerry, Captain Morgan Original…” he takes another sip of his whiskey. “Annnnnd a bottle of Malibu.” He grins. “The original coconut one.” He points a finger at you from the hand holding his glass. “How did I do?”

"I was just going to say there's no whiskey there, but damn!" Clutching your proverbial pearls, you are doubled over laughing on the bar as you try to recall what is actually on your bar cart at home at the moment. "The vodka is definitely Tito's, but the rum is Kraken. Yes to the Malibu, but you missed the tequila. El Jimador Silver. Which is so much better than anyone gives it credit for."

“It actually is a good tequila.” Harry admits with a grin. “But I prefer Tapatio 110.” He doesn’t have anything against any of the alcohol you’ve listed, if he’s honest.

"That's an excellent choice." He has good taste, you'll give him that without hesitation. The cut of his suit is another, much larger, indicator of that. "So what do you do, Work Friend Harry, other than judge other people's liquor habits and quote movies to strangers?"

He chuckles. “I work.” He admits, shrugging slightly.

"I think we've solved the mystery of how we've never met." You pick up your cocktail now, enjoying the feeling of the cold glass and the sweet, sharp, sour scent. "We're both workaholics."

“Wedding planning, right?” He asks, even though he knows that what you do. “I bet you do a lot of business around Valentine’s Day and oddly enough, Christmas, right?”

"New Years Eve is popular these days, too. And all summer long is pretty constantly busy." You've also been seeing a rash of people lately getting married on their birthdays, which is kind of fun as long as the marriage is a happy one.

“I don’t understand that trend.” He admits, shaking his head. “It smacks of selfishness. Making all of your guests give up their holiday, plus all the staff.” He huffs, watching you switch to your swizzle. “Making them give up their holiday to work a wedding is just wrong.”

"I get wanting to make your event memorable." After all, wasn't that the goal for pretty much everyone? To remember their event forever? "I just think it's an unfortunate truth that sometimes people forget the staff that work these things are actual people with their own families and lives."

Harry nods, thinking about Lucy’s John. It’s strange to think about her again so often lately. Maybe it’s because he met her at his brother’s wedding. “Just promise me you won’t put me at the single’s table?” He snorts. “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

"I promise." Not that there's even been any discussion of how tables will be set up at all, but you'll find a way to make it work. Something about Harry is very endearing despite being so easy to tease. He's a likable guy. "No bribe necessary."

He chuckles. “So how will it work being both the planner and a part of the wedding?” Other guests are mingling and talking but his focus has stayed on you since you’ve joined him at the bar.

"One of the junior girls from my firm is going to help out during the ceremony. It will help her get her footing on a big wedding with a safety net in place, because I'll still be there." The whole thing was already worked out, of course. You weren't the first planner at Sparkling Nights to ever plan a wedding they were in.

“Do you ever work with Adore?” He asks.

Your nose wrinkles, but you nod. “The matchmakers? Yeah. Our firms have a contact but I don’t like to work those events if I can help it.”

He lifts a brow again, noticing the judgement in your voice and expression. “What, you don’t like them?”

“Those girls are…deeply judgmental, at best.” Have you done some judging tonight too? Sure. But nothing like what they do. “Not in the every day way like we’ve done. Drinks or taste in movies or whatever. The ones I’ve met are all shallow to the bone and turn people into math equations. They talk shit about their clients behind their backs all the time, which is just horrifically unprofessional.”

He hums as he finishes his drink. Seeing how it could be seen as judgmental when you job is to literally assign value to someone as if they were an asset. He had stopped his subscription over a year ago, because it seemed like the women just kept getting younger and more obvious in their want of being a trophy wife without having any substantive value beyond their looks. “Well,” he says after he swallows the last burn of his drink. “Worked for my brother.” He tells you. “Married two years.”

Well shit. You glance down at the glass in your hand and remember all over again that there were multiple reasons why you got made fun of in school. Not being able to keep your mouth shut was a pretty old problem. “Good for him,” you manage, feeling very much like you’ve put your foot in your mouth.

“Um hmm.” Harry sees Scott Bledsoe behind you, motioning to him to capture his attention and call him over. “Excuse me.” He murmurs politely, setting his drink down and pulling another twenty out of his pocket to put on the bar. “I see someone I need to speak with.”

"Fuck..." you mutter under your breath, groaning at your own idiocy as he walks away.

******

The party has been going on for hours. Harry has spoken to, or greeted every person in this room and it’s sad to say that his thoughts still drift back to the conversation at the bar. He shouldn’t have walked away like that, it was rude, but it had kind of cut him when she was insulting a service that hadn’t even been successful in finding him a partner. He’s had a few more drinks, probably more than he should have, so he’s outside to clear his head and secretly craving a cigarette.

The scent of smoke is distinct, he knows there is someone out here enjoying the thing he is craving — but it’s to his dismay when that person happens to be a tall, curvaceous woman in black silk.

Harry assumes that you don’t see him, standing farther down the railing and looking over the surprisingly nice view from the roof deck. Groaning quietly when the fresh puff of nicotine wafts his way.

“Would you…like one?” That particular groan is the sound of an ex-smoker who misses it, but there’s definitely a risk that he might be offended by the offer because he’s quit. At this point you’re well aware this man doesn’t like you, but that’s your own fault. You just don’t want it to be too difficult for Percy during the wedding planning.

“I shouldn’t.” His answer is automatic, but he’s moving towards you. Towards the rich and sweet smell of burning tobacco. “My mother always scolds me, but I can’t help it.” He tells you as he pulls an ornate zippo out of his pants pocket.

"I won't tell on you." The antique cigarette case you found at an estate sale ten years ago is still with you, and you click it open to offer him one of the ill-advised treasures inside.

The case is beautiful, sterling silver and trimmed in gold. He plucks a slender cigarette out the case and nods as he puts it up to his lips.

"I'm sorry I put my foot in my mouth earlier." It's the adult thing to do, to apologize, and you'll do it even if it's only to keep things smooth for Percy. I had just come from a meeting at the Adore offices and I was still all riled up about them. I have nothing against the people who use the service, I just think it's shitty the way some of those girls talk about their clients."

He chuckles and shrugs after taking a long drag off the cigarette. Groaning slightly at the taste and approving of the flavor. He glances over at you. “You never talked back about a client before?”

“Not to another professional in any kind of connected field,” you insist. He looks good smoking. A little more rugged. Less like he’s been sculpted from marble. “Usually only to Percy, if I’m honest.”

“So the problem is that they are analytical.” He hums. “And you are emotional.” It makes sense. You probably have an emotional connection to every client you work with by the end.

"The problem is that they treat analysis like the only answer and demean anyone who believes in emotion." You have to qualify it, since you feel like he's barreling toward being upset with you again, and you're trying to prevent that. "Again, I'm only talking about the half a dozen or so women from that office that I've met."

He’s relaxed a little not that he’s figured out that you are malicious. He shrugs slightly. “It’s a numbers game to them. Basic addition and subtraction.” Dating Lucy had given him some insight into that world. It hadn’t been too far from his own, surprisingly.

"How do you figure that?" If his brother had used Adore then he might have some perspective on the whole thing that is different from your own.

“It’s simple.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Some men want a 5’6” woman who weighs less than 130 lbs, preferably with natural blonde hair and reasonably well educated.” He watches as your eyes narrow and wonders if you think he’s listing off his own preferences. “If 47% of their female clients don’t meet that specific criteria, then they have to narrow it down to what fits in that remaining 53%.” He chuckles. “It’s a numbers game. What adds up and what can be overlooked to get to that match that you could possibly tolerate grinding teeth or leaving the towel on the floor for the next 25 years.”

"I guess I don't understand why people care about the height and weight of their partner , or even the hair color, instead of their joys and hobbies and passions." Although, from his estimation? It certainly does hit home how you're still single. It stings like a burning welt but you don't flinch, just cast you eyes down at your cigarette and swallow a sigh.

“Not everyone is blessed to carry scars from their soulmate.” Harry hums with a shrug of one shoulder. Hating how he doesn’t carry them.

"And some of us have them but still haven't made that match." You just shrug, pretending — or pretending to pretend — that it doesn't matter. "It is what it is. I don't believe you have to find your soulmate to be happy. It's just one way of many."

“I can understand what you mean.” He admits. “You don’t have to like those ladies. They are just providing a luxury service to a lot of assholes.” He jokes.

"I guess I just don't like that the ones I've met act like they're the only right answer and still don't respect the people who use their service." A dry, low chuckle escapes you and you shrug. "Or maybe I'm just a bitter, single, fat girl. Who knows?"

He huffs slightly. “You aren’t fat.” He counters, frowning as he looks you up and down. “Not a part of you is disproportionate.” Yes, are you thicker than most women hoping to bag a rich husband in New York? Maybe, but your confidence is refreshing and it doesn’t seem to be steeped in arrogance.

"I don't think I am, either. But to most of New York, it's a sin for women to enjoy food." Either way, you wave it off and take a last drag from your cigarette.

He chuckles. “But they love to go out and be seen.” He reminds you with a smirk. “Where’s your favorite place to eat?”

"I've only been in the city a few weeks." You smile at the question, taking it to mean that he isn't one of the people who thinks eating is a sin. "So far I really like the sandwiches from the bodega at the end of my block."

“You should go to Keen’s.” He suggests. “Real old world vibes and the steak is good.”

"Should I?" A smile curls your lips up, red lipstick unbothered and un-smudged by smoking, and when faced with an abundance of Fuck it energy and the hottest man you've ever spoken to in real life, you sort of throw up your proverbial hands. "Is that where you take your dates to impress them?"

He tilts his head as a curious look enters his eyes. “Only if she’s a steak woman.” He admits. “If it’s sushi, I take her to Sushi Noz.” He arches a brow as he waits.

"I sincerely hope you're not too attached to the sushi idea now that you've said it. I'm definitely a steak kind of girl." The mischievousness of your smile hides the uncertainty there, because you don't necessarily have a lot of experience with guys like this. And even less success. But why not try? "What time should I pick you up?"

You’re bold. His curiosity turns into near amusement, lips smirking slightly as he takes another drag of the cigarette, his last. He grinds out the coal and blows out the smoke. “8.” He decides, chuckling.

"Eight." You echo it, tucking away the disbelief, and nod. You'll have just enough time after the appointments tomorrow to go home and change into something far more flattering and less practical. "Sounds good."

He nods, “sounds good.”

Wandering back into the party so you don't ruin the beautiful (and slightly unexpected) tension of the moment, you find Percy and Tamara by the bar when you slide up to get another drink.

“Sooooooo.” Tamara grins, still riding the high of actually celebrating being engaged this man, as she clings to his arm. “Tell me what you think about our choices for venues?” She asks.

“It will depend on the size of your guest list and how faithful to Manhattan you want to be,” you remind them, but extract a small notebook from your purse anyway. You know they want to stay in the heart of the city and they’re both fairly traditional. “Places like the Central Park Boathouse, Sony Hall, or the Foundry all have very different vibes but still give the traditional elegance you’re looking for.”

“Too bad we couldn’t have the Met.” Tamara sighs dreamily. “Since we met there.”

“You can,” you remind her. They have the budget, after all. “It’s just booked two years out.”

She sighs softly and shakes her head before turning those big, expressive eyes up to Percy. “I don’t want to wait that long to marry you.” She admits softly.

“Me either.” He leans down, kissing her twice and then a third time for good measure. “Wouldn’t it be easiest to book a hotel ballroom?” He looks back at you. “We’re going to have guests flying in from all over.”

“We can certainly do that,” you nod and glance back at your list. “And book a block of rooms for your guests in the process.”

She hums and looks over at Percy. “Where did Harry’s brother get married?” She asks softly. “Maybe we can book there.”

“Lotte?” Percy looks to you and you nod. “It was beautiful. And they were pretty easy to work with, I think.” Expensive, obviously, but he doesn’t care about that. He can afford it and Tamara is worth it.

“Exactly.” He had struggled with the idea of moving himself, but he knew that Tamara needed to live in LA.

“Buck up, soldier,” you tease, nudging his arm. “This is another adventure. You’ll love LA.”

“I know.” He tilts his head and shoots you an apologetic sigh. “I just wish that the timing was better.”

"That's sweet of you," you promise him. He really is your best friend for a reason. "But who are we if we can't handle a curveball here and there?"

“Have you had any luck?” He asks. “You know I can just keep paying rent.” He reminds you.

"You don't need to do that." The little two bedroom in Washington Heights that he welcomed you into when you arrived in the city had been more than enough for him alone and it was just enough for two. Without him, your savings will stretch a few months before you start to struggle, but you just can't let him pay rent on a place that he isn't living in anymore. It doesn't sit well with you. "I have a couple of interviews next week, we'll see if any of them pan out."

“This is my fault though.” He insists. “At least let me pay until you find someone.”

“We’re not talking about rent at your engagement party,” you scold. Truth be told you’ve been looking at moving out to Brooklyn or Queens as soon as his lease is up and there’s not too terrible options that way. Nothing fancy, but you don’t need fancy.

“We’ll discuss it later.” He points at you playfully. “For real.” You had a nasty habit of changing the subject if you were uncomfortable with the subject, and your finances were one of those touchy things for you.

“Sure.” An off-hand dismissal of the topic is pretty on point for you, but you squeeze his arm before turning back to the bar to order another drink. You’re not trying to be flippant, but this is a celebration.

Harry rejoins the party and mingles with the other guests. Laughing and trading jokes, telling stories about when Tamara and Percy met, proud that he had facilitated the entire thing. He chews on his lip as he considers getting another drink and decides that it’s a little too soon for another so he wanders over to the buffet spread.

“Have you tried any of the food yet?” Percy comes up on his side and picks up a small plate with an artfully styled piece of fried chicken with some kind of slaw on it. “It’s incredible here.”

“No,” he admits with a small grin. “I’ve been drinking my dinner so far.” He glances over towards you and then back to the artfully arranged appetizers.

“Any reason for that?” He isn’t going to pretend he didn’t see Harry talking to you earlier. Or that he doesn’t smell like your cigarettes now. You’re the only person he knows who still smokes Camel Turkish Royals and Harry always buys American Spirits when he stress smokes.

“Annoyance.” Harry snorts. “Intrigue.” He admits a moment later. “Ever met someone you shouldn’t like, but you do?”

“Plenty of times.” The two men stand in bespoke, expensive suits and eat gourmet finger food, surveying the pastry around them. “But I assume we’re talking about something a little more striking than a professor or coworker?”

“I’m apparently going on a date tomorrow night.” He snorts softly and picks up a plate with two teriyaki meatballs on it. “I guess I should call and make a reservation.”

“You sound…” Percy frowns. “Less than excited?”

“Given my history with dating?” Harry asks, lifting a brow. “I guess I’m not exactly hopeful.” He admits.

“So you’re not grumpy about it because of the girl, but because you don’t think it’ll go anywhere?” He’s itching to ask who. To find out if the glances he saw amounted to anything. But he doesn’t want to spook Harry too early.

“It never does.” Harry taps the plate and looks around the room. The very symbol of love existing is right here, but it always eludes him.

“It only has to be different once,” Percy reminds him.

He huffs slightly, unable to argue with that, but it’s so vague. “Of course.” He doesn’t want to bring his best friend down, tonight of all nights. “There’s plenty to look forward to, after all.”

“Not to be nosy,” Percy smirks. “But I’m gonna be nosy. Why did you ask if you weren’t excited about her?”

“I didn’t ask.” Harry admits, although his lips twist up slightly in amusement. “She did.”

“Oh shit.” That promotes the younger man to burst out in a fit of surprised laughter, though Percy quickly smothers the sound and peaks it down to an amused giggle. “Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?”

“I’m sure we are.” Harry rolls his eyes at his friend as he picks up a meatball on the slender toothpick and takes a bite.

“Well shit.” Percy repeats, grinning at Harry like he’s just gotten the best gossip ever. “I mean, I’m not surprised, but I am impressed. I that makes you the third guy that she’s asked out ever.”

“Bullshit.” Harry pulls a disbelieving face because he isn’t swallowing that load of garbage for all the money in Manhattan. “That woman has only asked out three men?” He huffs, nodding towards where you are clearly chatting happily and smiling almost flirtatiously with an older man. He’s old enough to be your grandfather, but still.

"Don't let the extrovert exterior fool you." Lowering his voice, Percy glances over at you and then back to Harry. "That's a girl who lives on romance novels and period dramas, dreaming about her soulmate sweeping her off her feet." He huffs softly under his breath. "But kids are mean. She when through a hell of a lot of shit in school and got bullied pretty mercilessly. The big, brassy, bad ass thing is...it's a defense mechanism. If she asked you? She went out on a pretty big limb."

“I think she felt bad about insulting me.” Harry chuckles quietly. “She was talking shit about the women at Adore.”

"She...kinda hates them." Percy laughs along with him, but he meets Harry's eyes meaningfully. "She was telling me about the meetings she's been having and how shitty they are to her. Personal attacks. She said one of the women in the office had done a statistics sheet on her and it was awful."

“That’s because she doesn’t fit the assumed vision of what a valuable woman in this city is.” Harry agrees, knowing exactly who would have done that statistic sheet on her. “It doesn’t really mean it’s personal to them.”

"No," Percy agrees. "But it's personal to her."

“Believe me, I can understand that.” He had been encouraged to not discontinue his engagement of Adore but he hadn’t seen the point when no one had been compatible.

"All I'm saying is that if she asked, it's not out of guilt. It's genuine interest." Percy does take a moment though, letting that sink in to Harry's mind. "But if you're not really interested in return? I'm gonna ask, as both of your friend, that you tell her up front."

Harry frowns slightly. “So you don’t think this is a good idea?” He asks.

"I want you to accept because you want to," Percy says. "Not because I want you to."

“I would have said no if I didn’t want to go.” Percy should know him better than that. He sighs softly. “I guess I’m just worried that it will turn out badly.”

"No one is saying you have to marry her. But you both deserve a good date." Eternally honest Percy shrugs again. "You've both had a string of bad luck lately, that's all I'm saying."

“We are going to Keen’s.” He tells his friend, knowing that he can count on the other man’s opinion. “She’s gonna pick me up.”

Percy smirks, this time because he knows the restaurant vice was Harry’s. You would have picked Italian. “Her favorite flowers are zinnias. Just…in case you were wondering.”

“Zinnias.” Even though he hadn’t thought about getting flowers just yet he tucks that bit of information away. “Any particular color?”

“Reds. Oranges. Pinks. Yellows. Anything that reminds you of sunrise.” Patting his shoulder twice, Percy is still smiling when he steps away. “Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day.”

Harry stares down at his plate. “Yes it will be.” He murmurs softly.

******

The morning is a complicated and energetic affair. A large, black rental car arrives in the heart of Washington Heights to pick you up with your best friend and his fiancée inside, then it’s off to get Tamara’s family from their hotel and finally Harry from his place in Tribeca. You’re in business mode this morning, dressed professionally and carrying your necessary resources. Today you’re more than the groom’s best friend. You’re the wedding planner.

Today is casually business. He dresses down, if he’s honest. Jeans, a sweater and a sports coat. Formal enough for some places but casual enough to not scream uptight. Tonight, he’ll change into something else before taking you dinner.

You go over the list of appointments for the day with everyone in the car, because everyone had (of course) had an opinion in where the wedding should be held. Even Percy’s parents had called you to give their opinion, despite currently being deployed overseas. Thankfully, the hotel that Percy and Tamara had mentioned to you last night had actually had availability today to be seen. They’ll be setting up for another wedding while you’re there, but that isn’t a bad thing.

“The hotel is fine.” Harry assures them. “Peter and Charlotte loved it. It held everyone and the staff there is very discreet.” He chuckles. “Uncle Phil got too drunk and they escorted him up to his room without any issues.”

“Everybody has an Uncle Phil of sorts,” Tamara chuckles, thinking specifically of an aunt of hers. “When in the day are we going to the hotel?” She asks, keenly interested in that particular location.

“Second,” you assure her. The earliest appointment of the day is the venue that her parents were most interested in, though you think there’s very little chance of Percy or Tamara falling in love with it. Neither of them cares much for rowing. “The Central Park Boathouse is first. It’s a beautiful venue that will hold your whole guest list with a little room to spare. And it’s perfect for some lovely photos so you wouldn’t have to leave the property for them.”

“I still wish we could book the Met.” Tamara sighs fondly as she snuggles into Percy’s side. “But I don’t want to wait two to three years.”

“I did it in a call this morning,” you let them know, but qualify it carefully. “If they have a cancellation, we’re on the waiting list.”

“Ohhhhhh you’re the best.” She beams and is a hopeful gleam to her eyes. “Whenever.”

“We’ll keep our fingers crossed, but I have a good feeling we’ll find something we love today.” If you’re honest, you don’t hold out hope for the Met. But for Percy you’d try just about anything that would make him and his soulmate happy.

“I think you have to align your expectations with reality.” Harry hums quietly. “It would be nice, but it’s a lofty goal.”

“It’s a dream,” Tamara admits. “But there are no shortage of beautiful places in Manhattan to get married.”

“That is very true.” He agrees. “You just need to find the venue that matches what you two have dreamed about together.”

It doesn't surprise you when the Central Park Boathouse isn't to their taste. You can tell almost instantly that they aren't going to take to it, and while Tamara's parents ooh and ahh and encourage them, everyone ultimately agrees that it isn't right. Focusing on professionalism means you are doing your best not to be distracted by how good Harry looks dressed down for the daytime.

You are dressed very professionally, although he can tell that the carefully crafted outfit has been one that is well used. Still, he admires that your outfit is tailored to your body, fitting it perfectly and enhancing your curves rather than detracting from them.

On the ride over to the hotel, you review numbers with Percy and Tamara. Their guest list stands at just about 150 people and all the places they’re looking at can accommodate that easily. It will feel luxurious and intimate, rather than bustling or crowded.

“Here we are.” Percy pulls the rental car into the hotel’s parking lot and smiled up at the building. He’d been a guest at Peter Castillo’s wedding and thought it was nice, but hadn’t been thinking about his own wedding at the time. The girl he had been dating at the time was…not exactly long term relationship material. By her own admission.

“The bridal suite and groomsman suites are very nice.” Harry assures them. “Separated by a floor but there is a stairwell between them in case you need to access either party.”

“Your brother got married here?” Tamara’s mother asks, remembering that had been mentioned the night before.

“Yes madam.” He tells her with a proud smile. Charlotte and Peter aren’t soulmates, neither one of them has marks either, but they have created a strong and meaningful bond. “Very wonderful societal event.”

“But did you enjoy it?” That is the important part to her. Their family isn’t a part of anyone’s society. They’re not looking to climb into it, either.

“I enjoyed it.” It wasn’t to his taste. It wasn’t even to Peter’s taste, but it was what his bride wanted so he had happily conceded. Peter had always talked about a wedding on a beach. Harry had no idea what he would want.

His tone is soothing. Smooth and reassuring, and she smiles happily, momentarily mollified. The girl is large and grand, more imposing than welcoming, but Tamara has hearts in her eyes. “Even if we don’t have it here,” she hums excitedly. “This is where everyone should stay. We can book a block of rooms.”

“The hotel is a great place to host a large group.” Percy agrees. “The room service is amazing.” Even though he had not been a part of the wedding party, he had booked a hotel room, making a little weekend of it.

“Well let’s get inside and see what you think of the event spaces,” you urge, bringing them into the lobby with you. They can Oo and Ah while you check in at the desk.

This is a space that Harry is quite familiar with. There is a charity function held here every year, so he doesn’t walk with the others. Instead, he hangs back as you talk with a sharp dressed concierge.

The woman in all black with nearly done hair and sharp make up speaks with you for a few seconds before nodding and stepping away. “You’re not going to have a look around?” You ask Harry, surprised to find him wandering toward you as the others inspect the lobby with interest.

“I’ve been here enough.” He shrugs, taking note of the way your back straightens slightly and the toe of your heels is scuffed. “How about you?”

“Never.” You shake your head, suddenly far more focused on the man in front of you than the hotel. “I haven’t had much time to explore since I got to New York.”

“Well then we should change that.” He huffs. “You have to be able to be completely blasé about every venue.” He jokes.

“Is that what’s required out here?” You let out a soft chuckle. “Raleigh has a…we’ll call it a slightly different vibe, but that’s an understatement.”

“Absolutely. New Yorkers aren’t impressed with anything.” He tells you. “They’ve seen it all, done it all and will complain the entire time.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I’ve lived in plenty of places and seen plenty of things. But I don’t mind enthusiasm.”

He chuckles. “Give it time.” He jokes. “You’ll be just a sullen as everyone else.”

“I hope not.” But rather than judgmental, your smile is beaming. Like you’re daring the city to take away your joy. “Or at least I hope it takes a long, long time.”

“You just have to find the beauty in the small things.” He suggests. “Or sarcasm.”

“Or both.” Why does he make you smile like this? It’s like your stomach is doing flip flops.

“Now you’re thinking like a New Yorker.” He jokes. “‘Why not both’ should be etched onto the Statue of Liberty.”

“That would sort of change the tone of the thing,” you joke with a grin.

“Maybe.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “Never actually seen her up close.”

"But..." you startle, actually taken aback by that. "You live here!"

“And how many times do the locals avoid the tourist traps like the plague?” He asks, arching a brow.

That makes you huff, albeit playfully. "If I find out you've never been to the Met, I'm changing our date tonight."

He chuckles and tilts his head. “No, I’ve been to the Met.” He hums in amusement. Apparently Percy had never shared how he had met Tamara.

"Right..." you realize it just a second later and flinch, hating that you've said something stupid. "Never mind. Forget I said that."

Thankfully, like an answer to your awkward prayers, the event coordinator for the hotel appears in the lobby in the same instant and you don't have to see the realization dawn on Harry's face that his date tonight is with someone who speaks before they think.

Harry watches as you hurry away, embarrassment bloomed on your face and it finds it fascinating. You don’t weigh or measure your words around him. ‘No filter’ his mother would say. He likes it. Makes him wonder what you will say next.

The tour is fairly standard. The ballroom is available for you to tour while it is being set up for tonight’s wedding but the bridal suites are not — for precisely the same reason.

“It’s got enough space for everyone plus dancing.” Harry reminds Percy. “And we can honestly use the penthouse for the after party if you want.”

"The best man?" The event planner asks you with a knowing half-smile. The extra guy in the group who is talking about the after party? At this stage in the game, that is absolutely the best man.

"Of course." Your return smile falters a little, just in the second afterward when you catch her give Harry an appraising sweep of her eyes. Do you have any right to be jealous of someone else checking him out? Absolutely not. Yet? You can't help it.

Percy has already gone off on a tangent about the after party vibe, Harry encouraging him with an arm around his shoulder. The wedding would be for family, for memories. The after party was gonna be for getting wild.

"What do you have as far as available dates?" While Percy, Harry, Tamara, and her parents are all watching the ballroom be set up, you are going to get a little business done. Maybe it will help distract you from that touch of irrational jealousy, while you're at it.

“The first date we have is in nine months.” She rattles off a date with a smile. “There are weddings booked every weekend until then.”

Making note of the date for yourself, you know that's a little longer than Percy and Tamara are eager to wait but they seem to really like this place. "And if the couple were interested in booking a block of rooms here for there guests as well?"

“Of course.” She clicks her tablet and looks at the bookings for that date. “The bridal suite is available as well as a large block of rooms we can hold in reserve for the guests.” She clicks through pages. “We can reserve floors 5,7,9,10,11 and 14.”

"And your team is prepared to work with extra security for the night of the wedding?" Percy isn't willing to take any chances with Tamara's safety and you don't blame him. Being a Hollywood star has its benefits, but also some distinct drawbacks.

“We are equipped to handle all manner of security.” She assures you. “Though some do decide to hire independent advisors as well.”

“Of course. One can never be too careful.” She’s given you a packet of information — printed statistics and suggested floor plans along with contact information for preferred vendors — which will best going over with Percy and Tamara. You’re about to open your mouth for the next of many questions when your work phone rings.

Normally it would be on silent while you’re in a client meeting. Your personal cell phone certainly is, but the cell given to you by your company buzzes insistently in your pocket. And since there is a minimal chance of hearing from some vendors today, it’s good that you left it on. “Excuse me,” you offer the woman a polite smile. “I’ve got to take this.” The number looks familiar but you can’t remember which of the twenty calls you’ve made in the last twenty-four hours it could be returning, so you just excuse yourself to the lobby to take it.

“Hello, this is—” You use your legal name for business, and answer accordingly, “from Dragonfly Events, how can I help you today?”

“Good morning, this is Charlotte Evans, event coordinator for the Met.” She speaks clearly, albeit, a bit rushed. “I believe you had spoken with one of our assistants about being placed on the cancellation list?” The only reason she is calling is because of the name you dropped. Tamara Wilson is one of her niece’s favorite actresses and she had been given so much grief when she had learned that Auntie Charlie had breathed the same air as Tamara the night she met her soulmate.

“Yes, good morning. Thank you for calling me back so promptly.” If this is a polite refusal, as you expect, the call should be over with quickly.

“Of course.” She clears her throat. “The notes say that your clients are Tarama Wilson and Percy Stokes?” She asks. “Would that be the actress, Tamara Wilson?”

“Yes, that is correct.” And you absolutely left their names of purpose. “My clients met at the Met Gala this past May and are quite keen to be married in the same place they met.”

“I see.” Her voice doesn’t betray the wide, excited grin on her face. Auntie Charlie is gonna be the favorite for years to come. She doesn’t add that she had literally been there that night, but hadn’t realized it until the People article came out revealing the announcement about the soulmate pairing. “Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for your clients, we have just had a cancellation this morning.”

“Oh?” Tamara is going to lose her mind with excitement. “And what would the date be for that?”

She gives the date and pauses. “That is sixty-two days from today. I do understand if that is not plausible for your clients.”

“Are there any constraints with that date?” You ask, not wanting to blurt out that they’ll be thrilled to have a date so soon. “Vendors with contracts that must be honored, or anything to that effect?” Your own pauses, Mid note taking. “And could you tell me please, what portion of the museum the cancellation is for?” Met bookings for different areas accommodate different numbers of guests. You want to have all the information before you go talk to Percy and Tamara.

“That is actually why I contacted you first.” She says, saying without saying, that she thought famous clients would appreciate this more than anyone else. “The previous contract had booked the entire venue.” She tells you. “Although the catering contract was booked with the venue, So that would also have to be absorbed into the new contract.”

“That is perfectly fine with us, as my clients have not booked a caterer yet. Can I have their name?” The entirety of the Met? That is hundreds upon hundreds of guests, or a different location for every single part of the wedding. They’re going to scream when you tell them.

Charlotte gives you the name and telephone number of the catering service. “They are quite good, and luckily the menu has not been contracted, so there is that.”

“Wonderful.” Looking down at the notes in your book, you know this is going to work. This is going to be perfect. “I’ll speak to my clients, of course, but I’m prepared to say that we will accept the cancellation slot and the reservations that have already been made. May I call you back in about five minutes to confirm?”

“Please do.” She hopes that you will. “If not, I will have to contact others who have been requesting to be informed about cancellations.

“Five minutes,” you promise her, before politely saying goodbye and pocketing your work phone again. There’s no way it will take that long for them to decide, but you want to be sensitive to the woman here at the hotel who has taken time from her day for a last minute appointment.

Zipping back into the ballroom, you catch Percy’s eye and shoot him a grin. “Pardon me,” you reinsert yourself into the conversation politely but definitely. “If I could check in with my clients for a moment?”

Harry had drifted away but he catches your grin and knows that something is up. He quickly walks over to the very nice coordinator. “While they are talking, would you tell me about hosting cooperate events?” He asks.

It doesn’t take much effort for Harry Castillo to utterly charm just about anyone into conversation, and as he lures her away you make a note to thank him profusely tonight if the date goes well.

“So…” you wave Percy and Tamara over to you and lower your voice so it won’t echo. “The Met called.”

Percy cocks up, attuned to your mannerisms and he knows it had to be something good. “Please don’t tell me the wait time is five years now.” Tamara groans.

“They had a cancellation,” you tell them, barely containing your grin. “It’s fast, but I think we can make it happen.”

“How fast is fast?” Percy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Sixty-two days.” An amount of time that seems fleeting, but your first wedding planner job had been at a soulmate agency. You can do fast and you can do it well.

“Sixty-two days?” her eyes widen and her heart sinks. There is no way that a wedding could be pulled off in sixty-two days. Not the way that they had dreamed of. “Oh god. No. I don’t—”

"Tam." Reaching out, you set one hand on Tamara's arm and smile reassuringly. "I promise you, I can do this if you want to say yes. The previous client had rented out the entire museum, and the caterer comes with the reservation. I've got a florist that owes me a favor and a photographer who will move mountains to be able to take your wedding photos."

Her eyes widen and she tries to let the panic subside. Pushing aside the little voice of doubt in the back of her mind. Her gaze darts to Percy, but he’s already nodding. “Yes.” She whispers, clutching his hand. “Yes!”

"How do we feel about booking that block of rooms while we're here, and even the penthouse if you want that after party?" You know Percy will want it, and it was Harry's idea, so this is going to be a good bridge. It will help the hotel here feel a touch less slighted after pulling out this appointment for you, and it will still get Percy and Tamara the wedding of their dreams.

“I think that is best.” Percy nods and looks towards his bride for her input. “It’s central to all the attractions and just a half dozen blocks down from the Met.”

Tamara hesitates for just a second, but looks to you with pleading eyes. "Do you really think you can do it?"

"I do." A little nod to wedding vows is cheeky, but you mean it. You do think you can do this for them. "I really do, and I think it will be great."

“I really want the Met.” Tamara admits. Grinning at Percy and batting her eyes playfully. “Are you okay with two months? Or should we wait longer?”

"Tam..." Percy takes both of her hands in his and faces her, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I would marry you at the bottom of the Gowanus Canal with nothing but mutant fish for witnesses." They both giggle — the weirdos. But they're cute weirdos. "Two months in the place we met sounds perfect."

“Are you sure?” Despite wanting this more than anything else in the world, she wants to make sure it’s what he wants too.

"I love you," he reminds her, with a sort of bashful, gleeful expression. "That's all that matters."

“I love you too.” She promises. “If you told me you wanted to get married in the subway, I’d question your sanity….” That makes him laugh and she giggles. “But I would do it. But it seems like the universe wants us to have this.”

"So we're going to do it?" You ask, letting them have their moment and a sweet kiss to seal the sentiment. When they excitedly say yes, you pull your phone back out. "Let me call Ms. Evans back and get this settled. And then we can get the rooms and the penthouse booked here, as well."

“Not the bridal suites though.” Tamara tells you. “I don’t want another couple to have to book that somewhere else because I was selfish.”

"That sounds more than reasonable." This place probably has a dozen rooms gorgeous enough to host a newlywed couple, so you aren't worried about them having a nice place to crash that night. Not at all. "Let me make this call so we can really dig our fingers into planning."

“Okay.” She is immediately turning and pressing close to Percy. Both of them whispering in excitement. Harry glances over several time as he listens to the many amenities the hotel can offer for a conference or corporate event. He normally just holds any events at the penthouse, but he’s seriously considering this for the year end party.

It takes only a few minutes to step away and make the call, but when you come back to your friends they have their dream wedding venue booked and ready. All you have to do is drop off the deposit check before the museum closes tonight.

The next half hour is spent with the very nice woman who took the time to meet with you today, and she seems more than happy to be able to book the penthouse for a private party along with two full floors of rooms for wedding guests. It may not be the full night, but it is certainly a large check and damn good business for the hotel.

Harry is pulled aside by Percy, hearing the good news and smiling happily. Congratulating the couple and agreeing that it feels like the stars have aligned for their wedding.

By the time the six of you are leaving the hotel not too long after, it seems silly to think anything else could be more productive today. "Well," you tell them, grinning as you mark of Friday, August 6 on your phone with Percy and Tamara's initials. "I know we made a big decision but we have a lot to do now in not a huge amount of time."

“I already have my dress.” Tamara tells you with a happy sigh.

"And we did agree on colors already," Percy reminds you. A clean palate of white and silver with small accents of blue will be doable with any caterer, and blue bridesmaids dresses will be easy enough to achieve. His groomsman probably all own blue ties in the right shade.

“And the caterer has already been decided, right?” Tamara asks. “What’s the meal?”

"They booked the company but they hadn't picked their menu yet." Which was an incredible boon, and feels like it's a little too lucky. "I'm going to give them a call and see how fast we can set up a tasting."

Harry hums. “What’s the name of the company?”

"It is called..." Double checking your notes, you find it scrawled under the guest count for the museum. "Stand & Deliver."

Inside, Harry is groaning quietly but he nods. "They have good food." He assures them. "They catered Peter's wedding." He tells Percy, immediately making his best friend nod and grin.

“Perfect.” Tamara is grinning so widely that her face is threatening to split in two. “So what do we do now?” She asks you, bright with excitement and anticipation.

“Today? Go and enjoy having your parents in town,” you tell her, holding in your private sigh of relief. “I’m going to spend my afternoon setting up appointments for you to meet with your vendors as soon as possible so we can get everything squared away.” Looking at the group of them, you see a hell of a lot of work in those joyful faces, but it will be worth every second. “Why not take your Mom shopping for her mother of the bride dress, or even visit the Met?”

Harry watches you manage the nerves, the expectations with an aplomb that leaves him impressed. “Why don’t you take them to lunch?” He suggests. “I can help her with anything that she needs.”

“There’s a sit down restaurant in the museum,” Tamara remembers, perking up brightly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” On the sidewalk, Percy gives you a squeezing hug. “Text me appointment info when you have it?”

“I promise.” There is even a pinky swear involved. A long held tradition from childhood that is an unbreakable promise. “You guys go have fun. Harry and I will take care of some business and I’ll talk to you later.” It’s sweet of him to offer, and you won’t say no, but you also don’t really expect him to want to sit around while you made phone calls and scribble notes to yourself for a few hours. Especially not when you’re supposed to be taking him to dinner tonight.

“I’m assuming the Met needs a signed contract and a payment to reserve the space?” Harry asks when you’re alone for the first time since landing their dream venue. He checks his watch as he estimates how long it would take to get there.

“We have an appointment to sign the papers tomorrow.” You had made sure that was acceptable, otherwise you would have rushed over today. “I’ll have to drop off the physical deposit check today but we’ll give them the rest tomorrow.”

“What do you need to do today besides that?” He asks.

“Phone calls. Lots of phone calls.” His expression is so earnest that you soften a little, feeling your cheeks burn. “And I was going to change before I picked you up tonight,” you admit.

“Do you have an office or do you normally work from home?” He asks, unsure of your business model.

“I do have an office.” You were going to go hang out on your couch with some leftover pizza for lunch, but something nagging in your stomach doesn’t want to separate so quickly. “Are you asking to see my cubicle?” You ask, tone teasing like he has asked to see you naked or something equally as scandalous.

He snorts and shakes his head, amused by the way you are asking. “I actually was going to offer you my conference room if you needed a space to work.”

“That sounds fancy.” There’s still teasing in your voice, but it’s softened.

“Espresso machine.” He ticks off with a small smirk. “There’s a vendor that caters lunch in the breakroom.” He shrugs. “Changes every day. Not sure what today is.”

“You have enough people working on a Saturday to warrant a catered lunch?” In your office, your company was just part of one floor. Staff are in and out all the time because of the nature of what you do. You hadn’t figured his family’s financial empire had anything but a 9-5 existence.

“It’s for the people who come in to work on the weekends.” He tilts his head. “Sometimes normal working hours don’t fit our business. We try to treat everyone like we care.”

“That is…” Your head tilts a little, considering him as much as the offer. “Both unexpected and very nice to hear.” He has a warmth to him that makes you want to believe he knows every employee by name and every birthday, anniversary, joy, and hardship. It’s easy to picture Harry giving a shit about his staff. So easy that you catch yourself smiling again — maybe even a little dreamily. “Alright, sure. Let’s go to yours.”

He nods and he finds himself smiling back at you. You have this way of slipping past his defenses. Making him go on instinct and try to figure you out like some kind of puzzle. “Good, because I’m hungry.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[nemisuki]

𐔌✧.* SᑕᑌᖴᖴᒪE .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || When trying to make friends goes wrong, the blonde will always defend you, even in a fight ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

. ♬ ݁˖ || listen along : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★ 

ᝰ.ᐟ ||  katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, acts of service, 1.2k word count •°. *࿐

You didn't know how you got in this position—tangled up in the webs of a grumpy blonde—becoming the fixation of your next door neighbor, who is both recognized and feared by the whole district, his reputation only ever increasing since you were mere children.

And to any newcomer, they would find the two of you to be quite an odd pairing, the personality differences quite palpable. You're not like the loud hot head; you're bubbly, more carefree, often socializing with strangers on your day to day.

The stark differences would be deal-breakers in most dynamics, at least... that's what the onlookers would think, but to anyone else that's seen the two of you grow up, they would immediately know — that you've been his ever since you two met.

"You shouldn't talk to that boy anymore!" Katsuki, age 8, shouted out towards you, accusingly pointing a finger in your direction, acting as if you just committed some sort of crime in public.

And in his mind, you did, because why in the world are you talking to someone else that isn't him?! Again?!

His brows are furrowed, glaring daggers at the way you happily smile back at him, oblivious to how his anger rises at each passing moment, "Don't worry Kacchan! I already told him I had a best friend! You!"

He hates the way his heart jolts at your words, the way you can make his anger disappear with one pretty little smile, the way you could easily read him like a book, I mean... was his jealousy really that obvious?

The boy huffs, crossing his arms and looking away with a stubborn frown, "You're always running away, didn't your mom ever teach you about stranger danger?!"

You're eventually stepping closer to him, taking the opportunity to innocently hold his hand—a small habit you've recently developed—one that makes the little boy flush bright red, halting in place as you tilt your head towards him, big curious eyes staring deep into his crimson gaze.

"She did! But I know i'm safe when you’re around!" you beam, such a bold statement exiting your mouth like it's damn air, merely giggling at the way he freezes, eyes widening, not anticipating such high praise and expectations.

His heart feels like it's gonna explode.

He quickly averts his gaze, though doesn't make a move to push you away, instead pulling you along to follow him, away from every potential distraction—aka the other kids on the swings—clearly intending to hog all your attention for himself, until you inevitably run away yet again.

"Hmph, then you should just stay next to me..." he mumbles, so faintly that it's almost incoherent, but even so, despite the rustling leaves and soft breeze, you seem to hear it — you always seem to hear him.

"Then can I be with you forever, Kacchan?!" you continue, cheerfully skipping at his side, a look of hope clouding your glossy orbs, eagerly awaiting his response.

A moment of silence passes.

"Do whatever you want, like I care!" the boy scoffs, nonetheless, gently squeezes your hand, the earlier pink tint continuing to linger on his cheeks.

Your smile immediately widens at his subtle confirmation, that you squeal in delight, clinging to his side all the way to the monkey bars, unknowingly attaching yourself to the best protector you could've ever asked for.

Because when he finds you a few days later—your tiny form nervously shrinking back from two big fourth graders—he's already acting as your shield, standing in front of you, not giving them time to mutter another single word. His crimson eyes zero in on the two boys, sizing them up and making sure you're out of harm's way.

Katsuki heard the way they were mocking you, seemingly making fun of your talkative demeanor when you approached them, and witnessing such an exchange... only made him see red. It didn't help that he could hear your soft sniffles and hiccups behind him, solely increasing his previous frustrations, after all... you never cry.

"You bastards! You'll pay for that!" he yells out, already running towards them as his palms cackle with mini explosions, not an ounce of fear as he rushes the older duo.

You and the other neighborhood kids could only watch in awe as the blonde throws punches left and right, using his fierce quirk as leverage, immediately overpowering the boys with sheer strength and will power.

And the desire to protect a certain someone.

So it didn't take long for the older duo to run away, tails between their legs, as the blonde stands tall—a bit bruised in the face but nonetheless—the overall victor of the intense beatdown. Katsuki's posse eventually rushes over, their eyes gleaming with admiration at his bravery, all while the blonde wipes away at his bloody nose.

"Wow Kacchan!"

"You fought against two big fourth graders and won!"

Despite the praise that would usually fill his ego, he pays them no mind, instead looking around the park before his gaze lands on you, who's currently being comforted by a few of your friends, some giving you hugs and even tissues for your tears.

His eye twitches at the sight.

The blonde immediately marches over, making everyone scatter away like ants after witnessing the fight, clearly intimidated by Katsuki's aggressive mood and the dangerous glint in his gaze, but much to everyone's shock, he helps you to your feet, gently wiping away at your remaining tears.

"Tch, you idiot... I told ya' to stop approaching random people, not everyone is as damn cheerful as you!" he scolds, in an unfamiliar tone that leaves everyone's jaw on the floor, it's loud but not hostile, softer, something more vulnerable... and only meant for you.

"Ah—! Kacchan, your cheek!" you gasp, looking at his small bruises with dramatic horror, a hint of guilt beginning to form in the pit of your stomach, after all, he only got involved because—

"Hmph! This is nothin'! So don't start cryin' again, ya' hear?!" the blonde scoffs, pulling you along by your wrist to somewhere private, giving you a quick once over when you're finally alone.

He hesitates, "Oi, they didn't.. touch you... right?"

His eyes darken at the mere thought of you getting hurt, giving you the confidence that he would do anything for your assured safety... as much as he'd try denying it.

"Ah— I'm okay!!" you quickly reassure him, knowing he's surviving off his last thread of patience—and not wanting to see him go off the rails of sanity—you smile up at him, already feeling more at ease, "thank you kacchan..."

He flushes bright red, averting his gaze, "don't thank me, stupid... I didn't do it for you! I just— didn't like them is all!"

You knowingly giggle, and feeling a little thankful... you wrap your arms around him, giving the boy an innocent hug in response, making Katsuki awkwardly freeze, unsure of what to do, "H-Hey! People are gonna see, let go!" he exclaims, his cheeks nearly matching the color of his ruby irises.

"It's okay now! I know I'm safe when you're around!" you cheer.

Katsuki pauses.

It's those words again. The everlasting trust you have in him to keep you safe, protected, but most of all, loved... he just can't let you go.

So he'll let you get close, let you chatter to the sea of people that you want to call 'friends'—good or bad—because he'll be here, watching over you, protecting you, loving you.

He stands there, allowing you to hug him for a few moments longer, resigning to awkwardly patting your head.

"Yeah whatever.... just stay next to me, dummy..."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| hi my beautiful flowers! this was a lighthearted one, lowkey rewrote this like three times but let’s not talk about that lolz, but I finally finished it so here u go hehe... now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ tags ||| @leleyro @skylermiller1 @aikojwhpa @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

[starlostjisung]

I had 3 ideas and you pick which ever one!

Idea 1: where it’s a skz x bsf y/n college au! where she’s been overworking her self but doesn’t notice and when skz try to mention it she just brushes it off and then skz really notice bc when they planned to hang out she didn’t show up multiple times

Idea 2: skz x bsf y/n college au! where she’s been friends with them for a long time and it was a normal Saturday night for her where she was studying in her dorm or apartment (which ever) and skz wanted her to go out with them and but she refused but skz didn’t take no for an answer so they dragged her out to a party and a guy there kept annoying her in a teasing way (like a annoyance to lovers type of way)

hi!!!! i decided to write about idea 1, but i could only see the first two and not idea 3 because it didn’t appear in the message 😔

so if you liked idea 3 and it’s something you would really like to read about, feel free to send it again and i’ll write about it!!

hope you like this one 🩷

- i can make it

PAIRING: skz x bsf college! y/n

GENRE: angst, comfort

WC: 2.3k

CW: unhealthy eating and sleeping habits (reader only studies), reader is overworked, fainting (bl🩸d not mentioned)

SUMMARY: final weeks are upon you and you feel the stress of it and while you seem to be doing fine, the boys can see how overworked you truly are

december means christmas. it means holidays, presents, family, hot chocolate in front of the fire while watching christmas movies or listening to christmas songs. it means snow and playing with friends and little kids throwing snowballs at each other. it means happiness and laughter.

december also means finals. it means projects, presentations, exams, more projects and more exams. it means chaos, anxiety. it means no sleep, no eating, not unless you have finished everything that you need for university, which is not the case.

you’re running with little to no sleep, eating something here and there. you can see that this is not the best option but what can you do. it is what it is, uni life. besides, it will all be over in just three weeks when december finally means christmas and not finals.

just three more weeks, you could make it.

you’re going through a presentation that you have to do the next day when your phone beeps. you stop to look at it and see that it’s a text from your friend seungmin.

“dinner at mine, felix and changbin’s dorm. we’re ordering food but feel free to bring snacks if you want”

you want to go, you really do, but you need to finish this. and then review some more things for the next project and exam. you tell yourself this is temporary and in just three weeks you will be free to go to every single plan the boys make.

“can’t tonight. i’ve got a presentation tomorrow and i have to study for it, but thanks minnie!” you reply

you get up to go to the kitchen to get some water and when you go back to your room, you see he’s already replied.

“you sure?, it’ll just be the boys and you, nothing much. we won’t finish late, you can study for that later”

“sorry minnie, next time i promise i’ll make time and be there, have fun tonight!”

with that you turned your phone off and continued with the presentation. not that you were blaming him, but you couldn’t afford any distractions, you had to focus on the presentation and other uni projects.

you could make it.

it was finally friday and while you still had a lot of uni stuff that you had to work on and study, you were thankful that you didn’t have to go to class for a couple of days at least. and also, that night you were going to the cinema with the boys to relax for a bit.

you had had breakfast before class the previous day with han and i.n and they had convinced you to go with them, saying that they hadn’t seen you in a while and that you needed some time to relax and stop thinking about unit - so after some persuading from their part, you agreed.

you had just arrived to your dorm after class and decided you were going to have a shower, study for a bit for the exam you had on monday and then go to the cinema with the boys.

after showering you laid in your bed to answer some texts from your parents asking you about christmas presents and your exams when you felt extremely tired all of a sudden. you decided that you were going to close your eyes and rest for five minutes. just five minutes, that couldn’t hurt anybody right?

how wrong you were.

when you woke up, you saw that you hadn’t slept for five minutes. it had been three hours. the time that you had planned to study before going to the cinema with the guys. you couldn’t believe you had slept for that long. sure you knew you were tired, but you hadn’t realised you were that tired. you saw the time and realised that if you wanted to get to the cinema on time, you had to get ready and leave in ten minutes max.

however, the exam on monday was quickly approaching and you couldn’t lose more time. you had already lost three hours today.

with a heavy heart you decided to send a message in the group text you had with the boys, “sorry guys, fell asleep and just woke up. i have an exam on monday and i need to study, so i won’t be able to go to the cinema today :( have fun guys, see you other day!”

and with that, you turned your phone off again. you knew they were going to try and contact you, not that you were mad about that, you just couldn’t focus on anything else that wasn’t the exam.

when you got up from the bed and went to your desk to prepare to study, you could feel yourself extremely tired, not knowing how long you could do this. but you needed to push forward. it would be over soon

you could make it, you were almost sure of it.

the exam on monday had gone well. obviously you thought it would have gone better if you had had more time to focus just on that and not on that and the hundreds of other things you had to do but hey that’s uni life for you.

so that’s how you found yourself on the library, studying for the next exam you had in just two days. you basically lived there now. if you weren’t in class, you would be in the library. you would only go to your dorm to shower and sleep at this point. and the boys knew that, that’s why seungming and felix went there to see you, because they knew there was no other way.

“hey y/n”

you raised your head at the familiar voice, “oh hi boys”, you saw felix and seungmin in front of you, pulling out chairs and sitting there.

you made small talk for a bit, just the small talk that you could do in a library full of students with finals. as soon as they took their things out, you took it as your sign to stop the conversation and continue with your exam. the boys shared a look, worried about the state they had seen you at that moment. before they saw you, they had their suspicions that you had been overworking yourself a bit but now that they had seen it, they were more worried about you.

you three studied the whole evening. while the boys took some breaks - to get coffee, something to eat or just relax for 5 minutes - you didn’t stop. not once. you had to push through.

when it was almost closing time, the boys took their things and got ready to leave.

“come on y/n, they’re closing soon, come with us and have dinner. we can relax for a bit, time off is really important” seungmin said

“thanks boys, but i will stay until they close and then i’ll continue studying in my room, don’t worry about me”

“please y/n, leave it for today, we’ve been here all day, you need to stop and get some fresh air, you’re overworking yourself” it was felix this time

“guys i said it’s fine, don’t worry i know what i’m doing” your tone came out a bit more harsh than you had intended but you didn’t have time for this absurd conversation, you needed to study

you turned your head towards your books and didn’t look to the boys again. they shared another look, even more worried now than they had been when they first saw you when they came in. they had to talk with the rest of the boys and put an end to this. they thought you were going to break down soon, but you didn’t agree.

you could make it… right?

friday had come again and another exam had ended. you felt exhausted as you left the class after finishing it. thankfully you didn’t have more classes that day, so you could go to your dorm and prepare for the final exam you had the next week, which thankfully was the last one.

you started feeling weak as you walked through the cafeteria so you decided to get a coffee to drink on your way home. just as you were paying for it you heard someone screaming your name.

“y/n! come here!”

you turned around and saw bang chan and lee know sitting and drinking coffee. once you got yours, you went and sat with them.

“hi boys, how are you?”

“good, we haven’t seen you in a while! you’re basically as stranger now” lee know told you jokingly

he was partly right, you hadn’t seen them in some weeks and you had to admit that you had missed them a lot.

“yeah, you know, just uni stuff”

you three talked about what you had been up to these past few weeks. they told you about all the plans that you had missed out because you called off last minute or directly refused to go because you didn’t have time. you told them about all the studying you had been doing.

you couldn’t deny that a part of you was hurting seeing all the stuff you had missed out, but you knew that this was what you had to do.

though out the whole conversation, you could feel chan’s stare on you. he was checking on you, how you had been doing. because even though you had told them you were tired but you could do it, he could see right through you. he could see how you were beyond exhausted and you were almost on your breaking point.

after finishing your coffee you decided to leave the boys and go to your dorm to study, “right boys, i’m gonna go home and study for the next exam”

“come on y/n, just stay with us for a bit, it’s friday, you have the whole weekend” lee know tried to convince you

“sorry guys, but i really gotta go now” you stood up and felt your knees buckle. you grabbed the table, trying to steady yourself

of course chan noticed this, “y/n, you’re exhausted, you need to rest”

“i’m fine, don’t worry” you could feel something was off with you but you really needed to go home and study, there was no time for other things

“y/n, you are not okay, anyone can see that, you need to rest” chan continued

“chan…” something was wrong

“when was the last time you ate? or slept?” he asked you

“chan please…” something was really wrong

“this is serious, you need to stop this before something happens”

too late. you tried to move but you felt your knees buckle once more and you slumped forward hitting your head with the edge of a table before crumpling to the ground.

everything went black.

bang chan and lee know had taken you to the infirmary room after you had passed out. there the nurse had cleaned your wound on your head and stitched you up. she worked quickly and carefully, asking you questions throughout the process. she told the boys that you had a minor concussion, and that even though it wasn’t something to be extremely worried about, she told them you still needed people with you making sure you were fine and not falling asleep in the following hours.

all that leads to you now, sitting in the living room of bang chan, lee know and han’s dorm. lee know had called the boys and told them what had happened as soon as you left the infirmary. you had insisted on going to your room, promising them you would rest, but they were having none of it. they told you you were coming with them and that the rest of the boys would be there too.

there was no way of getting out of this.

once they all made sure you were okay, the interrogation started

“how long have you been like this?” changbin was the first one to break the silence

“i don’t know, i thought i was fine, that i could make it…”

“you have been overworking yourself, y/n, we told you that when we saw you the other day. but we should’ve done something for you, we should’ve helped you” it was felix this time

you couldn’t let them blame themselves for this, this was your doing, “no, felix, don’t say that. i knew i was tired and i was working a lot, but i thought that was what i needed to do, that i couldn’t do any other thing”

“love, we understand you, we really do, but it’s important that you take care of yourself first”, it was hyunjin’s turn, “you neeed to be on the right mind set to do anything else. you have to put yourself first, you are the priority”

you started to get emotional and the boys saw that, so they pulled you into a hug.

following the nurse’s instructions, the boys made sure that you didn’t sleep for the next hours. you all ordered dinner and laughed and joked while you ate it.

after finishing dinner, bang chan grabbed some games that he and the boys had in their dorm and you spent the night just playing and having fun. you were finally relaxing and you were extremely thankful you had the boys with you, making sure you were alright and that you weren’t going to break down again anytime soon.

you still had a week left, but you had the boys now and you were sure you could make it.

[denial-permanente]

Hello Mrs Edge! I am the"Toy Goddess." It seems like you are the Tumblr expert on "No Penetration" or "No Pussy" relationships. I love how strict you are with your husband and I think you could be a roll model for other wives lol. I don't really have a questions but I wanted to tell you my story.

My husband and I have been together/married for seven years, my second, his first. I'm 44 and was a bit on the wild side when I was younger. He's 37 and was not very experienced when we met. He is a very good hearted man and I love him deeply. He would do anything for me and sincerely wants me to be happy. It was frustrating for the both of us for a few years because while he tried to be a good lover most of the time he just could not last long enough for me to "get there" with him. But he tried so hard to please me and he was so good to me in other ways so we came up with different ideas.

We started buying different toys and vibes and one thing led to another and I found the community of men who are locked in chastity. I thought I was experienced but I had never heard of anything like this. But the more I read the more facinated I was with the idea. Imagine your man locked up and pining away for you! Before long I convinced him to try it out and we bought a few different ones before we found a 3D cage that was comfortable and looked sexy on him.

The problem as you might have guessed is that the longer I kept him locked up the less time it took for him to finish. Since that was already a problem for me we started using our toys more frequently eventually having sex quite often without me even unlocking him. One day on a toy site I saw a woman wearing a harness with a rather large dildo. In fun I suggested that I should buy one to peg him, something he had been against doing. He surprised me by saying maybe we should buy one for him to wear so he could use my toys on me. I was absolutely stunned that I hadn't thought of this but I bought a harness for him and it didn't take long before he was regularly giving me the good deep pounding that I needed. He was so proud to be giving me so much pleasure and he loved it when I teased him about not needing to unlock him anymore.

Since he was already used to being locked up for sex I continued to keep him locked when he wore the harness eventually making him go a month or two between unlockings. I would unlock him for a slow teasing hand job and then lock him right back up. One night he pleaded that he hadn't been inside me in over six months. I gave him a very, very slow stroking hand job and told him "Do you think you could do what my biggest toy can do? Do you think you deserve to be inside me again?" He was embarraased and looked down and said "No goddess," and then he just exploded all over!

After that I made him wait almost three more months before I unlocked him. Again he pleaded to be inside me but I just stroked him slowly and explained that he could not do for me the things that my toys do. I asked him "Would you be able to get in as deep?" He closed his eyes and shook his head no. I asked him "Do you think you would last long enough to get me there?" Again he shook his head. I said "I can't hear you. Answer me, are you as good a fuck as my toys?" He looked at me and said "No goddess." I said "Maybe I should stop stroking you now if you don't appreciate how good I am to you." He begged me "No goddess please don't stop." I asked him if he thought he deserved to be allowed in my pussy again, and before he could answer he again had a huge explosion.

It has now been almost two years since I have allowed him inside me. He keeps me very, very satisfied with diferent toys and for our anniversary I will have him buy me a nice big Vixskin like you have. He still pleads with me to be allowed to be inside me but every time I do the same thing and stroke him while making him admit that he doesn't deserve to be in me again. For some reason that never fails to give him the most explosive orgasm and he always thanks me. Like you and your husband this is not for punishment or because I don't respect him. Indeed I have come to love him even more and he has been the absolute perfect husband.

My blog is private but I will message you to chat more. Thank you for letting me tell my own "no penetration marriage" story.

Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me your story. I have been enjoying hearing from women who have made their "no penetration" marriages work out so well!

Your husband seems like a good man to put his ego aside and work at pleasing you properly. And you seem to have a lot of insight as to how to keep him happy while he is doing that for you. I'm sure that you will both have many more happy, "no penetration" years. I will look forward to chatting more.

[viboraneno]

╰┈➤ Possess Your Heart

➜ Synopsis: Running into your ex from years ago would be awkward for most people. However, your old flame very much disagrees.

➜ Pairings: Bonten!Ran Haitani x News Reporter!reader

➜ This Fic Contains the Following: Fem!reader, tr spoilers, op's oc as a minor character, no beta we die like men, small inspiration from a horror movie, reader and Ran dated once upon a time, reader used to be married, blood, stalking, death threats, murder + a dead body, very uncomfy night for reader all around, Ran isn't yandere but is very much a dickhead as per usual of him lol have fun

➜ WC: 2,428

➜ Note: done for the cherry collab created by @iwaasfairy!! this really interesting collab caught my attention and i just had to join in! and i also wanna add an apology for being late haha ^^;. but do enjoy! also pls hug reader, she be stressing here

➜ Taglist: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork @pixelcafe-network @theseabreezestreet @iwaasfairy @imbibitorz

"In other news, gang activity here in Tokyo is on the rise now more than ever. Speculation has been led to believe that it could be from a supposed underground hiding away from where the average civilian could see. So far, no one has come forward with explanations and any attempts at us interviewing locals have been shut down," you began.

"However, from what the authorities reported, there are rumors that there are possibly gangs ruling deep within," you continued, walking a bit to the side as you reported on. People were walking by in the background, not minding the news reporter doing her job.

You knew better but would never let the audience or even coworkers know on live. Over the years after Tenjiku disbanded after the death of Izana, you befriended the Hanagaki kid and his friends and would later team up with them back during when three gangs ruled the prefecture; one having an iron fist compared to the others. You preferred to forget and to keep the past in the past.

"Recently, police have been trying to get more information but so far have only found dead ends. Will we ever know more about what could have Tokyo and possibly all of Japan trembling in fear? We may not know, or possibly ever." You added.

You could feel someone staring at you from a distance, but chose to not pay attention in order to not worry your cameraman and everyone watching live.

You would then end the report with your name along with, "NHK News. Back to you, Ishihara." Finally ending the live report before exhaling a long sigh, shoulders seemed to sag now that the act was over.

"What's wrong?" the cameraman asked, observing your exhaustion as he began packing up his equipment. The concerned tone he took was not lost on you.

You breathed in before you began, "I don't know what to do, Onaga. Ever since the divorce, I’ve been feeling drained lately. Not only that, I feel like I've been being watched and followed home. I don't want to think that I'm going crazy or paranoid, but I really think that someone is out to get me. I know that it's not my ex husband; although we're no longer together, he would never do that."

"I feel like it's not just anyone that could be stalking me… I feel like it's him," you finished, scratching at your hair almost nervously.

Onaga silently listened on before commenting, "Who? Who's this 'him'?" He asked.

Over the years you two had remained close despite outgrowing the delinquent lifestyle and Onaga always had an ear to bend whenever you needed it. Even as he now worked as your cameraman, he still remained by your side and looked out for you.

"Ran," you whispered softly, as if you were afraid to utter his name out loud. This made Onaga's eyes widen.

"Haitani?! You think it's really him?" He whisper-yelled, quickly looking around to see if anyone else was tuning in on the conversation.

Nodding in response as you put away your microphone as you continued, "I know it's him, I can feel it. If it truly is, I don't know what he could possibly want from me. And it hurts because I never got to have any closure with him nor Rindou. I never even got to talk with Kakucho again after everything that happened. I don't even see him when I go to visit Izana’s grave. I miss them all so much," you finished, fiddling with your fingers. A small habit from old times that popped up every now and then.

Onaga remained quiet, he was never big on you dating the older Haitani brother but kept quiet once he saw how happy he made you and vice versa. However, things took a drastic turn when one day you called him sobbing, telling him that you had a screaming match with Ran. That was the day you broke things off with him and it only got worse from there.

Way before the Three Deities battle happened, you had joined up with Brahman and Ran never hid disapproval of it as he and Rindou were in Rokuhara Tandai and that would’ve made you enemies. He even reasoned that you may have as well put a target on your back as some members of Terano’s gang were known to be very aggressive. Once they found out you were a Brahman member, there’s no telling what they would do. Both brothers knew they wouldn’t be able to always protect you.

You both clashed about that a few times but it grew worse after the final battle, as you had broken up and never saw him again afterwards.

Onaga sighed, "Let me drive you home, I feel that it's better that you have someone there with you," he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn't thank him enough.

However, you were not expecting to come across a nasty surprise when you stepped into your house. Had you known what impending doom was drawing near, you would’ve never gone home.

There on the kitchen counter after flicking the lights on, was a printed out note in a bold typed out font. As you picked it up to read, your blood ran cold as the following note read: "Stay away from looking more into us or you won't have any eyes to look with anymore, Miss Reporter." And on top of the note, was a flower. Not just a simple, random one; but your favorite flower.

You dropped the note, slumping to the floor in horror from what you just read. As you began struggling and gasping for air as you attempted to sit upright, questions began to flood your mind.

Who did this? Was it– No… after the divorce, he chose to move back to another city far away, his birthplace. He even texted you earlier saying that he made it back there safely. Sure you were now divorced, but it was a mutual decision and it was for the best.

And most of all, he never knew about you researching Bonten in your free time.

That had to be the case. Someone from the criminal organization somehow found out about your digging for more info to satisfy any curiosity for the day and put up the threat to stay away.

Whenever you were not working or had plans, you spent a lot of time looking more into Bonten privately and taking notes. You even went as far as interviewing shady people in dark and quiet places where hopefully no one would catch sight of your makeshift interview. Maybe one of those interviewees ratted you out? But why place a flower along, much less your favorite? A lucky guess maybe? Unless…

No. There was no way.

You tried to sit up, using the wall as support, trying to regulate your breathing. Could it really have been from him? But why would he threaten you this way? Was it an order to make a threat? Or was he the one that found out about you digging deeper?

But why now after ten years? What could he possibly want from you after all this time? You had hoped that he had moved on the same as yourself.

You had to call for help, but who were you going to call? The police? No, they won't bother. Onaga would have to do it for now, hopefully he wasn’t far.

Your hands shook as you began dialing your friend’s number, trying to calm down. Unfortunately, that plan was already falling through.

“No service?! What do you mean there’s no service?” You whispered, hands barely able to grip your phone. Panic began to skyrocket within you, what were you going to do? Run out of the house screaming for help? Your neighbors would give you strange looks and think you’re crazy but do you really have any other choice?

As you were ready to get up and make a break for it, that was when you heard it: footsteps. And some dragging along the floor. Your heart began to pound as both drew nearer, until the dragging stopped. But the footsteps never did.

You remained frozen in place, as if that was enough to save you from whoever was taking their sweet time in getting closer. You began to sob quietly as you curled up into a ball, hiding your face into your arms. You should’ve quickly moved to turn off the lights so you’d have a better chance of hiding; and now it was too late. All you could do now was hide away your face and remain still.

“How pretty.”

Your heart dropped as you slowly peeked to see who was talking to you. Your eyes widened as you recognized who it was.

Ran Haitani, the one that was supposed to be your forever. Despite it being ten years since you last saw him, you would never forget his face nor the sound of his voice. But you knew this wasn’t the same Ran you knew and loved so long ago. Despite his signature smile you still remembered, he looked at you with a calculating gaze that prevented you from moving. Looking over his new appearance, you noticed that he had traces of red dotting along his once pristine suit and cheek. This did not seem to bother him.

Despite getting no answer, he continued, “Why, you’re still very pretty just like the last time I saw you. In fact, calling you pretty is a big understatement; I should’ve said that you’re as beautiful as here.” He took a few steps closer despite you pushing yourself against the wall more. As if it would help keep him away.

“Ran, why are you here? Please, please don’t hurt me… what could you possibly want?” You asked, raising your arms a bit. Ran’s smile disappeared and formed into a frown.

“I would never hurt you, love. How could you forget that I never would dream of such a thing?” He asked. “I knew you would move on eventually, but you wound me. ”

“I’m sorry,” you spoke softly. “Look if this is some type you’re pulling, you’ve had your fun. Please leave.” You hated to beg like this, but he was terrifying you and you didn’t like it a single bit.

Ran’s frown only grew deeper, “Why? I thought we would have a happy reunion, just you and me. Did your dear old husband get into your head? Shame. I guess it makes sense considering that he stole your heart after I did.” Dread started to fill you immediately. If your blood wasn’t turning cold enough, you swore it was becoming icier at this moment.

“What did you do to him? He has nothing to do with me and you, leave him alone, please,” you said, almost demanding, only to be interrupted by a chuckle.

“Oh, you still care for him even after divorcing him, I see. It’s way too late for that, sweetheart.” Having said this, he would step back from you and walk to the corner he had come from. The dragging you heard earlier was back and the realization hit you more than you could’ve imagined once you connected the dots and saw the sight.

Placing the body a few feet away from you, you covered your mouth to muffle your screams. Laying on the floor covered in blood was your ex husband, no longer moving. Murdered by the man you once loved so long ago.

The quiet crying in the beginning turned into sobbing, “Why…? Ran, why did you do this?! He was innocent–”

This made him tilt his head in confusion. “My love, you don’t mean to tell me that you still care for this man even after separating. I love you,” he said, ignoring your crying as if it were nothing. “I may be years late, but the company I’m with… they’re not ideal,” he added with a chuckle. “But after being sent to give you a warning, I have a chance. I can take you with me and convince my ol’ leader to let you stay. Rindou would be happy to see you again, even if he won’t admit it.”

As he spoke, he once again stepped closer to you, this time closer than where he was before.

“Leave, just leave me be. Go away, please. You’re lying about everything,” you raised your hands in surrender, tears still running down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe that this was how you two would reunite. From what he said earlier, it was easy for you to put two and two together and learn that he was a part of them: Bonten. The organization that truly had all of Japan at their feet. There’s no way he could want you back without killing you.

“I do love you, I never stopped loving you even after so long. And it takes a lot of love for a person to do this,” He said matter-of-factly, gesturing to the still bloodied body of your ex husband. “I know you still have some love for me, don’t you? You could live a lavish lifestyle with me, and be treated as the queen you are. Way better than how he treated you during your marriage,” You immediately shook your head.

“You know you want it,” Ran stated, smirking. Another headshake was your response. “You’d love it.”

You shook your head again, more frantic this time. This made his smirk grow wider into a smile you’d never seen before. Was this the last expression his victims saw before he killed them?

“Yes,” he moved even closer before leaning down to your level, uncomfortably close to you where you could feel his breath fanning against your skin.

Your old flame would gently caress your cheek, so gentle despite the violent act he did just before you came home. Feeling some blood that was left on his fingers now touching you made you wince and stiffen up.

“Don’t worry, my love, you’ll learn that the life I can give you will be better than this. I can protect you this time.” His smile grew softer as he said this.

You still had those feelings of dread and panic but this made them sink deeper than ever. There was no way out and you knew it, you were trapped.

Now you were stuck with the man who had your heart ten years ago who was now someone you greatly feared after forcing his way back into your life.

[antianakin]

I just finished playing Jedi Fallen order, and I realized something at the end. Of all the atrocities that Vader has committed, no one ever seems to talk about what he did to the Inquisitors. While some did join willingly like the Grand Inquisitor and Prosset Dibs, the rest were caught and tortured until they broke their minds and made them fall to the dark side. Then they were made to serve the Sith and hunt down their former brothers and sisters. While it didn’t affect nearly as many people as Vader’s other acts did, I still do see it as one of the worst things he has done just for how brutal and terrifying it would be to be in that situation. And the worst part is that it’s not over quick like those Vader killed with a lightsaber or force choked to death. The torture likely goes on for days, weeks, maybe months before they are considered broken enough to not try escaping or acting against the empire. Even after that it’s still not over. Vader has dismembered several of them during training and killed some of them, such as when he discovered two Inquisitors had feelings for each other. Seeing the cutscene that shows what Trilla and Cere went through in the fortress was hard to watch, and I’m surprised the game didn’t have the Jedi body storage room from the Kenobi series. What are your thoughts on this?

I know I HAVE seen people discuss the Inquisitors, but it also can sometimes just get lumped in with "what he did to the Jedi"/"betrayal of the Jedi"/"destruction of the Jedi" so on and so forth. It's a separate atrocity to Order 66, but it's also arguably not since a lot of the Inquisitors are CAPTURED during Order 66 and its immediate aftermath and then used to continue hunting down other Jedi survivors and Force sensitive people, which is just a continuation of Order 66 in many ways.

Everything Anakin does to the Jedi is pretty horrific, I'm not sure I'll ever quite forgive Tales of the Empire for REALLY downplaying the horror of the Inquisitor process and just how much it changed and damaged and traumatized the people who went through it.

Also, the reason Jedi Fallen Order doesn't have the weird trophy room from the Kenobi show is because the game came first and the show took a LOT of its design cues for that location from the game and then added in the trophy hall. It's a fun extra bit of mental torture for the Inquisitors to have to go through. I don't know if all of the people in there are Jedi or if it's a mixture of Jedi, Force sensitive people, and even civilians. But regardless of who those people actually were, it's intensely horrible and visceral.

I think part of the reason it tends to slink by is that the Inquisitors aren't always treated as the horrible atrocity that they are in every piece of media we see them in, and some of the things that DO focus on that part are more niche and fewer people have consumed them. Rebels treats them as basic antagonists with no real recognition from Kanan that these are former Jedi. There's no sympathy towards them and no nuance to their characters. There's at least a few comics focusing in on how they were broken into darkness, but fewer people read comics than watch TV shows and movies. JFO and Jedi Survivor give more focus to the tragedy of the Inquisitors, but again, fewer people will play the video games than watch TV shows and movies. In the Kenobi show, there's a LOT less focus on the tragedy of the Inquisitors than there is on Reva's personal tragedy and again the Inquisitors mostly get used as pretty basic obstacles. Same with the one episode with an Inquisitor in Tales of the Jedi which is just used to show off Ahsoka being cool or whatever. And then there was Barriss's episodes in Tales of the Empire which show like one fight to the death and little else.

So most of the times we've seen Inquisitors in higher canon that's more mainstream, the tragic aspect of the Inquisitors has either not been there at all or it's been downplayed quite a lot. Not everyone really knows what was done to them or that many of them were captured former Jedi tortured into becoming Jedi hunters and what part Anakin played in all of it.

[krilayt]

Not a day goes by without the dumbest dramas in the Bully fandom.

At that moment, when it would seem everything had already been said and discussed ten times, a couple of people came out who decided not to understand the situation and just collect public approval on heightspeech in fact. Come on, knights on white horses, keep looking for any absurd reasons to try to "make fun" of someone.

Now a few words about all the screenshots that holymoly.... posted and also people she's reposting. First of all, in all these attempts to shame Murka's honor, you are literally putting in good light a person who REALLY supported nazism/racism/fatshaming and even tried to convey some kind of thought through her work (I'm talking about Aubrey if anything. She is a creator and distributor of content, unlike Murka, who uploaded art to the telegram channel, which is viewed mainly by her friends.Yes, some random types could go there, but as a rule, they didn't stay there for long. Trying to compare Murka and Aubrey, you forget that Aubrey literally put her work on display on a social network with a million+ users And was proud of it, without giving up her destructive, absolutely terrible views. Fuck, the whole first paragraph looks like something that's not worth explaining at all.)

Second. Don't you people have anything to do? Instead of "fighting" on Tumblr with a person who participated in a really important cause (yes, the fact that Aubrey's content is not found on Tumblr is a victory and a huge plus), you could do something useful for society. Because exposing spiritualistic images that were created during friendly conversations and local jokes, trying to condemn the use of GIFs (a gif with Elon Musk, who was under the influence of "drugs" at Trump's inauguration.), and condemning a person for a nickname without understanding the situation is low, disgusting and extremely stupid. And I even understand why such "liquid" arguments came in. You "spectacle-hungry" people simply had nothing else to accuse.

And unlike Aubrey, Murka does not delete her profile, does not deny, and even admits mistakes. Yes, there is irony somewhere, but in our world there is nowhere without humor. And speaking of humor. You're trying to portray ironic, non-pretentious drawings and "jokes on hot topics" as something terrible. But fuck, is having fun with friends without putting it on public display a bad thing? And I can't fucking believe that you're so "moral" that you've never made any black jokes or drawn stupid things in your friends' notebooks. Everyone has a sin, even the smallest one. Only you refuse to understand the situation. Almost like bulls who see a red rag and get enraged.

Now the bottom line. Why did I say all this at all? Murka is absolutely not the kind of person who deserves such attacks/ attempts at ridicule / absolutely stupid posts with accusations for no reason, when the situation with Aubrey had ALREADY subsided. In addition, Murka did not support harassment, she just wanted that girl to stop producing such content on this million-plus social network.

You can call me a hypocrite, an excuser, a devil's advocate, just an idiot, and so on. I don't give a fuck. Maybe I've even earned all these nicknames, I don't know, I'm used to it already. One thing is unclear to me. Why do people have so much anger, hatred, and a desire to ruin something? Yes, you can endlessly excuse yourself with phrases like "well, we are good guys here, we do not support anything bad, but we will continue to rummage through the telegram channel of another person" who, in turn, publishes everything for friends and is not an art creator and also does not try to show any of her views or convey questionable thoughts. As for the accusations of using GIFs and attempts to find a connection between a person's nickname and support for nazism, I have already said. This is idiotic.

I cannot look at a causeless dislike of a person and obvious attempts to achieve something. My whole fucking life is made up of hate. To myself, from society to me, and much more. That's not what we're talking about. I just want to say that all these human feelings are disgusting, destructive and lead to nothing good. I know and understand it just fine. And as I said earlier, Murka doesn't even deserve the funny posts that people have made about her. Try to compare really good people and Nazis further. You're doing a great fucking job (no). But seriously, just stop this flow of gratuitous accusations and natural nonsense. Be reasonable. Peace and happiness to all

And the hero who started it all, the one who wrote anonymously, among other things, you can take off your masks and log in to Murka's telegram channel. You somehow found access. I think even now, when she is ready for dialogue, you can

[valeelavvale]

What you want

featuring : Fernando Alonso / female reader

summary/notes: Last night I had this idea and started writing. A small continuation of my previous fanfic "The Bet." Maybe I’ll write more, maybe not… I also thought about writing a follow-up to the last scene, pure smut, but I’m not sure if I can do it, if I feel confident enough to write it, or if anyone would even be interested. I’ve never written smut before, except for a very short scene in Legacy, which I’m still not sure about. I need to think about it… then maybe I’ll give it a try!

genre: Sexual themes, mostrly fluff but with suggestive content.

word count : 2046

"You're tickling me with that mustache, stop it!" Lily laughed, trying to push him away.

They were lying in bed after the dinner that had gone surprisingly well, Fernando chuckled, muttering something against her neck, then lifted his head slightly to look at her. "Didn’t seem to tickle that much ten minutes ago," he said with a playful smirk.

"That wasn’t really tickling, it was more like… An orgasm is coming so it’s fine like that..." she replied, holding his gaze, making him laugh.

"Your phone keeps vibrating..." he said, laying back down with his head on the pillow.

"I bailed on an event I organized just to run off with you, I’m afraid to see who’s calling me," she replied, turning her face to look at him.

"That’s not very professional, abandoning an event like that," he teased, and she punched him in the arm.

"You’re such an asshole," she laughed, shaking her head and then laying on her stomach. "And I need to make something clear with you..." she smiled as he opened his eyes to look at her. "I don’t do the mistress thing, Alonso, so there are two options: either this ends tonight and never happens again, or you dump Miss Long Legs and maybe you and I have some more fun..."

He stared at her. "You don’t do the mistress thing?" he asked.

"Nah... Did it once, ended really badly," she admitted. "So, never again," she told him. "Because now your phone is vibrating too, and something tells me it’s her..."

"First of all, Jen and I are not together," he replied. "She’s not my girlfriend and I only sleep with her when I feel like it... And stop calling me an asshole," he added.

She laughed with a very expressive face but said nothing. "Secondly, I don’t like being told what to do."

"I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what I won’t do," she replied. "And maybe I shouldn’t have done it tonight either, but I like you and you know it... So I wanted to, and I’d say it was worth it, you know?" she said playfully.

"Honored to have made your evening unforgettable," he replied.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself..." Lily teased.

"It’s not unforgettable yet?" Fernando asked, and she laughed, shaking her head in amused denial. "Don’t worry, it’s about to be," he whispered, starting to kiss her again.

-

Two weeks later

The whole team was in Silverstone for a corporate event that had just ended and, for some, had moved to a much less elegant pub where a full-blown beer pong tournament was taking place.

"You need to try harder if we’re going to win," Lily laughed, finishing her third or fourth beer in one sip.

"Said my drunk teammate," Fernando teased.

"Slightly drunk," she corrected him.

"My slightly drunk teammate," he laughed.

Final match, Lily and Fernando versus Chrissy from engineering and Adam, a mechanic.

It was Fer’s turn against Adam, the deciding shot.

Last ball, bullseye!

"Woooooooah!" Lily shouted a bit too enthusiastically while Fernando celebrated like he had just won a Grand Prix: he was slightly competitive.

"WORLD CHAMPIONS!" Lily laughed. "Italy and Spain crush England and Hungary," she added, hugging her teammate.

They had all definitely had too much to drink.

In a second, Fernando ducked under her, lifting her to sit on his shoulders. "Fer, I’m going to hurt myself," she laughed while he lifted her with no trouble at all.

Elisabetta, Lily to everyone, was petite and light, and Fernando had the physique to carry her easily.

"Round of beer for everyone, she’s paying!" the driver shouted.

"Hey, you’re the rich one," she laughed from atop his shoulders.

They celebrated like two kids until Fernando dropped her backward onto one of the couches.

"I’m too old for this, Alonso, my back is going to suffer from that landing," she laughed.

"We’re not old, remember? Just youth-challenged," he said, dropping beside her.

A waiter brought them another round of beers. They toasted and sat there laughing.

"You still have the mustache," she noted, looking at him.

"The two weeks are up today, but I think I’ll keep it," he admitted with a smile. "I’ve been told it tickles... but only in certain situations," Fernando added, making her laugh.

"I gave Jen the boot," he added, sipping his beer. Lily did the same.

"Shame, she was cute," she joked, failing to keep a straight face. "Okay, not even I believe that," she said, taking a few more sips.

"I want to fuck you again..." he said bluntly, locking eyes with her.

"How romantic..." she replied, tilting her head.

"You don’t want me romantic..."

"Maybe not..." she smiled. "So are we going to your place now? Drunk, turned on, and... Damn, Alonso, that mustache drives me crazy," she laughed.

He laughed too, they had drunk, they’d had fun, Lily had bare legs and a low-cut dress, and he’d been thinking about fucking her for at least an hour.

"Well, sounds like a good plan to me, what about you?" he whispered, resting his head on the back of the couch.

"If I could, I’d do it right here right now," she said. "But instead, I’m going to the bathroom because I’ve had four beers..."

"Romantic..." he chuckled.

"You don’t want me romantic..." she echoed with a grin. "Call an Uber in the meantime," she said, walking to the bathroom.

-

Ten days later

Lily answered the phone without checking the caller.

"Hey..." she immediately recognized the voice and smiled.

"Hey stranger... So you’re alive..." she said, closing a kitchen drawer.

"It’s been brutal, meetings every day. I landed in Monte Carlo ten minutes ago and I really don’t feel like going home..." he said plainly.

"Well then, lucky you, my place is exactly between the airport and your house..." she joked. "I was cooking, wine’s in the fridge, and I’ll see you in... half an hour?" she asked.

"I’m on my way," he replied before hanging up.

Lily glanced at her reflection in the mirror, in house clothes, messy hair... She turned off the stove and headed upstairs for a shower. A comfortable but not too casual dress, hair down, a bit of makeup.

No need to pretend: she wanted to see him.

She heard the doorbell and went to open it. He was there: white shirt, leather jacket, beard a bit longer, the mustache slightly faded.

"You look tired," she smiled, letting him in.

"Sixteen-hour flight and I never managed to sleep," he admitted, taking off his jacket.

"That’s a crap route, I did it last month and had jet lag for a week," she said. "Come on, let’s relax," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen.

Fernando had never seen Lily’s house. It was simple, clean, the beige kitchen was bright and decorated with colorful pots. There was music in the background, something Italian he’d often heard on the radio, a sweet-scented candle was lit, and something was cooking in the oven.

Lily handed him a glass of wine and sat with him in the kitchen after checking the oven.

They talked, as always, between jokes and teasing.

"Do you always greet surprise guests dressed like this?" he teased, referring to the dress that fit her perfectly.

"Only the ones worth changing for," she replied with a smirk.

"So I missed the messy, unshowered, tracksuit version?" he joked.

"That takes a certain level of intimacy," Lily laughed, sipping her wine.

"And we don’t have that?" Fernando asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know, do we?" she added.

"I came here after an endless flight because I wanted to see you," he stated.

"To see me or to fuck me, Alonso?" she teased, making him laugh.

"Guilty," he admitted bluntly, sipping his wine.

"I’m not offended by honesty."

"I know..." he replied.

Lily got up to serve dinner. They ate while talking, making fun of mutual dislikes, and planning things for the next Grand Prix.

An hour later, Lily was tidying up in the kitchen and he stood to hand her his glass.

"Can I take a shower?" he asked.

"Of course," she smiled. "Second door on the left."

"I’ll grab my suitcase from the car so I can change," he said, stretching, leaving and coming back shortly to shut himself in the bathroom.

Lily heard the shower and smiled, thinking maybe this was the most normal and at the same time strangest night she’d ever spent with him.

She finished tidying and joined him in the bedroom. He had just come out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, hair still damp, and Lily took a second to silently congratulate herself on her catch.

"My back’s killing me, I’m old," he laughed, shaking his head.

"Youth-challenged, Alonso," she smiled. "Lie down, I give amazing massages," she added while he looked at her surprised. "Took a course in Thailand," she explained.

"In Thailand?" he asked, amused.

"Remember when I told you I once was the other woman? Well, that has a lot to do with Thailand," she laughed, pushing him to lie face-down on the bed and straddling him.

Lily had warm, small hands and moved them slowly over the tense muscles of his back, lingering perhaps a bit too long on the tattoo in front of her.

Fernando let out a few sighs of pleasure, his face resting on the pillow, eyes closed.

Lily continued for a few minutes before realizing his breathing had slowed: he’d fallen asleep.

She looked at his face, his long eyelashes, his relaxed expression, and smiled. "Weren’t you here to fuck me, champ?" she whispered with a trace of affection and no reproach.

She got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, changed, and slipped under the covers beside him, now in a deep and probably much-needed sleep.

Lily turned off the light and sank into the pillow. Maybe he had really come just to see her.

-

When Fernando opened his eyes, it took a moment to realize where he was.

The room definitely wasn’t his. He was alone in bed but could hear noise from a room nearby.

Lily.

He remembered coming to her place, the dinner, the shower, and then probably passing out from exhaustion.

He sat up, still wearing the towel from the night before, grabbed a pair of boxers and pants from his suitcase, and went to the bathroom to change.

When he reached the kitchen, he saw her pouring coffee, wearing a light blue nightgown, hair still tousled.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she laughed when she saw him.

"Morning," he smiled, taking the mug she handed him and sipping. "What a sleep," he laughed. "I was out cold for ten hours straight," he added. "Sorry..." he said, sitting on a stool.

"You were exhausted, Fer..." she smiled. "...Sorry for what?" she asked, turning to look at him, and he didn’t reply right away.

"You know, we can have dinner without it being obligatory to have sex," she said, looking at him.

"So I can stop by just because I want to see you?" Fernando asked.

"If you want..." she replied. "...You can do whatever you feel like, the only thing that matters is that you don’t feel obligated to do anything,  just that you want to," Lily added.

"I wanted to see you, and I wanted to make love to you," he smiled. "But apparently, I wanted to sleep way more than I wanted sex," he laughed, and so did she, finishing her coffee.

"Then it’s all good," she smiled.

"And I finally got to see the home version, messy and makeup-free," he teased.

"You’re not important enough for me to want to put on makeup before breakfast," she teased back.

"Can I take you out for lunch?" Fernando asked after a moment, standing to place his mug in the sink. "Because I’d like to," he smiled.

"Gladly," she smiled.

"But first..." he added, stepping closer. "Can I fuck you right here in the kitchen? Because I want that even more..." he whispered.

"I thought you’d never ask, Alonso," she said, leaning in to kiss him as he lifted her and sat her down on the counter behind them.

[wistfulnightingale]

The Little Dance (Made for Angelic Flair?)

Shorter excerpts from Only One Angel Dances (It Began with an Apology)

Crowly said, “I don’t do the dance.”  Why, in all this time, has only Aziraphale done it?  We hear from Aziraphale, rather angrily, that “[he] did the I Was Wrong Dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…!”  At that, Crowley complies. This dance must be extremely meaningful -- a Gift from one to the other. A deeply sincere gesture. And Crowley's time has come due.

Aziraphale’s tight anger when Crowley resists the full apology suggests that “the little dance” is meant to be (at least a little) humbling.  Did Crowley, with a dash of demonic mischief and a lot of  imagination, compose the Apology Dance for his Angel, centuries earlier?  It’s easy to imagine Crowley wanting to tease and aggravate Azi a bit after an argument. 

Bonus points that it would also nudge the angel towards another human “indulgence” that’s actually FUN!

The Apology Dance ends with a deep curtsey.  In the bookshop, Crowley does it with such sassy grace, it looks like a deep bow, but that lovely extended back foot is definitely a curtsey, similar to -- but even deeper than -- those typically expected of women before British royalty.

(Personally, I think Crowley exaggerated the movement by, um, just a bit! Adding his own dramatic emphasis, what?)

Think of it, though! When Aziraphale performed this "little dance" in the past, he was curtseying to Crowley as if he were royalty!

And when Crowley does it with an excess of grace and no small amount of resistance, he doesn't bow his head -- he maintains defiant eye contact. Crowley may have done the "little dance" because of how he cherishes the Angel, but his pride will only let him go so far...!

Yet Aziraphale has done this dance at least 3 times, curtseying to Crowley in apology for something he "was wrong" about. I do suspect that Aziraphale, the mannerly angel aware of rules, standards, and good manners, would have bowed his head -- just as I suspect Crowley choreographed him to do!

Based on what Aziraphale was wearing in 1601 (breeches, hose, and small heels), even a lesser curtsey would have shown his calves to fine effect back in 1650!  I have no doubt that whoever made up the Apology Dance had that in mind while designing the choreography -- I imagine Aziraphale would have been quite conscious of his clothing as he performed the delicately graceful motions.

Silly hand movements to make those 17th Century outrageous lace cuffs flop around... Literally raising a bowed and heeled shoe gracefullly pointed... A pivot to make the angel a little off-balance, physically and metaphorically!

Seems to me a very Crowley thing to do!

And I love how our Angel continued to lean into that look when we next see him in Paris 1793.  Those shoes!  Those stockings!  That excess of lace!   

(Just a demon and an angel stying to impress...! Nothing to see here!)

Yet another Apology Dance was performed in 1793, presumably at this time. I feel rather sad that Aziraphale changed his outfit before they left the prison. I'm sure Crowley would have appreciated the flair of this particular costume for the pivot and the curtsey...!

Brioche and crepes, anyone?

Or perhaps a Ball?

(I'd LOVE to see fanart of Aziraphale doing the Apology Dance in one of these eras, lace cuffs, stockings, and all! If anyone can point me in the right direction, I'd be oh-so-very Grateful!!)

*****

If you'd like to read the full post with my ideas about the origins of the "I Was Wrong" Dance, you can find it here.

Thanks for having some fun with me on this little ramble!

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

you must have read a lot about them (enhypen) and probably know some secrets🤭 i'm curious out of all the enhypen members who do you avoid or don't think you'll be dating in real life and why?

Well, let me start by saying I have my own issues when it comes to dating as an avoidant attachment style and fear of intimacy, so I have my issues too. Just wanted to say that before I start saying who I would avoid. They may want to avoid me lol But for hypothetical reasons I thought this would be fun to answer based on their energy. I will actually do all of them from MTL.

1.Sunghoon-Sorry hun, had to put you first. I think I said in his boyfriend reading that I couldn’t date someone with his energy, but I can’t remember why, but there is a bit of sketchiness to him that I pick up on from him a lot. What that is I have no clue, but I would keep my distance, also he seems emotionally avoidant, and has his own traumas to heal before being able to be in a healthy relationship. We wouldn’t match because we both have problems to heal and shadow work to do, and just overall don’t see a match here with our energies.

2. Jake- I do like his flirty energy, his softness and sweet romantic charm that he exudes, so that would work for me, but I continue to get manipulative energy from him in my readings, and I can see me falling for his charms like the gullible person I am, so I will keep my distance. I prefer a shallow flirty connection, but nothing too deep. There is a part of me that wouldn’t trust him, also I do get controlling energy from him as well. It wouldn’t be overt. How he goes about it would be subtle, so it would be hard to tell when he is being controlling. He is really smooth about it.

3. Jay-I haven’t done his boyfriend reading yet, will get there eventually, so not sure what his shadow traits are, but overall, we just don’t vibe energetically. It isn’t really any flaw that I would avoid, just that we don’t match for some reason. We would be better friends than anything.

4. Sunoo- He gives off best friend vibes and me the same to him. Also we are both avoidants and do not like to commit, or struggle to do it, or get too deep, so wouldn’t work, as we both have similar relationship styles. So, honestly we both need to avoid another.

5. Riki- He should avoid me, not the other way around lol I would hurt that sensitive Pisces moon of his. He is a bit clingy and needs a lot of self-assurance and tending to emotionally, not for me. I would be more the problem. Although, he acts tough and strong. I don’t get that from him energetically. He is a softy that needs a lot of love and tending to.

So, according to what someone shared with me of who I was most compatible with based on astrology, it makes sense these two would be the lowest here, as they were top 2 for me. Heeseung being the most compatible, Jungwon was 2nd.

6. Jungwon- We are actually very similar. It is kind of scary, but also the reason he became my ULT. Now, we can actually get along very well if we are both evolved, healed and emotionally mature, but if we are not than we should avoid each other, and he would actually be on top, because we can trigger each other’s wounds and the connection could get problematic, but since I am doing the shadow work and healing my wounds I feel I can handle someone similar to me that have similar triggers to me. I feel since we are similar we would just get one another and blend well together and the connection can be quite smooth. I won’t say too much more that I want to say, because I will post his boyfriend reading later today. You can get more from that, because there are some other reasons I could want to avoid him, but for me still not a deal breaker and still wouldn’t want to avoid him all that much.

7. Heeseung-His energy seems the best overall, stable, mature, consistent, the most open to dating and wanting to take it seriously. I think someone like me would work well with him. Also, I feel he has intuitive gifts too, so we would get each other and not really have to communicate. We would know what the other thinks. But also give each other great advice, as we both have that ability as well. I feel this connection would be safe and stable for me, so dating someone like Heeseung would be ideal for me.

[gothicfied]

Quero algo longo sobre Dean Huijsen 😭

LOOKIN' AT YOU GOT ME THINKIN' NONSENSE

Pairing: Dean Huijsen x fem!reader, friends to lovers

Summary: You've been in love with Dean Huijsen for years. But, him being the team mate of your brother always made it very difficult to approach him in a romantic way. When he flew you out to his last game for Bournemouth, it seems like he had also set his eyes on you and wasn't planning on letting you go again.

Word Count: ~3.9k

Reading Time: ~16 Minutes

Warnings: Reader is implied to be dutch, reader is hopelessly in love at the beginning, reader has an annoying older brother, the interpretation of Dean's career is probably super inaccurate but I had to google a bunch of stuff, swearing, slightly abrupt ending, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: hi! sorry this took so long, but I had to take time iff because I'm still on vacation (and because I didn't feel like writing anything these past couple of days). Anyway, I hope this is enioyable, because I kinda think this got shitty towards the end. I'm already so in love with this man, I'm not kidding. Hopefully our second game will be better tho.

Football was never something you were interested in. The most you watched of it was during the Word Cup and maybe the EURO's. Nontheless, your parents would always drag you to your brother's games, whether you wanted to or not. Obviously, like every boy it seemed like, Max started playing at a very early age and always said he'd go pro at some point.

You couldn't tell if he was good, average or absolutely stupid with the ball, but you liked teasing him about not being good enough. And that was all fun and games until he was called up for the U17 team of your national team, the Netherlands. Sure, maybe you didn't care for normal football, but even this was a big deal for you (even though you weren't all that patriotic).

The one thing you absolutely enjoyed the most about your Max's career was Dean Huijsen. The one team mate you've had a crush on ever since you had laid your eyes on him. You didn't know what it was: Maybe it was because he's so freakishly tall, maybe it's the fact that football is only attractive when he plays it or maybe it's because he's fluent in spanish, as he had demonstrated to you before. Well, those parts definitely had a play in it.

Over the years, you've gotten to know many team mates of your brother and they come and they go, you never pay attention to them. Him, though. Oh, him you could never forget. Max thought it was stupid that you suddenly seemed so interested in the sport and especially his career, since you now showed up to every one of his national games.

Lucky for you, the two boys were really good friends. You'd get mad at your brother when he didn't announce that Dean would be coming over, yelling about how you didn't have time to shower or get ready, to which he'd always meet you with a "Why are you so obsessed with him?".

You wouldn't force hang outs, because being the weird little sister would be worse than not seeing Dean at all, but you'd literally take any chance to talk to him. Causually, of course.

After celebrating another win for the Netherlands with your brother, or at least after congratulating him for it, you stood by the side lines, greeting every familiar face you came across. "Hey," You said in an almost instant when Dean walked by while he gave you a sheepish smile. "You played well today." His eyes scanned your face for maybe a hint of sarcasm or a purpose as to why you specifically were talking to him. "Thanks.. Max's little sister." Oh, he didn't even know your name. Before continuing to walk to his family, he patted your shoulder in an acknowledging way.

Since then many things had changed. Gradually over those one to two years, even you and Dean grew closer together. Not close enough to hang out alone, without other friends or your brother, but now he at least knew your name and always stuck around to talk a little more. You'd walk him to the front door if Max was too lazy (or fell asleep) and, even though you had said your goodbyes like three times by then, he'd gladly stand in the doorframe to talk to you a little more.

Your friendship was even strong enough to withstand a generous amount of distance between the two of you. You obviously wished him all the best when he made the move to Juventus and when he got the chance to play for the second team. Dean was talented, that much you could tell, even if your football knowledge was limited. At least you still got to see your crush for the U18 or U19 Team of the Netherlands, where he'd obviously still play with your brother.

And, well, that didn't last long. Or longer. After Dean's move to Bournemouth he decided to rather play for Spain. His other half. The other half that he always seemed to like more about himself. You loved seeing him thrive, but this decision hit a bit too close to home. You obviously still had school to finish, so you couldn't even drop everything for a game during international break. But, Max was his best friend, so it was natural that he'd invite him over to watch a game or two in the UK.

"Look, I don't know why you're so upset." Max shrugged and looked at you with a weirded out expression while you expressed your disappointed. Your disappointed that Dean didn't invite you, too. "You're not friends with him, or are you?" You huffed at your brothers comment and stormed off to the kitchen. "Ugh, what? Why are you so fucking obsessed? Do you want me to let him know that you also—" He was cut off by you yelling "No!" through the whole house. "No! If you do that I'm seriously—" The words in your mouth died out when Max looked at you in realization. Oh no, it finally clicked. "Oh my god, there's no way. Him?! Seriously? You like.. him? Dean Huijsen? What is wrong with you!" While you chased him through the living room, threatening to break both his legs, your brother just laughed at you.

Max may have had the last laugh back then, but now you do. Apparently, you were missed dearly and because Dean's schedule often clashed with your brother's, he opted to inviting you instead.

...

"So you'll be there?" Dean sounded as excited as ever, while you tried your best not to do the same. You had your phone wedged between your ear and shoulder, trying to multitask while making a hot chocolate for the little girl you were currently babysitting. "Yeah! Of course, it'll be great." Dean had just called to invite you to his last home game for Bournemouth.

Carefully, you handed the kid her drink so she could finally watch Minions 2 in peace, while you cleaned up the kitchen (and talked to Dean, obviously). "Soooo," You started, your thoughts already flooded with ideas on how to convince your parents to let you skip school for this. "Soooo?" He asked with a chuckle, "Are you sad? Like, because this is your last game for Bournemouth?" For a moment, there wasn't a single response from his side. You took your phone from your ear and looked at it confused because you thought he might've actually hung up at that stupid question you just asked him. Yeah, of course, the question must've been stupid! Why else wouldn't he—

"Hard to say. You're the first person to ask me this."

"Oh, well, I just thought.. maybe. Real Madrid is a big deal, I must say. But.. I don't know, it'll be weird not seeing you in red and black anymore."

"Heh," Dean chuckled again. "No, don't look at it like that. I'm sad... a little bit. But, like you said, this is a huge deal, you know?"

"Yeah..."

"Real's kits are superior by the way. I'll give you one when I get mine."

The words died out in your mouth. Dean, despite inviting you to his games more often than not (no matter if you were able to make it or not), had actually never given you one of his jerseys to wear. It maybe be a bit embarrassing, but you had thought about scenarios where that might happen to you some day and now he was just.. offering it! Just like that!

"Oh my god, really?" You were taken aback by how excited you sounded. "I mean... Yes, that would be cool." The boy on the other end of the line laughed and agreed with you, telling you he had to go now in the same breath and hung up. "Fucking hell, why am I so awkward?" You muttered to yourself. Suddenly you felt someone tug on your pants:

"Can you make me pancakes?"

...

"But! But Mom! Are you serious? No this is really important to me, come on.." Max rolled his eyes at your whining. Even if you would've done every chore in advance, even if you had cleaned the whole house, took care of dinner, done the laundry, got straight A's or brought peace on earth, your parents still wouldn't let you go to Dean's game.

"I said no! What is so hard to understand about that? I don't want your grades to suffer, sweetheart. I've already let you skip school three times for that boy!" While you were losing your mind about this once-in-a-life-time miss, even though it really wasn't, Max was amusing himself. "Stop laughing!" You hit him on the back of his head, to which he quickly whipped around and tried to do the same. "Max! Cut it out! Don't hit your sister." Your Dad finally yelled. "But she did it first!"

"So what? Are you ten? You don't have to hit her back?"

"Look, honey, I know that you like him and you think that he's the love of your life—"

"Mom!"

"I know that! But, you can't just always leave the country for two days just to see him. I can't go with you this time and your dad can't either."

"Mom, I'm literally 18, I already already passed my finals! There's no school I'm missing and I can go alone."

Apparently, no one outside yourself really understood what this meant for you. Defeated, you plopped down next to your brother on the couch and tried to somewhat enjoy the movie that was put on. After a few minutes of your Dad looking at you, then back at the TV and then back at you again, he sighed:

"When would it be?"

"What?"

"The game, silly."

Your face lit up, since this was a pretty clear sign that he had given in. Max next to you, on the other hand, just groaned and facepalmed, like this was the stupidest idea he's ever heard in his life. "Nah Dad, come on. This is ridiculous, I don't want her to date one of my friends!" You shot Max a look after he tried to come up with multiple excuses again on why you shouldn't be let go to the UK.

Of course, in a way you understood him. It was probably frustrating to him that he didn't even get invited in the first place and it must be annoying that one's little sister has this massive crush on one of your friends, but it's not like you can control your feelings.

"Alright, all of you need to stop with this whole dating thing." You said in response of your brother's complaining. To your suprise, Max actually stopped to hear you out for a second. "He just.. it's his last game at home for Bournemouth. Nothing will happen, I won't come home married or pregnant—"

"Oh, you better not! Or else I'll kill that kid."

"Dad."

"What? He always looks drugged out of his mind anyway."

Now you were the one that facepalmed and your Mom quickly told your Dad to knock it off. Your cheeks felt hot and your legs like jello as this topic about Dean was dragged on and on. You didn't like talking about your crush, especially not with your parents, that's like a thousand times more embarrassing.

Your mom grabbed the remote and put the movie on pause, grabbed both of your hands and made you look at her properly: "Okay," She started, suddenly seeming so serious about this, "You can go." Before you could even try to celebrate, she immediately cut you off again. "Ah! But! Only because school's almost over and only, only if you do your's and Max' chores for the whole week."

Max looked at you with a twinkle in his eye and laughed when he heard that he'd be free off his duties, but in reality you didn't mind. Frankly, you'd probably do anything to see Dean again. Alone this time. No annoying older brother, no overprotective parents, only him and you.

Later that night, Max decided to pay you a visit in your room. You were just minding your own business and typed something on your laptop, when the door suddenly swung open. "Max!" You yelled out, while said brother shut the door behind him. "Don't you know how to fucking knock?"

"So," Through the tone of his voice you understood that he was only here to tease you again. "You and Dean, huh?" Max took a seat on your bed. "Me and Dean, huh?"

"I just want you to know," When he realized you didn't pay any attention to him, he took the liberty to shut the laptop and take it off your lap. You sighed in annoyance and just gave him a 'what-do-you-want-from-me' kind of look. "...that you have my blessing."

"Your blessing? What are you talking about? I don't need your... blessing or whatever."

"Wait, so you weren't even the slightest bit scared that I wouldn't approve?"

"Believe it or not, you're not Dad. I don't need anything from you."

Max wasn't mad at you, but he still enjoyed seeing you doing all the exhausting things he would normally have to do. And when you asked for help, he refused, saying it was your own choice and you wanted to go see Dean's game. He'd scold you like your Mother if you didn't do the dishes correctly or forgot to do the laundry, basically taking the piss out of you.

What made it all worth it, though, was being able to talk to Dean more often. The footballer would text you, would check up on you and tell you how excited he is that you're coming over. That just fueled your delusions even more: Like, no one could tell you he didn't like you back just a little bit.

Why else would he fly you out and not someone else? Maybe if you manifested it enough, it would come true. When Dean moves to Spain the distance between the two of you will just grow closer, so you basically had to make the first step. If you got rejected, then.. well, sure you'd lose part of your dignity, but at least he's in Spain.

...

With your luggage in hand, you were waiting to be picked up by Dean's father, Donny, like always. Currently, you were listening in on a conversation between a husband and his mistress, on how he doesn't know how to divorce his wife and what would happen to the kids. Bournemouth Airport. It never gets old.

When you were finally in the car, and on your way to Dean's family home, you were really grateful to speak to someone in Dutch again after hours getting by with your, accented, English.

"How did your finals go?" Donny asked you whiem leaning one arm against the edge of the window. This was strange — No matter how often you flew to the UK, you'll never get used to sitting on the left side, in the passenger seat. "Uh, pretty good, I'd say."

The man next to you chuckled, "So you passed?" You've known Dean's family for a long while now, but it still was a bit awkward in that moment. Especially because there wasn't your dad or your mom to make conversation with the other parent.

"Thank you for coming by the way."

"Oh, there's no need to thank me! I.. I really like doing this. It's actually an honor that he invited me for his last game at home."

"He's been really excited. Primarily because you'll be there."

Donny laughed after he just exposed his son like that and you could immediately feel your cheeks burn up again. You took a moment to look outside the window and think about how this may go. Should you pretend like everything was fine and platonic? Or should you just.. tell him? Maybe it works out in your favor and you could cheer on your boyfriend tomorrow. No, that would be too much. You knew you couldn't ever confess to someone like that, you were too shy. But maybe you shouldn't be this time.

"Dean really likes you." It was like Donny could read your mind.

"Hah, really?"

"Yeah, no, no, no... He really, really likes you. I think you were actually the first person he told about his move to Madrid, outside of his family."

You smiled to yourself when you heard that. True, you were actually the bearer of the news to your brother, and if Dean didn't tell your brother first then.. yeah, that checks out. Donny probably already knew that you liked his son back, which you had already suspected. Ever since that one conversation he had with your mother, he can't help but try setting the two of you up.

"Anyway, here we are." The car pulled up into the driveway of this very british looking neighborhood you knew so well.

A happy and, suprisingly, little nervous Dean opened the front door for you and his dad. While the latter hauled your suitcase inside, Dean almost immediately leaned down to give you a hug. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you was probably the cutest thing you've seen all year.

"How are you?" He asked you out if courtesy, his hands coming down to rest on the small of your back when he slightly pulled away. It was like your brain turned into mush when your eyes met his, you didn't know what to say without sounding like an idiot. "Uhm," You chuckled nervously, "I'm good! And you?"

If you hadn't fully pulled out of the hug, you were sure you would've exploded right then and there. Dean shut the door behind you, but still kept his arm around your shoulder when leading you to through the hallway and to the living room. "Good. Great, even!" When you looked up to him you noticed that it was the first time he looked... awake, basically. Dean's droopy eyes are what you loved most about him, but seeing him like this was pretty amazing.

"Ah, oh my god!" Macha, his mother, hollered from the couch. Dean was basically a carbon copy of her and she was just as excited to see you. "Aw, how are you? Oh, it's like I haven't seen you in ages."

The woman gave you a warm hug, asking you about your family and how your brother was doing. "No, no, he's very happy at Ajax." You explained about Max while Macha was fixing you something to drink.

"I knew he'd be. He's a clever boy, your brother!" Donny has had his fair share of time at the club himself. While his parents asked you a million things about your life and your brother, Dean was more than eager to get you away from them. "Sorry, they're so nosy." He whispered to you.

"Don't worry, you'll get her all for yourself in a minute." Macha gave her son the look and handed you thr coffee you had requested.

"Mom.. I'm just—"

"There's still time left until dinner. Why don't you guys go upstairs?"

...

"Here," Dean tossed a shirt out of his closet directly at your face. Confused, you took it into your hands and held it up to see what it read. Huijsen. Oh, his last name. You looked at the boy with a slightly confused expression on your face, turning the jersey around to see the Bournemouth sigil stiched on the left side of it.

"I figured," Dean's voice suddenly didn't sound all that confident anymore. "Uhm, that you need something. For tomorrow." Your fingers delicately traced his number that was printed out on the back of the shirt. "I realized I never gave you one."

"Thank you! That's like, really thoughtful." Dean chuckled at your words and took a seat next to you on his bed. "It'll look good on you." He promptly took the jersey out of your hands and held it up to your body to see if he was right. "Maybe a bit big, but red and black are definitely your colors."

All you could do was nod and hope that Dean wouldn't notice how your cheeks turned almost crimson red the more compliments he gave you. Even if you attempted to talk at this point, only nonsene would come out. You took a deep breath to compose yourself: "You're like.. two meters tall, this will be like a dress."

Dean grinned and just shook his head. Nervously, you fiddled around with the hem of the shirt he had just gifted you, while he stood up again and searched through more clothes in his closet.

"Come here."

"Huh?"

"Come on, I gotta see something."

After a moment, you obeyed and approached him. Dean's room hadn't changed one bit from the last time you saw it — It's exactly what you'd expect a room of a man in his late teens would look like. Not very interesting, filled with individual trophies he won and pretty bare overall.. why are boys like this?

The footballer whipped around and gave you another jersey — Bournemouth's third kit of this season. "Okay, I get that you don't need these anymore, but why give them all to me?" Dean snickered and gave you the piece of clothing anyway. "You're funny."

"I'm just asking."

"I want you to have them. You're important to me so I'm giving them to you, what's there to complain about?"

"I'm important to you?"

Dean slowly realized he might've screwed up with his choice of words. His eyes fell droopy again, boring into yours like he was trying to see your soul through them. "Ehhh," His gaze shifted away from you and onto the ground, "..yes? I mean, I like you, don't I?"

For a long moment there was just silence as Dean stared at you in disbelief (at his own words) and you were just expecting him to speak up. "I fucked up now, right?"

Carefully, you dropped the clothes you had in your hand onto the floor, feeling more confident now that he seemed to be nervous. It was like becoming an extrovert when around other introverts — It came so naturally, you couldn't really tell yourself to stop. Because, this was literally your chance. The one you've been waiting for since forever.

"You didn't.. fuck up, Dean."

The boy took a deep breath.

"Okay, so this won't ruin our friendship?"

"What?"

The moment Dean cuppe your face with his hands was like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat and suffering short term memory loss. You only remembered to kiss him back after he had pressed his lips onto yours several seconds ago.

The kiss was slow, conservative, but still expressed the things he couldn't quite put into words. His lips felt so delicate on yours, as if he was too scared he'd break you if he deepened it too fast. This was making your brain go smooth, that's for sure. When he eventually pulled away and looked you in the eyes, searching for any amount if disapproval, he couldn't find any. Anything, actually. The more you stared at him, the more it felt like your pupils were physically forming into hearts.

"This.."

"Don't— Don't talk, it's okay."

"This doesn't change anything?" Dean looked at you confused.

"Everything. But.."

You were dying to feel his lips on yours again. In that very same moment you heard his mom yell for dinner downstairs.

[dismalflo]

hiii!! i love your writing! i was wondering if i could request something with poly!marauders where reader is having a multiple-day episode where she just stays in bed and cries and can’t seem to do anything? i think that they would be good about trying to help her without pressuring her

i deal with that stuff especially in the summer and i think the hurt/comfort would be so cute

no pressure of course i know it’s kind of a heavy topic, have an amazing day!!

Hi, love! thank you for requesting <3 i hope this is the kind of thing you wanted

poly!marauders x fem!reader ✩ 1.9k words

cw; depression

The warmth of the room feels cruel, almost mocking. The air is heavy and stale from stillness and you know it’s because you haven’t summoned the will to get up and crack a window. Even the idea of moving feels like it would drain the last bit of strength you’re clinging to.

There’s guilt too, thick and low in your chest, compounding the numb weight that's settled over you. The boys – your boys – never signed up for this. For the version of you where everything feels unreachable, everything except the sadness. So you pushed them away.

Rationally, you know that only made things worse. But you’d convinced yourself you deserved the isolation. You remember how James’ face fell when you asked them to leave you alone – how it crumpled under the weight of helplessness. Remus and Sirius hadn’t looked any better, but they knew this territory. They've wandered it themselves, and maybe that’s why they didn’t protest.

You hate this version of yourself. You wonder if, with a little luck, your bones might fuse right here, locked in place so you'd never have to move again. You feel ridiculous. Small.

A wash of light spills into the room, startling you out of your thoughts. Remus stands in the doorway, silhouetted for a moment, then quietly walks in, a glass of water in his hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, folding one leg beneath him so he can face you. His free hand gently brushes your hair from your face.

“Hi, dove,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you rasp back, your voice rough from disuse, the shadow of a smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles too. It’s soft and sad and not nearly as bright as usual. You must look a mess.

“Can you sit up and drink some of this for me, lovely girl?”

You shift, the scratch of sheets beneath you suddenly deafening in the quiet. Muscles ache and a dull throb passes through you from being still too long. But you sit up, slowly, the motion ungraceful and tired. Remus moves with you, steadying the glass so water doesn’t slosh over the sides as he hands it over, his hand warm at the back of your neck.

It tastes like nothing and everything. Cold and clean, cutting through the film in your mouth and the weight in your throat. You drink it all.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, just enough praise to feel like something, but not enough to make you shrink from it. His thumb brushes against your jaw before he leans back a little, giving you space but not going far.

“Y’know how Jamie bought enough bananas for all of Britain?” he begins, eyes flicking toward the window, where the curtains are drawn.

You hum a soft, “Mmhmm,” already imagining James’ sheepish grin and his arms bracketed by tote bags.

“Well,” Remus continues, a little more animated now, “they all went brown too quickly and he wouldn't let Sirius throw them out. Kept saying they shouldn’t be wasted.” He huffs a laugh under his breath. “So now we’ve got three loaves of banana bread. All of them with chocolate chips.’”

You don’t laugh, exactly. But your lips curve, not the ghost of a smile this time, but something real. Small and fragile. You look at him, and he’s watching you, something soft flickering in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or hope.

You shift your legs beneath you.

“Did he burn them?” you ask, voice raspier than you'd like but steady enough.

Remus smiles again, eyes crinkling faintly at the corners. “Only one. Sirius keeps making fun of him for it.”

You sit with the empty glass in your lap for a minute after Remus finishes speaking, thumb tracing the rim slowly, quietly.

You swallow around a lump that isn’t quite sadness – more like uncertainty – before glancing up at Remus again. He doesn’t rush you. He never does. His hand is still resting loosely on your ankle, anchoring you without pressure.

“…Do you think,” you begin slowly, voice catching a little, “Do you think they’d mind if I came into the living room for a bit?”

His brow furrows, not from confusion but concern. “Mind?” 

You look down at the duvet, picking at a loose thread. “Because I told them to go. And I know that was–it wasn’t really fair. I just didn’t know what else to do.” The words tumble out, half-formed. “Are they angry?”

There’s a pause. Then a warm weight settles next to you again, and Remus is reaching out to gently tilt your chin so you’ll look at him.

“They love you, I love you,” he says simply. “They’re not mad. They just want to be here for you, we all do.”

You nod slowly, still unsure, still wading through that murky middle ground between wanting comfort and fearing you don’t deserve it. But Remus smiles like it’s already decided, like the hardest part is already done.

“C’mon then,” he says, standing and offering you a hand.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to take it, but because your fingers feel clumsy and you’re half afraid you’ll fall apart if someone holds you too carefully. But you take his hand anyway, and he squeezes once, grounding you.

Remus walks close without crowding, letting your pace set the rhythm. When you pause outside the door, his hand slips from yours to rest lightly on the small of your back.

Inside, you hear Sirius grumbling something in French, followed by James groaning when he doesn’t understand. All of you have taken to learning little bits here and there with Sirius as your teacher.

It makes you smile.

You take a breath. Then another. And step inside.

The room is warm, in a different way to the bedroom. The afternoon light slants in golden through the half-open curtains. Sirius is sprawled sideways on the sofa, all long limbs and sleepy eyes, a blanket draped over one shoulder. James is sitting on the floor overlooking a notepad laid out on the coffee table.

The second they clock you in the doorway, everything stills.

Sirius sits up straighter, his eyes soft, cautious, like he’s afraid too sudden a move might scare you off. James blinks once, then straightens so fast it’s almost comical.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sirius says gently, his voice quieter than usual but still unmistakably him.

 And before your brain can talk you out of it, your feet are moving, bringing you to the sofa. You settle beside Sirius, tucking yourself gently into the crook of his arm.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just curls that arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, slow and careful, like you’re something precious and he’s terrified of cracking you open.

You close your eyes. It feels safer here. Warmer. Maybe you haven’t ruined everything after all.

You glance up at James, who’s still sitting there, looking like a very large puppy waiting for instructions. You can see him itching to ask, before he does.

“Do you want anything, angel? Cup of tea maybe?”

You let out a breathy little huff of air – something like a laugh. Sometimes, you think, James’ only desire in life is to make sure the people he loves most are well cared for and looked after. He does it well. 

You give him the smallest of smiles. “Remus said you made banana bread?”

Sirius snorts beside you, the sound low and delighted. “Just here for the banana bread, you minx.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you in a little tighter.

You close your eyes as Sirius tightens his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer, the warm pressure of his embrace a gentle weight that feels just shy of grounding you. 

James’ voice cuts through the calm, light and teasing, “I’ll be right back, angel. You’re in for a treat.”

He disappears into the kitchen, and you hear the telltale scrape of the oven door opening, the soft clink of plates and the faint hum of him moving about, preparing. Sirius doesn’t speak at first, but you feel his gaze lingering on you. His thumb runs absent-mindedly along the edge of your arm, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your sleeve.

“It’s a good job you’re having some now,” he finally says, voice laced with an amused undertone, “I don’t think it’s going to last long. It’s his best yet.”

You blink at him, eyes heavy. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” he replies, the teasing lilt in his voice giving way to a touch of pride, “I told him so too.”

A small, genuine smile slips onto your face. You know what Sirius’ praise looks like, it’s usually a silly amount of kisses and a few cheeky comments.

As if on cue, Remus appears at the doorway, his frame lit by the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains. In his hand, he holds another glass of water, freshly refilled. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty again, but as soon as you see it, the weight in your throat suddenly seems more pronounced.

“Here you go, dove,” he murmurs, crossing the room calmly and handing it off to you, his fingers brushing yours. He settles into the armchair across from the couch, his long legs folding beneath him.

You take it from him gratefully, bringing it to your lips. The coolness of it against your parched throat is a relief. You take a sip, and as the water slides down, the haze in your head clears just a fraction.

Sirius’s voice, now a little quieter, takes on that same careful, almost protective tone. “Let me hold it for you.”

Without a word, you pass the glass over to him. His fingers wrap around it securely, holding it in place as you rest against his side again. It’s the smallest of gestures, but it’s kind and sweet and entirely unnecessary.

James returns with a plate, steam still rising from the banana bread. The smell – rich and sweet with a hint of chocolate – hits you before you even see it. You sit up just enough to take in the sight of the loaf, golden and slightly uneven, with just the right amount of gooey chocolate chips poking through.

“There you go, love,” James says softly, his smile wide and boyish, as he holds the plate out to you. “Fresh out of the oven.”

You take a small piece, breaking off a chunk and bringing it to your mouth. The texture is perfect, soft yet just a little crumbly. It’s comforting.

“It’s really good, Jamie,” you say, the words slipping out before you can think to second-guess them.

James’ face lights up at the compliment, and you can’t help but notice the way his shoulders seem to relax a little, like your approval matters to him more than you even realized.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

You laugh softly, the sound light and quiet in the stillness of the room. You feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at the ease with which they all care for you.

You take another bite of the banana bread, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue, and let yourself be. You know you’ll likely retreat again, but it’s nice to know they’ll be here no matter what.

masterlist <3

[alnst-compilation]

[ENG] ALIEN STAGE Audition Behind the Scenes-

Alien Stage Special

ALIEN STAGE Audition Behind the Scenes-

Interview Location: Alien Stage, Preliminary Round Site

<MY CLEMATIS>, was the performance that determined life and death by a single point. The stars of this Round 1 performance, MIZI and SUA, continue to soar in popularity, giving quite a phenomenal start to ALIEN STAGE. And with all eyes and attention on MIZI and SUA, the two participants’ past has become a hot topic amongst fans as well. <ALIEN STAGE MAGAZINE> brings you, for the first time ever, a never-before-seen interview of MIZI and SUA.

1. What made you take part in ALIEN STAGE?

SUA: During my time at Anakt Garden, I learned that it is a great honor to be able to take part in ALIEN STAGE. I’d like to show my music to the world through ALIEN STAGE.

MIZI: Um… well… ever since I was little, it’s been my dream… to perform on stage with SUA! So… I’m gonna do my best!

2. The two of you seem very close. Can you please tell us about a memory you share from your time at Anakt Garden?

SUA: We used to look up at the night sky together when the ceilings opened up at Anakt Garden. I remember when we were young, every time we saw a spaceship in the sky, MIZI would always try to convince me that it was Earth. (laugh)

MIZI: Oh, right! Hehe. I didn’t have the right prescription in my glasses, so the lights in the sky were always a bit blurry. And that’s why any time I saw a spaceship, I thought it was Earth. I’ve never seen Earth before, but I was told that it was a planet that gave off a brilliant glow, you see.

3. That’s adorable!

SUA: At Anakt Garden, we had mandatory play time for our psychological well-being. Looking back, I think I spent most of my time with MIZI, and I remember all the days we spent singing together.

MIZI: I always had the most fun when I played with SUA too! Though… unlike SUA, I hated studying, so I had to take a lot of extra classes… But SUA always waited for me without a word of complaint.

4. Then the two of you must have always practiced together.

MIZI: It was hard for me to make friends when I first started at Anakt Garden. So one day after class ended, I was just sitting there, staring out into space during our mandatory play time… when I suddenly heard SUA singing. It was such a long time ago, but I still remember it so vividly. I was so lonely back then, but SUA’s singing always made me feel better! I was too shy to go up to her, so I hid and secretly listened to her sing for a whole month. Then one time, I started singing along to SUA’s song without realizing it, and she ended up hearing me. That’s how we got close, and ever since then, we spent all our days singing and practicing together. And now, we’re the best of friends ever! Right, SUA?! (laugh)

SUA: Yes, that’s right. I really want to go on stage and perform with MIZI. My dream is MIZI’s dream as well.

5. If you get through the preliminary round of ALIEN STAGE, what kind of performance would you like to put on?

SUA: Well, I’m still only in the audition round, so none of it has really hit me yet. I’m not sure…

MIZI: I want to wear a really cute outfit on stage! All the past participants I’ve seen on AS always looked so amazing. My parents said they’d make me a beautiful dress. I’ll dye my hair, too! Oh, and… I’ll go and brag to my Anakt Garden teachers, and my parents… and… Oh! Wait! I have to practice our performance with SUA too! Aaahhh! I wish this would be over already!

6. Do you think you have what it takes to be the winner of ALIEN STAGE?

MIZI: To be honest… I don’t think so. I have to get past the preliminaries first… Oh gosh, I’m so nervous all of a sudden… What am I gonna do?!

SUA: My parents and my teachers all said that it is an honor to be able to participate in ALIEN STAGE. They told me that the Great Anakt is always listening to our music… I’ve been waiting for the day that I go up on that stage, so now all that’s left is to show everyone what I’ve got.

MIZI: It’ll feel amazing to win, wouldn’t it? But, it’s all too hard to grasp at the moment. And even if I lose, I get to go back to the Great Anakt… Still, I want to sing and perform with SUA for as long as possible, so I want to win with her, together! I heard that there’s never been a tie in all of ALIEN STAGE’s history… But if we get that tie, then I bet everyone will call us the most fantastic duo to exist in history, right?! Heheh… You better watch out for us!

[sillygoofyqueer]

I've been doing an overhaul of my room!! Very fun, fulfilling my childhood dreams of having a yellow room, and I'm going to finally put all those gay posters up on my walls n everything. Anyway, more of @lyngracetalksnwritesnstuff's birthday present AU (also known as Hanguang-Jun goes to the future AU)!!

Lan Huan is very pleased with how things are going for him right now. Lan Zhan offered a very slow approximation of a sentence, and Wei Ying's face lit up as he exclaimed "I recognise some of these!" before reaching for his satchel and whipping out a huge binder of notes. He drops it down onto the table between them and both Lan Huan and Lan Zhan flinch at the sound, but the two children don't even blink at it. Wei Ying leans over to try and open it, but then A-Yuan makes a mildly disgruntled sound and he realises that he does still, in fact, have a toddler on his lap, which cannot help him communicate with Lan Zhan well. Lan Huan isn't one to overstep or anything, but Wei Ying seems to have his hands full and A-Yu is also looking between his baby brother and his drink (which requires both of his hands) with increasing distress, so he offers to take A-Yuan off his hands. Wei Ying looks at him like he's an angel sent from the heavens and, while A-Yuan is being handed over to him, Lan Zhan looks almost moody despite not knowing what's going on.

Despite Lan Zhan's moodiness, he is quickly distracted by Wei Ying, who becomes more delighted with every character that he seems to have translated properly. Meanwhile, Lan Huan gets to engage in a very serious conversation with A-Yuan about the merits of sausage rolls and then asks A-Yu about what he likes and if he enjoys school, easing him into a quiet conversation. He adores children so much, he thinks they're so cute and they're always so full of life - A-Jue loves them as well, he's truly just a big softie when it comes to them, but they simply haven't had time to even consider adopting with their hectic work schedules. However, A-Jue has been hinting at it occasionally...he has also been mentioning wanting to get off the night shift or taking a backseat at his security company, so perhaps it's time to talk to him about it soon. For now, though, he just focuses on entertaining the two children while Lan Zhan and Wei Ying huddle over the folder and point randomly at different notations or whatever it is they're doing (he will not pretend to understand).

He doesn't realise how long it's been until his phone suddenly starts vibrating in his jacket pocket with the alarm reminding him that he has a shift to get to soon, and he realises that they've been sitting in the café for quite a while. It leaves him with a decision to make - leave Lan Zhan here with Wei Ying and then ask A-Jue to come get him later, imposing on even more of Wei Ying's time, or ask Wei Ying to take Lan Zhan home with him, so they can make more headway with his communication skills? He doesn't really want Lan Zhan to be too far away from where he knows he's safe...(yes, ever since Lan Zhan grasped his sleeve in the crowded area, he has been seeing the man as somebody important to worry about, like a didi) So, he comes to possibly the best decision. He messages A-Jue to ensure it's okay, adding that Wei Ying has kids that seem to be getting bored and fussy, and then asks Wei Ying if he wants to come back to the apartment so they can continue this while A-Jue entertains the kids?

Listen, if this was any other stranger, Wei Ying would of course say hell no, because why would he take his children anywhere that could be remotely dangerous? However, this is Lan-Laoshi's nephew, who has entrusted him with breaking down the language barrier between them and Lan Zhan, and has been distracting A-Yuan and A-Yu very well for these past couple of hours. He weighs up his options for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that nothing bad could really happen, and so agrees to it. A-Yu looks excited at the prospect of going on an adventure of sorts, while A-Yuan is too busy chewing on a lock of Lan Huan's hair to really have a reaction, but he's never really been a fussy kid when it comes to these things, so it's nothing if not a bonus! Lan Huan looks relieved, and Lan Zhan has no visible reaction because he has no clue what's going on, so Wei Ying points at one of the sentences they've built from what he's managed to correctly translate from the original rulebook - "moving to another area" (stolen from a rule about not running or something).

It doesn't take long for them to get there, which is really useful because Wei Ying's shoes do not fit properly and he's got some mean blisters appearing the backs of his heels with every step they take, with Lan Huan letting them into the apartment building before telling them his apartment number and ducking off to go to work. Wei Ying takes one look at the empty lift, then looks over at Lan Zhan, who is staring at the foreboding metal doors with suspicion clear in his eyes, and decides that it's better to just take the stairs than risk the magic man trying to blow up something in shock. He carries A-Yuan in his arms because he will throw a strop if he has to climb stairs when he's tired, and A-Yu walks along beside him until Lan Zhan suddenly scoops him up as well and just keeps walking as if he isn't carrying a thirteen year old in his arms like it's nothing. A-Yu is absolutely delighted by this, squealing and clinging onto the man as he's carried up, and Wei Ying's been hit with a sudden desire to ask for Lan Zhan's hand in marriage based on this alone like a fucking lunatic.

A-Yuan and A-Yu knock on Lan Huan's apartment door together because A-Yuan likes to be included in these things and A-Yu is a very good brother, and it's answered by a impossibly tall and muscular man who could definitely crush him into a ball with his bare hands if he wanted. They stare at each other for a moment, before the man raises a brow and gestures for them to come in, A-Yu finally being placed onto his feet to take off his shoes and A-Yuan squirming around to follow his gege's steps a few moments later. Lan Zhan is rather casual about the whole thing, utterly respectful and elegant with every movement he makes as he goes to sit on the couch. This leaves Wei Ying in an awkward standstill with this man until he goes "I'm Nie Huaisang's brother" and everything is suddenly right with the world because Huaisang talks about Nie Mingjue aaalll the time. If This guy can deal with Nie Huaisang, then he can definitely deal with anything Wei Ying may throw at him (probably...), and also he just immediately starts showing the boys around as though they are royalty while he sets up in the living room with Lan Zhan.

[multianime]

The other was still quite the mystery to him. He wanted to know so much more about him. And he kind of hated that he was being so drawn into the other. Without Endo even trying. But it seemed as though something was there. At least for him anyway. Endo was a different story. More of a wild card. It made him want to get what he could out of the other. But he wasn't even sure how much he was going to be able to unfold.

"Seems like we both were mislead." He didn't think that he'd be coming back this much either. But here he was. Standing in front of Endo again, not even wanting to leave in any moment.

"I mean it might be, you could find out." Ren smirks. Feeling slightly more bold than usual right now. At least with Endo. The other seemed to be bringing out different sides of himself that he didn't even know he had. This causes Ren to cock an eyebrow while he moves the lollipop around in mouth. Getting more of the taste. "Oh, does it now?" That's definitely something that he finds intriguing.

There was something that he could do, that he figured Endo would enjoy rather than just fighting. But he'd leave that to himself for now. He wanted to continue to draw Endo in. Ren wanted the other to want him as well. It was hard to tell if Endo even remotely felt the same. But he couldn't bring himself to out right ask the other. No, it was far to bold of him. And he didn't want to be humiliated with rejection.

"And just what makes you think I'm the pure one?" Ren asked. There was a reason as to why he sucked on lollipops all day long. To keep his mouth busy. That was the biggest reasons. "And what makes you think I'm looking for something long term?" Maybe one day he would be. Right now, it'd be for fun. The excitement of it all. And he was more than okay with for now. The other doesn't know him. Not really. And he didn't know Endo either. So, the thought of being anything more at the moment? Wasn't something that seemed logical anyway.

As he was caged up against the fence, he feels his cheeks get a light shade of pink again. God, this wasn't fair.

The thing of it was, Endo wouldn't be able to crack open any sort of big thing about him. He didn't exactly have a tragic backstory like Sakura does. Fighting was something that he was good at. So, it was what he stuck with. Ren blinks at the other who still had him up against the fence.

"There are other ways you could see my true colors." Now he was teasing a little. Only a little. But it was something. And he was having his fun with the other right now. He raises an eyebrow at the other again. "Well, you didn't think he was shitty when you first joined Furin."

As the other backed away from him he smirks. It was probably best that Endo backed away. He was very close on kissing him right then and there. Another thing that Ren never would have thought about doing with anyone else. But here was thinking about it with Endo of all people.

"You know, our lips could be on a date instead."

That was almost cringe to him. But he didn't care. "If you really want to fight then, lets do it."

Doesn't take shit from anyone... unless it's from a certain someone. But not like he'd let him know that little tidbit. Just hearing all of this resulted in smugly raised brows. It's all got him wondering if Kaji hated modesty. How about the cowardly and weak? Just exactly what mentality does he hide... and would he be a fit for Noroshi even if the other would never dare to leave his circle of friends? He couldn't exactly hunt him down, but it's always nice to have a fantasy or two.

" And to think I was only gonna be your candy supplier when we first met. " Not literally, but he still cracks up at their first circumstances because it wasn't like they planned on seeing each other again. Right...?

" Admire? Ha! Look at ya being so nice. Don't gotta win me over, is the sweetness ya swallow contagious or something? " Kaji still didn't peg him as some overly cheery person, but kind acts can some from all personalities, cold and warm. If anything, he felt shy. " It's kinda driving me crazy. " Tilting his head forward, Endo looks at him closer.

There was something there, but every time he gets close to figuring it out, he learns nothing. Something was not right with Kaji, and it had nothing to do with Endo in particular. It wasn't like he thought the headphone wearing male had to be mentally disturbed to appreciate his presence, it was more like... he could feel a ticking energy in a boy that tries to salvage it with a damned addiction of his. A hidden veil.

And just like how he starts a metaphorical wildfire with Takiishi, he wanted to unleash a wilder beast in the one that wouldn't run away.

Even if the violence was aimed solely at him.

" Your expectations are far too pure for me to tell you what I mean. I can tell. The people I come across aren't lookin' for anything meaningful, just business exchanges and both of us using each other. That's how I like it, 'cause no one's gonna grab my attention and it's on my terms. Guess you slipped through the cracks. " A deep breath tutted out ( hardly a sigh, more like an exhale from talking longwindedly ) fighting the urge to caress a pink dusted face.

The idle, anxious fiddling of his shirt—however—got to him. Endo's closing in, not to kiss or hold, but to cage him against the fence.

' So, what if I did want you? ' A question that was answered by the next. One ingredient to his new fixation was missing, the boy had some hang ups, right? If there were any flaws, he'd lay a finger to crack open before any polishing was considered. Or desired.

" Yeah . . . I can't make up my mind until I see you in all your colors. Your true self gets revealed fist-to-fist, and I know you know that in some capacity. I guess that's something I'll hafta forever carry from Furin even if I left. Your shitty leader isn't wrong . . . "

He backs off, giving him SOME breathing air, now focusing on the sucker. There was more significance to them, isn't there? Doesn't matter... he was here to be the sole focus for now, still having his limbs trap him. Most don't exactly act unless threats were inflicted.

" Fighting IS communicating, and I have a date with your palms. "