#hes the one that eventually beat him in pingpong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nixcwen · 2 years

Text

➳ born to love you | miya atsumu

A certain memory keeps lingering in his mind now and then. It seems to be that one precious record, giving him comfort, and eventually encouraging him to dance to its tune. It was happiness and sadness at once.

He was aware of each step he took as he slowly walks away from the court, breathing heavily, exhaling disappointment and frustration while trying not to let them display. His body felt like it was burning from the intense game, he can feel the exhaustion taking over his limbs, despite those—nothing compares to the ache in his heart—for him, his team, and those that supported them.

It wasn’t his first defeat, he was already familiar with all these emotions, yet he just can’t get used to it. He can’t just brush off the dedication that everyone had.

“You looked so cool out there, love. You played so well.”

Then you were there, an arm reaching out to him, with a welcoming smile on your lips as if he won the game. He felt like he wasn’t deserving of your presence, he was hesitant. Still, you walked towards him, held the back of his head with a gentle touch, and brought his face down to your neck.

When he got to feel your skin against him and smelt the scent he loves so much, he was finally able to release a shaky breath and gather the courage to slowly wrap his arms around your waist. It was loose, making his hesitance to hold you evident. So, you caressed his hair. You also tapped his back lightly to make him feel at ease. Soon, you brought down the arm tapping his back, placing it on his chest. You felt his beating heart.

“Does it hurt in here?”

He answered with a nod, eyes still closed, basking in the solace you provided. Your scent, your warmth, your voice, your touch—they reached his heart—he was nothing but grateful for them. Volleyball was his passion, it’s the flicker that ignites his fire. You, on the other hand, are the deep affection much above his passion, the lantern that keeps his fire from getting extinguished.

“I understand, it’s alright, you can be upset-“ as a reply to his answer, you slowly stroked his chest just above his heart- “just don’t beat up yourself, please.“

When giving up became one of his choices, you made him see the other options he could choose. Take a break then continue. That was also the moment when he knew, he was born to love you. For as long he lives, the record is going to keep playing, reminding him to stay strong and of you.

This scenario was inspired by Kang Seungyoon who released the song “Born to Love You” just recently. You can check it out and see if you’ll love it as well (he’s also from the k-pop group WINNER, my bias!). I was not inspired from the actual song itself but it was from the show that he was in called “All That Pingpong”. He was the ace player of his team but he lost in this certain game despite his hardwork, in addition, the pressure that comes along with being the ace must hit him harder than I could imagine, it just breaks my heart, coming from someone who is an over thinker herself. So there, that’s my little background story. I hope you enjoyed reading and please listen to Seungyoon’s song, hehe.

Sincerely, Nixxy ♡

P.S. - This was honestly just a burst of inspiration so it was easier for me to write, I’m sorry for the requests I still haven’t done. I’ll be doing them once vacation starts. 😭 Dedicated to my 🫐 anon and every other requesters, have this for the meanwhile! 💕

taglist (join here!): @erwinscrybaby, @passionateuchiha, @pulchritxde

#by nixxy #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #hq atsumu #atsumu drabble

10 notes · View notes

ghostypetrainer · 2 years

Text

pingpongs back to the pla roleswap au bc I have more to say

Ingo does eventually finish his Pokemon journey once he returns to Unova! It takes awhile for him to get on steady enough footing for it, but it becomes a nice way for him to not only reacquaint himself with his home region, but also with Emmet and Elesa.

Emmet and Elesa expected this would be a somewhat normal Pokemon journey. That they would spend the night in Pokemon Centers as they traveled. They somehow forgot that Ingo spent the past nine months living in Ye Olde Sinnoh, where his job often called for him to camp out in the undeveloped wilds, depending only on what he could carry in his satchel and what he could get from the land itself. He assumes he’ll just be doing that again, but with access to the occasional toilet. They do not communicate well enough yet to realize they have two wholly different ideas.

It works out in the end though. They pool their money together to buy a folding tent big enough for the three of them and some sleeping bags for Emmet and Elesa, and it’s not bad. If the weather is bad, Emmet and Elesa insist they stay in a Pokemon Center though, even though Ingo is completely fine with staying outdoors still. Weather just doesn’t get as bad here as it could in Hisui!

Akari tries to follow them at first in disguise bc she’s worried but Ingo clocks her from like, a mile away. GO HOME AUNT AKARI.

Ingo gets special permission to carry his Hisui team with him, in addition to his Unova Pokemon, but he only uses his Unova Pokemon for the gym challenge.

Even though he already had two badges before his disappearance, he challenges the first two gyms again. He still doesn’t remember winning those badges, so it doesn’t feel right to do otherwise. Let’s just say both Lenora and whoever leads the first gym in this AU definitely notice a stark difference in his battling style.

It takes practice for Lampent, Fraxure, and Trubbish to pick up on Ingo’s new style, but eventually they embrace it. He can never quite shake the Hisuian style out of him, and predictably there are a few trainers along the way who raise a stink when one of his Pokemon attacks three times in a row before they can get a single attack in- including one of the gym leaders, who refuse to give him his badge after he beats them.

Elesa may only be 16 years old, but she already knows how to weaponize social media to her advantage. Ingo gets his badge. Then years later, Elesa takes over their gym and kicks them to the curb. That’s what you get.

Emmet only remembers that he actually uh. never got his Champion battle when Ingo beats the final Elite Four member. Alder just laughs and lets them tag team against him. They both still lose, but they put up a great fight, and it instills a love of mutli-battles in them both.

meanwhile, back when Ingo was still in Hisui, he’s braving a space time distortion when he comes across an oddly familiar blue haired teen. he and canon!Akari just point at each other in classic spiderman meme fashion.

“Aunt Akari!?” “Uncle Ingo!?”

anyways they’d both just quelled Electrode so they just end up shit talking about Melli while running from wild Pokemon and picking up stones on the way. Ingo doesn’t really refine his politeness until his Battle Subway days so he is very rude about the Diamond Clan Warden. Akari is delighted.

#pla roleswap au #ingo #emmet #elesa #pla akari #submas #akari voice: uncle ingo I met you in a space time distortion! you were super rude. it was great #ingo: what the fuck #akari: yeah like that!!!!

225 notes · View notes

mellowmoonballoon · 3 years

Text

P2 of the Primer - Minho!

Fandom primer for fandom feels.

So, Minho, dance leader!

Minho (Lee Know, Lino...) is the Stray Kids’ Marilla Cuthbert. Very controlled with showing his feelings. Wants to feed everyone. Hard working and practical. Dresses like an old woman who is constantly freezing.

His lack of desire to embarrass himself on screen is very relatable to all anxious perfectionist introverts. He often gets confused for shy or cold because of this, when he will just not do silly things in front of the camera if he’s not sure of the result. His terrible art? He knows it’s terrible and that’s acceptable. His amazing dancing? He knows it’s amazing and that’s acceptable. Things he’s not sure about which include being vulnerable in front of strangers? NOT ACCEPTABLE. I respect that. So this “primer” will not perpetuate any “mean-ho” ideas thank you bye. (Felix calls him tsundere so if you see me use it, it’s not my fault.)

Anyway Minho is a dancer. That was his job before he joined SKZ (he toured with bts etc) and it was his primary role in SKZ for a while. When he first joined he wasn’t a good singer or rapper, but he would have been ok if he wasn’t constantly shaking because he was convinced he’d get kicked out. Which is valid because he did get kicked out.

oh also - I will treat his and Felix’s story as if the elimination wasn’t a setup just because whatever else was going on, they thought it was real.

His singing voice wasn’t great so he was asked to rap instead. He had never done it but said he’d be willing to try. They were given... what? No time? To prepare for that change and famously, Changbin rapped backup for him and Han held his hand and timed the beat with it.

so i cried, and then he did get eliminated because he messed up the lyrics next time so i cried more and then he sent a final message and i FUCKING BAWLED.

To Han: “The time I failed, was it because you weren’t holding my hand?”

Changbin helped him a lot during practice for the second song and they both felt so bad for different reasons. Minho kept saying he was sorry that someone younger than him had to be helping him and that he was failing despite it. “If I had slept one hour less, would I have been able to do it better?” and Changbin with “What did I do for him, that I couldn’t teach him better?” Anyway this show was torture but I’m gonna go back to the good stuff now.

Minho got to come back and they were a band happily ever after. Before the elimination tho he helped the other members with their dance routines. So, shit i learned about kpop peripherally: most bands are made by formula like “2 members rap, 2 members dance, 2 members sing” or something like that. Minho could dance and Changbin could rap and Seungmin could sing and the goal is rarely to get everyone to be great at everything. And Minho was like “nah.” And he made it his goal to make everyone as good a dancer as possible. So while others were helping him with singing and rapping, he was helping them with dancing.

For me a very important scene in the show was when Bang Chan kinda lost it at IN’s lack of ability to dance and he had everyone stand aside and kept telling IN to try again and Minho gave Bang Chan side-eye and went over to IN to teach him how to do it better.

baby bread’s defeated baby face :(

and Minho’s face just saying “you’re not helping” as he walked over in clear defiance of any hierarchy.

So Minho’s whole approach to the group was “I will help everyone be better at dancing”. According to Chan he picked Minho with the idea that Minho would be in charge of dancing. Which is a big fucking deal. For Bang Chan personally and band as a whole.

Changbin asking this question, who else. Chan was like “that phrasing doe?” But eventually:

(Changbin is listening but also not giving a shit, he’s just waiting for Chan to be done so he can ask what his role is and be told he’s the visual, Minho feeds him so fucking well.)

In group dances Minho tends to not stick out. In fact, Minho would really like it if no one stuck out. His goal is to have them all as synchronized as possible and he’s really good at it.

His solos fucking murder us every time tho :(

m... where was i.

Oh yeah. He’s very good at his job. He has also gotten SO MUCH better at singing. I don’t think he gets enough credit for how fucking hard he must have worked on that on top of everything else they do. I know the color of his voice doesn’t pop out like Seungmin or IN’s, but he can hold his own now. (His parts in Slump and Neverending story for example. Slump in particular because apparently Han wrote that whole ass song to fit HIS high notes and everyone just went “I guess” and then Han said “but I’ll only rap in it”.)

But enough about how much I respect him as an artist. Let’s talk about how if he is your favorite in the band, there’s a 99% chance your kink is being spit on followed by a good aftercare. Look I don’t make the rules. Just accept it like Hyunjin has.

Did he tickle him after that? Who knows. Not Hyunjin.

but he feeds him well so it’s all good.

In fact, other than making everyone dance well, Minho’s second mission in life is to make sure everyone is well fed. (He is definitely that grandmother who will tell you you’ve gained weight and then get upset when you don’t eat everything she made for you.)

Life is too short for a full compilation of Minho feeding people so here’s a little vid and a few pics.

How is this post still fucking going? How do I have so many thoughts on this one man wtf? Anyway just a quick note about his ex husband.

Back in the olden days Minho made lunch and wrote a lovely thank you letter to Seungmin and things were great. Now they jokingly call each other the divorced couple and even though they are roommates they both claim they can’t be roommates. I have a theory that could be way off but I will type it up here anyway. My theory hearkens back to the first paragraph which is that Minho doesn’t like doing things in front of the camera when he’s not sure how it’s gonna end up. And I think Seungmin for his own reasons isn’t very expressive either. And maybe sometimes on camera he didn’t react like Minho needed him to. And it ended in Minho adjusting his on camera attitude. Again, I could be way off, but the way I see it, there is safety in teasing. The same way he’ll show off his giraffe picture and be like “isn’t it beautiful” when he clearly has functional eyes, he can show his friendship with Seungmin and say “lol isn’t it horrible” and he gets the expected feedback and it’s fine. It’s better than being seen as overly needy or reaching out and not getting what you want. And tbh I think he and Seungmin pingpong this at each other and this is why every tsundere needs a Felix or Han to hug them despite the shit that’s coming out of their mouth.

But Seungmin can still recognize him by his tiddies so clearly they’re fine off camera.

As far as fan stuff goes, Minho has a regular live where he eats delicious food and talks to fans. Sometimes fans are really shitty and he plays it off but he is human and y’all need to get your shit together. But since all his fans are subs it all works out in the end. (Go on, tell me he’s your bias and you’re not a sub, I won’t believe you.)

I’m going to end this now and sneak edit when I remember other shit like I just did with BC.

Oh PS: I am not getting into Minho and Han now. Maybe ... MAYBE by the time I’m on Jisung’s profile I’ll be emotionally ready for that.

Wait did I do a whole fucking primer on Minho without mentioning his cats? Shit I’m gonna get arrested. He has 3 cats, adopted or found. He also does a shitload of charity stuff, a lot of it animal related. Ok ok ok there.

Bang Chan - Minho - Changbin - Hyunjin - Han - Felix and Felix2 - Seungmin - Jeongin

5 notes · View notes

imagine-that-one-thing · 7 years

Text

Manhattan.

Authors Note: Au where Harry is a Frat Boy. I don’t know where this is going. It was hard to write though.

Harry Masterlist found HERE Other Chapters found HERE

I was never the character to continuously go to parties, get drunk, or even go out every Friday night.

I regularly prefer to stay in on Friday nights, revising for the tests or doing the homework that I’m drowning in.

I perpetually overhear the stories that go around every Monday morning, after some sort of party that sparked everyone’s interests.

I continually hear the late night giggles and drunken stumbles in the hallways’ of my dorm. Every Saturday morning, around two, I hear the laughs of tipsy and intoxicated classmates’ that never seizes to disturbs me from my sleep or my studying.

I overhear the front door to the suit open, an indication one of my three suit mates are subsequently back from class, or shagging up with their boyfriends’ or their boyfriends’ friends.

To say the least, my suitemates are of some character, character that is different to my own. I always listen in on some of the scandalous stories that go on within the suit— they can be great friends’, but they don’t always make the best of decisions.

I narrow my eyes back to the book in my hand that is required to be read for English class, despite its terrible storyline and the fact it is borderline monotonous. For a moment, I am distracted when my suitemate enters the bedroom, a smile painted across her face. “What are you doing tonight?” She beams over to me, directing my attention away from the torturous book in my hand.

“I have a date with Bio, why?” I glance over at her, noticing how she is already rummaging through her clothes, perhaps trying to find something to wear for the evening.

“Come out with me, there is a party.”

“I need to do Bio, I’ll pass.” I shake my head, just as she flings a glittery black dress into my lap. I lift it off my lap and drop it to the bed.

“Bio will be there in the morning, get up. you need to have some fun.”

“I need good grades, actually.” I correct her, her posture straightening as she turns to glance at me.

“Get your ass up, put on a dress and heels, do something with your hair, and put the damn book down.” She narrows her eyes on the book still in my hand, “One night, that is it. I promise you won’t regret it.” She presses, determined to not allow me to pass on the opportunity to go out with her and probably get drunk and have guys hit on the two of us.

With a heavy sigh, I push myself off the bed, my fingers clasping the glittery dress, “Fine, but I want your psych notes, and I want those heels.” I gesture towards a pair of crimson red heels. She raises a brow, seeming surprised by my choice of colour.

“I said get dressed, not to look hot. I am surprised.” She gasps teasingly, my eyes rolling at her,

“I do know how to dress, surprisingly. Now, hand over the psych notes.” I smile, already beginning to undress and pull the dress over my body, adjusting it to fall perfectly.

“Damn, you brush up nicely without a book in your hand.” She chuckles, handing me her heels that I have requested for the night. I grin, giving her a shrug as I run my hands through my hair, debating whether I need to do anything to it.

I mutter under my breath my regret as I step into the rowdy house, parties are not really my thing—neither are Frat parties. I sigh, allowing my roommate to drag me into the house of swaying bodies and raucous noise, music echoing against the walls, laughter and chatter boisterously buzzing.

It takes me a while to settle into the atmosphere of overly enthusiastic and somewhat intoxicated figures, my hand already clasping a red solo cup with some sort of fruity drink poured into it. I hurried away from the vodka shots and settled on whatever it is that was poured into my cup. I assume it is a mix of fruits and vodka, but there is really no telling, the bartender seemed half intoxicated himself.

I glance over as a loud eruption of laughter takes my attention, a group of boys’ gathered around a pingpong table, shouting at each other, pushing and shoving as two of them go head to head in the battle of beer pong. I can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic attempt of the blonde in a pair of light dawn-tinted shorts and a white polo hung around his figure. There is no doubt in my mind that he is already at his limits end with alcohol, and his friends’ are just savouring his embarrassment with beer pong.

I wander closer to the table, considerately amused by the whole group; they appear to be having a lot more fun than the sweaty, dancing bodies in the other room, and they’re the only group of boys that aren’t trying to mount their dick onto anything that breathes and resembles the slightest bit of a female.

“Ah, we have a new spectator.” A guy gestures towards me, forcing all the attention to be focused on me, I shrug and take a sip of my beverage, “Guess you didn’t see the sign?” He comments,

“Which one?” I raise a brow, unsure of what he is referring to.

His mates grow quiet and his mouth begins to move, “This is not a game for chicks.” His sexist comment automatically causes me to roll my eyes.

Entitled, sexist fratboy— clearly a non-intelligent twat.

“Oh, really? I thought the sign said to drop my balls at the door because you seem to have lost yours. You scared a girl will beat you?” I respond, unsure of where he gets off pointing me out for watching, as a female.

“No girls.” He adamantly states, gesturing around to the men standing around him.

“Oi, I’d quite like to see her stay. Unless, of course, she is right and you really have no balls.” A voice pipes up.

I follow the voice, my eyes resting on a boy— I’d say he is around six feet tall, clothed in a Ralph Lauren, white button down shirt, one that hugs his body in a rather lovely manner, accompanied by a pair of dark wash, black jeans.

He raises his red cup to his lips, his sleeve sliding down his arm, imperceptibly revealing a detailed looking watch.

He stands out a little from his Fratboy fellows. He isn’t wearing pastel colours or wearing a baseball cap backwards, he isn’t being too boisterous, and he is not being like the ringleader— a complete bro-y misogynist twat.

“Are you offering to pledge for her?” The instigator glares over towards the unknown man, “Because, we know how that went down last time, Styles.” The jackass grins, an inside joke seeming to be made as the other men snicker, holding up the solo cups in unison.

Styles rolls his eyes, flicking the demagogue the bird, “your ex-girlfriend definitely went down, last time,” Styles remarks, “Remember that one time—” He begins but is instantly cut off,

“Fine, she can stay.” The dick of a frat boy mutters, glaring over towards me with sombre, defeated eyes. I return the favour with a grin, amused by his downfall. “Not like she’d last long, she’s a newbie, but yeah, she can stay.” He shrugs, trying to play it nonchalantly, resembling a tool more than anything. I roll my eyes, holding back my tongue, deciding to keep calm.

I stray away from the beer pong fanatics, finding myself roaming the frat party, trying to find a familiar face, but only finding drunks and eager party goers.

How everyone appreciates this every weekend, I do not know.

I don’t find anything interesting about sweaty bodies, grinding, and alcohol.

The amount of times I have seen a couple make out is disgustingly high.

There is a thing —it is called getting a room— but apparently, nobody knows what that is. They much prefer to parade their drunken antics in front of everyone.

I shake away my thoughts, placing down my drink and searching the extensive house for my roommate. I have no idea where she got herself off too, but I am about to head out, and me being the responsible person I am, I am going to make sure she is okay.

I eventually find her sitting on a leather couch, a guy with his arm slung around her. I mentally roll my eyes before I inform her of my decision to leave. She tries to protest but she stops when I continue to shake my head, having no inclination to stay in a place I have no desire to be in.

I step down the stone steps, leading to a cobbled pathway, feeling the cold chill of the late night breeze brushing past me, tangling itself within my hair.

“Wait.” A familiar voice grasps my attention and I turn on my heel, abruptly being face to face with the frat boy that permitted me to watch the game of beer pong. “Ye’ leaving already?” He questions and I nod,

“I have better things to do than to sit in a house and have prying hands on me,” I respond, making it known I do not like the scene of what is going on. I take notice as his eyes eclipse a darker shade of Emerald, his lips curving into a firm line. “Is there something you needed? I have studying to do.” I distract him from his gaze and unworded thoughts.

“You should stay,” He presses, almost causing me to stifle a laugh at his ludicrous comment.

I shake my head, “Again, prying hands is not my forte.”

“Nobody will touch you.” He assures me with a bit of a sonorous voice, something about him intriguing me for the moment.

“Oh, really?” I cross my arms with a raised brow, observing the smirk becoming painted across his face.

“Really.” He nods,

“I have studying to do.” I shake my head, “And, I don’t know you— for all I know— you could drag me back inside and pull me into the lair of your jackass, frat boy, simpleton.” I respond, observing as he chuckles, finally giving me a slight smile, a smile that I can not disregard.

It is very charming.

“I am about ninety-nine percent positive there is not a lair inside. As for the simpleton, he won’t bother you, he currently has his tongue shoved down some girls’ throat, he will be occupied for at least ten minutes.” He responds, seeming amused by my way of words and naming his friend a complete moron.

For a moment, I contemplate whether or not to take up the offer of the charming boy in front of me. Surely, if he wanted to pull some sort of dickish move on me, he would have already. Despite his charming smile and his rather succulent gaping lips, I shake my head.

“I really need to study,” I respond politely,

“Well, can I at least walk you back to your apartment?” He kindly offers, noticing how there are a few other people stumbling their way out of the house.

I wrap my arms around me, the cool air being a little too chilly for my liking, “Uh, you don’t have too.” I respond, taking note of how he seems to subtly sigh with a little disappointment from my words… “But, I mean.. It would be appreciated.” I hastily add, figuring it would not be such a bad thing to be accompanied back to my suit, after all, there is no telling just who is lurking around here.

“Lead the way.” He smiles and I do exactly that, I lead the way back to campus, keeping conversation with the boy that is still nameless. All that I have managed to gather from him is that he is a gentleman, but, I will not be fooled. Frat boys start off as gentlemen to mislead you, then when they have you wrapped around their finger, they turn into arrogant pricks that think the world revolves around them.

I know his type, I know how it works.

“You have an accent, where are you from? If you don’t mind me asking.” I softly ask as we walk across campus, the frigid temperatures of the fall setting in early as I shiver slightly, trying not to make it known.

“I am from a small town. Cheshire, England… It is a county in north-west England, very rural.” He apprises me.

Ah-huh. There is the accent. A British boy, nice.

I would never have guessed he was from a dainty little town in England, a rural one at that. But, I can’t deny the fact that I do, in fact, find it rather charming.

“What about you?” He questions. For a moment, I contemplate whether to tell him the truth or to lie. I hate having to answer the question on where I am from. It is not for any reason such as disgust or shame, it is more because of judgement.

“I’m from here, New York,” I respond, knowing already what will come out of his mouth next. It always happens.

“Oh, nice. Which part?” The familiar interrogation I am always challenged, usually followed with a wide-eyed expression when I respond. “I would offer you my jacket, but I don’t have one.” He appends, appearing to take note of my cold shivers, the damn New York air making me look like a fool.

“It is okay.” I assure him with a small smile, “And, you know. Around here.” I shrug, being vague with my answer on the specific part of where I am from.

“Mysterious, I see.” He chuckles, “You do realise, ’around here’ is very vague.” He continues, seeming interested in what I have to say,

“Mhm, means you will have a struggle finding me away from campus.” I joke, somewhat.

I notice him stifle a laugh as we arrive at my suit building, my hand reaching for my card to allow me to access the building. “Well, this is my building,” I gesture towards the large glass doors.

He nods, glancing around the area of campus, “Hm, well. Your escort has done his duty, I guess I will see you around?” He challenges, catching me off guard with his low voice and his enchantment.

Damn that British Bewitchery.

I nod and he gives me a sweet smile before he turns and steps down the few steps, “Wait,” I call, grasping his attention.

He turns around, waiting for me to speak.

“You never told me your name,” I comment, noticing how he is still a nameless man to me, just as I am nameless to him.

He grins, his eyes glowing in the dim light illuminating from my building. “That makes two of us with mystery, don’t it?” He cheekily remarks, causing me to cock my head imperceptibly to the side, my eyes narrowing down on him.

“Perhaps,” I recognise his point,

“I’ll trade you?” He proposes, “My name for where you are from.”

“Okay,” I concede, “But, you promise not to judge me?” I softly claim, feeling insignificantly vulnerable to the judgement that may be passed upon me.

Why? I do not know. I shouldn’t care what he thinks, he is just another frat boy.

“Judgment free zone.” He assures me, that radiating smile still beaming widely.

“Manhattan… The Upper East side.” I mumble quickly, trying my best to answer the question without coherently whispering the ‘The Upper East Side.’ part.

He nods, “It is a lovely side of Manhattan.” He continues,

“Why did you not ask my name?” I curiously inquire. I would have only thought he would be more inquisitive about my name rather than the mystery of where I am from.

He smiles softly, leaving me in a bit of suspense as he takes his time coming up with a result.

“It keeps the mystery.” He finally acknowledges, striking me by surprise.

Huh, so the British boy likes mystery. Interesting.

“You still have not told me your name.” I remind him as he turns around to continue walking. He glimpses over his shoulder, his eyes reflecting a wonderful hue in the moonlight.

He simply answers with that sweet smile of his, “Harry.”

338 notes · View notes