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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 4 months

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A Princess' Guide to Interrogating a Radio Demon

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Charlie, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, interrogation (in the most playful sense). If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige.

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

This is my first fic for Hazbin Hotel, so any feedback would be welcomed and deeply appreciated! (also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future work - I'm quite sure this'll be FAR from my last fic for this fandom hehe)

Hope you enjoy!

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Ever since he'd discovered glam metal, Angel has been blasting it nonstop from his room.

Unfortunately, his room happens to be directly beneath Alastor's... and the insulation in the hotel's walls leaves an awful lot to be desired. The Radio Demon's eye had been in a constant twitch for three days by the time he'd finally had enough.

"Alastor? Have you seen Angel's speakers?"

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When Charlie appears in his doorway, the demon in question is sitting comfortably on his couch, sipping a mug of black coffee and reading a newspaper (though Charlie isn't sure how he acquired it - the local paper has been out of print for weeks).

"No. But I've certainly had the displeasure of hearing them."

"They've gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Far away, I hope."

Charlie rolls her eyes and leaves to go consult the other guests. The deer takes a long draw from his mug.

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To Alastor's slight irritation, he only enjoys a few minutes of peace before the princess' voice echoes from the hall again.

"Oooh, Al...." Charlie sings.

"What is it, my dear?" the Radio Demon sings back absently.

"Nifty says she saw you with Angel's speakers yesterday."

"Did she?" He flips a page of his newspaper.

"Look, all I need to know is where you put them."

Long pause. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Alastor."

"Whaaat?" Though his eyes haven't left the page, his grin has widened slightly. "You think I'm lying?"

"You're always lying. That's your thing."

"...Touché."

Charlie perches on the sofa beside him.

"Are you gonna tell me where it is or not?"

"Fine. I'll be completely honest with you."

She perks up.

"I would honestly die a second death before subjecting myself to one more note of that infernal garbage."

Alastor's eyes flick up from his paper for the briefest of seconds, just to watch the bubbly princess' face fall into a delightfully exasperated scowl.

"You can't steal someone's stuff just because it annoys you!"

"On the contrary. That's exactly what I did."

Charlie narrows her eyes. "Alastor. You tell me where Angel's speakers are or else."

Alastor chuckles in spite of himself - Charlie's attempts to be intimidating never fail to amuse him.

"What's so funny about that?"

"My dear, I say this with the utmost respect and admiration for your many talents: there's a reason I tend to be the one called upon to scare off demonic threats."

Charlie huffs and crosses her arms. "Just because you're creepier and... more sadistic than me, doesn't mean I don't have ways of making you talk."

"Oh?" Alastor arches a skeptical eyebrow at his paper.

"So you better watch your step, Mister."

"Hmm. You make a compelling case." He flips another page. "Maybe I should tell you where Angel's poor excuse for music is."

Charlie brightens. "Really?"

"No."

The princess deflates.

He's right, of course: even if Charlie figures out a way to make herself legitimately threatening to the Radio Demon... he's the fucking Radio Demon. She may be the Princess of Hell, but she doesn't want to have to rebuild the hotel from rubble all over again.

The two sit in impassive silence for a few minutes - Charlie glaring at Alastor, Alastor staring stubbornly at his paper - until she finally stifles a sigh and slouches against the cushions. He's enjoying this, she just knows it. Sitting there with that stupid grin. He's probably been laughing to himself all night, imagining poor Angel waking up and finding his most prized possession missing.

She finds herself wishing she could make the old deer laugh himself sick sometime, just to teach him a lesson.

...Which is a horrible thought! Charlie's eyes widen, her brow furrowing in self-disgust. She could never bring herself to hurt Alastor, even via laughter.

In fact, she quite likes his laugh - it's a little maniacal, sure, and certainly hard to truly enjoy amid the gory contexts that typically trigger it. But if she knew a way to make him laugh at something other than another person's expense, she'd probably do it all the time... it's just that the things that make him laugh also tend to make Charlie nauseous.

Once again, the princess finds herself completely baffled by her own subjects. How one could be so tickled by anything that goes on down here - the pain, the violence, the gore...

Charlie tilts her head. She may have just gotten an idea.

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If Alastor had happened to cast a quick glance down the couch, the smile creeping across Charlie's face would've been enough to give him real pause.

But since he is instead stubbornly focused on his paper, he is completely unprepared for the fingers that suddenly begin crawling oh-so-gently up his side.

To her initial disappointment, Charlie finds at least three layers of fabric dampening her touch, and aside from a subtle flinch at first contact, Alastor himself remains perfectly still.

But then a low buzz of radio static swells around them. As she probes up his ribs, she can hear a soft crinkle of paper as his grip tightens.

"Charlie..." His voice is oddly clipped.

"Mm?" Charlie takes one glance at his face, and her smile deepens - even Alastor's signature grin can't mask the effect. He's still technically staring at the paper, but his eyes have gone wide and blank. He opens his mouth to continue just as her fingers reach his armpit - and his jaw quickly clamps shut. It's clearly taking everything in him not to squirm.

"Got something to say, Al?" She starts pinching back down his ribcage.

"Mmph!" The giggles start in his chest, bubbling up and fighting to escape through clenched teeth. Soon his shoulders are shaking with the effort of holding them in.

"...Maybe about the location of a certain object?"

No response. The radio demon just curls forward a little, hiding his face in his paper.

Taking advantage of this new posture, Charlie slips her other arm around behind him, and gives a good pinch to both sides of his slender waist.

The demon straightens right back up with an audible gasp and tiny squeak of surprise (that he quickly tries to cover with a cough).

"Charlie! Are you s-seriously trying to-"

"Are you seriously ticklish?"

"No!"

In response she delivers another series of pinches to the same spot. His posture crumples again, until finally he loses his grip on his paper and twists to face her.

"No?" she giggles. And squeezes him again.

"Stop that!" He fumbles at her fingers, trying to pry them off his sides.

Instead Charlie swaps her hands, wrapping her fingers around his waist with both thumbs resting lightly on his stomach... and begins digging them right under his lower ribs.

That finally does it. He flinches back with a little snort, followed by soft but utterly helpless giggles pressed shyly into his hands.

"Awww!" Charlie coos.

"Keheh- f-fuckin'- heheh! - quiet!" His voice cracks amusingly on the last word.

There are about fifteen different things Charlie is dying to say as Alastor goes to pieces with laughter, but she can't think of anything that wouldn't risk embarrassing the poor guy - and humiliating him is the last thing she wants to do. The fact that Alastor hasn't instantly dissolved into shadows (or cursed her across the room) hasn't been lost on the princess; she is NOT about to jeopardize this moment by making him uncomfortable enough to do so.

That said, she is conducting an interrogation here.

"What was that about not being ticklish?"

His clutching at her wrists becomes more frantic. "Don't-!"

Alastor hyperventilates a couple times, trying to get ahold of himself - but then she continues squeezing down the sides of his belly, and he can only collapse into even worse laughter.

"I think I know just how to get you to talk..."

"Nohoho- ahagh, Charlie! Shihihit!"

Charlie shifts onto her knees for better leverage, gives him a gentle push backward, and pins him (surprisingly easily) against the couch. Her snaggle-toothed grin looms over him...

For a split-second, Alastor gets a flash of what his victims must've seen moments before they debuted on his show.

But he's pretty sure this isn't quite how they felt about it. He's already shaking with anticipatory giggles, grinning back at her wider than ever. And the giddy panic behind his eyes quickly forms an unlikely union with defiance.

"Do your worst, my dear."

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To be continued... pt. II is already in the works, so stay tuned!!

Until next time - hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💕

💜 - Cozy

#lee!alastor #ticklish!alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel tickles #oh deer he's ticklish #ler!charlie #hazbin hotel tickling #ticklefic #tickle fic #tickle headcanons #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel spoilers

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reythenerdypisces · 3 months

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things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 2: Sea of Monsters

there is a lot this time.

this book is so short and it makes up for the length by being hilarious:

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death - plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. Chiron turned looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

"Um..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about it? Nobody answered. "Right," I muttered. "Just checking."

"Uh, I like Hercules." "Why?" "Well, because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

Annabeth looked at me. "We have to get out of here." "You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" "I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."

Tyson was terrified of them. All throughout the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about.

"Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me." "You're right." "Thanks a lot."

A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. and a few moments later: He [Luke] raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. Luke can't catch a break from those boxing arrows, it's the funniest thing

2. also so much baby percabeth!! they’re so cute

She'd [Annabeth] emailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been in my imagination. the fact that he printed out Annabeth's photo?

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat, "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend." her standing up for Percy is adorable

I mean she [Annabeth] looked good. Really good. I probably would've been tongue-tied if I could say anything except reet, reet, reet.

She [Annabeth] started to sob - I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her. Fish gathered to look at us - a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! I told them. They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay. number 1. the way percy is always there for her, number 2. the gossiping fish?? I love it

The look in his [Grover] eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened -he’s admirably protective, of not just annabeth, but all his friends and I love to see it… exhibit b:

"But if I [Grover] get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!" "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way." I adore their friendship.

3. other mentions:

"I'm Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus." what. an. ending. I still remember how floored I was when I first read this wow

the mention of Hylla got me so excited

am I the only one who forgot Percy could control the sailboat? like the flying ropes and whatnot

I also completely forgot about his watch shield!

I'll be back for part 3 shortly! :)

#sea of monsters #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #rick riordan #percabeth #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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1-800-kami · 7 months

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margaret - lana del rey | nanami kento

.. just when you thought nanami left behind nothing, you discover a letter on the top of his closet... addressed to you.

content: 0.9k words, anime spoilers, fem!reader, small banana fish allusion at the end because i hate my life

author's note: i'm not okay.

it’s october 31st, 2019, and you think you’ve finally gained enough courage to clean out kento’s closet.

one year. that’s exactly how long it’s been since his death. ever since you found out that your fiance was a part of the thousands who fell victim to the shibuya incident, the days have blurred into one another. each day seems monotonous and devoid of life without the man who promised to spend the rest of his life with you.

each day, you just dream of the day that you’ll be able to see him again.

still, no one was using the clothes from his closet. you knew your fiance would’ve preferred it if you donated his clothes to someone who could actually use them. you’ve been putting it off, since you knew that the smell of his clothes would just fill your heart with yet another round of painful memories. despite that, you knew you had to do it one day.

you haven’t touched his closet since the day he died. his clothes still smell like his perfume, and everything is neatly folded. you take one of his shirts with a shaky breath and revel in his scent, eyes watering knowing that even though his scent is still there, he isn’t.

and that makes you feel alone. fuck, you feel so awfully alone.

your eyes scan through the entire closet, wondering where you’re gonna start with the cleaning. then, something sticking out of the top of your closet catches your eye. it seems so deliberately placed- wait, is that an envelope?

standing on your tiptoes and taking the envelope, you gasp–realizing that it's a letter addressed to you. from kento.

as far as you knew, your fiance didn’t leave anything behind for you other than a few broken promises. your engagement ring still rests on your ring finger, and it breaks your heart knowing that your wedding day will never come. he promised to marry you, that your honeymoon would be in kuantan, malaysia; and eventually–you’d buy a small house there just for the two of you, where sorcerers and curses are finally alien words and the rest of your days are spent out on the beach.

of course, none of that would ever happen now. you live knowing that your engagement ring will never be replaced with a wedding ring.

still, you thought that you’d live the rest of your life knowing that nanami never left anything behind for you... but this letter was new. you open it up, finding words scrawled in the handwriting that you knew all too well.

“to y/n—my love,

if you’re reading this, then it means that i’m dead, and i’m sorry.

i’m writing this letter because i know that as a jujutsu sorcerer, coming back home is never guaranteed. and yet, if i ever die, i don’t want you to be left behind with nothing. so one day, you’re going to have to clean out my closet, and you’re eventually going to find this letter.

i’m writing this hoping that you’re never going to have to read this, and i’ll throw this letter away eventually because i lived to come back home to you.

but we both know that there’s a chance i might not come home.

living to see the next day isn’t guaranteed for any of us. not for me, and not even for people like gojo. so if it ever comes to this, i want you to live for the both of us, love. it’s difficult but i truly don’t want to hold you back from being happy just because i’m gone. fall in love again and live your life. then, when i see you again, you can tell me everything, and i’ll be excited to hear all about it.

i can hear you outside right now humming while making dinner. i want the rest of our life to be domestic like that—but sometimes, life isn’t always fair.

i remember getting photos of us printed out, because whenever i would be out on a mission, i found myself missing you all the time… so i always kept photos of you and me in my phone case. i want you to have these photos because they kept me going whenever i wasn’t able to be with you. i hope you can eventually learn to do the same, love.

just know that i love you. i love you so, so much, dear. you’re my reason to live. you’re the reason why i love coming home every day—you’re the reason i work as hard as i can so you’ll never have to read this letter. and i really do hope that you’ll never, ever read this.

i love you and i’ll repeat it until the entire world knows it. i’m sorry that i never got to marry you. i’m sorry that we never got to go to kuantan together. i’m sorry that i never got to do the things that i promised i would.

even though i’m sorry for everything, you might’ve noticed that i haven’t said goodbye. that’s because i won’t say goodbye, because eventually, there’ll come a time when the stars align and we’ll meet again, no matter how far apart we are. and i can’t wait to see you again…

…because then, i’ll make everything up to you.

love,

kento.”

#nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami angst #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami #nanami my beloved #jjk nanami

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everybodyhatesmiddleschool · 8 days

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It has been six excruciating days since I was plunged into the Bridgerton fandom against my will.

I was minding my own business, watching YouTube compilations of the best kisses in TV history, when I unwittingly clicked on a video about Colin and Penelope, and I was immediately down so bad for them.

Let me be clear: Bridgerton was not part of my life before I clicked on that video. I wanted nothing to do with it; I had no intention of ever watching or reading that smut. And then, without warning, it swept in and took me in the night, much like Colin Bridgerton in the back of a carriage.

To say I have been lost in the sauce these past six days would be a gross understatement. The carriage scene is literally ruining my life. I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. since Sunday, and I have been over an hour late to work every day. Why? Because I cannot stop consuming that godforsaken scene — watching gifs of it over and over, reading y’all’s hilarious takes and memes about it, watching it with the audio descriptions turned on (🥵), watching it with the music removed (🥵🥵), watching Luke and Nicola on their press tour, watching, watching, watching.

Have I started actually watching season 1 of the show? Of course. Did I check out the large-print version of the first book from the library since it was the only copy available? You bet. But I do not care about these other characters and storylines. I want it to be Colin and Penelope on the screen and the page in every sentence and every scene.

And either fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t even have to be looking at a screen to be distracted by them — my daydreaming has never been as maladaptive in my life as it has been this week. I can hardly think of one ten-minute stretch in the past six days in which some imaginary scenario has not been taking over my brain. I want to be part of their world so bad — not just Bridgerton, but Shondaland. As is the case for 90% of all of my daydreams, I want these actors to know I exist. I want them to look at me with just as much awe and love as I look at them. So I might be staring at my computer screen in my cubicle, but in my mind, I’m on a press tour of my own that intersects with theirs. (I’m never the desperate fan with no life in my dreams; my idols always see me as their equal). I might be driving my commute in my car, but in my mind, they’re congratulating me about my own novel being optioned by Netflix. I might be brushing my teeth in my bathroom, but in my mind, we’re laughing together on Graham Norton’s couch.

But Lord, here comes that freaking carriage scene once again, inserting itself into my mind (pun unavoidable). I cannot get over it. I’m so stuck there that I’ve found myself wearing shoes I don’t remember putting on, carrying coffee mugs I don’t remember putting in my bag, driving a speed limit I don’t remember agreeing to as acceptable. There is laundry that needs to be folded. Bills need to be paid. Emails need to be deleted en masse without reading. But I can’t find the door that will let me out of this damn carriage.

I had a conversation with myself two days ago about how we might be able to adapt to this new living situation. After a few temper tantrums, I finally said, “Girl, if you’re going to watch this scene 1,000 times, you have got to find a way to make it a constructive part of your life.” So I did what any rational adult would do: I started writing a scholarly paper about why it’s so powerful — not just for me but, according to the internet, for a lot of women. And I have every intention of writing an entire paper about this … if I can find the time. I’m just so busy right now with consuming this damn scene.

Was starting to write that article enough to satiate my obsession with this scene, with this show and these actors? Of course not. So this morning, I started writing a spicy scene of my own, featuring not Colin and Penelope but two other vaguely outlined characters who I’m sure I’ll give names and personalities to later. I was literally sitting in my cubicle, hunched over my planner, writing down snippets of sexiness in as small a print as possible in case someone walked up on me and looked over my shoulder without me noticing. And I’m not gonna lie: this shit’s good. I’ve never written smut before, because I’ve never had enough spice in my own life to feel like I’d be able to do it justice on paper. But that imagination of mine — she’s a freak. And my mind? My mind has moved way past the gutter. It is now in the outhouse. It’s in the slop with the pigs.

It should have come as no surprise, but as usual, the act of actually writing down the jumble of mess in my brain has had the effect of breaking some of the spell. I was also forced to focus on work because of looming deadlines, and I currently feel calmer than I have since Sunday. But I am truly living in fear of June 13. I cannot go through this again, and I know that I’m bound to, because I know that what’s been shown so far won’t hold a candle to what’s coming. And if I get down bad any further, I will be deep enough in the ground for this to become my final resting place. I’m not ready to be buried, but it feels inevitable.

But somehow, despite my own wants and fears, and despite the fact that we haven’t even been introduced yet to the bedroom where Colin and Penelope are sure to end up, I am somehow already lurking from behind the window curtains in the corner, peeking out at them doing the deed. I know what I hope I’ll see: based on the excerpt I’ve seen from the book, they will be in front of a mirror — expressly because Colin wants Penelope to see herself in full for the glorious goddess she is, and she will look at her sexy, bare self with just as much pride and love as we viewers behind the screen will (but probably with slightly less lust than Colin, who I pray will be very loud about how hot she is).

I am dreaming about this scene, but I dread it. Because if it’s as good as the carriage scene, I will immediately be re-enscripted and sent right back to the trenches where I spent the last six days. I’m excited, but I’m scared. And I’m afraid of getting lost in the woods again, because I know that if I do, I won’t want to be found.

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton season 3 #maladaptive daydreaming #creative writing #send help #nicola coughlan #luke newton

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yellowbunnydreams · 6 months

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Bunny Punk (Part 1)~Punk!William Afton x F!Reader~

~So this started out as a concept, then turned into a one-shot, then I got to a point and thought to myself 'This is a series isn't it?' Thanks to @ruh--roh-raggy for putting up with my bullshit and proofing some of this story. I don't know how long this story will be, but I can imagine it might be one of my shorter series.~

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI, mention of scars, body and face piercings (inc, tongue, reference to others), tattooed!reader, punk!William, tattooed!Afton, age gap (Reader 20's, William 40's)

You sighed as you looked around the party going on in your college's gymnasium, filled with people perhaps double or so your age and the occasional peer who looked as bored as yourself, milling about and laughing as shitty music played in the background that you weren't even sure of the name of. Glancing at the sign strung over the doorway, you cursed yourself internally, wishing you hadn't signed up to help with this reunion event as you could have been doing much better things with your time. Like working on the million and one assignments that you felt like you had. Or perhaps simply just sleeping and procrastinating on those assignments.

The oversized black hoodie that you'd somehow convinced the dean of your department to let you wear sported some black embroidered gears along the sleeves, your nickname from your club printed over your left breast. Hair tied up and a tight pair of jeans, the cleanest you could find in the pile of washing that moved between your bed and a chair as required, never quite making it to the wardrobe.

Seeing the free food and drink table that was technically for the guests of the event, you bit your lip as you decided to go and visit it. What harm would taking a few snacks and drinks do? None of the faculty were looking, and the ones who were milling about were too engrossed in talking to old students and favouring talking to people too old to be wear jock-jackets and cheerleading skirts. Rolling your eyes as you wondered why they were all dressed up like they were awaiting for their class photos all over again.

William wasn't entirely sure why he'd accepted the invite back to his old college, his teeth finding the labret piercing along his lip and chewing it somewhat absently as he looked at the drinks table, thick brows furrowing as he decided whether or not to go fetch another drink. It had sounded like a good idea at the time when his friend Henry had convinced him to go, even though the theme was silly and he hadn't felt comfortable dressing as he was now for a while, but his friend had ditched at the last minute and now he was stood on the side-lines. Smiling politely as people he barely recognised came up to him and complimented how good he looked for his age, cooing over how they hadn't seen him in years.

It would perhaps be bearable if he remembered any of these people.

You weren't looking where you were going as your head darted around, trying to avoid being spotted by the dean before suddenly you walked into somebody, gasping as you stumbled back and a large hand shot out to grab you by the arm, steadying you. Blinking as you looked at who you'd walked into.

Whoever he was, he was older. Dark brown hair greying at the temple and becoming peppered through his short, sweptback haircut, greying eyebrows with the left one decorated by a complimentary silver ring. A septum piercing caught you slightly off guard, but the greying eyes hidden behind golden wire framed aviator glasses held your attention. Slight scowl on his sharp features as you couldn't help but notice a lip ring, cheeks filling with colour as you thought how handsome he was.

"Sorry! I um..Sorry." You stammered out, averting your eyes quickly before hearing a grunt, the hand letting you go. William's eyes raked over you quickly, assessingly as he took in how young you were, the oversized hoodie with the subtle designs, a name he couldn't quite read on the breast.

"Are you meant to be in here? You don't look like one of my old classmates." Crossing his thick, strong forearms across his chest, your eyes naturally flickered to the tattoo sleeve on his right, the intricate designs standing out as bio-mechanical, following where the bones in his arms laid, although there was another design you couldn't quite make out on the inside of his forearm.

"I um..I'm one of the student volunteers for the event, sir." You explained quickly, snapping your attention back to his face as you found yourself more flustered that you'd been staring at him. Hearing a snort coming from the taller man as you watched a smirk flicker across his face.

"Volunteer?" The smirk on his face developed and he couldn't help but let it spread as he looked down at your nervous face. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that you looked so flustered, watching how your eyes would momentarily flicker to his arm and trace the linework before seeming to catch yourself and focus on his face again. "They still getting you to do that stupid shit? Do they still offer extra credit for it?" He asked, making you reciprocate the smile as you shook your head.

"Nah, extra credit would be nice but we get two free lunch credits for our 'service' tonight." Shrugging your shoulders as the man whistled, looking back at the food table and then back to you. Allowing you to quickly steal glances at the tight black t-shirt and jeans he was wearing before he turned back to you.

"Two whole credits hey? And they don't let you have any of the good stuff on the table?" Raising an eyebrow before the grin returned. "How big are the pockets on that hoodie?"

"Sorry?"

"The hoodie pockets, how big are they?" He asked, gesturing to your hoodie and making you look at it, humming in thought before you answered.

"I can carry a two-litre soda bottle and a bag of chips usually."

"Perfect. Fancy stealing some snacks and ditching this snooze-fest?" He grinned, making you raise an eyebrow in return and cross your arms this time, looking up at him and wondering how serious he was.

"Snooze-fest? What it this the eighties? And secondly...I may have been aiming to 'help the help' when we collided." Grinning as the man offered his arm to you and you cautiously took it, feeling silly as you stuck close to him. Seeing a few of the people around you glancing sideways at you and the tall tattooed man, but looking away quickly as he glared at them.

Approaching the snack table, you went to break away but he held onto your arm, keeping you close as he looked about before his large hand darted out, grabbing cans and baggies of snacks and pushing them into the large pocket of your hoodie. Your cheeks burning as he kept brushing against your stomach with each pass, swallowing softly and turning to look around, see if anybody spotted you before the taller man nudged you, snapping your attention back to him.

"Don't look around, if you look suspicious, they'll look at you in turn." He said softly, grabbing another couple of cans and baggies before filling your pocket, releasing you before he nodded and winked, tapping the side of his nose with humour lighting up his eyes. "Meet me outside the gym in a moment, can't be seen leaving together."

With that he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you wondering what the hell had just happened. But after a few moments, you followed through the crowd, curious as to what he planned on doing with so many snacks and drinks, although from what little you had interacted, he seemed like a pretty funny guy.

You spotted him just outside the gym, staring into a cabinet with his brow furrowed slightly, hands stuck into the pockets of his jeans, thumbs hooked over the outside as you approached, looking curiously inside the cabinet and spotting what he was looking at. For the reunion they'd brought together photos of old clubs and trophies from games and tournaments. You guessed it was to 'relive the best days of their lives'.

One photo stood out to you though, a group of young, scrawny lads in matching t-shirts of various colours. There was a taller guy with dark curly hair and braces that looked like a stiff breeze might topple him over, but he was holding a silver trophy high up with a grin, arm around a significantly taller boy. There was something familiar about him and squinting at the photo through the layers of glass revealed a lithe figure, the start of tattoos peeking from underneath the short sleeve, piercings decorating a tight-lipped smile. Looking back at the man stood next to you and back again, your eyes widened slightly.

"Holy shit, is that you?" Earning a snort and a chuckle, watching him bite at the labret on his lip before smirking at you confidently.

"Have I really changed that much?" He teased, gesturing to the piercings and the all black, just like he appeared in the photo. Although now he was broader, more muscular and you could practically feel the confidence oozing off of him. Shrugging your shoulders, you chewed your lip absently.

"I mean, I would have thought you ditched the piercings at your age. You're not lanky either. More like a dad-bod." Fake pouting as he placed a hand over heart, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your chest tighten for some reason as his lips curled into more of a smile.

"Oh these? I just put them back in when I might run into pretty college girls. And you watch your mouth about the dad-bod. I heard girls your age like DILFs." He teased, watching your cheeks flush and your eyes snap away temporarily, enjoying teasing you and playing around with somebody so young and trying to find their rebellious feet. He remembered being like you, and he was glad he'd maintained that fire into his more mature self.

"What kind of porn level logic is that?" You sputtered out, crossing your arms and huffing to get a stray strand of hair out of your face. Uncrossing them after a moment before reaching into the hoodie pocket and pulling out a soda can, cracking it open and beginning to walk off, hearing his footsteps follow behind you with a slight scowl over your shoulder at him.

"If you're going to run off, makes sense to keep me with you, at least then you can pretend to be giving me a tour."

"You fucking went here, you should know your way around, or has some metal made it into your brain?" Rolling your eyes, flushing as he easily reached into your hoodie and pulled out another can, fingers brushing your stomach once again before he fell into step, your legs having to move faster to keep up with his long languid strides.

"Ooo, so original! You almost made my lip quiver with your meanness." Laughing as he bumped into you slightly, looking around the hall and taking in how much the decorations had changed. Rolling his eyes at the motivational posters that seemed to permanently reside on the white walls, wondering what happened to the small row of thin lockers that used to live in an alcove along the west wall. "Says the baby with virgin skin." He threw back, making you scowl at him in disapproval.

"How do you know what I look like under this hoodie? I could be covered enough to set off a metal detector and you would never know." You countered, watching his smile grow before he leaned in as he walked, slightly conspiratorial.

"You know, most punks like to show off their art. Tattoos, piercings, clothes. You'd have shown me by now if you had anything." His close, deep voice made you shiver, clearing your throat as you looked at the hall walls, realising you'd subconiously been heading towards the engineering department as you'd walked. Groaning as you remembered all the projects you should be working on.

Turning to your left, you kept quiet, allowing the tall man to trail behind you and finish his drink before he threw it into the trash nearby, pumping his fist silently to himself as he got it in from a good distance away. You secretly smiled at the image, wondering how he could continue to be so childish. Stealing snacks. Throwing things into bins from a distance.

Your hand landed on the door to your workshop before you even knew what you were doing, fishing into your jeans and pulling out a ring of keys, unlocking the door and breathing deeply as the scent of soldering irons and copper hit you. Nodding your head into the room as the man looked in curiously.

"If you're going to hang about, don't touch shit. You probably wouldn't understand half the stuff going on in here." Scoffing as you went in first, hearing his footsteps slowly entering behind you as you paced over to your project cabinet, unlocking it and pulling out a complex set of wires and metal bars and rings.

Kicking out a stool and emptying your pockets onto a free space on the table so you could sit more comfortably. He took a seat at the same table and peered curiously at what you were working on after a quick glance around. Whilst the workshop hadn't changed much, the sight of new projects scattered around at various stages of completion made him feel right at home again. Reminded somewhat of his old workshop at Freddy's before the company had gotten too big for just him and Henry to work on the animatronics alone. Now the biggest project yet 'the pizzaplex' was set to open in two months, and he had to admit, he missed the small little cramped space of Fredbear's diner when he and Henry had shared a single office with security.

Your slender fingers worked deftly as you tried to nudge wires and tense wire coils into place, swearing under your breath as you began to feel too warm in the hoodie. You always felt warm whilst concentrating, plus you needed to clear your arms for testing again. Gripping the bottom of your hoodie and pulling it over your body before chucking it over another seat. Revealing a tight tank-top underneath, one of the straps falling off of your shoulder and making William swallow as his eyes instinctually ran across the curves of your shoulders and collarbones.

"What are you working on?" He broke the silence, distracting himself as he furrowed his brow, trying to work out what was so familiar about the structure your hands tinkered with. Strand of hair falling into your face and you tried to huff it away from your forehead as you glanced at him.

"It's just a proto-type. Nothing special." Feeling suddenly embaressed about the project, brow furrowing as you noticed one of the springs out of place and using a thin hooked tool to pull it back into place again. Nose scrunching up as you took a deep breath and studied it carefully, checking for any more flaws.

"Prototypes are important, they help you find all the flaws in your designs. Maybe a second pair of eyes might be able to look over it for you?" He asked, holding out his hand in offer with a kind smile, meeting your concerned frown before you tenderly handed it over. Reluctant to give over your work that you had spent so long on, although it was more personal to you, you didn't want to have it all ruined in a moment because of somebody else's carelessness.

"Just be careful okay? It's important to me. Don't make me get the shop safety poster and make you test on it." You threatened playfully, earning a smile as his eyes sparked with mirth. Carefully turning over the device in his large hands with surprising care and diligence, humming quietly as he moved it under the lights to get a good look at it.

"Don't remind me. I had a habit of falling short on the marks on that damn test every year, probably because Mr. Schmidt hated my guts for dicking around in shop." He chuckled, making you raise an eyebrow as he revealed he used to be part of the shop. Feeling curiosity burn in your chest as suddenly you felt a tiny bit more confident in letting him handle your project.

"You used to - OH MY GOD!" Your thought was cut off as he suddenly perked up and slipped his hand between the rings and wires on his non-tattooed arm, making the colour drain from your face as his fingers became tangled into place along the more delicate parts at the end. He looked fascinated as he moved and flexed his hand, turning it this was and that to get a proper look, circling his wrist as you began to hyper-ventilate slightly.

"I thought I recognised some of this.... Is this a springlock?" He asked, perfectly calm as he flexed and checked movement for a moment more before disconnecting from the framework easily. Your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at the mechanical suit arm on the desk, wondering what had just happened.

"I think.. you may have failed the shop safety tests for different reasons." Breathing heavy as your hands snatched it up again, performing a quick safety check before placing it down again. Running a hand over your hair and feeling your hands tremble slightly. "And..yeah... it's a springlock design, V2.4 currently...Holy shit you just..."

William chuckled and showed off his arm under the light, brushing some of the coarse dark hair on his forearm so that you could make out the deep, pale scars that ran up the skin that you hadn't noticed before. Eyes widening as you showed off the same arm, your own matching scars more pink than his, from your own springlock incident three months previous during your first testing phase.

"I'm very familiar with them, as you can see. But I'm very impressed! If type I'm familiar with had been handled that roughly, I would have had myself a few more scars and a nice trip to the emergency room." He chuckled, smiling brightly, offering his large calloused hand for you to cautiously shake.

"I never introduced myself. I'm William, William Afton."

Your jaw dropped as you felt your grip on the handshake faulter. Brain turning over the name over and over again as you struggled to comprehend who was sat across from you.

"Y-You're...Oh my god you're...you're actually him aren't you?" Breathing hitched as you watched the smirk on his face reappear at your realisation, nodding slowly and releasing your softer hand to watch them cover your face as you groaned into your palms. "I've been insulting William Afton...I...Shit I've insulted you." Feeling as if the earth could swallow you up and consume you would be a preferable option to meeting your hero and having him look at your work.

"I thought it was quite cute actually. You're such a baby punk...Hmm..There's got to be a better name for that.. Bunny punk? Yeah, bunny punk, you're all soft and cute, stamping your foot like a little bunny rabbit and trying to appear tough." Your reddening cheeks almost becoming their own heat source as he smirked at you, resting his chin against his hand as he glanced over you again.

"I'm not...I'm not a 'bunny punk', Mr. Afton." Your cheeks burned as he sucked on his teeth for a moment, looking you over before he grinned again, your chest sent fluttering as that smile seemed to radiate confidence and an almost predatory nature to it.

"You're very right young lady...You're just a little bunny aren't you? I think that's what I'll call you, bunny." his smile broke and he stuck his tongue out at you, making your body ache slightly as you realised he had a silver stud on his tongue, such a cute nickname combined with your idol sat across from you looking all too hot with his piercings in flustering you all the more.

"Sir, I-"

"Wow, that's something usually only my employees or pretty ladies in bed call me. You're bold aren't you, bunny?" William couldn't hold back the teasing as you grew increasingly flustered, cheeks burning up and the flush spreading down to your collarbones. The way your shoulders curled in allowing him to see a dark mark against your shoulder blade, piquing his interest more as he stood up, walking behind you and his large hand resting on your back, feeling how you tensed up as he studied the lines of the tattoo against your skin.

"You were right, I really had no idea what was hiding under that hoodie of yours." Chuckling as he felt the goose bumps along your skin forming under his finger. He swore he could almost feel how quickly your heart beat inside your chest as he placed his hand between your shoulders. "But-" he pulled his hand away and leaned onto the desk next to you, forcing you to turn your head up and look at him. Lips parted softly, making him ache at how deliciously under-prepared for him you looked. Wondering how far he would be able to push the flirting and the teasing before you ran from him.

"Mr. Afton, I... I have admired your work for a very long time." The words were slow to fall from your lips, trying to force yourself to be polite and ignore the part of your brain that was screaming in delight at how he touched your back, how your celebrity crush flirted with you and made you feel special.

It wasn't helpful that your brain kept suggesting to you how that lip and tongue piercing would feel kissing you, or running against another pair of lips that desperately wanted attenton.

"I used to go to Freddy's when I was little. That's when I fell in love with robotics honestly." You breathed, watching his expression turn to surprise as his eyebrows raised, watching the way the eyebrow piercing caught the light before you turned your eyes to his tattoos. Finally seeing the design on the inside of his arm was a knife, mixed into the biomechanical designs that dominated the arm. "I think I met you once back then, although I don't think you had any piercings."

"I took them out in the restaurant, well, apart from a couple more....private...ones." He smiled, listening to you talk as he felt his body aching more as you stroked his ego. He might have been many things, but able to resist somebody offering him praise and idolisation wasn't one of them. "Go on, bunny."

"I found an article about the springlocks, and the designs were just..beautiful. The engineering? The design? How such complex machinery could be fitted into such a small space, it was entrancing." Feeling your heart beating faster as his grey eyes focused on you intensely, shuddering under his intensity. "So I wanted to continue the project. I was..I guess I was hoping you were still into engineering and I hoped that I could maybe recreate the spring-bonnie suit that I loved so much." Nervous babbling coming to an end as he gazed at you, a grin spreading up his face as he looked down at you.

"Spring-bonnie was my suit in particular actually." The fact made your heart only pound faster, flustering yourself all over again that you didn't know such a simple fact. All those chaotic thoughts pausing as he raised his hand and caught your chin, forcing you to look at him as he ran his tongue against his lip. "You did all this work, for me?"

"Y-Yes sir."

"What a good girl you are. Would you like a reward?" William's voice was calm and controlled, but inside he was feeling a little feral. Such a cute thing having devoted her entire career to following his work, recreating the work she loved, wanting to gift it back to him. It stoked a dark, hungry fire in him and suddenly he was back in college himself, the punk that made ladies swoon as he bit his piercing at them, with all the charm and suave that age had brought him.

The tiny nod of your head was all he needed to lean in, his lips brushing yours, barely ghosting them before they met yours fully. A soft squeak escaping you as it caught you slightly by surprise. The cold metal of his lip ring down the centre line of your lip contrasting to how hot he felt against your lips. Moving together slowly at first before your tongue ran across his lip and William growled deeply in his chest, parting his lips and pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand moving to the back of your head and pressing you into it, allowing him to dominate your mouth, the feeling of his stud meeting your tongue sending shivers down your spine.

Finally the kiss broke, leaving you breathless, a silver strand of saliva connecting your lips before William licked his lips and broke it. Grinning widely at you, you swore his eyes almost looked black in the lights of the workshop before he handed your hoodie back to you, making you pause for a moment in confusion, perhaps a little hurt before he spoke.

"You're going to put that back on, bunny. We're going to grab our stuff, and then we're going to go to your dorm or where-ever the fuck your bed is. I think you deserve an extra special thank you for being such a dedicated volunteer tonight." The words made you light up, nodding enthusiastically, throwing on your hoodie and allowing him to stuff some of the snacks and drinks back into your pockets, more opening shivering as his thick fingers brushed against you through the fabric. Swallowing softly as he also picked up the springlock arm and cradled it in his hands with a grin as you raised a curious eyebrow.

"Come on then, bunny. Lead the way." Letting you lead the way out of the workshop and locking up behind yourself before he followed shortly behind you, watching the way your body moved hungrily as he imagined stripping you bare for him and considered how pretty you might look naked in his own workshop.

#william afton #springtrap #steve raglan #william afton x reader #fnaf movie #steve raglan x reader #springtrap x reader #william afton smut #william afton x you #fnaf x reader #punk!william #punk!afton

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maryhadalittlehobby · 1 month

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Recap of IWTV Screening and Conversation at 92stY

(Please dont repost/reupload my pics or vids from here or IG anywhere else. Sharing/linkinh is ok. Thanks!)

I started the day with a fang gang meetup hosted by Black Girl Talks Fangs. The restaurant was cute and the food great. I'm not a big wine drinker but got a blood red Chateau in honor of the occasion. After, we headed over to the event space.

In my experience attending different events there, the actors typically come in just before the event starts or a few minutes into the screening.

In this case- it was both.

Eric strolled up super casual and had a convo with myself and a few other fans asking if we had read the books and what we were looking forward to. He gave a parting message that the season is amazing and he is not just saying that because he is part of it. I believe him. He was super personable and down to earth.

Delainey arrived next and again kind and generous with her time. She has a very chill energy. Her outfit was more casual this day but I thought chic and the face card never declines. Her makeup artist does her right! And can we talk about that sleek ass ponytail

She complimented my cosplay and said she thinks my beret might be the screen accurate one!

She asked to touch it and said mine was softer!

She also said Carol Cutshall gifted her the beret so she owns Claudia's.

I put this cosplay together in 3 weeks which is barely enough time. Thankfully I had the idea knocking around since October when we first saw this fit in the trailer that dropped at NYCC 23.

Myself and a few fans waited till about 15 minutes into the start of the screening before we gave up on waiting for Jam Reiderson.

While running to the screening I nearly literally ran into Rolin. I asked for a quick pic which he obliged.

The episode was amazing. Very much on par of season 1 so far. Can't wait to see the full thing. Delainey fit into Claudia seamlessly.

The panel itself was great as well. I have a few vids in my IWTV highlight on IG and a few others in an upcoming youtube video I will make AFTER the episode drops. There are some spoiler bits plus 92Y is dropping the full panel too after the ep airs.

Highlights include watching Jam Reiderson literally communicate telepathically- what was the fun on set story?!

Sam slapping Jacobs' lower inner thigh in front of god (Rolin) and everyone.

Working together is like putting on an old glove. An old sock?! Lol what. 'Is that dirty?'

Assad trauma dumping on main. "Armands lost...like me." "I'm intimidated by the cast" Sir please!

Assad also being spicy saying he thinks Armands memory of Lestat is pretty accurate. Drag him king😄

Delainey and Jacob gushing about how they immediately bonded and established their father/daughter/sibling vibes.

Eric calling Jam puppies and Jacob saying "I'm a grown man a parent"lol Sir you are a baby girl as evidenced by

Rolin saying that's a book and this is a show. To me that said was book lovers have the book and you always will but this is a new thing that respects the source but isn't tied down to every single detail.

Then Sam saying there are contradictions even within the series. Please lets talk about it.

And I love this new narrative everyone is spinning, even Sam, who seemed to be in the Lestat is right and Louis is lying boat last press go round. Now everyone is saying there is no right and wrong or truth and lies-the story is told by different people with different perspectives and that's all. Which yes! that's ALWAYS how I saw it! Just because Lestat became the main character and most favored doesn't mean he is infallible.

Jacob and that plushie. Who would have imagined he'd love it so much. Another fan was coming with their Lestat. I don't know if they had intentions of giving it to Sam but sadly they didn't make it.

After the panel I went back to the spot and aimed to get Jacobs signature on my Street of Immortality print which I managed.

I would have loved to get Sam's to but I also wanted to give other fans the chance to get photos and autos. I was already so lucky.

They signed for a loooong time. So long I thought our side wouldnt have a chance or only a few people would. Turns out fans were conducting mini interviews with them lol Someone needs to collect all the questions and answers.

Also they are the smallest cast you've ever seem. Pocketbsized. Everyone one of them is so unassuming.

Overall I had a super good time. The audience vibes were immaculate. The person beside me during the screening/panel was losing their shit then apologizing. But honestly I was here for it lol

Also you could 100% tell it was an audience full of the online fandom.

I ended the night checking out the Time Square ad. It was awesome to see our vamps represented. Hopefully we get a ton of new fans from all the amazing marketing this year.

#vampchella #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc iwtv s2 premiere #amc iwtv x 92sty #92st y #amc iwtv 92st y screening #IWTV 92stY screening and conversation #nyc #jacob anderson #delainey hayles #assad zaman #sam reid #rolin jones #eric bogosian #iwtv cast #iwtv cast and crew

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1d1195 · 7 months

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Love and Dryer Sheets V

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

The good news if you're still liking this story: we're gonna squeeze one more part out of this series. Hope you're still enjoying. Thank you for reading.

~7.5k words (she's a bit longer. Got a lot going on and I think she gets kinda messy like all the relationships here.)

Warnings: angst, toxic relationships, maybe a little fluff.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

She didn’t tell Niall about the kiss. She thought it wouldn’t do any good at all. Especially because Niall would threaten to kill Harry and she wasn’t fully sure he even knew how to make a fist. Plus, with his impending year-long move, it seemed like too much to put on his plate at the time.

But when he eventually found out, she imagined he would be pretty mad at her. So, it took her a really long time to decide not to tell him. Especially while they were spending practically every waking moment together. Fortunately, that allowed her to refrain from think about Harry for seven days straight.

Or...more so... not think about him that much. With eyes the color of muted emeralds it was like her mind was on a yellow brick road right back to him whenever she had a moment of time to think about something other than her unending heartbreak.

She was careful to rearrange her laundry schedule so as not to run into him. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Once she saw him coming in from the rainy wind and she darted into the mail room just to avoid him. It was childish and stupid, running from him like that. But she couldn’t help it. Seeing him would make her cave.

But you want to be friends with him. Her heart reminded her.

I don’t care, she responded internally.

Even I know that’s a lie, her brain grumbled in response.

Work provided her great distraction as well. Sad, of course— because what else was supposed to happen in her life these days? —but it was a distraction, nonetheless. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead looking over her schedule for the next day, thinking about what needed to be accomplished, what activities she needed to print in the morning, and priorities she needed to complete.

She really needed to go grocery shopping.

She had spent most of her last nights with Niall eating out or getting takeaway while they packed his stuff. He was subletting to a friend for the year. Mostly to hold his place. The Missus would be traveling overseas to be with Niall by the end of next month, which was extremely exciting for their relationship. “Looks like I’ll be all by myself at thirty-five,” she joked in with him labeling cardboard boxes as kitchen.

Niall smirked. “M’sure I can convince her that we can be a throuple,” he winked at her.

“Sorry Ni, I hate sharing,” she smirked knowing the idea was truer than he would know for a while. She planned on telling him within the first couple of months—once he was a little settled and she was surely over it.

Plus, she wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t come flying back before he unpacked.

But Niall was officially in flight. She was watching her phone making sure his flight didn’t suddenly fall off the radar or that it didn’t indicate it was exploding mid-flight. He was going to call her as soon as he landed. She was third on the list after his girlfriend and mother and was not to panic unless it approached an hour of waiting for his call. Those were her instructions.

Timing her grocery shopping was exactly what she needed at that moment.

If she had gotten the parking spot she wanted, it might not have happened. If Niall had called two seconds earlier, she would have been answering her phone outside instead of in the lobby. She would have been in the elevator. Or she would have stopped for the mail and wouldn’t have been juggling the bags and her phone.

But instead, everything happened at once. She wanted to ensure Niall was there safely, so she struggled to answer her phone with the groceries attached to her arms.

“Hey, Ni! How was your—”

Before she could finish her question, the phone was knocked from her hands almost violently along with the bags of groceries she was carrying. Naturally it contained her eggs. She stumbled a bit nearly sliding ungraciously in the cracked egg mixture on the floor. Her phone skittered across the floor near the entry way to the mail cubby’s.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” it was the beautiful woman who felt she was in the way in the mail space back when she first moved in. She was just as beautiful as the last time she ran into her. Her hair was long and flowing, her eyelashes would make an angel jealous, if she smiled—and she realized it seemed like it would take an act of God to get her to smile—she imagined she had perfect teeth that were hidden behind her pretty full lips.

She scrambled to get to her feet, her leggings getting egg yolk on them. Thank God she bought paper towels as well.

“Ava! What the fuck?”

It was pathetic that she knew Harry’s voice without looking. She was struggling to get the paper towels out of the plastic. She could hear Niall calling from her phone a few feet away from the mess as she struggled to get her items that weren’t broken back into the bags. She desperately wanted to answer Niall, but she was practically mute. “She was in the way!”

“Ava!” Harry hissed.

“For God’s sake Harry. You’re always worried about everyone else around us but me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Harry turned from Ava to glare at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat feeling like she had done something bad. It was the first time she had seen Harry in a week, and he looked...

Exhausted.

She wished she could ask him a thousand questions because even though she felt terrible about what she had done, she missed Harry more than she could ever describe. Niall was no longer yelling. She wondered if he hung up. At least she knew he was alive. Hopefully he wasn’t boarding a plane right back.

“I’ll be right out,” Harry snapped as Ava rolled her eyes and headed out the door. It could only have been a total of two minutes, but it felt like hours between the moment Ava bumped into her and the present. It felt like a front of cold air left the room the moment Ava exited. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief—almost the same one that Harry released as she left.

The room was silent. She heard Niall calling from her phone again and she finally grabbed it, trying not to get more egg yolk on her hands and none in her hair if she could help it.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, his voice hitching nervously.

“Niall, I’m so sorry. I’ll call you back in like...half an hour,” she whispered.

“Are you telling me that the Wicked Witch of the West is Harry’s girlfriend? I cannot believe you apologize to her,” he spoke without answering her statement. “No wonder he spends all his time doing laun—”

She hung up before he could say anymore just in case Harry could hear. She hadn’t mentioned the break they had embarked upon to Niall. If he said anything, she could easily say that his move had monopolized the entire week and it worked because she found out he had a girlfriend. She just wouldn’t say how she found out he had a girlfriend.

Of course, someone as beautiful as Ava would be with someone like Harry. Someone equally beautiful. They would make gorgeous children. Take the most perfect pictures. It made sense that the pair of them would be in a relationship.

Except Harry is nice and she is wicked. The voice in her head and her heart agreed.

“Christ, love. M’sorry,” he whispered softly.

It was the first time they had spoken since she told him they couldn’t see each other for a while. That they couldn’t be friends. His voice was so gentle and warm. She couldn’t believe that in just over a week she craved hearing it. It felt like she was basking in the sun. But she shouldn’t have been thinking like that. It was also...jarring...to hear the difference in his tone between how he had spoken to Ava compared to how he was speaking to her.

“It’s okay,” she murmured finally getting a swath of paper towels to clean up the mess. “I was in the way.”

Harry knelt beside her pulling the roll of paper towels from her hands with an exasperated sigh, leaving his lips again as he started to help clean up. “Y’weren’t, though,” he mumbled.

She shrugged trying to ignore the crazy beat of her heart being so close to him again. It was just a week, but it felt like years since she had seen him, but also like no time had passed at all. As if they hadn’t stopped speaking and this was nearly normal.

“You don’t have to help,” she said. “I’m sure she’s waiting.”

“She can wait,” he grumbled.

“Harry.”

“I’ll get y’some eggs while we’re out,” he promised.

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her cheeks warming.

“Yes, it is, I would buy y’some new leggings too if—”

“I’ll just wash them, seriously.”

They were quiet. Harry grabbed the trash can that was over by the elevator and dumped the paper towels in. They cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. But she could tell from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t apologizing for just the spill.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He sighed the frustration evident on his face, in his body language, and in the way he was breathing. “Harry,” she whispered quietly pressing a hand to his arm. “It’s alright,” she promised. It was ridiculous she was comforting him. She doesn’t even know how Ava bumped into her. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t like how guilty Harry felt. He looked at her hand on his arm for a moment and she pulled it away after a gentle, comforting squeeze. “You should go,” she smiled gently at him. A slight wrinkle of her cute nose.

“M’really sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s just eggs,” she shrugged. “It’s okay.”

He nodded. They both knew it was more than eggs. It was kissing in the laundry room behind Ava’s back. No matter how wicked she seemed, it wasn’t okay.

Even if she’s the worst? Her heart asked internally.

I’m on your side this time. Her brain answered.

She ignored them both. “M’sorry,” he repeated. “See you around...I guess,” he murmured. Just like before.

Her heart felt a pang of sadness course through her and she watched him exit, glancing back just once to give her a tired wave. She felt tired, too. Tired of hiding her emotions and tired of missing Harry.

But that would have to wait because she really wanted to get out of her clothes covered in egg yolks.

“I can’t believe you apologized.”

Niall’s face was backlit by the dark evening of his surroundings. His new place was sparse since none of his stuff had arrived yet. But somehow his move was overshadowed by the insanity that took place that afternoon.

“I don’t know, Ni...” she sighed.

“I...I don’t think you should count Harry out yet... Obviously, he’s doing laundry because he’s miserable.”

“That’s not an excuse for flirting,” she grumbled. Maybe Niall wouldn’t be upset with Harry when she told him.

“No of course not, princess. But like...” he sighed. “That girl is a witch. I wasn’t kidding...I can see why he would want to flirt with someone pretty and nice like you.”

She felt her face warm at Niall’s assessment when there was a knock on her door. “Hang on.”

“The theme for today.”

She went to the door just in time to see the elevator closing. On the floor mat was a paper bag. A frowny face was drawn in black marker. She felt her heart flutter already knowing what was inside the bag. She opened it anyway. There she found a dozen eggs beneath a pair of folded leggings with the tag intact and a receipt. She sighed looking at the elevator already long gone.

She returned to her phone call. “S’that Harry?” Niall asked.

“Probably,” she muttered.

“Probably?”

“He left a bag of eggs. And a new pair of leggings.”

“Wow, he guessed your clothing size. He must be in love with you.”

She shook her head wishing what he said was true. “Niall, stop.”

He sighed. “I miss you already, darling.”

She smiled weakly. “I miss you too.”

“You should come visit before the year’s out. Show you around my old neighborhood.”

She nodded, wishing she could hug her best friend right then, through the phone screen. “I’d like that.”

“Have a good rest of your day, princess.”

It was a public space. Unavoidable. They were definitely going to run into each other. It was a matter of when not if. When Harry arrived, a full basket on his hip, he turned at the sight of her. The hammering of her heart didn’t stop her from sighing deeply.

“Wait...It’s a free country,” she mumbled and shrugged her assent. No use in monopolizing communal space. She was an adult and could handle the pair of them doing laundry at the same time. As long as she didn’t think about his mouth and how it tasted like mint gum and heaven.

Hesitantly, he picked a different washer than he normally did, a few spaces down from her rather than across from her. They didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. Her heart rate felt like it was a hummingbird’s wing. It felt so warm in the laundry room.

Talk to him! Her heart was whispering.

Do not talk to him. Her brain protested.

She was fortunate the laundry covered her awkward huff of laughter listening to the battle she was feeling internally. Harry didn’t seem to register it. Maybe they would just never speak again.

It seemed like that would be the case as far as she could tell. She had lost count how many times they had sat silently reading and waiting for their laundry loads to finish.

Harry was once more in the laundry room at the same time as her. She essentially ignored his presence for the sake of her heart and mind. Although, she felt her heart would be grateful if she started talking to him again. It had been two weeks since the eggs incident. Three weeks since they agreed to not see each other anymore.

The only chattering interaction they had was a few days ago when Harry obviously forgot laundry detergent after he had thrown all his stuff into the washer. Naturally, the little dispensary was empty, again. Unlike the last time he checked it, he didn’t punch the side of the machine. Instead, he just sighed heavily, grumbling to himself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

“Oh...thanks, love.”

She wondered if Harry felt the spark of electricity that pierced her skin when Harry’s hand touched hers grabbing the jug from her.

He did.

“You probably think m’an idiot.”

She was literally trying to reach into the dryer to grab the sock that had clung with static to the back of the machine when she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she heard him. There was no denying how excited she was to hear his voice. She pulled herself out of the machine and turned to him. “What?” She asked her eyebrows pinching together. It was a weird way to enter a room, let alone start a conversation. Especially after what she would have to call a breakup for lack of a better term.

“For being with someone like Ava,” he started to pace along the length of the machines. He ran his hands through his hair making a mess of the curls. She thought her heart might break. She had experienced this kind of frustration firsthand. “Everyone says it. That they think m’stupid. That she’s awful and I should ‘ve broken up with her ages ago...” he mumbled. She frowned. “But...we’ve been together for s’long and—"

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she interrupted quickly. Her voice was even, and he nearly bumped into the back wall as he spun to look at her. She was holding a pair of sweatpants in her hands, but she was making specific, intense eye contact with Harry. Even if she shouldn’t be talking to him. She didn’t want him to think that she thought poorly of him.

“Y’don’t?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s no one’s business but yours and Ava’s,” her name tasted bad in her mouth, but she knew it was because it was coated with jealousy. She didn’t have to like Ava, but that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t. Harry also liked her. It seemed pretty obvious. She can’t imagine him not liking her and nearly ruining his relationship with Ava. She knew she was different than Ava. Maybe she was willing to believe that Harry saw good in people. She did the same thing. It would be hypocritical of her to not understand Harry’s plight when she suffered from the very same thing for nearly three years as well.

He stopped pacing and moved to his regular washer. He perched on top and watched her fold her laundry for a few moments. It was like before he ruined everything with a kiss. He wished he had listened to the little voice in his head all those months leading up to the kiss. Of course, it was right. Of course. She didn’t pay mind to Harry sitting there.

“Can we be friends?” He asked quietly. “Please?”

Niall had left for a year. Her family didn’t really live all that close. Her coworkers, while great people, were work friends. Everyone she worked with dealt with very sensitive cases and that had a lot of emotion. If they saw each other outside of work, she worried it would carry over too heavily, all that weighty emotion.

She could really use a friend.

But she wasn’t sure Harry wasn’t the right friend. She messed up, even though Harry had owned up to the mistake. She was part of it, and she worried that if she was friends with Harry, it would be a slippery slope to fall for someone she shouldn’t.

“I promise I won’t kiss y’again,” he murmured. As if he had read her mind. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mistakes happen,” she shrugged. “I just don’t—”

“Sunshine,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. But it wasn’t a mistake. I shouldn’t have called it that. Kissing you was like...breathing fresh air for the first time in...years.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could do something about it. “You can’t stay stuff like that.”

There was an antagonizing pause while he thought this over. “I won’t bring it up again,” he promised.

There’s no harm in being friends. Her heart was whispering to her. You’re a great friend.

She looked at him for the first time, head on. He was already looking at her. His pretty green eyes. She knew his pretty pink lips were soft and warm. She knew his skin was warm too. Her heart skipped a beat. “We can be friends,” she said softly.

He sighed with relief and hurried over to wrap his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly. “Missed y’so much,” he mumbled into her hair.

Oh, this was a mistake. The voice in her head tutted.

Let it happen. I miss Niall. Her heart reminded the voice in response.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and dropped the pair of socks she had in her hands on the floor so she could hug him back. Please don’t let this be a mistake.

They resumed their reading and chatting relationship as if the few weeks spent not talking hadn’t happened. Harry watched her fold laundry as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. It didn’t help that he thought she was the most amazing thing in the world.

You need to relax.His conscience was back, analyzing his every movement and every word he spoke to the pretty girl.

I have a handle on it. He thought back to the little voice. It was just the laundry room. At most it was an hour of a day that they spent chatting together. Or even not chatting when they had books.

“How’s work been?” He asked, trying to fill the silence for a moment.

He also wanted to fill the silence so he wouldn’t hug her again. He refrained from touching her after that because it felt so right and good. It made him feel whole. So maybe, Harry refrained from it. She seemed to have no problem compartmentalizing the moment that nearly ruined their friendship.

Which would have been a travesty because she was a really good friend. “It’s good. One of my patients got some good news so we’ve been navigating that, and it’s been really exciting because they’ve been dealing with struggles for a super long time,” she explained.

“That’s great,” he smiled. It felt nice to talk to her again. He was glad she was doing okay.

Harry was doing alright too. Work was normal and good. But he and Ava seemed to be fighting less and less. Which was great for his anger and his psyche. It allowed him to think about how he shouldn’t have kissed this lovely girl too. Even if he couldn’t tell her that.

Harry wasn’t intentionally mean-spirited. So, he didn’t bring up Ava unless she inquired.

“Can I ask a question that’s been bugging me?” She asked. He nodded. He was an open book with her. He had to be now. “Did you tell her?”

It was no use lying, but Harry kind of wanted to lie to her. He shook his head. “No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that Harry didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to be a thing. “Are you...going to?”

He shook his head silently. He knew that was wrong. Of course, he should have told Ava. But what good would come from it? Telling her that she made him miserable. Especially when they had been getting along better than they had in months...maybe even years.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“I know, love. I know...s’jus’—”

“I’m not judging you, I’m sure you have a reason. I don’t have to know it, but...I think it will eat at you,” she reminded him. “I didn’t tell my ex-boyfriend I wanted out of our relationship for over a year, and it made me...a mess,” she explained. “I know it’s hard, I just don’t want you to...be a mess.”

“Little late for that,” he muttered.

She giggled lightly. Harry thought it sounded like angels singing. “I won’t bring it up again,” she shrugged. “Your secret is safe with me, that’s for sure.”

“I imagine Niall wants t’kill me.” The silence was deafening as she ignored the insinuation that she told Niall about it. “Oh?” He smirked in surprise. “Y’don’t gossip over who y’kiss?”

She shook her head. “No... Niall...Niall moved for the year—maybe longer, for work. Overseas. I didn’t want to add more to his plate... and no: I didn’t want him to kill you. Not sure he would know how.”

“Oh, Sunshine. M’sorry,” he frowned. Losing her best friend for a while must have been really hard. He hadn’t spoke to her in three weeks and it felt like death. He had only known her a short while and she had known Niall almost half her life. “When did that happen?”

She smirked. “Uh...the day we stopped talking.” Harry took a moment to process that, and his frown deepened. He knew how sad that day was for him. But he would never forget the tears she shed and the way she looked so upset. Add losing her best friend? The poor thing. Harry’s heart broke all over again. “I do want to tell him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t blame you.”

It was surreal to talk about it as if it had happened but also didn’t happen at the same time. He thought her brain was much too kind. Letting Harry keep secrets. “How...how is Ava?”

He snorted. “Sunshine, y’don’t have t’do that. M’sure s’hard...I mean I feel—”

“No,” she shook her head tamping down the jealousy that felt like hot air rising from her chest and out of her mouth. “No, this is what friends do. They ask about their friends’ significant others.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah...um...s’good. We’ve been arguing less.”

“That’s great!” But her heart felt like it was severing in half.

“I don’t know what causes the arguments sometimes. Contrary t’some of m’actions...m’a pretty smart guy,” he shrugged. She smiled sweetly at his insult toward himself thinking it was adorable. At least he knew he was an idiot. “S’weird though. I feel like she doesn’t like me the way she used to. But s’like we’re...stuck.”

She nodded. “Well...in my last relationship, I felt like I was stuck for over a year and I just...I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I hit rock bottom, though. Niall had to get me out.”

There was a huge pause. She went back to reading her book. This wasn’t unusual for their conversations. Harry needed time to process, think about what he wanted to say. But he was thinking about this past relationship of hers. In the three or so times she had spoken about it... it didn’t sound like something the embodiment of sunshine should have had to endure. Someone that liked a children’s fairy tale as much as she did, didn’t deserve a crummy relationship. Or a crummy guy like Harry kissing her out of nowhere. “S’horrible of me t’talk ‘bout this t’you,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I did a whole round of clinical counseling on relationships. I’m actually probably the best person to talk about this to,” she smiled behind her book. Her eyes glinted with excitement, like she knew it was torturing Harry a bit.

Good for her. His little voice muttered.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Friends talk about their relationships,” she nodded. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I would tell you if I was uncomfortable.”

Harry wanted to tell her he was uncomfortable not kissing her and not holding her right this very second. He knew it was wrong and he was glad that she couldn’t read his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t fair to Ava either. Ava was making serious efforts to be nicer. It was...bizarre.

Explore that. Harry’s heart suggested.

“Listen,” she sighed. “Do you want to break up with her?”

Harry frowned and looked at his lap. He couldn’t look at her when talked about this. No matter how okay she said it was. He shook his head.

He didn’t. He didn’t want people to say I told you so. He didn’t want to think about all the time that he had wasted. But it wasn’t a waste, right? It was good for a while. Even still had good in it, sometimes. Sparingly. Was that a reason to stay? To prove to people it was okay? That he was okay? For the few good times they had together anymore, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But he couldn’t bring himself to think differently.

“Then you’ll make it work,” she shrugged. “If and when you want to break up, that’s when you’ll know.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t speak again for a while. They enjoyed their books. “Y’said your parents don’t love each other,” he murmured randomly.

She nodded sullenly. “I feel that way. I would imagine they do... but it’s hard to see as an outsider.”

Harry thought he knew exactly what that looked like. “Do you want them t’get divorced?” He asked.

She put her book in her lap and looked at the ceiling in thought. She tilted her head to the left and right contemplating such a loaded question. It seemed obvious. Of course, she did. They were miserable together.

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I do...or...I do but... I think I would be really sad if they did. It’s kind of selfish of me. But you know... they have a complicated relationship. They’ve been together for a lot longer than I’ve been alive... I don’t know everything about them. Who knows,” she shrugged. “I think their love language is fighting. That’s all.”

More silence.

When her washer went off and she was switching over to the dryer, Harry thought about kissing her again. Just to make the hurt in her life go away. Even for a minute. She deserved that. “Do you have a fried cauliflower recipe?” She asked.

He looked up and smirked. “Y’gonna be a big girl and try something new?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. M’trying something new all the time these days.”

Being friends was a dream. Even if their friendship didn’t leave the laundry room. She gave great advice. Even better recipes. Fantastic book recommendations. She even had good recommendations to things in town that Harry hadn’t tried yet. He had no idea there was a mom-and-pop bookstore just two streets over. The late night café had delicious coffee and peppermint hot chocolate.

It was easy to be friends. There was no arguing. Not real arguing. They still argued about her ten-year-old taste buds and his failure to see why Andrew Garfield was better. Their debates while meaningless (she had joked that she was coming up with weird debates for her patients to relieve the seriousness of their situations—so now she had to live with the knowledge that Harry thought cereal was a soup), were fun. It was fun hanging out with her. Not arguing over socks or keys. Or whether they were arguing too much.

She tossed her last pair of socks in her basket with a giggling sigh. They had just finished a fit of laughter after impersonating one of the jokes she heard on a late night talk show. “Okay, well, see you soon. Let me know how you like the bakery.”

He nodded. Biting the inside of his lip. “Hey Sunshine,” he called softly just as she hit the threshold of the room.

“Yeah?” She turned back. She didn’t like the way her stomach flipped over his nicknames but it seemed that her protests wouldn’t stop him. She just had to hope Harry called everyone nicknames. Maybe he called everyone Sunshine and kitten.

But she kind of hoped he didn’t either.

“Thanks for being my friend,” his voice was almost apologetic, like he knew it was hard for her. It was. But she liked to believe she was good at hiding it. But after spending so much time with Harry, it was hard to let him go. He was a really good friend.

“Yeah, of course, Harry,” she smiled softly.

“I miss when y’called me munchkin, kitten,” he frowned looking down at his lap.

She released a long sigh, wishing she could get those days back. “Yeah...” she sighed. “I miss it too.”

Harry and Ava fought less, that much was obvious. But granted, if they had one less fight in one day per week, that would have been less than what they had before. However, this was a little more substantial. Ava was snuggling up to Harry again at night and sharing the remote. They watched shows together and laughed. It felt like before...before they fought all the time.

But it was...weird. It wasn’t something Harry could put his finger on. It was just something he felt. Like something wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind—the conscience that was so adamantly against the sweet girl in the laundry room was silent about the weird feeling Harry had in the pit of his stomach.

It was while Ava slept that he thought about it most. It wasn’t good but the privacy of his own thoughts had to be better than the physical alternative. He thought of that kiss and how perfect it felt. He imagined it a thousand times over. Harry never even thought about how it was nice—it was so intertwined with how wrong it was he didn’t get a chance to think of it as...perfect.

Why do you want to be in this relationship? His heart asked.

Tell. Ava. His conscience begged.

Harry didn’t see the point. They just got back to a good place. He was friends with the sweet girl. Things were going well.

Too well.

Again, they were fighting less. They still had arguments that devolved into a thousand other little arguments frequently enough that they should have called it quits anyway—or at least their neighbors should have said something. He guessed that the carpeting and soundproofing must have been much better than he gave it credit for.

But there were some things they would always fight over.

Harry never put the kitchen towel back on the oven handle, Ava was the first one to say something needed to be vacuumed but never did, and that Ava was still keeping Harry away from her friends, coworkers, and even her family.

Right now, Ava was headed out to a night with friends. But she let it slip that one of the other’s significant others would be there. “Y’want me to come along?” He asked. Her hesitation was all the answer that Harry needed. He chuckled dryly. “Great, y’don’t want me there. Fine.”

“It’s not that deep, Harry,” she rolled her eyes, she slid her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.

Harry stood in front of the door. “Why don’t y’want me there?” He asked shaking his head in exasperation.

“Because I don’t want to fight in public, Harry. It’s embarrassing.”

“We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t trust us not to. Look we’re fighting now.”

“Because you’re embarrassed by me!”

“I am not! I’m embarrassed by us!”

“Y’don’t want t’be seen with me Ava,” he said listing off the offenses by counting on his fingers. “Ever. Y’don’t take me t’your work parties, y’don’t want t’go out, y’don’t even take me t’your family anymore. Y’don’t want t’go anywhere with me,” he shook his head. “I don’t get it, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Her voice was practically hysterical. “I just want to do things by myself!”

“We never do anything together anymore!”

“Yes, we do!”

“No, we stay at home. You don’t want to go out you don’t want anyone t’see us!”

“I don’t trust us not to argue—”

But it devolved rapidly. It turned into the same tired fights about cleaning. The backhanded comments she made when Harry wore a shirt she didn’t like anymore. You’re wearing that? Or the way that they just never agreed on home décor or even where the toothpaste belonged (on the left or the right of the sink).

“I can’t find my phone,” she grumbled amidst the argument.

“For the love of God,” Harry sighed. “How do y’consistently lose these things?”

“I don’t mean to!” She frowned. He pulled his phone out to call it. “It’s on silent,” she murmured.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Harry sighed and tossed his phone on the sofa. “Did y’check your coat pockets?” He asked as he started searching under the furniture. “Or your purse?”

“Of course I checked there!”

“Well last time you didn’t check your coat and that’s where y’keys were—”

“Go ahead, call me stupid Harry. I know that’s what you’re trying to say,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at him. Again, Harry was searching through their whole place while she stood there antagonizing him.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ava. I think you’re forgetful and y’need t’put these things in a specific place so you don’t lose them.”

“No, you think I’m stupid.”

“Ava. Do not. Put words in my mouth,” his voice was low and slow as he continued his search. “S’not like y’don’t say backhanded things t’me all the time.”

“Like what?” She snapped.

“Like the whole laundry room makes m’clothes smell bad.”

“You can’t possibly be still on about this! For God’s sake Harry this is exactly why I don’t want to go places together! You hold these grudges and bring them up when it’s convenient for you to—”

If Harry was asked for his thought process, he never would be able to explain it. He was flinging the covers back to their bed. Still searching for her phone. She followed him in the room to continue yelling at him. Then he saw her pull her phone from her purse. The one she assured him was not in her bag. It was simply too much.

“I did something bad,” he blurted. Where did that come from? His conscience must have been excited. The yelling stopped. There was a hum in the air like after an old TV turned off and the picture sizzled off screen.

She grinned wickedly. Harry felt his blood ice over. It was like he already knew what she was going to say. “How pathetic. You fucked someone. Good for you Harry. Honestly.”

“What is the matter with you?” He spat back shaking his head. “I—”

“Well, now I don’t have to feel guilty.”

The ear-piercing silence was as if his ear drums exploded. It was painful to process those words.

Harry stared at her, unblinking. Surely, he misheard her. There was no way she was justifying what Harry said to make herself feel better. He heard her wrong. She wouldn’t do that, there had to be a limit. Their relationship, no matter how difficult it was...it had to be the limit, right?

“I didn’t fuck anybody, Ava.” Whether he wanted to sleep with the pretty girl or not, he didn’t. At the end of the day, he didn’t do it. Thinking about it was wrong. Part of him hoped that if it came down to it, he wouldn’t have. He would never know. There was no telling. But right now, that didn’t matter. He hadn’t done something worse. Divine intervention, clarity, the fucking washing machine timer saved him from having sex. “Did you... fuck somebody else?” The question felt like someone had shoved a handful of rocks into his mouth. It was hard to say out loud.

Ava was no longer beautiful. The scowl on her face made her look nasty. Her nose crooked, her lips curled in a snarl. She was a witch. Plain and simple. The silence was telling. Her lack of a response told him everything he needed to know.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he pressed his hands to his eyes. Exasperated, hurt, heartbroken. Everything. Harry felt everything at that moment.

Holy shit. His conscience agreed with his heart.

“Why would you say you did something bad?!” She practically shrieked. “Who gives a shit about a kiss?!”

“Ava, are y’serious!?” He shouted back. His voice felt raw. The tears pricked behind his eyes. This was bad. So, so, so bad. “It ate me alive!”

“It was a kiss!”

“How. How is this my fault, Ava?!” He shouted. She was silent. Harry rarely reached his full yelling potential. Ever. He knew he was loud—maybe even scary in the right light. So he didn’t like to yell that loud if he could help it. It was rude and he didn’t like the person he was when he yelled like that. But right now...he couldn’t help it. “Y’mad at me because I didn’t sleep with someone else? That I only kissed someone? So that y’can justify fucking someone else behind m’back?” More silence. She simply glared at him. But he watched, her eyes welled with tears. Like she had any reason to take the moral high ground. Not that Harry had much higher ground to stand on, but he hadn’t slept with someone else, at the end of it all. “We’re done,” he shook his head.

Her body deflated. “Harry,” she whimpered. Voice breaking on his name like she had been so faithful and loving for their entire life all and all of sudden it was done; broken in seconds. She reached for Harry and he stepped back shaking his head.

“No, Ava. Done. S’been way longer than it should ‘ve been. We don’t like each other anymore. S’obvious t’anyone but us. This is jus’ proof. We’re done.”

She shook her head quickly, her body looked like it was going to crumple under the weight of ending a long relationship. “But...I love you.”

“No... no, you don’t,” he shook his head, his heart pounding. His throat felt like there were knives dragging along the length of his esophagus. “You don’t fuck someone else when you’re in love.”

Is that why you haven’t slept with Ava in months? His heart wondered in the silence of the room save for the sounds of Ava’s pathetic sniffles.

I’m sorry. The little voice in his head was soft-spoken. Shy and apologetic.

“We’re done, Ava. It’s over.”

It took more screaming of course. Harry had rubbed his eyes raw and red. It was nearly one in the morning when Ava finally left the apartment. She would get the rest of her stuff another day. She didn’t apologize once.

Harry, alone with his horrible thoughts and his sadness, was feeling terrible and broken. Maybe he deserved this just for hurting that sweet sunshiny girl. If that was the case, he thought maybe Ava should have been pregnant with someone else to get the right amount of heartache he deserved for hurting that sweet girl.

He didn’t want to ask how long she slept with someone else. He would get himself tested just in case the following morning. But he hoped Ava had enough sense to use protection. He was shaking with anger and heartache.

There was only one thing he knew that would cure him. One person that could fix it.

The knock jolted her awake on her sofa. She glanced at the clock. Who would come here at one in the morning? She checked her phone for messages and there were none—maybe Niall came back to visit? No, he would have said something. He was a terrible secret keeper. Pausing the movie she was watching, she wrapped her blanket around her as she hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, she frowned, then opened the door.

Harry looked utterly upset. Worse than she had ever seen him. His skin was pale. Even his pretty brown curls lacked life. He looked so...broken.

“Harry,” she whispered softly. She put a hand to her chest. It seemed...sinful for him to look this sad. It wasn’t fair. Even if she wasn’t supposed to love him, she wanted to comfort him. Despite his mishap, he really was quite lovely. “What’s wron—”

“I know... I know I messed up... kissing y’when I shouldn’t ‘ve. I know that... I... I don’t know if I would’ve stopped us...but...she...” he sighed heavily. His voice was scratchy sounding. Like he had a bad cough. She wondered how long they yelled for, the poor thing. She could feel her face fall. She already knew what Harry was going to say. She could see it in his rubbed-red eyes and sullen expression. “She slept with someone else... and I know m’not much better... but... we didn’t... we didn’t do that.”

Her heart broke for him. He was right. She doesn’t know if they would have stopped had Harry not stopped to ask about her picture frame. But they didn’t go further, at the end of it all. They didn’t. Maybe what they did wasn’t right, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

How could she break his heart?

Harry thought she looked so cozy, wrapped in a soft blanket and her hair a little messy from how she was sleeping. Her eyes seemed wider somehow, fresh from her slumber. She was adorable and as sad as Harry was, just seeing her nearly made him smile.

“Oh, munchkin,” she whispered.

There was a little flutter in Harry’s tired, broken heart at the sound of the name “munchkin.”

Finally. His heart and conscience were once more in agreement.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Love and Dryer Sheets: @love-letters-to-uranus

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

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deceasedream69 · 1 month

Text

Museum pt.1

I did it. I finally had the courage to ask her out.

We're going to the museum on Sunday night, it's a date. I can tell she's excited too, I was worried the museum decision was a little... nerd, but I'll guess she'll like it.

We set the time, 6:00 pm, I was going to pick her up but she said she had to do some things before meeting so she'll get there by herself.

It's 6:00 already. My hands are sweating and I can feel this... like, energy flowing through my body, it's making my stomach feel a little heavy, but I'm pretty sure it's excitement.

it's already 6:15 but I'm pretty sure she'll be here anytime, beautiful as always.

After 6:30 I decided to just go home. How could I be so stupid and think that going to a museum was a good idea for a date. I walked inside my apartment, took my shoes off and plopped onto the couch. I was too scared to even call her. I should just wait to see her tomorrow at the office, maybe she had something come up, something so important she couldn't even bother to call.

Y/n's pov

I don't know how long I've been here. I've been punched, spit on, almost drowned and electrocuted. My body felt extremely heavy and sore, my ears and head were killing me and I was cold. I just wanted to go home.

-"hey, princess, ready for another round?"

-"I just want to know why"

-"Is it not obvious yet?"

I just shook my head, slowly, of course.

-"hm, and to think that everyone tells me I look just like my father", he turned around, "or maybe, little miss agent here already forgot about every life she ruined, don't worry, I'll make you remember this day forever", he said pulling me by my hair.

Spencer's pov

I slept very well that night, suprisingly and given the circumstances. I guess crying really makes people tired. I had to put some ice on my eyes to get down the inflammation and redness.

I entered the office, my hands sweating and that feeling in my stomach again. I could do this, tho, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to ask here why she couldn't make it, or why, specially if she lies to my face and I detect it.

The team was already in a meeting when I entered the office, I quickly made my way into the meeting, everyone turning to look at me when I entered. That's when I noticed who was on the screen.

- "I know this might be a tough case for us..." Hotch started.

I sat quickly, I couldn't feel my legs, was this real? Is it my imagination trying to find an excuse for y/n to miss our date last night? Am I having a nightmare?!

- "But we're the ones who'll work the hardest to get to her", Derek said, angry as natural for him.

I wasn't angry, more like confused, sad, angry only at myself for not calling her, trying to reach her or something more than the pathetic "I'll ask her tomorrow" thing I did.

- "it's so sad, I can't even look at the pictures so I didn't put them in the presentation but...' Garcia sniffled... "But you can watch them in your tablets..."

I was too scared to look, although in my case it was a file, but not looking would be too suspicious as well, why wouldn't I look? It's supposed to be my friend, and she needed our help.

With my trembling hands I opened the file slowly, reading the first things, I opened it even more, but no pictures.

- "I couldn't dare to print them either", Garcia said looking at me trying to find the pictures.

The meeting was quick, everyone already assigned to do something different. I haven't looked at the pictures, I'm scared, but I also feel that would be a good way to motivate myself. Regardless, it's a little too late for that now, everyone's busy doing their different tasks, and I should be completing mine, too.

#spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x y/n #criminal minds fic #criminalminds

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copperbadge · 1 month

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Amateur Translation Programs

So I had a lot of imaginative and informative responses to my post about looking for an amateur translation program -- something where I could load in a foreign language and it would insert a box where I could add a translation every-other-line. The idea was that this way I could practice translation with more advanced texts, and texts I chose, and thus move away from Duolingo, which at this point is good for drilling and daily practice but not for more advanced learning.

I didn't find precisely what was needed but I did get some inspiration for further explanation, and I also learned that adding the term "glossing" (thank you @thewalrus-said) into my searches helped a great deal in terms of weeding out programs that were either "Let this AI translate for you" or just endless promotional links for Babbel and Duolingo and such. I thought I'd collect up the suggestions and post them here; at the end I'm including my best swing at designing what I wanted, and why it doesn't work yet.

Suggestion one, from many people, was various ways to generate a page that is simply fixed Italian text with space underneath each line to add in a translation. This is pretty simple as a process and there are sites that will do it for you, such as this one that @ame-kage suggested. However, most of these don't allow for movement in the Italian text, and many produce a PDF which you would need to print out in order to write on unless you're willing to open it in Acrobat (and deal with Acrobat). A good solution for some but not what I'm looking for purely because I'm trying to make this super frictionless so that (knowing myself as I do) I will actually do it.

I did find this version interesting, suggested by @drivemetogeek: Have one word doc saved as your "template" doc and set the line spacing as 2.0 or higher. Select your text from source and paste it into the template doc as text-only. Ctrl a, ctrl c to select all and copy, then open a new document and "paste special" as picture. Right click and set the "wrap text" as behind text. Now you have a document where you can, basically, type over the existing text because it's the background of the page. This seems like the most frictionless version, because you could set up a bunch of them ahead of time. If you wanted to move between desktop and mobile, however, you'd need to ensure that the pasted image was fairly narrow so that you don't have to sideways-scroll.

Relatedly, people suggested generating a document that is simply the Italian text with empty space beneath it for typing in of the translation. This can be done either semi-automated, using a macro or a language like Python, or find-and-replace on, say, the stops at the ends of sentences. It basically outputs the same as above but with a more digitally accessible format, without any more effort than above. If you were to do this in Google Sheets you could also fix the column width so that it didn't do anything weird when you opened it on your phone. But it is still very friction-y, and does not allow for easy shifting of the Italian as needed. There's high probability of the translation breaking weirdly across the page. Still a top option in terms of simplicity and access.

@smokeandholograms suggested another variation illustrated here where essentially you're converting the text to a series of tables, with each paragraph a row, and an empty cell next to it for the translation. I might play around more with this one eventually, since I think I could possibly make it a three-column and put the Italian in one, the translation in the next, and the auto-translate to let me know where I might be slipping in the third. (Not that I trust auto-translate but comparing a hand translation to an auto translation can be useful in terms of working out when I've messed up the way a tense or mood is read. I tend to read indirect verbs as automatically imperative because I'm a weirdo.)

@wynjara linked to an add-in for Word specifically designed for translators, known as TransTools; this appears to employ a macro to do the same thing, though it does have a format where you can place the translation next to each sentence directly rather than in a separate cell. The full suite of tools is only $45 which is reasonable for my budget, but for what I need I think I could also just create the macro.

Using LaTeX as a tool specially designed for glossing was an option on offer, but I don't know enough about LaTeX to figure out the pros of this one, which is in itself the major con -- there's a learning curve that I think varies widely by person but for me is unfortunately a wall. It came out of a discussion on Reddit about trying to find something like what I want; also in that discussion is a link to a code generator that allows you to…do something…to the initial language, but it's not entirely clear to me (I'm sure it's clear to people who understand coding) what you would then do with it that would allow it to be output in the way I'm hoping for. Like, I could turn a paragraph of text into HTML, I understand that far, but any Italian I find is already on a website.

Moving more into apps that might work, Redditors on the LaTeX discussion suggested SIL Fieldworks, which is a professional language tech tool. Fieldworks isn't a program I'd previously encountered but much as with the ones I had, it looks like the learning curve is fairly steep and it is definitely overkill generally for what I need, though it might also harbor within it the thing I want. It is free, so I may download and play around with it.

@brightwanderer suggested using note-taking or "whiteboard" apps such as Freeform or Nebo; these are generally a kind of "infinite canvas" in which you can drop objects, text boxes, or handwriting. I don't know that Freeform would be measurably different to just using Word and a macro, since I'd still have to input/format all the text and then be stuck with the same "fixed text" setup -- and it's also iOS only -- but for some folks it might be more helpful. Nebo is a similar infinite-canvas with unfortunately the same issues, though on the plus it's available for Android, which is where most of my mobile property resides.

@bloodbright suggested that I was looking for a CAT tool, a professional translation tool mainly used by translators working in the field. This was a concept I'd encountered, but I hadn't found a good starting place. They suggested Smartcat and OmegaT. Smartcat bills itself as an AI translation platform and is HARD pushing the "don't translate it yourself, hire a translator or let AI do it" angle, so it's difficult to tell what it offers in terms of actual tools for translators, and it's also cagey about pricing, so I can't really evaluate it. OmegaT is free and gives off big "some weirdo homebrewed this in their basement" vibe (which I am here for) but I also recognized it from screengrabs that were the reason I veered away from professional-grade software: it looked too complex. Realistically, the major downside of OmegaT is that I don't think I can put it on my phone. One thing I did find interesting is that once you translate a portion of the text, the original language goes away, though I assume you can turn that off if needed. I do kind of like that because it means my distractable brain is looking at Less Stuff.

So where did I end up?

Well, it looked like I was going to have to try a homebrew myself. I had the idea of trying some of the initial suggestions but in reverse -- designing a document where every other line was a single-cell table fixed to the page. You could paste in the Italian, which would wrap around the cells, and then enter the English in the cells.

You can fix a table in place in Google Docs -- you click on the table, then under Table > Style select Wrap Text, Both Sides, and Fix On Page. Getting the whole page set up is a little labor intensive but once you did that, you could just save it as a template and make a duplicate of it each time. And this actually works….on desktop.

Unfortunately, if you open it in the mobile Docs app, the app can't handle the fixed tables and automatically moves them all to after the text that's been pasted in. I tried redesigning it so that it's a table within a table -- one for the Italian, then within that a series of them for the English -- but when you nest a table in Google Docs, it doesn't let you fix the second table in place. And you are also still dealing with the wrap issue, although you can resize the page and add a large right-hand margin as a kludge of a fix for that.

You can build this same kind of document in Word, so I tried building one in Word and then uploading it to Drive, but when you open the Word file in Docs (or in Microsoft Word for Android), it still strips the fixed positioning -- there's just some functionality missing from both apps that doesn't allow them to handle fixed-position tables.

So, the design is sound, just not the final execution. If I could program an app, I could probably remedy the issues with it -- it's simply a series of text boxes nested inside one another with different formatting. I would imagine that's relatively basic to set up, although given that neither Docs nor Word can handle fixed tables in mobile, perhaps I've stumbled on a much bigger problem that everyone is ignoring because nobody actually needs or wants fixed tables in mobile. :D

Experimentation is ongoing, anyway. I might simply have to resign myself to the fact that my translation study is going to have to be in front of a computer, which might be for the best anyway when I inevitably want to compare my translation to an auto-translate to see where I might have read something wrong.

#language learning #translation #sam learns italian

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666writingcafe · 13 days

Text

An Interview With Lucifer

Part Three of A New Series

Question One: How do your friends describe you in a word?

Cranky.

Question Two: Who would you want to be stuck with on an island?

If I was limited to just one person, then MC. If there were multiple people, I'd add Mammon and Barbatos.

Question Three: What are you hiding now?

Treats from Cerberus. Not because he isn't a good dog, but because he's found their original hiding place and has been digging into them constantly, and the treats I give Cerberus are rather expensive, so I can't exactly afford to buy them every day and ensure that other stuff gets paid for.

Question Four: Do you prefer mountains or beaches?

It depends on my mood. If I don't want anyone to find me, then definitely mountains, but if I'm feeling a bit romantic, then I'd hit the beach.

Question Five: What is your hidden talent?

I can juggle. And I don't mean that in the metaphorical sense--although I can do that too--but in the literal sense, like a circus clown. It's one of the ways I relieve stress, because I can just shut my brain off and focus on keeping the objects I'm juggling up in the air.

Question Six: What makes you laugh?

You'll get a satisfied chuckle out of me whenever someone I dislike gets what they deserve, but if you want to hear a true, unrestrained laugh, either get me drunk on Demonus or put me in a room with MC when they're in a good mood.

Question Seven: If you were a thing, what would you be?

A metronome.

Question Eight: If you have no GPS, how would you find your destination?

I'd print out directions. (But what if you were unable to do that?) Then I'd ask the locals where I need to go. I may be the Avatar of Pride, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to admit when I'm lost. (someone yells out, "that's a lie, and you know it!") And if all else fails, then I'll get to my destination through sheer determination.

Question Nine: Describe your three best qualities.

Apparently I'm patient, kind, and loving. (Why do you phrase it like that?) Because I wouldn't necessarily call myself any of those things, but I trust that the person who did wouldn't lie to me about such things. (And who might that person be?) MC.

Question Ten: Would you consider yourself a cool person?

I'm going to lean towards no. I'm far from being a trendy person. Just ask any of my brothers. (What about MC?) You'll have to ask them. I know they like spending time with me, but I honestly don't know why. Usually I'm busy with paperwork, and it's not like that's terribly interesting.

Question Eleven: What is a skill you want to master?

Baking.

Question Twelve: What would you do first if you won a human world jackpot?

Pay off any debts MC may have.

Question Thirteen: What one aspect of the human world would you change if you could?

I'd make it legal to punish animal and child abusers by inflicting the same types of torture onto them as they did on their victims. (That's rather serious, Lucifer.) So is abusing those that are unable to understand why their supposed family is hurting them.

Question Fourteen: What is your preferred card or board game?

Let's just say that I'm not allowed to play any tabletop fantasy games unless I can ensure that all of my work is complete. (Why's that?) You've met Levi, yes? (I have.) Now, imagine me behaving like him, and you'll have your answer.

Question Fifteen: What is your current favorite app on your phone?

Don't make fun of me, but there's this app where you can send messages to people and it shows up on their phone in a cartoony heart. (Are you talking about the viral Candy Heart app?) ...yes. (That's actually quite sweet.) It was MC's idea, and I initially did downloaded it just to amuse them, but I've come to enjoy using it as time has gone on.

Question Sixteen: Would you go to space if you could?

I'm content with merely looking at pictures of space.

Question Seventeen: What kind of museum or exhibit do you prefer?

I like learning about the history of different objects. Looking at their evolution fascinates me.

Question Eighteen: What kind of humor do you prefer?

I'll throw you a curve ball: I enjoy a nice pun from time to time, even if it would be classified as a "dad joke".

Question Nineteen: Do you prefer driving a car, a motorcycle, or a bicycle?

Oh, a motorcycle, by far.

Question Twenty: When was the last time you climbed a tree?

This is going to really show my age, but the last time I climbed a tree was when I was a young angel. *pauses* Thinking about it is making me want to do it now. Being up in the branches is quite peaceful.

Question Twenty-One: What is your strangest habit?

There are times where the only way I'm able to fall asleep is to hang upside-down like a bat.

Question Twenty-Two: What is your weirdest fantasy?

I'll give you an oddly specific one: if I'm ever able to retire, I'd like to buy a farm somewhere in the human world countryside and raise livestock and plant fruits and vegetables with MC. (You've brought them up several times in this interview.) You could say that I have a soft spot for them. (Or that you love them.) Well, obviously. They're a wonderful person to be around. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with them if I could. (You mean, their life.) Listen, I don't choose my words lightly. What I say is what I mean, one hundred percent.

Question Twenty-Three: Here's something a bit more light-hearted: would you rather fight a shark or wrestle a lion?

The lion. I can't swim nearly as well as Levi can.

Question Twenty-Four: How do you want the world to end?

By my hand.

Question Twenty-Five: Would you like to be shorter or taller?

I like my height just the way it is. (What if you had to choose one or the other?) Then I suppose taller. I don't feel I'd be able to intimidate people as well if I was shorter.

Question Twenty-Six: Who is the annoying person you want to get rid of in your life?

I don't necessarily want to get rid of anyone, but I'd like to seriously alter the behaviors of Solomon and Mephistopheles.

Question Twenty-Seven: Which artist and/or song dominates your human world music playlist?

I'll give you both: Metallica and "Adore You" by Harry Styles.

Question Twenty-Eight: If you had to go to prison, what would be the reason?

Treason.

Question Twenty-Nine: What is the most critical trait you seek in a friend?

They have to be able to keep secrets.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer

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purplecoffee13 · 6 months

Text

The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 2*

Summary: “The official fake dating can commence, and so can the exploration of a whole bunch of new… feelings.”

Wc: 4.9k

Tropes: semi-enemies to lovers (she hates him)

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, smut (f!receiving), a sudden deep analysis of wuthering heights followed by smut

*2 weeks later*

I'm going to move to Italy, seriously.

Ever since Harry and I arrived at the airport I haven't been able to stop myself from gawking at everything I've seen. That includes Harry's relatives, proving that his entire family consists of solely good genes.

The flight was excruciatingly long and a bit uncomfortable. Harry taught me as much as he could about his family, and we both complained about the hernia we were getting from our bad seats. Nevertheless, we both attempted to sleep, and I accidentally dozed off while leaning on his shoulder.

One of Harry's cousins, Matthew, picked us up at the airport. He was particularly fascinated with my existence, almost as much as I was with his accent. I love English accents, I could listen to them for hours on end.

Matthew led us to our room in the Villa and gave Harry a pat on the back before leaving us alone to unpack and get ready to meet the family.

"He's nice." I note, throwing my backpack on the Queen sized bed we have in this room.

"He's a little shit." Harry chuckles, earning a furrowed brow from me. He waves it off, literally, and sits himself on the bed. "You'll see."

We stay fairly quiet for the rest of the time, unpacking our stuff and freshening up. Well, mainly me, because Harry doesn't have to do half the things I do to look good. It's so much easier being a man.

I shoo Harry out of our bedroom and put on a long, brown dress with a wide slit and some floral print on it. As soon as I've changed, I open the door to the bathroom so he knows it's okay for him to walk back in. When he does walk back in, we both catch each other off guard.

While he is analyzing the dress that is currently clinging to my body, I'm gawking at his shirtless chest. My cheeks start to heat up when I realize that I'm staring, but luckily Harry doesn't notice because he's too busy staring at me. Then, he clears his throat.

"Nice dress."

"Thank you." I throw him a small smile.

It doesn't take long for Harry to get dressed and soon enough we are walking from our room to the villa, where the welcome dinner will be held, or at least that's what it said on the card that Harry handed to me on the plane.

We sit down at our assigned seats at one of many round tables. I don't miss the name tags of Harry's parents, and I'm glad to find that Matthew will also be sitting at our table. It will make things a bit less nerve racking.

Harry places his hand on the small of my back as he guides me to his mother. He looks just like her, and by the warm smile on her face, I realize that it probably won't be as bad as I might think it would.

"Mum, this is Y/N. The girl I've told you about. She's my girlfriend." The words leave his mouth in a way that makes me think someone is holding a gun to his head, and I can tell that his mother thinks the same thing.

"I'm Sheila." She introduces herself, nonetheless. I can tell that she is skeptical of me, despite the warm smile on her face. I know it's a genuine one, but I know that she knows her son, and she'll see something is up if he doesn't get his act together.

"This is Tom." She turns to a tall man that I immediately recognize as Harry's father. He doesn't have a lot of facial features from his dad, except for the nose, that is exactly the same. But the way he carries himself, the way he extends his hand for me to shake, those are the aspects that make Harry identical to his father.

We chat with his parents for a little, telling our wonderfully fake story of how we met. Tom keeps nodding but doesn't seem fully convinced. Not because he doesn't believe it, but probably because of the girl he'd rather have his daughter be with; the reason I'm here in the first place. Sheila remains skeptical, but that is just because she can see right through Harry.

So when his parents leave to get some food from the buffet, I'm quick to swat his arm.

"Ow!" He hisses at me.

"You're a terrible actor, do you know that? Your mom is totally on to us!" I say in a soft tone, but it doesn't discredit my disapproval.

"I'm sorry okay! It's hard to lie to her." He responds, and the confession makes my heart melt a little.

I let him off with a roll of the eyes and we join the queue for the buffet. During dinner, Matthew promotes himself to main entertainer of our table by telling countless of stories about him and Harry and all of their antics from back in the days. Harry seems slightly embarrassed sometimes, but he finds it funny nonetheless.

In an attempt to make me and Harry seem like more of a real couple, I take it upon myself to touch him during dinner. Just casual touching. Some hand-holding—above the table so everyone can see of course—and the occasional leg rub. It's only halfway through dinner that Harry finally initiates some touches to, and I have to bite my inner lip at the way his hand feels wrapped around my thigh.

After dinner, a few tables are removed in order to create a dance floor. People are quick to get on it, but Harry refuses to come along with me. Matthew doesn't let the opportunity to bust a move pass, so I leave my purse with Harry and get on the dance floor with him.

We have a big laugh, Matthew and I. He spins me around an absurd amount of times, dramatically dances the tango with me while a pop song is playing, and throws out some moves that I haven't seen since I played Just Dance when I was eight years old.

After a while I decide to retire from the dance floor and get a drink. Matthew offers to accompany me, and for a second I contemplate whether I should say yes. Then I figure, he is a part of Harry's family and I need as many of them on my side for this whole act to be believable, plus I'll be able to get Harry a drink.

We walk over to the bar and order our drinks, Matthew is quick to spark up a conversation as we wait for our beverages.

"How long have you been together again?" He asks, looking over at me with a smirk.

"A month, officially." I reply, and he raised his brows in surprise.

"Only a month, huh?"

"Like I said, officially." I tilt my head, a mischievous smile on my face. He leans over in my direction, with eyes ready to play, and I immediately start to wonder if the head tilt was too flirty instead of funny and playful.

"And unofficially?"

"Almost three months." I divert my eyes back to the drinks that are put in front of me, and thank the bartender.

"Is it serious? Between you two?" He asks, and I don't like the glint of desperation in his voice. Is this what Harry meant, when he said 'you'll see'? Is this guy seriously trying to hit on his cousin's date?

"Well, I cancelled spring break plans with my family, so I sure hope it is." I flash him a smile before taking the drinks and walking back to Harry.

He's sitting alone, despite most every seat around him being taken. Not talking to anyone, not on his phone, just staring into the nothingness. When I approach, he's thrown out of his trance and his eyes follow me instead as I make my way to him and hand over his drink.

"Whiskey on the rocks." I tell him. He smiles at me, putting the glass on the table and grabbing my now free hand. His legs are spread, so he pulls me closer until I'm standing in between them. He looks up at me, and the sole color of his eyes makes my hands sweat profusely.

"Are you having fun?" He asks, his head tilting just like mine did a few seconds ago.

"I am," I say, looking around a bit. "But my legs are a bit tired... Is there a free chair behind you?"

I squint at something that looks like a chair, but I can't really make it out from this angle. When Harry doesn't respond, I look down at him, and find that he was already looking at me. He grabs my waist and pushes me in a bit. Confused, I let my body follow his silent demands, and watch him sit up straighter before pulling me onto his lap.

My back leans against the table, and my legs are thrown over his left one. I hold my drink in my right hand while my left is slung over his shoulder for 'support'. My cheeks flush at the realization that my ass is right on his groin, but I try to make it seem as if it doesn't affect me at all. He holds my waist with his right arm, tracing his fingers around in a way that makes my body shiver.

My eyes fly to my left thigh when he puts his other hand on it, and I try to steady my breathing as much as humanly possible while the tingling sensation between my legs becomes too adamant for me to ignore. The low chuckle that leaves Harry's mouth isn't missed by me, and it makes me even more nervous. He notices, and strikes up a conversation about the party, his family and Matthew.

"He asked me how long we've been official." I decide to tell him. Harry finds it amusing.

"Really?" He smiles. "The fucker."

"What?" I ask, not really understanding how that question adds up to him being a fucker.

"He wants you, been eye fucking you ever since he met you." He explains. "He has a thing for unavailable people, especially if they're unavailable because of me."

"So he just steals your girlfriends? Or at least, tries to?" I clarify, eyes wide, and Harry nods. "How have you not been in thousands of fights already?"

"Never really cared about it." He shrugs. "Most girls were just flings or one night stands, it wasn't anything serious, really."

"Wow." I laugh in disbelief, and it makes me wonder if maybe he is going to let Matthew hit on me. After all, we're faking this. It shouldn't be relief that I feel when Harry's grip on me tightens as soon as Matthew approaches us once again, but I do, I feel relieved. A little bit giddy too.

"Hey, wanna go for a round two?" Matthew asks me after greeting us both. I'm about to decline his offer, but I don't get a chance to speak.

"She's busy." Harry says in a tone that makes my head turn to him. His eyes don't look as friendly as they did before, and the warm smile on his face is looking a little bit more cynical. Matthew takes the hint and wanders off, a bit of disappointment on his face.

"Wow, you really nailed that 'jealous boyfriend' act." I tease him, my left hand instinctively trailing to the back of his head, where I start playing with his hair. He rolls his eyes, pulling me even more into him. I shift in his lap a bit, placing my drink on the table and grabbing his glass instead.

"Here." I hand it to him. "You haven't drank anything since dinner."

"Wow, you're really nailing that 'caring girlfriend' act." He reconstructs my words, and I roll my eyes accordingly. He drinks nonetheless, and I snatch the glass from him, take my cocktail back in my hand, and turn to him again. I frown when his nails dig into my skin.

"Don't move so much."

My cheeks instantly flush. Right...

I am usually way more confident when it comes to flirting. I know exactly what to say, when to say it and how to flutter with my eye lashes in those ways that make men want to drag you to their bedroom. I can flirt with everyone, I'm not easily impressed. Well, except with Malcolm of course, but that was just because I had a crush him. I act like an idiot around people I have a crush on. But I don't. I don't have a crush on Harry. I hated him until a few weeks ago– no. Until a few days ago. I started tolerating him on the plane. Yes, the plane. Oh god, the plane.

"I–" I start a sentence, looking him dead in the eye while realizing that I didn't have something to finish it with. His green eyes along with the feeling of whatever I shouldn't be feeling while sitting on his lap is making me dizzy. "I'm gonna go get a drink."

I try to wiggle out of my seat — which is his lap, oh my god — but Harry seems to find this whole situation very amusing, because for some reason he tightens his grip around me — pushing me more into his hard-on —then nods at the full glass in my hand.

"I think you're good, love." He gives me a half-smirk like I've only seen those guys in the romance movies do and I don't like how it makes my heart pound. What the fuck is happening to me right now?

I look at him, trying to come up with some kind of response that doesn't end up with me sounding like an absolute moron, and then I get lost in his eyes. The loud music fades, and the only thing I can seem to focus on are his eyes and his left hand that grazes further up the slit of my dress. It's only inches, and he trails painfully slow, but he keeps going because he waits for my reaction and it's positive. He can tell by the look in my eyes, and by the way my grip on his hair is a bit too tight.

The tips of his fingers are dangerously close to my panties, and all of a sudden, the music becomes louder again and I feel like I'm waking up from a sinful dream. I swing my legs off of his and get up, my drink almost spilling because of the sudden action. I quickly place it on the table.

"Pee." I say, partly to myself and partly to Harry. "I'm going to... pee."

Harry looks a bit surprised, but more in a way that makes him laugh. I don't miss how his head shakes a bit before giving me a permissive hum. I begin to walk away when I realize a crucial detail is missing, and so I saunter back over to Harry.

"Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

"No." He smirks.

"Oh. okay. Uhm..." I look around aimlessly, hoping to spot some kind of sign. But then, Harry gets up, and stands in front of me. He towers over me easily, it's intimidating and hot. Two things I need him not to be if I want to survive this wedding.

"D'you want to go back to the room?" He asks, voice gone a bit softer. I nod before I even realize that I am doing it, and Harry places a kiss on my temple. Grabbing my hand, he leads us towards the exit, waving goodbye to his parents before we make our way back over to our bedroom.

The cobblestones define the pace of our footsteps, making a whole lot of noise to confirm us where we are. Not that I'd need those stones to find him—he's still holding my hand. I shrug it off, it's dark and he probably doesn't want me to fall face first into these little rocks.

Once we've arrived at our room, Harry walks into the place like it's his apartment, and he goes to occupy the bathroom almost immediately. I grab my white, floral pyjama set that I actually never wear because I like to wear an oversized t-shirt to bed and nothing more. But, I packed my suitcase with the knowledge that I was going to have to lay next to a man the whole week, so I only brought the cute stuff.

When Harry leaves the bathroom, some steam leaves along with him, and I quickly look away at the revelation that he is shirtless, again. I don't miss the amused sniff, but I ignore it nonetheless. I skip into the bathroom, lock it and take a very anticipated shower. A part of me hopes that the water would also wash this weird vibe off. Like if I got out and walked back into that bedroom, my hands wouldn't start to sweat at the sight of him on the bed.

Unfortunately, I am wrong. Because when I do leave the bathroom, not only do my hands start to sweat, but my heart also begins to pound. Fuck.

I'd actively been ignoring this ever since the party. This stupid feeling, thinking it was just me being touch deprived. But I'm not so sure now. Maybe I do have a crush on Harry. However, I can't afford to think about that too much now, so I shake it off and walk over to my side of the bed.

I throw a decorative pillow on the ground and climb into the bed, trying to act as if I don't notice Harry staring at me. He's on his phone, doing God knows what. I grab my book from the bed side table.

"Wuthering Heights, huh?" He smirks, and I can sense the pretentiousness from miles away. I look at him, then roll my eyes with a smile.

"Shut up, it's my favorite story."

"Why? Heathcliff is awful." He frowns, and his tone is a bit mocking. Not to me, just to the story. But it's my favorite story, so I take the offense.

"I just like the fact that it acknowledges that love can make you both whole and destroy you. That loving isn't always really the ending, or the solution. It can be a fleeting middle, break you in a thousand pieces and then leave it for you to pick up the pieces yourself."

"That's a bit pessimistic, innit?" He chuckles. I shrug.

"I think it's realistic to recognize that spite, anger, sadness, and revenge are almost always born out of love, or a lack of it. I think it's optimistic, actually."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

"Mhm." I hum. "Think it creates a space for empathy, does it not?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry frowns, as if I've just opened a new door for him. I smile at his face, full of contemplation over what I just said and I know that I'm inevitably screwed.

He should've bashed the freaking book so I could have a reason to hate him.

I decide that I won't be able to concentrate on anything anyway now that I have admitted these weird feelings to myself—and the subject of those feelings is laying next to me—so I shut the book and put it back on my nightstand.

"Not reading after all?"

"Nope." I chime, my tone sounding way too forced. "Changed my mind. 'M gonna sleep."

I turn off the light on my bedside table and turn around to Harry who is still laying with his phone in his hands. It freaks me out that he is looking at me, it makes me so nervous, but I try my best to be cool.

"Good night." I sigh as my head hits the pillow. I finally look up at Harry—bad move—and my heart melts a bit at his sweet smile.

"Good night."

I am laying with my face towards Harry, mainly because I laid down like that and now I'm too scared to shift too much and look weird, but I feel Harry's burning gaze on me and frankly, it's making me feel incredibly tense. My heart is beating way quicker than it should and I have to consciously steady my breathing in order to provide my lungs with some oxygen.

"Harry." I finally say after three more minutes of tense silence, eyes still closed. He hums softly. "I can feel you looking at me."

I open my eyes, because suddenly I'm very afraid that I'm wrong and look like a complete fool, but he is indeed still staring. He doesn't look like a dear in headlights, he's just smiling. There is a sense of comfort in him that I envy, especially because I feel like I could explode right now.

"Yeah, well, you're nice to look at." He answers, making my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I quickly dart my eyes to his body so I won't have to meet his confrontational gaze — bad idea, bad idea! — and quickly find that staring at his body isn't going to help my case any more.

"Am I making you nervous?" He asks softly, in a way that you could almost describe as sweet. But it isn't, because I know he's reveling in this.

Out of instinct, I look up at him, wide eyed at the fact that he read my mind and my body so well. But I cannot afford this—whatever it is that is hanging in the air right now—so I shake my head.

"Nope, just frustrated." I sigh, which is more a way to get my breathing back to normal. I pull myself up and turn around, my back now towards him, and hope to have closed the conversation for tonight. There is some shuffling from the other side and for a moment I think I did it, I think I won, but then I feel a hand sneak around my bare waist and my mind turns into jelly.

I suck in a sharp breath at the touch of his cold hand and the heat of his mouth on my ear, and swallow a whine at the way it's making my head spin.

"Do you need me to help you relax?" He whispers, and I suck in a deep breath.

"I– I need to sleep." I attempt to reason — mainly with myself — and Harry just chuckles.

"I can think of a way to tire you out." He insinuates smugly and I clench my jaw at his stupid charisma and how well it's working on me.

"Harry, I can't..." I begin the sentence, even though I have no logical argument to say no right now. I want him, really bad but a part of me is forbidding it for reasons unknown, which makes me want it even more. You know what they say about forbidden fruit...

"What? Would you rather be with my cousin? Have him get you off, hmm?" He asks a bit condescendingly, which makes me think the jealous act maybe wasn't such an act after all. His thumb is now circling over my hips and it's making me dizzy, which is exactly what he's trying to do to me.

"No–"

"No?" He plays dumb. His hand lowers to my pyjama shorts and starts playing with it's elastic band. My stomach is on fire and my pussy is aching, it's getting too much for me to brush off. I can't not get off, it's going to kill me. I need life support.

"No!" I whine. He chuckles, kisses my ear lobe.

"That's right... you came to me when he started hitting on you. Such a good, sweet, loyal girl. Sitting on my lap so nicely. Making me so fucking hard..." He taunts, and I start squirming under his touch.

"Harry..." I cry out, because frankly, I can't take another second of this torture. I'm about to implode if he doesn't touch me where I need it between now and twenty seconds.

"What is it sugar?" I can quite literally hear his grin and I groan at the irritating pet name. I grab his arm and try to get out from under his touch, but his grip only tightens on me and he pulls me back into him, cock pressed against my ass. He hums disapprovingly.

"No, feel what you did to me." He leans over to look at me and when our eyes catch, I think my heart malfunctions. "'S not very nice, now is it?"

I shake my head, biting my lip nervously. His eyes dart from mine to my mouth as he breaths out a 'fuck', and he wipes some hair out of my face with his free hand.

He pulls his body away from mine and for a moment I feel like I could cry, but he distracts me by laying me on my back and throwing the sheets off our bodies. He then quickly slips his hand in my pants, grazing his fingers over my underwear.

I look at him, desperately waiting for his next move while he studies my body with a light frown. My eyes go to his sweatpants, and see the straining bulge that hides in it. I go to touch him, offer him some release too but he swats my hand away. The stern look on his face gives me shivers.

"I didn't say you could touch me, now did I?" He states, rubbing his middle finger over my clit, and I curse my underwear for being the only thing that stands in the way of his real touch. Nevertheless, I moan, because he could literally blow on my underwear and I would come right then and there.

"'M sorry." I say softly, shifting when Harry starts to pull down my shorts and underwear. He inspects me, or at least that's what it looks like, and a grin grows on his face.

"I think you'll make it up to me just fine." He beams and starts to circle my clit, causing my hips to shoot up in surprise. He chuckles softly.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He asks and I nod immediately. My eyes begin to feel heavy and I don't know for how much longer I will be able to keep going.

"Harry, slow down or I'm gonna..." I can't get the sentence out because he only starts rubbing faster, and my eyes shut permanently.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me already?" Harry taunts, and I bite my lip to steady the volume of the moans that are leaving my mouth.

"Ah! Oh my– Harry!" I try to sound angry but it's really just me moaning his name very aggressively and the realization that it's his fingers on my clit right now is what sends me over the edge. The explosion feels overdue, and it washes away all the unnecessary tension I'd been feeling since I started fake dating Harry. And now I realized; it was probably sexual frustration.

I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing as well as I possibly can. My legs are shaking and I can feel Harry hovering over me. His body heat warms my cheeks as he hangs over me, leaning on the bed with one arm, holding my face with the other.

"Open your eyes baby." He says softly, and it makes my heart flutter. I am in deep, deep trouble. I do as he says, my eyes meeting his, and the smile on his face makes me feel like I'll melt through the bed.

"You okay?" He asks, stroking my cheek. I nod, head still woozy but not wanting us to stop any time soon.

"I'm okay." I give him verbal confirmation, knowing it's what he needs from me. He kisses my temple, whispers 'good girl' in my ear and moves away from my face.

As soon as I have my breathing a bit under control, my hands reach for his sweatpants, but he Harry grabs my wrists and pushes me away. I frown, and I have to admit that my ego is a bit hurt. I feel like he can see it in my face, because he is quick to explain.

“Believe me I would love to, but another night, okay? Tonight was just for you.”

I can quite literally feel my entire body melt at his words, and it doesn’t help when he gets off the bed and helps me up so I can go to the bathroom.

After I’m done and enter the room again, he is sat up straight at the edge of the bed, and looks at me expectantly. I shoot him an awkward smile and get back into bed. He does the same and we lay silently in the dark for a while.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” I can’t help but ask, feeling like I should return the favor, and still insecure about the fact that he doesn’t want me to.

“Patience, sugar.” He says lowly, and my heart thuds at the kiss I feel being planted on my forehead. The amount of calm I feel is unmatched, and it makes me very sleepy.

“Whatever you say, hot stuff…”

Part 3

#harry styles #fanfic #writing #smut #blurb #fanfiction #harry #one shot smut #one shot #smutty #enemies to lovers

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