#it’s Heart Stuff. that gets complicated even before the time travel and giving each other your body and replicas and everything else

[regallibellbright]

I think it’d be really, really funny if the Civilians of Twilight Town keep trying to guess what Roxas, Xion, Lea, and Isa’s deal is, trying to fit them into SOME sort of even remotely traditional family structure and end up with, like, six different competing rumors even before the polite blonde girl who divides her time between “the old abandoned mansion, which they guess she owns?” and “nowhere in the area.”

And then the visiting scientist.

And the other visiting scientist.

And the scientists’ apparent son (other son?), who spends his entire trip talking with Pence about something they’ve clearly been collaborating on for at least a year despite the fact that no one’s ever seen him before.

Xion introduces a boy who looks nothing like her, currently lives with his family (not, she specifies, her family,) and has no relationship with Roxas or Lea whatsoever. Apparently they’re both the children (okay, he says creations, but Even’s an odd one) of one of the scientists. Technically, they say. They look nothing alike. They’re pretty sure he doesn’t live with the scientist, either. He does know Namine (presumed to be the scientists’ mutual daughter) but they say they’re not siblings point blank. Someone crosses Xion and Namine being sisters off a whiteboard, then considers and puts a question mark there.

Roxas’s incredibly obvious identical twin shows up and they claim to be half-brothers. Roxas will skateboard away from all followup questions. On another trip, he’ll bring a third boy who introduces himself as “the other half of (Ven’s) heart” and then immediately refers to Roxas, Xion, and Ven (but not Lea or the other boy, who nonetheless knows him) as his siblings. He claims to have been born at the dawn of time and just after the worlds shattered and also sixteen years ago. (Vanitas knows exactly what he is doing and is THRIVING off the chaos.)

Based off similar hair colors, her apparent dislike of Lea, and sheer desperation, half the town is convinced that Aqua and Isa are siblings and she sided with him during the breakup. There’s no consensus about how Terra fits into this. (Isa’s not correcting them. About any of this. It’s not worth it.)

Seifer gets back from a journey of self-discovery and asks who the newbies are and gets shown eight different, mutually-contradictory conspiracy boards in the form of family tree/relationship charts. Lauriam and Elrena have been the source of multiple schisms among the gossip mill.

By the time Sora shows up again even Hayner, Pence and Olette are having trouble keeping everything straight, and they actually know the whole story.

#kingdom hearts #long post #note that whether or not any given professed relationship is ACTUALLY how they consider each other should be ambiguous #(except for Ven and Vanitas and Even and Xion and Repliku which are obviously canonically accurate but being interpreted as not literal) #and any assumed relationship by the town is equally unreliable #Roxas and Ven know they can’t get away with being UNrelated but refuse to say they’re twins #it would only raise more questions at their birthdays #Sora brings Strelitzia too. Sora doesn’t know Lauriam’s name. Ven clearly knows them both. Chaos reigns. #the TT Teen Trio figure it’s none of their business whether any given group are siblings or dating or both #it’s Heart Stuff. that gets complicated even before the time travel and giving each other your body and replicas and everything else #if someone wants them to know then they’ll tell them. except Vanitas. but then someone else will tell them. #oh also Seifer DEFINITELY met Leon during that journey of self-discovery and it was a Whole Mutual Thing #but that goes without saying and he will never mention it to the rest of the town as it won’t come up… #up until some of the Radiant Garden crew visit and recognize him.

[damianbugs]

batfam taking care of dick grayson fics !! time travel fics !! heart wrenching batfam fics that actually analyse the characters and give a good character study and don't simply accept fanon crap (coffee addict tim drake im looking at u) !! ur top 5 all time fave batfam fic !! and also, i love ur stuff so much on ao3 thank u for sharing your work w us <3

THANK YOU SO MUCH !!! this is so sweet i am so happy you enjoy my work <3 i will do you one better and offer a list combining all your requests to the best of my capabilities !! you've caught me at a great time, because i am currently obsessed with batfam timetravel.

i will admit i definitely have more than five favourites (my 500+ carefully curated and organised private bookmarks should be proof enough) so i hope you like the ones i have selected here :D ! (these are in no particular order!)

MY TOP 5 FAVOURITE BATFAM FICS (on ao3) !

Tap by CKBookish

Bruce returns home from the time stream, haunted by phantoms and dreams. Dreams of a past that can't be real.

But all of that wouldn't be so bad if his home didn't feel so empty in the absence of one of his children. Jason, refuses to talk to him or even answer his calls and Bruce can't figure out why or what he did wrong, not after they had mended their fences before his disappearance.

Meanwhile,

Catherine struggles to hold it together for her and Jason as life falls apart around them. When all she has to give is love she does her best to give it all.

MY NOTES: one of my all time favourite not-exactly-time-travel time travel fics! features some wonderful character building and complicated relationships, and the plot itself is just incredibly. the way everyone is written is definitely realistic to how i would imagine them personally (especially dick).

A Good Place by LemonadeGarden

Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time.

Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories.

Oh. And Alfred has hair.

MY NOTES: not only is this one of my top favourite time travel fics, it is also one of my favourite bruce and damian fics. it is so witty and fun, but also hurts immensely. fics where the kids are forced to endure young bruce's ridiculousness is always a treat, and here it is infinitely more amusing because it's damian finding his father entirely silly.

Modus Tollens by fanfictiongreenirises

Dick is cursed to kill anyone he touches.

MY NOTES: this one is fantastic. really gut wrenching throughout and you really feel for dick when it gets tough, but the sweet ending makes up for all the pain. dick loves his family and his family loves him immensely.

I Used to Be an Adventurer Like You, Then I Took an Arrow to the Knee by audreycritter

Stephanie was just on patrol and now she’s stuck somewhere, sometime, with Bruce.

They bleed and bond and mostly try to keep each other alive— you know, just a Tuesday.

MY NOTES: don't mind me casually recommending just the best bruce and stephanie fic to ever be written. it is unhealthy how many times i have read this one. and it is time travel! this is my dream come true. it also features one of my most favourite studies on bruce and stephanie and what they represent to each other.

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone and Your Heart by MrMich

The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

MY NOTES: there was a moment in time where i briefly made this fic my entire personality with how much i spoke about it. dare i say one of the best duke thomas centric fics and ITS TIME TRAVEL! it is so great. i have noticed that you rarely see tim as robin in time travel fics, and he is so lovely in this, especially his dynamic with duke. as always, young bruce is ridiculous, but how duke navigates through it all is so important to me.

OKAY i will stop here as i frantically try to shove the remaining 495 fics back into my metaphorical ao3 closet. i hope u like these anon! <3 also if you haven't already, check out all these authors other works too! they are all fantastic !!

#batfam #fic rec #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #stephanie brown #tim drake #duke thomas #fic reccomendations #time travel #canon divergence #can you tell im crazy insane about these fics yet #saki batfam fic recs

[ms-hells-bells]

Sorry if you’re not the person to ask, but ever since 7th grade I’ve seen and heard stuff like “babies are sucked out with a vacuum and torn limb from limb during an abortion and they feel everything” and that they’re “decapitated and torn to bits” during it and they feel everything and is that true? I feel like a bad person saying even if that’s true the woman/girl should get one if she needs/wants one but some websites say it’s true and some say it’s not and i’m confused 🥲

it is but it's not.. if it is done to a fetus that has developed enough to be described as 'limb from limb' and 'feeling pain', then that is a later term abortion where 90+% of the time, either the fetus is extremely deformed, will not survive gestation, or is already dead (if it is still early second trimester, which starts at 13-14 weeks, then it is possible that the fetus is viable and healthy, but the woman was prevented from getting an abortion earlier....like having extremely strict abortion laws that require one to travel state lines/countries and wait weeks, and have unnecessary ultrasounds, etc.). it is an extreme minority of cases. for example, in new zealand in 2020, 13,246 abortions were performed (almost 1 in 5 known pregnancies were aborted).....of those just 26 were late term abortions (defined as 21 or more weeks). that is essentially 0.2% of all abortions. all abortions at or above 9 weeks made up just 4% of total abortions, the majority of those before the second trimester.

there are two main methods (dependent on the trimester/circumstances). the first is intact induced 'birth', where the woman is induced and passes the (virtually always) dead or dying fetus. this (and the other method, which conservatives kinda mix up with this one) has been spun as 'partial birth abortion' by conservatives, who paint it as women giving birth to living, viable babies, who are then killed by doctors, which is absurd. this is sometimes medically called dilation and extraction or intact dilation and evacuation (depends on the place, some define evacuation as second trimester and extraction as third, but some use the terms as synonyms).

the process that you're talking about is also called dilation and extraction/evacuation in many places, also majority done on severely deformed, dying, and/or unlikely to live to birth fetuses. in this procedure, (correct me if i am wrong, gyns, I'M NOT A DOCTOR, this is my best understanding and simplified explanation of a complicated, individualised procedure), first you are (if the fetus is still alive) typically injected with a medication that stops the fetus' heart (almost always done, at least here, if the fetus is alive and at or past the 'viability' line, which is like 22-24 weeks, so less than a handful of cases in my country even get to this point of having an alive fetus while medically needing a late term abortion), and the doctors keep checking the heart beat until it stops, confirming that the fetus has died (this can also be done during intact D&E, i'm just describing the procedure you're interested in in more detail). once that is done, they then also use induction medications to help your cervix open up and pass the fetus. they may use tools like forceps and vacuum to pull the fetus out, usually crushing the skull, the largest part, and sometimes pulling the body in pieces in order to get it out successfully without causing major trauma to the woman.

this sounds gruesome and unpalatable, but it is a highly studied, highly practiced procedure developed over decades of research and implementation, by doctors who want the best and safest outcome for the woman, as well as the most 'humane' for the fetus, if still alive. the exact procedure, and actions done within it are individual for each woman, who decides it in discussion with her doctors. extensive thought, care, and consideration goes into each procedure when it is this late into gestation.

in the end, worrying about the exact methods of the procedure and what WE deem as 'okay' is not our right, it is doctors and the women themselves that know what's best for the situation. and in fact, loose abortion laws decrease late term abortions. new zealand had an abortion amendment in 2018-2020, making first trimester abortions FAR easier to get, and the proportion of abortions that were performed before 8 weeks of gestation went from 27% to 45%! surgical abortions overall (which in earlier gestation is NOT dilation and evacuation or extraction, it is suction and aspiration of uterine tissue, which includes the tiny embryo) went from 72% of procedures to 59%. and finally, all abortions at or above week 9 went from making up 6% of abortions to 4%.

i hope this gives some comfort. blocking any procedure just hurts women. because individuals have a right to defend their own body regardless of anything else, even fully fledged humans cannot use someone else's body without consent, like taking an organ or blood.

edit: correcting an error or two, largely due to my brain misreading a confusing report lol! 45% of nz abortion are under 8 weeks, 46% were between 8-12 weeks, and 5% being 13-16 weeks. so, 96% of abortions are performed below 14 weeks, not 9 weeks. this still means that 96% of abortions are performed during the first trimester though. and the number of late term abortions (21 weeks and over, which includes mid-late second trimester) was 102, not 26, which adds up to 0.8% of total abortions, not 0.2%. minor in terms of what i was talking about, but i'd hate to spread false statistics!!!

#the exact procedure differs based on trimester circumstances of fetus and the wants of the woman #some women want a whole fetus to bury and mourn #some want the quickest and least traumatic procedure #it's all discussed with the doctor

[electricbluebutterflies]

Leto/Jessica + “i won't let anything happen to you. ”

I’ve written first-meeting stuff for them before and I feel like each time I go there I get better so here we are. PG-ish and late queued crosspost / also on ao3.

She is alone and she is not. Theory and reality have proven to be such different things today, and an entire lifetime of preparations may or may not be enough. Too early to call it. Too early for anything.

She is alone and yet there is another body in this room with her, uncertainty radiating off an unknown body. If there is any comfort in these circumstances, Jessica thinks, it is the mutual lack of desire for them. There is no walking away from obligation, not when one’s entire life has been maneuvered towards a single moment, and-

She is alone, she is afraid, and she has never been more cold.

She knows what happens next, or what’s supposed to. If she were everything she were supposed to be, she would’ve done something now, would’ve taken a kiss or started to shed some of her uncomfortable layers or done something to indicate her understanding. Part of the deal is that she is supposed to be physically cooperative, and she doesn’t know what that looks like in practice but-

Instead they move around each other in near perfect quiet, both looking for weakness. He hasn’t done anything either, whatever comfort that is supposed to be, but not out of lack of interest. More…

Honorable, she thinks. Perhaps the first honorable person she has ever met. Perhaps the only one she ever will.

She is too young for her distrust, she knows, but nothing kind blooms in darkness and she is at worst only the natural result of what created her. Young enough to be malleable, that is the point of sending her out into the world now, but perhaps young enough to become something her trainers could not have planned around, perhaps so many things yet to be seen, perhaps-

“Are you even breathing?”

Perfect composure, she reminds herself. Never let anyone, especially her assignment, see any weakness. Do not give in to that little voice in her heart that wants to fight.

“I’m alright,” she says, because this is what is expected and she can already see patterns this side of her life could fall into if she isn’t careful. “Just tired from travel.”

Barely had time to breathe earlier, she’d say if she thought her honesty was actually wanted. Barely any time between landing and the realization that binding ceremonies run a lot longer than she’d thought, and her physical acclimation will get worse before it gets better but already she knows the air is different on water planets and she’ll be used to it in a month but she isn’t now and-

None of this matters. Her purpose, to the extent this man needs to know anything at all about her, is that she is to be pleasing. And it would be a lot easier to show that, to show that this does not have to be complicated or difficult, if either of them would do something. Anything.

She knows what she should do. She’s pretty sure she’s never wanted anything less. And oh what a terrifying thought that is, this sudden existence of her own preferences, the air has got to be messing with her mind, maybe there was something she wasn’t familiar with in that drink she was handed as part of the ceremonies, maybe-

He stops close enough to touch her and still doesn’t, and everyone who said this would be an easy placement for her can go to hell.

“You don’t need to be so tense.”

Oh, if he even knew how much was going on inside her body and mind right now. Her control is near-perfect and she still looks this bad, and she can only hide so much so long and she is miserable and terrified and-

“Give me one good reason.” She wants to provoke, she decides. Wants to see the worst this man is capable of as quickly as possible so she can leverage and live around it. Might get her out of this dress faster than anything else she can think of, if she’s lucky. Might-

“What do you think this is?” he asks, and the concern visible on his face is the most real thing she’s ever seen and in this moment she knows exactly what she has gotten herself into, how little the information she was given actually connects to this man she will have to find a way to live in peace with. “What do you think I am?”

“Indecisive and too polite,” she says, and if those are the worst traits she can find at this point then perhaps they will be alright.

He smiles and there’s sunlight in it, the clear-enough good intentions despite not knowing how to act. “That’s nicer than I expected.”

“Really?”

“The way you looked earlier, I… nevermind.”

“I can take it, whatever you-“

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen someone that visibly unhappy,” he murmurs, and still a kindness to it but-

She’d thought she’d concealed her emotions well, but apparently she is doing everything wrong today. So much for making an adequate first impression, let alone making clear that she is to be feared and left alone. So much for-

“What did I do? If it was that obvious, I should know so I can fix it.”

“It wasn’t anything… how much energy does it take to pretend to be that calm?”

“All I have. All I am.”

This is already too much, she knows, already the kind of honesty that gets women like her into very bad situations. But this will be different. She wants it to be different. She wants to believe the light in his eyes, the caution as he takes her hands in the most not-going-anywhere way imaginable. She will not go out of her way to reveal herself, she is still all she was ever meant to be, but she will not be serpentine within these walls.

“You don’t need to do that. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

This too she wants to believe, this vow as unfamiliar fingers trace patterns on her hands, how clear it is that this man has never done anything he didn’t mean. Easy, she repeats, but that does not have to mean boring. Doesn’t mean she’ll get to run circles around him – she probably still will, but it will be more understood, this one will know, this one will-

It is too early to be certain of so much, but for the first time in her life she feels something almost like hope and this is what will turn it into a life, this is what will turn her into a nightmare, this is what will make her dangerous someday. It is too early to know but she knows.

“You’re that certain of your systems?” She hasn’t noticed flaws yet, but she hasn’t had the chance either. In a few weeks if not days…

“That certain of my intentions. Tends to be enough.”

Jessica pushes away the feeling of warmth near where her heart would be if she admitted she had one. Oh the naivety in this one, the unproven faith that could only be so strong as a reaction to something she can’t yet pin down. He’ll burn them, if she doesn’t learn to run damage control well enough. He’ll burn everything if-

No. That won’t happen. Neither of them will let that happen.

And how easy it already is to see this as combined entity, as fates entwined despite her own lack of belief in the concept. This is where she has been placed, this is what she is expected to protect, and she will do right by it. She will do everything. She will be everything.

Maybe she doesn’t have to be alone.

Maybe her fleeting dreams of defiance are just an appetizer.

Maybe, somehow, all of this becomes real.

“You’re that certain,” she says again, this time not a question.

“One of us has to be,” he replies as he shifts his body closer and takes a cautious kiss. “You’ll learn.”

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

[emberarmy]

These are Celestial Seekers, a species close to my heart.

I'm taking inspiration from a friend with this, along with the fact I want to have better images of these species in case anyone ever wants to draw them. There's a lot here, but I had a lot of stuff written down for them. This time it's the species that The Splicer belongs too.

Celestial Seekers are a species described as "Pure possibility distilled into form due to the fallout of creation" And it's a very apt description. The image here is the best general image I can give you, due to the fact that each Celestial Seeker looks vastly different due to their abilities as being made of pure Essence.

Home: Due to the scattered nature of their species, they don't have any one home and it's very common to find one or two per planet that have just decided to live there as they can really live anywhere. There is one place that has the highest concentration of them with The Nebula of Whims and Wishes, a strange section of space where rules no longer apply.

Behaviour: They are known to be very happy and fickle creatures and are very forgetful. It's important to remember that even though they can show great intelligence and awareness to degrees higher than humans, at the end of the day, they are close to more wild animals. They interact with the world through instincts. Such as reacting to threats violently or easily becoming distracted when they notice something. Strangely, part of their instincts seems to focus on music. One common behavior is that they will mimic things around them, especially the behavior of a source of guidance.

Sexual Dimorphism: They have no biological gender as they do not reproduce, since they just spawn from space from collections of essence. If one desires, they can choose a gender for themselves and how they view that gender will affect how they grow, reflecting their mental image of themselves. If one grew up around humans and saw themselves as female, they would develop the feminine traits of a human for instance.

Appearance: It's complicated since they can look like anything overtime, it’s common for people to mistake them for a member of another species or a crossbreed as they change to adapt to the people that surround them. Though ones that are known to travel or are satisfied with how they look aren’t as likely to adapt to fit in. Key tells are smaller sizes, their unique eyes, fin-like growths on their head, and stary patterns. When young, they appear as small cell-like creatures that slowly grow. They tend to lose their translucent skin when adapting. 

Language: They have the potential to learn almost any language, even those that cannot be understood by other species since they can adapt their bodies to provide the parts and behavior to communicate. The common language that comes naturally to them is known as Chirptones, which are a series of quick and sharp vocalizations with a harmonic quality. Chirptones resemble different instruments with different sounds, with each Seeker sounding like a different instrument. Though it can sound like any sort of instrument, it tends to be similar to electronic or synth-like instruments as those are the most common vocal tones for Seekers. Abilities:  Enhanced Adaptation- They can develop any power through adaption to a problem they face, it can take time and they don't get to control what happens. If they don't exercise a power before it becomes truly a part of them, they can lose it like someone can lose a skill if they don't practice. Musical Literacy- Due to their voice and language, they have a natural talent for music and have an easy time finding a rhythm in their actions. Empathy- Their main food source is energy given off by positive emotions, so they have an ability to sense them in people.

Weaknesses: Emotional Vulnerability- Strong negative emotions can cause them harm, but usually just disorientates. They also can't tell why someone would feel an emotion, which causes gaps in their understanding. Impulsiveness- They are fickle creatures by nature, and thus are known to not think through actions beforehand.

If you want to draw them as a character or a transformation for a trix user, feel free! But tag me because I would love to see what people do with them. You are not permitted to use them in any stories or projects without explicit permission though.

#art #digital art #ben 10 #alien #ben 10 fan alien #creature design #alien design #space #space creature #celestial

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Casper McFadden

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Moving into a new home was never easy. Oftentimes, it meant packing up everything you owned, leaving a bunch of good memories behind, and traveling across the country to a new town where you’d have to make all new friends and renovate old fixtures.

- But there was something about your new house that made it both easier and harder to live in: the fact that it was haunted.

- Obviously your family didn’t find out about the ghosts until after they’d signed the papers and even if they were warned about it, they probably wouldn’t have believed the realtor, but none of that mattered now. Now you were stuck in a old house with a bunch of spirits, stuck until your parents save up enough money to move again.

- So what made the manor easier to live in, you may ask. Well, the fact that it came with a friend….

- You and Casper meet the day you move into the Whipstaff Manor. You’re wandering around, exploring the home and trying to figure out which room you want to live in, unaware that there’s a specter following you.

- The minute Casper sees you, he’s head over tail. You make his undead little heart race and have him second guessing his every action. Which is the main reason it makes him a while to formally introduce himself, he’s too scared that he’ll ruin his first impression.

- Sadly for him, his first impression still doesn’t go over well, regardless of how much he practiced.

- In his defense, it wasn’t anything that he did, it was more the fact that you were suddenly face to face with a phantom. Anyone would have freaked out in response to that, and they would have freaked out to any ghost as well; no matter how friendly.

- So, like the rational young woman that you are, you scream and take off like a rocket, dashing out of the room and down the hall to find a more secure and safe looking room to hide in until your parents get back from the store.

- He follows behind, attempting to calm you down and feeling downright awful for scaring you. Once you’ve locked yourself away into a broom closet, he gives you a minute to breathe before he calls out to you, telling you that he’s sorry and trying to coax you out so that you can talk.

- It takes you another minute to be convinced and to trust him when he says he isn’t gonna hurt you, but eventually, you do brace yourself and open the door.

- Once you do, you find that he really isn’t as scary as you’d originally though he was. In fact, he was actually sort of cute; in a cartoony sort of way, and he’s friendly to boot; so you wind up feeling a bit silly for being so frightened of him. And after you begin to think like that, the two of you begin to develop a close friendship.

- While his uncles might be incredibly obnoxious and annoying, you can’t deny that you enjoy having the ghostly presences in your home; especially when school roles around and you find yourself feeling like an alien with no one to turn to. You might not have any living friends in your town but you at least have a few see through ones at home that ensure you’re not completely alone.

- But, compared to your primarily platonic feelings, Caspers feelings for you were a lot more complicated. He valued your friendship and enjoyed having you as a pal, but he also had more romantic feelings towards you. In simpler terms: he’d had a massive crush on you from the moment you walked in.

- And though he’d have loved to confess his feelings and see if you felt the same, he knew that it was practically impossible for the two of you to be together; at least until you’d died …or until he was alive again!

- The minute he remembers the Lazurus he immediately erupts into a fit of excitement and joy. If you could get it to work, he could be alive again and the two of you could be together for the rest of your lives, either as friends or as something more, he honestly didn’t care which; though he hoped it was the second one.

- So he tells you about the invention and the two of you get to work. You take the wild trip down to his fathers lab, search around until you find what you’re looking for, load the contraption up with it’s necessary elixir, and pull the levers with bated breath.

- You don’t know what you’d expected to walk out of the machine but it certainly wasn’t this. Perfectly done blond hair, shining blue eyes, and a face that made you suddenly flustered to be in your best friends presence. He looked like a Disney prince and you were captivated.

“How do I look?” He asked nervously.

“Perfect,” you responded a little too quickly. “I mean, human, normal …living.”

- His face broke out into a smile and he threw his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. The action caught you off guard and made your heart race but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

- Once you’d finished hugging, he pulled away slowly and you found yourselves locking eyes. His gaze flickered to your lips and before you knew it, the two of you were leaning forward and sharing a kiss.

- His uncles may or may not have interrupted you but the “damage” was already done. You were just as hooked on him as he was on you and neither of you could be happier.

- Casper loves pda. He loves being able to actually touch you and be out in public and show the whole town that the two of you are together; even though half of them are confused as to who he is. 

- He touches you and holds you close whenever he can. He’s waited to do it since the moment he met you and now that you’re together; and he isn’t ice cold and only semi-solid, he enjoys every little ounce of affection he can provide and obtain.

- Handholding.

- Cheek kisses. 

- Long, soft kisses. They’re sort of a contrast to his usual hyper behavior, which is why, if you ever need him to calm him down and focus, all you have to do is ask for a kiss or make it obvious that that’s what you’re going to do. He skids to a stop and happily complies as he gives you an adorable little smile.

- Pet names aren’t really his thing but he does call you by fun nicknames that he’s come up with; usually a shorter or longer version of your name.

- Cuddling is a must with Casper. He absolutely loves it, no matter how the two of you do it. Sometimes you’ll lay on his chest, other times you’ll spoon, and other times you’ll face each other on the bed and talk until one of you dozes off.

- Speaking of: he definitely watches you sleep every now and again, which sounds far more creepy than it actually is. Like, you’ll be talking late at night and you’ll fall asleep and he’ll just look at your peaceful face for a while.

- If we’re going with the assumption that Casper maintains some of the aspects of being a ghost, I think it’s safe to say that he’s occasionally at least a little cooler than a normal human, which makes him the perfect companion for hot days.

- Being carried and flown around.

- Sometimes; especially prior to him being in the Lazurus, he forgets that you’re not a ghost and gets you into some uncomfortable situations. And after he turns human again, he definitely has to get used to not being able to go through walls and have things go through him when they’re thrown or fall.

- Testing out exactly what he’s still capable of doing and if there’s any limits to his new life. Is he perfectly normal? Does he have ghostly powers? Do the effects occasionally wear off during certain times or seasons? It’s all stuff you have to figure out.

- For a while after he’s brought back to life, he spends all day experiencing everything he missed when he was still alive. All the smells, sights, and touches; he runs around like Jack Skellington while you sit back and watch with a smile.

- Going to the mall. It’s one of his favorite places to visit, he just loves the entire atmosphere of the place; especially since he wasn’t really able to go and enjoy everything about it before he turned human again.

- Tv dates.

- Playing different games with each other. Board games, pirates, video games, you name it, he’ll do it.

- Sitting on top of the lighthouse with him.

- Enjoying the view from outside of the manor. You have the perfect view of the ocean from your garden so the two of you can always throw a blanket down and stare out at the sea together.

- Just goofing off with each other. Running around the house together, sliding down the stairwell, having him push you in a chair down the halls, etc. You’ve got a huge house to mess around in, why not take advantage of it?

- Dancing together. He told you he was a good dancer.

- Late night conversations. You can always talk to him about anything you want or need to.

- Catching him watching you a lot. He always has such a loving gaze when he’s looking at you, just seeing his face when he’s watching you do something or speak is reassurance that he really cares about you.

- Always having a warm and excited greeting when you return home from school. He also probably occasionally goes with you or at least walks you there or visits during lunch.

- He loves making surprises for you. Throwing you little parties or coming up with different ways to make you smile or cheer you up after school or whenever he can see that you’re feeling down is one of his favorite hobbies.

- He wants to be with you like 25/7 so don’t be surprised if he’s constantly bothering you with his presence. It’s a good thing you love him because if you didn’t he’d become very annoying, very quickly.

- Him just appearing at random is commonplace so your parents and you definitely have to take some time to get used to it. I mean he lives in your house and now that he’s human again, it’s definitely a bit easier than when he was a ghost, but still.

- Getting chairs pulled out and doors opened for you. He likes being a gentleman.

- Him cooking for you. He definitely tries to impress you with his skills and all the inventions he uses; and he just likes doing something nice like that for you.

- Discovering all his dads inventions and letting him tell you about them. It’s really quite fascinating to see how they all work and how excited he gets while showing you how to use them.

- I have a feeling that he doesn’t like winter; for obvious reasons, and whenever it comes around, all he wants to do is stay inside with you and do indoor activities. If you were to want to go out, it’d take you a while to persuade him and even if you did; or were only going out by yourself, he’d spend forever bundling you up and making up a bunch of rules to keep you safe.

- Probably dealing with his ghostly self every now and again. I have a feeling that the Lazurus machines effects occasionally wear off for a little while from time to time so while he’s alive most of the time, you do have moments of spooky transparency as well.

- Pranking each other and other people. He might be a sweetheart but he also has a bit of a mischievous streak.

- Him always wanting to show you whatever cool thing he sees, does, finds, or hears about. Just being able to share things with you makes him happy.

- Listening to his stories from when he was alive or the decades he wasn’t.

- Fixing up his room for him and hanging out up there with all his toys.

- Being gifted some of his mothers things. Dresses, jewelry, stuff like that.

- His uncles bothering the two of you. They’re constantly harassing and teasing you; just try to pay them no mind.

- Standing up for him when his uncles are being more awful than usual.

- He might be the only person you can really bond with in your town, considering the fact that whenever you have anybody over, they’re almost always harassed by his uncles and scared away. Which Casper may or may not be sort of happy about.

- Casper gets jealous pretty easily. Anytime another guy takes interest in you, he always feels the need to mock them behind their backs or be passive aggressively not so friendly whenever they approach you when you’re out with him. It’s best to not bring up guys in your class unless it’s obvious that they only like you as a friend; but even then he’d wonder why you need friends (even if they’re girls) other than him.

- He’s sort of overprotective of you. He just got his life back so he certainly doesn’t want anything bad happening and putting yours in danger.

- He absolutely hates fighting so whenever the two of you have an argument, he’s always quick to try and settle it and apologize; even if he doesn’t really think he’s done anything wrong.

- Saying “I love you” isn’t really his forte. He prefers saying and doing other things to show you that he does.

- The two of you sort of just have to go with the flow and see where your relationship takes you. You don’t know how exactly the rest of his “life” will go so you just try to enjoy the present and what you have right now.

#casper mcfadden imagine #casper mcfadden headcanon #casper mcfadden imagines #casper mcfadden headcanons #casper 1995 #casper imagine #casper imagines #casper headcanons #casper headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

[fluffywolverine]

so season 6 of lucifer came out.

there were some things that i liked, but generally i hated it. i believe that was SUCH. BAD. WRITING and it left me frustrated. so i decided to write down all things that pissed me off and sometimes i try to fix this by giving other ideas that – in my opinion – would have made the story better. Check my points out and feel free to add your points of view. without further ado: let’s talk.

- imma start with the big one – fucking time travel. ok I generally hate this trope in the media, because it’s complicated and often leads to some logical mistakes – and they happened here. so rory time travels because of her anger which was caused… by her anger?? i think this was unnecessary. it also brings trouble with this whole free will vs. fate discourse. lucifer says, that he chooses free will… but at the same time he goes the path of his fate. he disappears from rory’s life, because he HAS TO in order of the events of the season to happen. just because he chose to do it, doesn’t mean it’s free will.

- lucifer becomes the very thing he desperately didn’t want to become. “bUt It WaS fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd” screw this bullshit, if writers wanted to make it better, they could have easily do so. they could have altered the rules of time travel so that his choice of staying could have resulted in rory disappearing. yes, that would have been heart-breaking, but it would have been a great lesson for lucifer, that he can’t make the same mistakes his father did.

- chloe and Lucifer get a child without even talking about it. “bUt MaYbE tHeY tAlKeD aBoUt It We JuSt DiDn’T sEe It” you may say. but the point of writing anything  - whether it’s a book or a script – is to show any thing that matters. and talking about having kids is one of the most things any couple should do. also not every couple needs to have kids and forcing deckerstar to have it feels so far-fetched. this thread was very unnecessary.

- rory herself is a big problem. to begin with – she wanted to KILL her FATHER. i get her frustration, but commiting a murder?? just because he wasn’t there for her?? I would have thought that chloe taught her better, taught her that, like, killing people is bad. turns out she did not. secondly… she just isn’t necessary here. i elaborate later so in conclusion – her thread could be altered with michael’s and it would have made much more sense. i also don’t like the actress (why was she blinking so much??) so i certainly didn’t help.

- of course ella has to end up with a boyfriend. because earlier she always ended up with “bad boys” and now, without any help, she is just able to have a healthy relationship! yay! for me this creates a toxic view, that in order to be happy one HAS TO be in a relationship, because being alone is aLwAyS bAd. well, it’s not.

- i also have troubles with lucifer starting up a foundation for her. firstly, he didn’t ask her. secondly it – AGAIN – shows, that anything good ella got, was because of another man. firstly because of her relationship with carol, secondly because of lucifer’s idea. it could have been so easily altered! there could have been a scene of a conversation e.g. with amenadiel where she expressed a will to do better and be better for someone (given that she sees a lot of dark in herself). amenadiel could have then told her, that she is an inspiration and that it is her biggest strength. that could have been where ella came up with an idea to start a foundation blah blah – it’s just a rough idea but I believe that written well, it could have been so much better;

- and the last thing about ella – of course she had to find out about celestial stuff because sHe WaS tHe OnLy OnE rEmAiNiNg. umm what about trixie? i'll come back to her later. ella was portrayed as the only one believing in god and having her seeing that he really exists ruins the concept of faith. it’s not about knowing something exists, it’s about believing in it.

- WHERE THE FUCK IS MICHAEL. i must admit that i loved this character AND I CAN’T STAND HOW AWFULLY HE WAS TREATED HERE. so at the end of season 5 lucifer says “everyone deserves a second chance, even you michael". and what does he do then? COMMANDS HIS TWIN TO CLEAR THE FLOOR IN HELL. yes, i agree that michael should have been punished for his rebellion plan, but… he already has his wing cut off. now he’s stuck in hell, with no way out and is he supposed to learn his lesson? this is cruel. instead of this the entire season could have been centred on him – his journey to self-acceptance, learning how manipulating someone is toxic and starting to realise how to be a better person. at the end he could have become god (because amenadiel is such an obvious choice), which would create a beautiful connection – michael in heaven and his twin in hell.

- lucifer doesn’t feel like being god and that’s cool. damn. people died for him to win this place and he’s like “actually you know guys i’m not the right person bye”. while i believe that anyone should step out if they have a reason, but at the same time lucifer should have faced any consequences of his decisions. falling frog and kool aid in the river are not enough.

- adam’s plot feels just quickly sketched, not actually written. i really appreciate this take on toxic masculinity but it all felt too fast-paced. it’s good that they show this idea of “strong and not-showing-any-feelings man” kind of attitude, but it is impossible for ANYONE (especially The ManTM) to change their mind in a matter of a few days. it takes weeks, months, years even, especially given that adam is like a gazillion years old, he should have especially taken a long time to process this.

- carol is just too pure to exist. he’s also one of the most boring, plain and one-dimensional character i’ve ever seen. i feel like they gave him a problem with alcohol because the writers were like “hmmmmm he has to have some weakness. LET’S MAKE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC”. we don’t see any signs of his everyday struggle, why did he fell into this problem, how did struggle. it just feels like a dull plot device to show that he has flaws. oh and also he’s so pure that he doesn’t mind ella BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE. acceptance should have boundaries and violating someone’s personal space isn’t right.

- why did they forget about trixie again? yes, i know that scarlett estevez had another project but this does not justify the bad writing. the girl lost her father and we only see her crying once because of that. no signs of this affecting her everyday life, not showing any consequences of her relationships with other people, not  glimpse of any change in her behaviour. oh and also she loses lucifer too because time travel! great idea, writers! losing another close to her person would have been soooooo good for her psychic for sure.

- i also hate the idea that suddenly rory becomes the only child they care for. where is trixie when they spend their day on the beach? where is she when her mother dies? did writers forget about her as well as they did about michael?

- amenadiel being a police officer is… problematic. i was looking forward to this thread, i was kinda scared too and it turned out… meh. i’m white and not American, so this of course does not involve me at all, but i felt like this was not enough. harris basically said that there is nothing they can do to make it better for black folks. even though chloe and amenadiel want to make everything more just, we don’t actually see any change. the only thing is that harris becomes a detective (right? i’m not sure if i understood it correctly, so correct me if i’m wrong, please) which is a total contradiction of what she said before. suddenly she does not have to protect people anymore?

- in season 5 they stated that heaven and hell need to be fixed, as the system is unfair and unjust. at the end we don’t see any change, the only thing that is different is lucifer helping damned souls. it doesn’t help at all! these people still go to hell, they still suffer and there’s nothing that changed here! plus there is also this thing, that a sociopath who murdered people in cold blood goes to heaven (because he does not feel any guilt) and a person abused by her parents/partner/whoever goes to hell (because have been manipulated to feel guilt).

- dan making amends with trixie while… there wasn’t really anything to make amends about. like, most of the parents make mistakes while upbringing their children, but does this make them unworthy of heaven? i would have preferred dan to slowly regain his self-consciousness, how he positively affected the lives of people around him and by doing so – through conversations or maybe reliving some of the memories, he could have proved to himself that he is worthy of love and redemption.

phew, what a ride. i really liked dan being reunited with charlotte (it went just as i imagined) and mazeve dynamics. i even felt like they are finally a real life relationship – with people hurting each other by not understanding each other, but then talking and seeing other’s perspective. generally though, i’m very disappointed.

sorry for any mistakes, lacking commas etc. writing a text this long in not my native language was not easy.

#lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer spoilers #lucifer season 6

[delimeful]

Builder

new minecraft AU update! this one jumps between the past & the present! 

warnings: zombies, injury mention

-

Patton found the old house on a cloudy day.

He was still hit with the urge to roam, every once in a while, and while Logan’s home rested on the edge of a swamp, there were green, rolling hills to the southwest that were lovely to wander in.

Logan normally escorted him, as an extra pair of eyes with a helpful cat familiar to prevent any creepers from creeping up on him, but today he had been immersed in his potions. He’d found a new enchanted spellbook while out on a voyage, and was practically bursting with ideas upon his return.

Patton had smiled and left him to it, waving off any concerns with a promise to be extra careful and come back home if he started feeling sunsick.

He hadn’t meant to amble so far off course, but he’d seen a beehive, and where there were bees, there were flowers!

Spurred on by the idea of a flower crown for his friend, he’d found himself farther westward than he’d ever gone before. The hills turned to a taiga landscape, and between those towering birches was the house.

It looked uninhabitable, the wood rotted and the roof collapsed, but something about it called Patton closer, and so he pushed aside the remains of the front door and walked inside.

The stairs were ruined, barring any entry to the upper level of the house. Any furniture that had once stood tall was now utterly destroyed by years of exposure to the elements. He stepped carefully, ducking past cobwebs and listening to each creaky step.

Finally, he reached the back corner, and stopped, turning his head this way and that until the dull glint of metal caught his eye, half-hidden behind a dusty bedframe.

He crouched next to the iron hatch, and with only the barest moment of hesitation, pulled it open.

Daylight spilled into the basement below, and he caught a glimpse of clouded eyes set in a rotting face before the zombie backed up out of the light with a groan. Patton stumbled back with a yelp, falling on his back, and then crawled forwards and slammed the latch shut.

There was no protest from the creature below, and he left the house at a sprint.

-

Logan had followed him back out to the house based on nothing but Patton’s panicked ramblings alone, and his brow had grown more and more furrowed as they reached the house, ventured inside, and re-opened that hatch.

“I passed this house many times,” he spoke slowly, voice pained, “and all this time, someone had been down here?”

Patton leaned in, hands shaking as his eyes adjusted to the dark. “There’s two of them,” he corrected softly, and then stood back up in time to watch Logan hurry out of the dilapidated building.

It was guilt that his anger stemmed from, and Patton gave him some time before following, ignoring the bubbling remains of a shattered potion on the ground to pull his friend into a long hug.

“Could you help them?” he asked, once Logan’s witch mark had ceased its glowing, and his fists were no longer white-knuckled. “The way you helped me?”

Logan had been looking at him with that helplessly surprised stare, the one that always appeared when Patton witnessed his supernatural ‘fits’ firsthand and stayed anyway.

At the question, his expression went firm. “We’re going to try.”

-

The next few weeks were a rush of planning, harvesting, and brewing.

Patton hadn’t been sure he would be much of a help at all, but Logan had an unending list of tasks that he was working through, and a surprising amount were simple enough that Patton could manage them himself, like scavenging for certain ingredients or preparing others in a certain manner.

Eventually, he even began his own little garden, where he planted the ingredients more commonly needed for most of Logan’s potions.

Other tasks weren’t so easy.

Gold couldn’t be grown, for example, and their luck in mines varied from day to day. Some of the ingredients were only found in the Nether, and while Logan had traversed it enough to be familiar, it was still a dangerous place.

Logan had once returned home with a crossbow bolt lodged in his shoulder, having survived the trek back by leaving the bolt in and drinking a potion of healing anyways. They'd had to reopen the wound to get it out, and Patton had insisted on waiting by the portal for every venture after, just in case something like that happened again.

Still, bit by bit they worked, until Logan had a refined version of the cure he’d created for Patton.

Applying the cure didn’t actually take that long, though Logan expressed his frustration with how difficult it was to maneuver young zombies. Apparently older zombies-- the ones that were more bone than flesh, the ones that didn’t flinch away from pain, the ones that no potion could cure-- were much easier to lead. More predictable after the last traces of humanity faded from their minds.

Regardless, Patton’s very talented friend managed to separate and enclose the two of them in cells on his own, refusing Patton's assistance to avoid adding an extra person to the mix and complicating everything. He did allow Patton to help him with the actual curing, and how strange it was, to be on the other end of the process this time.

The potion & golden apple combination went over without a hitch, and Patton didn't think he'd ever slept as deeply as he did the night after those hard weeks of work. With the former zombies now laying tucked into their own beds, healing more by the day, Logan and Patton were left to wait in anxious anticipation.

Luckily, they had plenty to do to occupy their time! The new residents would need a place to stay, after all, and though Logan’s home was cozy, it wasn’t large enough to fit additions. Patton had originally wanted to build a neighboring house right next door, but Logan had suggested they build it closer to the decrepit house, just in case these strangers wanted some space to themselves after their ordeal.

Patton had a sneaking suspicion that the suggestion was also in case the others reacted badly to Logan's witch status, but he didn’t call his housemate out on it. He was nervous about meeting these new people too, after all. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to spend much time with anyone but Logan since regaining consciousness, and sometimes it all seemed like too much.

Now though, building this place with the breeze at his back and Logan at his side, he felt as though he could take on all the muchness in the world.

He set another wooden beam in place, stepping back to smile at how close they were to finishing the house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it had taken a lot of hard work, and Patton had a good feeling about it.

New beginnings didn’t come around every day, after all.

-

Patton smiled nostalgically at the house in the distance, the one at the heart of the village that he had built together with Logan all that time ago.

It was amazing how much the village had grown, one new home at a time, occupied mostly by former zombies at first, and then the occasional traveler settling down, and eventually a few kids running about. It had become a thriving community, and Patton never stopped feeling proud of all the work that everyone had put in to keep it safe and welcoming.

There was a curious little ‘vrrp’ from behind him, and Patton turned away from the half-finished wall to see Anxiety shuffling in place, avoiding the gaps in the floor that hadn’t yet been patched.

“Just lost in thought!” he reassured the enderman, reaching out slowly and patting his friend’s arm, giving him plenty of time to scoot away if he wasn’t feeling up to touch today. Anxiety held still, fingers curling around Patton’s hand in turn.

After a moment of this, he teleported away sheepishly, and Patton muffled a chuckle as he turned back to finish installing a window. Logan would be here soon, but until then, it was nice to have company as he once again worked on adding a home to their little patchwork village.

Patton would be the one moving in, of course, and though there was a new addition to their population, Anxiety was more of a secret housemate than a homeowner. (They wouldn’t want anyone gawking at him, after all!) Even with those differences, the process was still familiar enough to make him grin.

Anxiety made a small, otherworldly 'notice me' chirp, and Patton turned to find there was a solid block of dirt in his wall, the grass on top of it still green. It only took him a moment to connect the dirt’s presence to the empty-handed enderman shifting antsily next to it.

“Oh! What a nice touch!” he encouraged, and laughed as Anxiety teleported back and forth in apparent pride. “It’s fun to work together with friends on stuff like this, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t really understand the noises that the enderman made in response, but he got the sense it was a resounding agreement.

#sanders sides #minecraft au #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ender #my writing #writing #fluff

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me: Part 2 (N.R.)

Part One

Huge shoutout to @confusinggemini612 who requested this a loooong time ago and I’m just now getting to it (I am so sorry for the wait). I hope this is what you had in mind :)

Warnings: swearing; PTSD; mentions of suicide/self-sacrifice

Word count: 2.6k

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The cool breeze blows through my hair, the hand in mine being the only source of warmth in the chill of the Russian countryside. As we walk closer, a chorus of pigs snorting fills my ears. Natasha had given me a brief rundown and a quick pep talk before taking me to meet her family. Now, it was game time.

“Are you ready?”

“Not in the slightest,” I respond to the redhead.

“Let’s do it then,” she says with a smirk, to which I reply with a scoff.

We walk through the gate and enter the small house, immediately hearing three distinct voices, each laced with a thick Russian accent. The voices hush as the door closes behind us, and a blonde woman is the first to greet us.

“Ah, сестра! Mom and Dad are flirting again, let’s make a run for it,” Yelena whisper-yells.

“So put a sedative in their vodka or something, I don’t know,” Natasha replies. I’m not sure if I should introduce myself or not, so I just stand there awkwardly.

“They are both spies, they’re not going to fall for- actually, Alexei would, but Mom would never fall for that,” Yelena pauses as she notices me. She looks me from head to toe and squints before her lips quirk into a smirk. “And who might this be? Is this your little girlfriend?”

“Yelena, don’t be an ass,” Nat grumbles with a scowl.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yelena hums before turning back to Natasha. “She’s definitely your girlfriend.”

“Oh shut up,” Natasha whines, walking further into the house. I look at Yelena and nod in confirmation before following Nat. I hear her whisper “I knew it” from behind me, causing me to laugh. Natasha turns to give me a questioning look, but I just brush it off with a shrug and a smirk. She narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by a deep, booming voice.

“Natasha! Welcome home! Look at this, all my girls back together again! It is so nice to see you,” Alexei says, moving forward to pinch Natasha’s cheeks. She gently pushes him away with a scowl, and I can’t tell if she’s really uncomfortable or not. Either way, it brings my guard up, ready to defend her.

“And who might this be?” Alexei questions, turning to face me.

“Dad, this is Y/N,” she says before I can answer. I offer a kind smile.

Yelena, who had made her way to the kitchen table with a bottle of vodka, says “She’s Natasha’s girlfriend.”

“Thank you for the input, Yelena,” Natasha says with a tight-lipped smile.

“Girlfriend, huh? When did that happen? Natasha, I was not aware that you, uh, how do you say? Swing that way?” A dark-haired woman slaps his arm for his comment and he exclaims, “Ow!”

“Pay him no mind, Natasha. He is a bit slow, but Mama always knew. You were not very discreet about the way you looked at that Hannah girl in Ohio. And as for you, it is nice to meet you. I’m Melina, what is your name?” Her demeanor is friendly, but her gaze is skeptical. She’s probably already planning how to kill me if she decides that I’m not good enough for her daughter.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say with a nervous smile.

“Alright, guys, that’s enough. Please stop harassing my girlfriend,” Natasha says with a sigh.

“Come, sit,” Yelena commands with a wave, still sitting at the kitchen table.

I sit across from her and Natasha sits next to me. Melina and Alexei follow soon after, with Alexei sitting at the head of the table and Melina sitting next to Yelena.

“Here you go,” Yelena says as she slides me a shot glass full of vodka. I clink it against hers in the air and down it in one go, grimacing at the burn. “Are you alright?” Yelena asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying my agony.

“Oh, yeah, I’m great. Just not used to Russian vodka, that’s all.” Yelena nods, satisfied with my answer, before going to pour me another shot.

Natasha stops her by saying, “Yelena, no more vodka. You’re going to kill her.”

“You’re no fun,” the younger sister says, but complies, nonetheless.

“Natasha, you are slouching again. Sit up straight,” Melina interjects.

“Mom, I’m not slouching. I told you I don’t slouch,” Nat protests.

“So how did you two meet?” Yelena asks, interrupting the banter.

“Oh, we met in New York during the invasion, when the Avengers were formed,” I answer.

“You are an Avenger! I knew you looked familiar. Tell me, does Captain America ever mention me, the great Red Guardian? I could kick his ass, you know. I’ve done it before,” Alexei says, causing the three Russian women to groan and complain.

“That never happened, Dad,” Yelena mumbles at the same time Natasha says, “He doesn’t talk about you because you guys have never met.” 

I raise my eyebrows at them. They seem awfully familiar with this conversation; how often does Alexei say this crap?

“So, Y/N. What happened when you guys brought everyone back? How did you do it? Natasha won't tell me,” Yelena questions. I chuckle nervously, glancing at Natasha, who is clearly uncomfortable with this topic of discussion.

“Um, I don’t know if I should… It’s complicated, really,” I say, trailing off.

“Yelena, stop. It doesn’t matter. And don’t put her in the middle of things,” Natasha responds, defending me. An awkward silence fills the room until Alexei speaks up again.

“He really hasn’t mentioned me? Have you even asked him about me?”

<//>

“Why won’t you tell them what happened?” I ask quietly. It’s nighttime now, and I’m lying in bed next to Nat in the guest room. She seemed so uncomfortable, and it’s been worrying me since.

“They just don’t need to know,” she replies shortly

“But they got snapped away, Natty. Don’t you think they deserve more of an explanation than what they’ve seen on the news?”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my family, Y/N.” Her sharp tone feels like a blade to the heart, but I take a deep breath and soften my resolve, knowing that she’s only snapping at me because something else is upsetting her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I just, I can tell that something is upsetting you. You can’t just bottle stuff up, Nat. It doesn’t have to be me if you’re not comfortable, but you need to talk to someone about it.”

She doesn’t respond immediately. “I’ve told them. I gave them the basics: Thanos snapped people away, we time traveled, got magical stones, snapped people back, and then killed Thanos. That satisfied my parents, but Yelena wants to know the whole story.”

“And you’re not comfortable retelling it?”

“Parts of it are bearable, but… I can’t think about it. You almost killed yourself for me, Y/N. You did die for me. I can’t think about that day, let alone tell my baby sister about it,” she says. Her voice is quiet, breaking as the tears flood her eyes. I pull her head into my chest and run my fingers through her hair.

“I’m right here, Natty. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You don’t have to tell anyone about what happened. I was terrified of losing you on Vormir. I hate talking about it, too.”

“Is that why you went to Dr. Garcia?”

“Partly. There were other reasons, too.” I hesitated before continuing. “I kept hearing the tortured screams. When I slept, in my head, everywhere I went. I heard them all the time. And I would get random whiffs of burning flesh. As you know, I went to the Underworld when I ‘died’ and I guess it just affected me more than I had originally thought.”

“Angel, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, or freak you out. The whole thing was pretty weird. For a while, I honestly thought I was haunted. It was probably pretty selfish, but I didn’t wanna scare you away.”

“You could never scare me away. But just to be clear, you aren’t haunted, right?”

I laugh quietly. “No, I am not haunted. A mild case of PTSD, but I’m doing better now. The therapy helped a lot.”

“Do you think it would help me? I still get nightmares sometimes...of you going over that cliff. I just, I close my eyes and you’re gone, and I hate it.”

“I’m so sorry, my love. I hate how much pain I’ve caused you. But I do think it would help. We can find someone when we get back home, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Natty.”

<//>

“Just do it! It will be fun! I will go easy, I swear,” Yelena begs.

“Okay, fi-”

“No! No way in Hell. You are not sparring with her,” Natasha argues.

“I’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, she kicks my ass,” I say.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure the worst case scenario would be if I accidentally killed you,” Yelena says flatly. “But that won’t happen! Please, Natasha. I want to see what she’s got,” she pleads with a pout.

Natasha sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath about us being a bunch of children. “Fine, but if you so much as scratch her-”

“Y/N will be fine. Come on,” Yelena says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the backyard.

Thirty minutes later, I’m flat on my back in the grass, wheezing. I groan as I attempt to sit up, the whole world spinning as I do.

“Yelena! What the hell did I say?! You literally threw her,” Natasha yells.

“No, no. I’m good,” I say weakly.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting her to be so...defenseless.”

“I am not defenseless,” I counter.

“You cannot even throw a punch,” the blonde deadpans.

“That doesn’t make her defenseless,” Nat says as she helps me to my feet. “She could take every single one of you out right now without even moving.” 

From a few feet away, Melina quirks an eyebrow and Alexei mumbles “she could not take me out.”

“You are delusional, Natasha. How are we supposed to trust this woman to protect you when she cannot even protect herself?” 

“She can protect both of us just fine, Yelena. Not that I need anyone’s protection.”

“Your sister has a point,” Melina tells Nat. “Sorry, Y/N,” she adds. I open my mouth to speak, but don’t even know what to say. This is my worst nightmare.

“You must be able to punch when you are in trouble! Much like I did to Captain America back in the day,” Alexei adds.

“Alright, enough. I’ll have you know that Y/N is one of the most powerful Avengers. Actually, she’s a literal goddess,” Natasha snaps.

“Well, of course you would think so. You are her girlfriend,” Melina says.

“Guys, I’m being serious!”

“Do not get snappy with us. We are just looking out for you,” Alexei says.

“I don’t need-”

“Somebody has to be there to keep you safe, and this girl could not bring harm to a plant,” Melina remarks. 

“I’m literally standing right here,” I mumble under my breath.

“She literally saved my life! How is that not keeping me safe?!” My eyes widen; what happened to not revealing that tidbit of information?

“What do you mean? You saved her life?” Yelena asks as she turns to address me.

“If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead right now. And you guys never would’ve come back,” Natasha retorts, clenching her jaw.

“What? Why? What happened,” Yelena rambles. I can see the worry etched on her face, and it makes her look oddly childlike. It almost makes me want to pull her into a hug, but I’m fairly certain she’d throat punch me if I tried.

“On a planet called Vormir. A life needed to be sacrificed to get one of the Infinity Stones. It was me, Clint, or Y/N. I tried, but Y/N stopped me. That’s what I mean.” Natasha is seething. She clearly didn’t appreciate her family’s doubts.

“You tried to kill yourself?” Yelena addresses Natasha, but no one has the chance to answer her before Melina speaks up.

“If you sacrificed yourself, then how are you here?”

“It’s complicated,” I say with hesitance. “I am technically a goddess. I have many different powers, but most of them deal with death. When I died, I went to the Underworld, where I met my mother, Hecate, who is a goddess. Then, I came back. Resurrection is one of my powers. I know it’s a lot to take in, but that’s the truth.”

It’s silent for a minute as everyone processes my words. Everyone is staring at me with bewilderment, except for Yelena, who hasn’t taken her eyes off of her sister. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and a deep frown rests upon her lips.

“You tried to kill yourself?” Yelena repeats, this time only a whisper. Natasha finally turns to look at her younger sister and her mouth bobs open and closed, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t have a choice, Yelena,” Natasha finally says.

“You saved her?” the blonde asks me.

I hesitantly nod my head. “Yes, I guess I did.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, giving a curt nod before turning and walking mechanically back into the house. I awkwardly clear my throat and turn my gaze to the ground.

“Will you show us?” I raise my head to look at Alexei, confusion crossing my features at his request. “Will you show us your powers, I mean.”

“Dad…” Natasha warns.

“No, it’s okay. I can show you a little bit,” I say, right before teleporting away. I watch from a hill in the distance as Alexei looks frantically around him. I can hear him asking where I went, which makes me laugh.

I teleport into the house and walk around, looking for Yelena. I walk into a bedroom and find her sitting on the floor with a bottle of vodka. “Hey, are you okay? We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine. Because learning that your sister almost died and there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it is so much fun,” she scoffs.

“I’m sorry. We probably could’ve broken the news a bit softer.” I sit on the ground next to her, leaving about a foot of space between us.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Don’t be. I am a horrible fighter,” I joke. She chuckles slightly, nodding in agreement.

“That you are. Can I see some of your magic, or whatever it is?” I hold out my hand and black mist dances above it with eerie elegance. I close my fist as it fades away, lowering my hand.

“Cool,” she says with a crooked smile. We hear the front door open and three sets of footsteps entering the house. I hear Nat calling my name.

“You okay?” I check one last time.

“I’m good. Thank you, Y/N, for saving my sister.”

“I’d do anything for her, Yelena. You don’t have to thank me for it.”

The bedroom door opens and Natasha’s head pokes in. “Y/N, we thought you’d completely left for a minute. Everything okay in here?”

Yelena and I look at each other and I look back to Natasha, overwhelmed with love for the redead. I smile and say, “Yeah, everything is just fine.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #Black Widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #yelena belova

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!! 

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[escapewithbts]

Secrets in a Foreign Language (Part Seven) - Jungkook

sorry it took so long for an update!

<<previous_next>>

—————————————

You were heartbroken. How someone you hadn’t known very long could make it hurt so badly you weren’t sure. But man, did it hurt.

So many times over the next week you debated just showing up at his place, hearing his side, figuring out a next step together. You missed him.

But then you would recall him telling you to get in the closet, acting like a coward, like you were his meaningless dirty little secret. Reminding yourself of these things kept you from going over there.

In fact, you barely left your apartment at all. The same loneliness of when you first moved to Seoul becoming ever so prevalent again. You vowed to try and go out and make friends when all this Jungkook stuff was just a distant memory.

However, it proved difficult to make it all fade away in your mind since you were still scheduled to clean his apartment. To go back to the place where it all came to a beginning. And an abrupt end.

With hesitation, you slipped the key into the lock of the front door the following Tuesday. You insisted he not be there that last time you saw him, but what if he wanted to reconcile? You gulped and opened the black wooden door.

Silence.

He wasn’t on the couch in front of the tv waiting for you. He wasn’t in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. He wasn’t in the master bathroom taking a quick shower. Jungkook wasn’t here. You didn’t know if you felt relieved or disappointed, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about it as you immediately noticed the state of the home. It wasn’t cleaned like all the weeks prior. It was lived in, messy even.

So that was it. Back to square one. You alone in the apartment of a famous and wealthy Korean celebrity with a job to do.

-

 A few days later you were laying on the couch in your studio loft apartment. It was dark outside since it was 12:47am, the only light was coming from the iridescent blue glow of the television. This had become a routine now, you turning on the tv but not watching anything in particular, just so there was noise and something to get your mind off everything. Some nights you never even made it upstairs to your bed.

And tonight your eyes began to slowly drift shut, your thoughts traveling elsewhere, the beginning of sleep taking over.

All of the sudden, you heard Jungkook’s name from the television. Or had you dreamt it? However, when your eyes opened in shock and confusion, his ever familiar face appeared on the screen. It was the same show you had seen while scrolling channels at Jungkook’s a couple months ago you realized, the trashy one where random people discuss the lives of famous actors and musicians. You sat up and tried to focus on the delayed English subtitles coming up at the bottom of the screen.

 “… an official statement from both their companies was released.”

“So, it is true?”

“I would say that solidifies it.”

Cho-hee’s picture popped up. Followed by one taken outside at night of her and Jungkook walking and laughing. Then a graphic of a zig-zag shaped rip formed between their bodies, and the picture ripped in half, a broken heart and crying face appearing between them.

 “Wow. They seemed so happy. I really thought this would last.”

“They’re so young and busy, no need to settle down yet.”

“But still, this begs the question… is love even real?”

 *laughter*

 Then they moved on to talking about another kpop idol.

Your felt your heart pound inside your chest. Jungkook and Cho-hee had “broken up”? Their companies had let them? They were no longer in a secret fake relationship? You couldn’t help but wonder what happened.

With shaky hands, you picked up your phone from the coffee table and opened the internet. Curiosity was getting the better of you, your desire to read those statements greater than your will to stop yourself from trying to remove all evidence of Jeon Jungkook from your brain.

 ‘Hello,

This is a representative from HYBE Corporation commenting in regard to the relationship between our artist Jeon Jungkook and fellow artist Kim Cho-hee. At this time, Ms. Kim and Mr. Jeon have mutually decided to part ways due to their careers and lack of schedule alignment. Going forward, there will no longer be any updates on the matter, and any information regarding their relationship from outside sources is invalid. Please respect the artists’ decision and privacy during this time.

Thank you.

HYBE Corp.: PR Department’

 You stared at your phone in shock, rereading it a couple times to make sure it was real.

So, they really ended their fake relationship? Was because of Jungkook or Cho-hee? Or their companies? What was the real reason? Who was the perpetrator?

So many theories and questions ran through your head, furthering your exhaustion, and soon enough you drifted off to sleep, head full of images and thoughts of Jeon Jungkook.

 -

The following Tuesday started off like any other. The sound of your alarm blaring woke you up out of a deep sleep at 4:00 in the morning. You groaned and hit the snooze button, questioning why you chose a job where you had to work so early… and basically all your other life decisions. (You were, in fact, not a morning person).

Eventually you sat up and rubbed your puffy eyes, removing the sleep from their corners. You yawned and stretched your arms up high before reaching for your phone on your nightstand. You checked Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, of course, then like every morning, you opened your work schedule, just to see if there had been any changes to the course of the day ahead.

 And boy, was there.

 For under the 2pm slot was the same unit number that had been there for weeks, however this time one word next to it caught your immediate attention.

 Vacancy.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Wait, what?

Clearly this was wrong. This was Jungkook’s apartment! There was no way it was now empty. He had never mentioned the fact that he wanted to move, that he was going to move. This would have come up in a conversation with him at least once if it was this sudden.

Yes, his stuff would still be there when you arrived to clean this afternoon. He still owned it, still lived there. He wasn’t gone. Right?

Wrong.

To your surprise, when you opened the door, the entire apartment was empty. Everything was gone. It was cold and echo-y and barren. Dust covered the hardwood floors of the living room where the rug had laid. Harsh sunlight poured in through the large windows, no longer shielded by the curtains that had previously been hanging there. The walls were now bare, small holes left from the various works of art that were once on display.

The memories of the times being with Jungkook flooded your brain almost instantly. Playing games and watching shows and movies on his large sofa. The time he admitted he was cleaning just so he could hang out with you. When you would two would sit at the kitchen island and eat delicious food, talking and laughing about anything and everything. When he told you he had feelings for you. The first of many times you made love.

Overcome by those thoughts, you finally allowed yourself to break down.

The sound of your sobs and unsteady breathes bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the room, tears cascading down your hot cheeks.

Maybe you were being dramatic. Maybe Jungkook had turned out to be a coward. Maybe he had been using you for sex and company. Maybe he had lied about having feelings for you. Who knows?

But even if had been all pretend for him, you had still fallen in love with him.

You could finally admit that the past two weeks since you saw him last you may have been holding on to some kind of hope. Hope that he wasn’t a coward, hadn’t been using you, did have feelings for you; and all that would become evident if you ever saw each other again, if he was ever at his apartment when you came to clean like he had been so many other times.      

But now it was as if the universe was laughing at you for falling for someone so unattainable and complicated.

He was gone, and you had no way of contacting him.

Eventually you pulled yourself together enough to start the long cleaning process for a vacant unit. Every surface, cupboard, drawer, nook and cranny had to be spotless so new potential buyers could tour the home.

You started in the living room: vacuuming, mopping and dusting, making sure the floor, walls, and windows were shining.

Then you moved into the adjoining kitchen, spraying and wiping every countertop, the refrigerator, the island. You even had to open each drawer and cabinet to wipe those down, too.

But as you opened the last upper cabinet to clean its inside as well, you suddenly caught your breath in your throat.

For there inside the cupboard was a box of cereal. Your favorite cereal. The same kind of cereal you had eaten with Jungkook in this very kitchen the first day you met.

He must have just left it on accident.

With a shaky hand, you grabbed it and brought it down to eye level. That’s when you noticed the envelope taped to the front of the box.

Your heart pounding, you ripped it off and tore it open.

Inside was a letter, and as you unfolded it something fell out and into your hand.

It was a ticket.

To a BTS fanmeeting event.

What?

Your eyes moved to the handwritten letter.

 ‘There are so many things I wish I had done differently. You didn’t deserve what I asked of you that day. I’m so sorry I handled everything so poorly. I don’t blame you for questioning everything and leaving. I was a coward. I know this now.

Please, please come see me. Please come to this event. I understand if you don’t. I just want nothing more than to see you and talk to you again.’

 And then, at the very bottom,

 ‘보고 싶어요

사랑해요

JK’.

 *

Masterlist

Author’s note: The two phrases in Korean at the end mean “I miss you” and “I love you”(!!!!).

:)

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #namjoon #yoongi #suga #rm #jhope #jin #jimin #taehyung #jungkook story #jungkook bts imagine #jeongguk

[alolanrain]

how old is ash on yours au’s?

It really really depends and I’m finding out that I’m absolutely horrible at actually giving out somewhat concrete ages, barring a few Au’s.

Unspokenly Ash is usually around late 20 to very early 22, unless I did write down and post an age for him in what ever Au has it, but thats also more drabble and fillet based. That is… basically my standard and I really need to vocalize that more from the content that I do write him as younger.

Basically how it goes is that with each region he ages up a year. Spending his birthday at home with his mom and the Oak’s that are present at the time before going off on another adventure. This gets kind of tricky around Sinnoh because Ash stay’s there to take on The Brain. I have that written down that it takes 3 month’s to even half a year. Which then put’s off the ‘sharing the birthday with mom and oak’ thing. This lands his birthday in the middle of his current journey at the time or a bit later like right before the league or a month before, if that makes sense. So in the end he comes home obviously older. Though I have been messing around and making the time in Orange Isles shorter to around 9 months instead of a full year.

Like here’s a time table and I’ll keep both set’s of ages if I do mess around with Orange Isles time line and add it as concrete. It gets really complicated so if you want a little more explanation please don’t be afraid to ask. I am also keeping the Brain Arc to half a year.

Starting age to finishing age *0/12 means how many months he is instead of a full year.

Kanto: 10 to 11

Orange Isles: 11 to 12 or 11 to 11 + 9/12

Johto: 12 to 13 or 11 + 9/12 to 12 + 9/12

Hoenn: 13 to 14 or 12 + 9/12 to 13 + 9/12

Sinnoh: 14 to 15 or 13 + 9/12 to 14 + 9/12

+ battling the Brain: 15 to 15 + 6/12 or 14 + 9/12 to 15 + 3/12

Unova: 15 + 6/12 to 16 + 6/12 or 15 + 3/12 to 16 + 3/12

Kalos: 16 + 6/12 to 17 + 6/12 or 16 + 3/12 to 17 + 3/12

Alola: 17 + 6/12 to 18 + 6/12 or 17 + 3/12 to 18 + 3/12

Galar: 18 + 6/12 to 19 + 6/12 or 18 + 3/12 to 19 + 3/12

I just want to say that typing all this out looks like one hell of a long ass math equation, kinda hate it and might change it later. But this is my completely basic format of what I use. Of course there’s a lot of wiggle room as I write Ash starting around 20 to 21 in Alola and Galar. He’s obviously going to probably spend more the one complete year in a region and less then another. The end of the league doesn’t dictate when he stays and leaves. Theres also the months that build up between each “arc”, another word I use to refer to his journeys, and to account the HC that some leagues start off at wildly different times then others.

It’s literally just a pick-and-pull basket and just a large general target where Ash would be ages wise. As you see in the end the two different age lists end up being only 3 months part from each other. It really doesn’t matter and I’m mostly just playing around with it. Another note thats… vital isn’t the correct word but I’m use it is that I don’t take Cerise Laboratory and the research assistant job into account. This is based off if Ash travels Galar to his normal standard with every other arc but Alola but I did keep the characters.

You didn’t ask for this but I want to add in other traveling buddies and side rivals ages and how they are compared to Ash as well. Usually Ash is the youngest if not one of them up until Hoenn. With the exception of being exactly 24 hours older then Ritchie. And all of this have way to much detail but its making my ADHD brain go brrrr happily.

He’s older than May, surprisingly, by like a month and a half but he doesn’t realize that and mentally clocks that he’s younger than her because of how responsible and adult like she acts a good chunk of the time. Max is obviously the youngest while Brock is the oldest. The same thing kinda happens in Sinnoh. He’s older then Dawn by a good year and a half to maybe even two years. Though Ash is younger then Paul and Barry by a varying few months between each boy.

Unova is where it changes a lot. Going from one of the youngest to one of the oldest out of his group of friends. Iris is drastically 3 years younger then Ash, making her around 12 at the start of the arc and somewhere around 13 at the end, and around 3 and a half with Cilan. This causes her to constantly pick against Ash because to her he’s older. Ash should be acting more like a seasonal trainer with known responsibilities and shouldn’t be so excited about everything. That’s also an expectation that was subconsciously taught to her by Drayden when she was still in School in the Dragon Village. Virgil is actually the oldest being freshly turned 18 years old while Cameron is the youngest at 11 and 5 months. Stephan is like the closest to Ash’s actually age but also acts a lot more older and more adult like then he really is just by his laid back attitude. Bianca actually just turned 18 before starting her journey.

Age Note: the reason why Cilan is weird and awkward around Burgundy is not because of her short temper and brash attitude but because Burgundy just turned 13 years old. She is a legitimate child just like Iris, compared to Cilan’s 16 years and 6 months when the meet on the road for the first time and not at a connoisseur event. Her deep infatuation and how young she is really puts Cilan in a active land mine field. Unlike Iris who listens to him and actually talks, he has no clue how to interact with her. Burgundy isn’t a normal gym challenger coming to his and his brother gym for a badge or even a normal crazed simple fan. As a gentleman at heart as well he raised to talk between certain age limits close to his own and this ends up making Cilan see Burgundy actually younger then she really is. Kind of like how Iris clocked Ash as a ‘kid’ when he’s obviously older then her and more experienced.

Kalos then thrusts Ash or being the oldest out of the main group but not as a whole. Bonnies around 8 while Clemont is 2 months and a half younger then Ash. This is where I struggle a lot in placing peoples based age in Kalos is actually because of Serena. I don’t want to make her too young to which the point it’s weird and also I based the other contest girls age’s around hers. But I also don’t want to make her too old to the point that Miette, the oldest out of the contest girls no matter what, is older then Ash. The general consensus is that Miette is right in with Clemont and Ash age wise while Nini is the youngest out of the trio. So that places Serena around 13 to 14 while Nini is like 12 and 7 months. Sawyer is obviously just turned 10 while Trevor, Tierno, and Shauna are between 12 and a half to 13 and a half years old. Giving that easy bonding connection with Serena and Shauna while giving Miette a older more experienced vibe and the childlike wonder to Nini. You’d think with Alain and all Ash would be the second oldest but your wrong. Ash is exactly 1 whole week older then Alain but, much like May, he doesn’t know that and mentally clocks Alain older then he really is.

In comes Alola and this is again where I usually bump Ash up to 20 to 21 but for the sake of everything I’m going off the basic target. Ash is obviously the oldest of the class by a good year on them alone though the classes collective smarts pushed them up different grades in school so thats how their together. Kiawe was the oldest at 16 and 9 months while Sophocles is still the youngest at 12 and 3 months, again bringing in the fact that the class is super smart and its based off intelligence instead of age like with every other class. Mallow is the third oldest at 16 and 2 months with Lana following on by at 16 and 1 month. Lillie is specifically around 15 years to 13 years and 4 months based off if I want her to suffer more as a older teen or as a child, literally her age is based off if I want to traumatize her more or not. Hapu is around 12 to 13 years old despite her obvious size and squeaky-ish voice. Acerola despite being very very mature for her age is only 17 years and 4 months old. Horacio is about Ash’s age at an even 17 years old when he and his lackies first meet Ash, Sophocles, and Kiawe.

Age Note: Horacio absolutely used his age as a card against Sophocles as many times as he could to the point it was so overused. This made Ash especially angry because he hated it when people used their age against much younger kids. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re right.

Then we reach Galar as our final stop. Ash is once more the oldest out of him, Chloe, and Goh but not everyone else. That would be Hodge at a straight 19 years old when he first meets Ash and Goh at the Battle Frontier Flute Cup. Chloe comes at 14 and a half years old with Goh just freshly turning 14. This makes Ash’s relationship more of a mentor type distant older brother thing. Those two actually don’t find out about Ash’s age up until he and Goh get their letter so of recommendation and have to fill out the normal personal stuff. If you think Hop is close by in age with Ash then you’re wrong again. He’s actually two days younger then Chloe making Hop around 14 and a half years old as well. Marine is 13 years and 9 months old. Bede is much more closer to Ash then the others at 16 years 8 months. For Leon, Raihan, and Sonia their still very much the same in a way. Leon is still the youngest at 20 years while Raihan is the oldest at 23, leaving Sonia in the middle at 21 and a half years old.

Age note… once more: this fits perfectly for the Kanto and Galar Trios as they basically get opposite of themselves in a way. Goh who’s very oriented, loud, and on the go gets paired with marine who’s very quite and shy for the most part and their going to subconsciously teach each other that its okay to come out of your shell or its okay to take a moment and relax. Hop is very much like Ash and Goh combined with the strategies and the none stop puppy own straight crack like energy and he declares himself as Chloe’s, who’s silent and very critical and almost broody like it’s not quite there but it’s close enough, rival and is trying to teach her that battling is fun and okay and a lot of Pokemon like battling for those reason. Ash and Bede are the obvious choice for each other because once again Ash is very bright, happy-go-lucky, just sweet in general to everyone while Bede is completely broody, extremely sour, and just utterly rolling in his own image and being way to cocky.



#ash ketchum #may #Max #Brock #Bonnie #clemont #serena #miette #alain #dawn #paul #cilan #iris #cameron #bianca #burgundy #sawyer #trevor #tierno #shauna #alola class #gladion #hau #goh #chloe cerise #hodge #marine #hop #Bede

[zombryz]

chile, I want my guts DESTROYED by Broly or Whis. Ik saying Whis is a stretch, but idk, he's so fine to meeee. thank you 🥰

Hi Anon! I’m sort of a Whis girl myself (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵) please enjoy this lovely Whis one shot ~

TW: smut, and some fluff ✧

Lord Beerus’ planet was honestly really pretty. It was concealed within a nebula and it appeared to be upside down although when you were within it you were always right side up. Strange, but beautiful. There was an enormous tree growing in the center which at the base held Lord Beerus’ castle. Every morning you would take in all its glory with your daily meditation ritual that Piccolo taught you. You have been here for going on four months now. Because you were human you had no need for training, but Goku and Vegeta insisted on you coming along to cook meals and to keep them company. The Saiyan’s would be so lost without you. You had originally rolled your eyes at the invitation but you couldn’t pass up traveling through the galaxy. Lord Beerus and his attendant, Whis, didn’t seem to mind. They were always in the mood for a good meal. It was also a perk having a destroyer on your side, imagine if someone on earth had looked at you the wrong way. Gods, not even luck would be able to help them. It had grown a bit lonely though, your daily routine consisted of; waking up, meditating, watching Goku and Vegeta train with Whis, prepare breakfast, go back to meditation, watch them train some more, cook lunch, talk to Lord Beerus when/if he woke up, sometimes watch godtube with Lord Beerus, cook dinner, go to sleep, repeat. Your routine was becoming tiresome and you ached for a change.

This morning you had been meditating, your regular schedule, you looked down to see Goku and Vegeta going head to head with Whis. Obviously, Whis had dodged every single attack made by the pair of Saiyans. Your hands were on top of your knees while you were sitting in a criss-cross position. You had lifted one eye up to watch them train. The Saiyans hadn’t interested you as much as Whis did. He was so smooth and had such a calming presence. You felt as though nothing could penetrate his defenses. Vegeta once told you that Whis was the one to train Lord Beerus and so that piqued your interest. While watching them train you had usually fixed your eyes on either Goku or Vegeta, but this time you couldn’t take your eyes off of Whis. Something about him was so elegant and intoxicating. He must’ve felt your peering eyes because in the midst of taking on four fists to the face he looked up at you, making eye contact causing you to immediately close both of your eyes. Shit, you’d been caught peeping. You hoped with his many talents that he couldn’t read minds, that would be embarrassing to explain to him the dirty things you had been thinking at that moment. 

Finally, it was dinner time. You had cooked up a large enough meal for your makeshift-god family. You made mountains of ramen, it all looked and smelled so delicious. The spices filling up the room causing your mouth to water. You grabbed one bowl for yourself and let them all dig in. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Whis looked at you with sincerity in his eyes. He held direct eye contact for a moment. This was a different look for him, usually, he stuffs his face and would give thanks after. 

“You’re welcome, Whis,” you replied, giving a gentle smile. This interaction caused your heart to thump in your chest. He had singled you out before you were nothing more than the cook. If you were being honest with yourself you didn’t even know if he knew your name. 

After dinner, you found yourself in your bedroom, one of the many rooms in the palace. This always confused you because Beerus didn’t seem to be one for having guests over. You had just gotten out of your nightly shower patting your hair dry with a secondary towel. When you walk out of the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom, you see none other than the Angel himself, Whis. You froze, your first thought was that maybe you were seeing things. Why was Whis in your bedroom? He was standing there with his scepter in his right hand while his left hand was behind his back. There was a moment of silence before he began to speak. 

“I am not supposed to be doing this but after the way you looked at me today it confirmed it,” he trailed off at the end. You weren’t really following. 

“Whis, what are you talking about?” You questioned, raising a brow in confusion. He seemed a little nervous himself and you were glad you weren’t the only one having a mini panic attack. 

“I have felt attracted to you for a while now, Y/N. Today, when you looked at me during training your body language had confirmed that you feel the same.” He said this time sounding more confident than before. Your heart started racing, you thought this was just some silly crush but now an Angel was standing in your bedroom confessing how he feels about you. Your face was turning rosy when you realized you hadn’t responded to him yet. 

“Oh, um. Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if that complicates things for you. I didn’t even think Angels were capable of liking mortals.” You finally answered, unsure of where this was going to go. You were beginning to feel the weight of this whole conversation, not even thinking about the fact that you were still in only a towel. Angels definitely didn’t understand social cues, otherwise, this would be way more awkward. 

Without responding Whis hammered his scepter to the ground ordering it to undress you. Your towel dropped to the ground and you had no intention of covering yourself. Your cheeks had become completely red now, you were standing in front of the angel completely naked with your hair still dripping wet. Whis leaned his scepter against the wall and started undressing, removing his long black cuirass first and then his maroon robe not long after. Still in shock, you watched him remove every bit of clothing he had on until you were both standing nude and at each other’s disposal. Standing in silence you felt that this was oddly romantic, his eyes wandered down your body appreciating every part, every curve of it with a hunger in his eyes that you had never seen before. You returned the favor by letting your eyes trail down his body, starting with his perfectly chiseled jaw, just under was his glowing blue halo that fell at his collarbone, his arm muscles looked like they had been crafted by the gods themselves. His chest was perfectly swole and slender. His torso ended in a beautiful v-shape. He was standing with both hands behind his back, allowing you to take in his glory. When your eyes went lower you realized that he was already as hard as a rock. His dick was big and long and a lighter shade of blue than the rest of his skin. It looked so supple in the moonlight, his tip was a brighter pink and it had an iridescent glow of pre-cum at its tip. You wanted so badly to get on your knees, sucking off the Angel right where he stood. Your body tingles at the thought causing you to shiver.

Whis lifted two fingers and motioned for you to come to him, without even having to move your body you were flying to him through the air using his abilities. The space between you was very limited now and this caused your breathing to quicken. He towered over you and you couldn’t help but want to be dominated by him. Whis on the other hand was calm and eager. You stepped closer to him, that’s when you noticed his halo was preventing you from getting any closer. To fix the issue, you stepped underneath and into his halo so that now he shared his space with you. The halo was now wrapped around the both of you causing you to be forced closer together. Chests now touching, you looked up to see his face illuminated by both the moonlight sneaking in through the window and his halo that was humming a low buzzing noise next to both sides of your faces. The feeling was euphoric. He made one last gentle look at you before his eyes turned needy, he leaned down to kiss you. It was passionate and fiery, both of his hands came out from behind his back to grab and cup your face. His tongue wanting to explore your mouth so you slightly opened yours allowing him entrance. A moan escaped your lips sending him into a fury. His kisses became sloppy and hungry. His hands traveled down to your breasts, toying with your already hard nipples. He slightly pinched at your nipples before grabbing a fistful of your breasts causing him to inhale deeply. Growing impatient he reached down to pick you up so that you would be closer to him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your bed. Halo still around you both it was the most intimate you had ever felt with anyone. It was as though you were tied to each other, causing an unbreakable bond. Whis slowly laid you on the bed, you were already soaking wet and ready for him. This time you grew impatient and reached for his cock, once you had him in your hands you lined him up to your entrance making sure to slide him up and down to gather your wetness. Whis kissed you between moans, the moment he slid in you both inhaled deeply feeling the pleasure of him inside of you, your lips still pressed together. With a few more pumps you grew comfortable with his size, you wanted him to quicken his pace. 

“Whis, faster. P-please,” you breathily mewled in his ear, he didn’t hesitate. He began thrusting into you harder and faster causing you to throw your head back in pleasure which only caused him to fall closer to you because of the halo. As he continued fucking you he snaked his hands up to your breasts, with his halo it was difficult but he needed you in his mouth. He leaned down slightly, bending his body enough to grab one of your breasts. He began flicking his tongue over your sensitive skin, you were quite literally in heaven. With his free hand, he began circling your clit with his thumb. Gods, this felt so good. You bucked your hips into him desperate for release.

You wanted to make him feel good too, you motioned for him to switch places. With a quick shift you were straddling him, his cock still deep inside your walls. You moved slightly as you got comfortable in the new position. His halo created the perfect closeness you needed to ride out your orgasm. Whis sat up and kissed down your neck and collarbone. He planted sloppy kisses all over your face. He kissed the tip of your nose and forehead, causing you to smile while you bounced on top of him. This reaction made him smile sweetly in return. You continued to grind against him, he lifted his lower body slightly to give you a greater closeness than you had before. While you were riding him he wrapped his arms around you holding you down on his cock shoving his length entirely inside you, holding you still while he thrust into you this time. A loud moan came from the back of your throat causing him to quicken his speed. You were reaching for release and god was he giving it to you, he kept massaging your breasts with one hand while holding you tightly in the other. You rode out your climax, clamping around him, milking his cock, not worried about if anyone else in the palace could hear your moans of pleasure. Whis wasn’t far behind, he quickened his speed steading out his thrusts so that he could come. He held you down on his cock shoving in and out of you while you bounced on top of him. His cock hitting the end of your walls each time. With his eyes closed, he threw his head back causing you to be pulled into the nook of his neck and shoulder. You planted kisses on the sides of his neck as you rest your head on him while he came hard inside of you. He felt so good. Without getting off of him, he remained inside of you, you could feel his warm cum spilling out from the sides of your walls and down your legs but you didn’t care. You were both panting, you were still laid against him quite comfortably where you were. You were in a hugging position and never wanted to move out of this spot. After a minute or two you sat up, still straddling him you took both of your hands and cupped them around his temples, pushing his tall, white hair down while you reached up to kiss him on the forehead. After the kiss, you pressed your forehead against his. He was your angel and you never wanted to leave this halo.

#dbs whis #whis #fan fic smut #fan fiction #dragon ball super #Bryannawrites #angel #whis imagine

[listentothelittlebird]

I was looking through some drafts and I found this - I think it’s my first attempt at writing Burning Iceberg. Here, Damian tagged along with Jason when he went off for training!

Word Count: 2942 words 

enjoy!

It’s Talia who sends him away.

“Training,” she says, but there is something in the way that she moves, the way that the base is silent and waiting with bated breath right up until they leave. 

Jason leaves alone. Talia watches him go, her posture too unnaturally relaxed for anything not to be amiss. 

He gets one day away from the base before he realises he has a tail.

“Damian?” 

The young boy scuffles out of the shadows with a haughty sniff. “Took you long enough to notice me, Todd,” he huffs. Given the boy’s night clothing - the one’s he wore to sleep - Jason guessed that he had just arrived.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, curious. Sure, he had talked to the kid, had trained with the kid, but why was he here?

Damian glanced at Jason, then glanced away. “You were going alone,” he declared stiffly, “I would think that you would prefer company.”

“Mother agreed, and sent me after you,” Damian added, not at all convincing. Talia would never allow Damian out of her sights, especially with the tension in the air back at the base. Something was definitely up, but Jason let it slide and gestured for Damian to come closer. “You hungry, kid? I’ve got enough food for both of us until the next village.”

He knows that Talia might come after him. There’s no way he would let Damian disappear, just like that. For the moment, however, Jason could care less.

He had never asked for a big brother, and he had never asked for a little brother, but he was definitely willing to risk his life for the eight-year-old beside him. 

-

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, quietly. They’re stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the South Pole.

“I want to find a bender,” Jason replies, “The North pole is more connected to the world, and there’s more people to worry about. I’d think that a bender would hide in the South, where there’s less people.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Your skills are not adequate to face a bender, Todd.”

Jason pauses, then snorts, “I’m not gonna fight the bender, D. I just want to… talk to them.”

Damian eyes him with a skeptical look, but otherwise says nothing.

-

They’re riding through a brutal storm when Damian loses his grip and tumbles towards the railing.

Jason follows, one hand gripping tightly onto the metal rail and the other holding onto Damian as he flailed. For once, the kid looked genuinely terrified.

A wave crashes into them, and pulls them over. 

-

Jason is surprised to wake up. He tried to gauge his surroundings, but nothing really added up. He was under a fur blanket, a fire crackling near him. Someone was shifting beside him.

“You’re awake,” the voice murmurs, “I thought you’d sleep longer, but it seems not.”

Jason, carefully pulled himself up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed around the igloo. It was sparse, but large enough to fit him, the new man, and-

“Dami,” Jason breathed, headless of the man’s presence as he jerked out of the furs and toward

 his brother’s still form. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, and his heart only calmed when he could feel the steady thrumming for a full minute.

“You’re welcome,” came the dry remark. Right. Jason turned back to the man, assessing him silently. He wore a blue parka, and was currently wearing the hood low over his face. 

“The two of you washed ashore last night,” the man explained, without prompting, “Your friend was barely breathing, but he made it through. You were surprisingly fine once the threat of frostbite was removed.”

Jason glanced again at Damian. 

“Thank you,” Jason stated, before his voice hardened, “But can we trust you?”

The man sighed. “Figures that two kids running around in the Antarctic wouldn’t trust a stranger,” he mused to himself. His amused smile was the only thing that Jason could see, the fire and the shadows obscuring the rest. 

“We are a long distance from the nearest village, but I can take you there. I can send the two of you on your way the moment that your friend feels better.”

-

“You know that you’re safe here, right?” Jason stated quietly. Anuk had left them in the igloo and went hunting by himself. He claimed that he worked better alone.

Damian looked up from where he was curled up in a corner of the igloo, his back pressed tightly against the icy wall. He wrinkled his nose, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jason sighed.

“Look, if this guy meant bad, he’d have done something already,” Jason reasoned, spreading his hands along the icy ground. He was glad that his resistance to low temperatures had survived the pit, even if his bending had not.

“Your trust will get you killed,” Damian murmured. Jason winced, “Yeah, well, it kinda already did. But that’s besides the point,” Jason rushed to add, “Just- trust is dangerous, sure, but can you really live your life without trusting anyone?”

Damian was silent. Jason, taking a dive, spoke up, “Do you trust me?”

Damian jerked his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

Jason nodded, and pressed, “Talia? Ra’s?”

Damian hesitated. Jason moved on.

“Listen. I know you just wanted to tag along for my training, but we’ve been under the radar for at least a month.” They had arrived on a full moon, and that night was a full moon, again. 

“Even Talia would have to admit to Ra’s that she thought we were dead somewhere in the Antarctic. Firebenders hate the two poles - they won’t be sending a search party for us, much less coming to find us themselves. You don’t have to go back to them.”

This time, Damian glared. “Where else would I go, Todd?” he spat, and Jason realised that the kid had already thought of this, had already considered this, “Where else am I supposed to go, if I do not return to my home?”

Jason pursed his lips, and despite the green raging inside him…

“Bruce would take you in,” Jason admitted, shoving the green away, “I can’t say the same for myself, not when I’m done with him, but… you. You’re his kid. He’d definitely take you in.”

Jason grinned, “He’d love you. Hell, he already took in the Replacement, what’s one more?”

Damian shifted. “Why won’t he take you in?” he questioned.

Jason stilled. “It’s not-” Jason started and stopped, and shook his head. The Joker was still alive. He had adopted a new kid. He wasn’t needed, hell, he wasn’t wanted. He really had just been a charity case. He breathed, trying to push the green down.

“It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can forgive Bruce, and I don’t know if I can stare at him without wanting to put a knife to his neck.”

That was what scared him the most. That he would lose control. He hated Bruce right now, hated him for what he had done, what he had not done, but his nightmare was his vision going green and fading to a Batman bleeding out from a knife in his grip.

Damian looked confused, so Jason tried to explain. “Bruce is… not a perfect man,” Jason sighed, “But he’s all Gotham has. And the Robins - what he does for them, that’s good. Even if-” Even if it gave him false hope for a rescue that never came. He swallowed that down.

“For all of his faults, he did give me some of the best memories.” Not that he remembered many of them. The pit took that away, too. “I hate him, but I loved him, too.”

-

“You’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at Anuk. “Ready for?”

“The full moon,” Anuk explained, not really explaining at all. He pointed towards the sky. “Tonight should be a full moon. We’ll set out onto the ocean at midnight, and you can perform the traditional water-bending stances for Tui and La. If nothing else, it is a tradition that I practice, and as my student, I want you to practice it as well.”

Jason sighed, but went along with it. He still had no bending - sometimes he thought that the water would move just so, but most of the time, there was nothing. He diligently learnt all of the water-bending moves, but Anuk was probably lying when he said that he was “ready”. How do you tell if someone knows their stuff if they don’t even bend?

-

The night was quiet. Serene, silent in the way that Gotham never was. The League had been silent, too, but not in this way. There was tension in the air, in League bases, sounds controlled and quenched before they could travel. Here, there were only expanses of snow and ice to echo back each scrunch of their boots.

Anuk bended a gondola made of ice, and Jason hopped on, not willing to show his own hesitation. Anuk waved his arms and the gondola moved out onto the calm Antarctic sea.

“According to my Gramps, we used to have big ceremonies on full moons,” Anuk started conversationally, filling the cold silence with soft murmurs. Jason realised belatedly that they should have brought a lamp, or at least a torchlight, but it seemed like Anuk knew where he was going, even in the dim moonlight.

“I live in the South pole, but my Gramps hailed from the North. He says that the late princess Yue gave her life to keep the moon spirit, Tui, alive. The Northern water-benders would present their bending on full moons to pay homage to Yue and her sacrifice.”

The gondola slowed to a stop, and they were left bobbing softly on near-silent waves. Anuk stretched his arms out and pulled, and a square platform of ice froze before them. Anuk stepped back and looked towards Jason expectantly.

Jason had grown used to the icy tundra, enough so that he did not immediately slip off the icy block when he hopped out of the gondola. He took his place at the centre of the ice block, glanced up at the moon, and started to run through his bending forms.

Nothing happened at first. Jason felt kind of stupid, actually, bending without bending at all. He nearly slipped a few times, but he managed to keep his balance, and powered through the basic forms into the more advanced attacks.

Then, something shifted.

“Jason,” the wind whispered, and Jason stumbled. His foot slipped, and he ended up on all four as the ice block rocked, waves pushing over the sides and washing over his hands and knees. The voice sounded like Bruce.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” came again, and it really did sound like Bruce. Jason blinked into the moonlit ice and nearly gasped. 

It was a bird’s-eye view of the Batcave. He would know that cavern anywhere. Batman was stooped down beside a glass casing, positioned at the centre of the cave.

The vision zoomed in. The casing had a blood-stained Robin uniform, burned and tattered, way too destroyed to be repairable. Jason realised it was his suit. The one he had died in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Bruce was saying, and Jason could only watch as Bruce absolutely bawled his eyes out in front of the casing, still wearing his batsuit, only having pulled the cowl down.

Just when the sobs died down, Jason heard, “I left Joker in the helicopter. I knew it was going to crash, but I- I thought he didn’t deserve to live,” Bruce admitted quietly. Jason’s breath hitched.

“He survived. Of course he did. If I keep going after him, he’ll just keep surviving, and… I have to stop, before I can’t. Before I lose myself in a world that took you. I’m sorry,” he choked out, and the tears continued to flow.

The scene changed.

“Why?” Dick’s voice screamed, raw and so full of emotion that it jarred Jason to the bones. “Why did you let him live?”

“We can’t be the dictators of who lives and who dies,” Bruce started, but Dick cut him off. “This is the Joker we’re talking about, B!” Dick yelled, somehow louder than the previous shout, “Joker doesn’t care who lives and who dies! He definitely didn’t care when he-” Dick cut himself off with a sharp exhale.

Bruce waited as Dick took measured breaths. “I just don’t get it,” Dick whispered, “A man like him? B, why did you save him?”

Silence. 

“We fight for justice,” Bruce rumbled, steadfast and sure compared to the crying mess in the last vision. Confident, like he had worked through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. “We can’t just kill people as we see fit. Not even if we hold a personal grudge. Not even if we want revenge for our own.” 

They both glanced towards the casing.

“I still want to kill him,” Dick stated bluntly. Jason thought Bruce would reaffirm his rules, that he would cook up a convincing argument and strike down Dick’s motives.

Instead, Bruce only answered with, “Sit on it for a few days. Don’t make an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”

Dick sighed harshly, and left the viewing range of the vision. Bruce turned back to the casing.

“I never got to apologise to you,” Bruce murmured, “For accusing you of pushing Garzonasa.”

“I was worried for you. Nobody should have to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life. I’m sorry if I came off as distrustful. I should have done more. Been better.”

One last scene. A young kid, black hair and blue eyes, looking up at the casing, fiddling with a new Robin suit that Jason had only seen through grainy newspaper prints.

“You were my hero,” the boy said, and checked his empty surroundings before he continued, “You were… awesome. You had so much energy and spunk, and-” he huffed, a small smile on his face, “-much more fire than me. Which is ironic, to say the least.”

Jason watched as the kid produced a photo from his gauntlet. It was a photo of Jason and Nightwing, on the rooftops, laughing and joking around. 

“I always wanted to be your friend,” he admitted, “I never wanted to replace you. I just knew that Batman needed a partner, and I guess nobody else was gonna do it, so. Here I am.”

The photo slipped back under his cape. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like you, but I’m trying. I… I know I shouldn’t miss you, because technically I never knew you, but. I do.”

Timothy Drake looked up at the suit for a long minute, before turning and pressing his domino mask across his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he whispered to the air.

The vision disappeared with the pull of the tide. Jason was suddenly aware of the ice block he was still on, as it tipped against the slightly-larger wave. A combination of water and ice made him slide right off the block’s edge. 

Anuk’s yell was drowned out by the freezing water rushing to meet him. It was the very opposite of being dipped into the Lazarus pit. The water was a dark blue, and he could still see the moonlight piercing through the water’s surface. The light bent above him, and he blinked, because it almost looked like a face. A young woman, with long white hair flowing around her serene smile.

The light pulsed, and suddenly he could feel the water around him, moving and flowing, pulsating with its own energy. He could feel the water turning and churning around Anuk’s gondola as he steered towards him. He spread out his arms and pushed-

-and shot out of the water, landing with a slight stumble back on Anuk’s gondola. The boat rocked slightly, but Jason smoothed his palms downwards and the rippling waves ceased.

 “Tui and La,” Anuk cursed to himself, “You were under there for quite a- oh.”

Jason tilted his head. “Oh?” he prompted, still reeling from how alive he felt. He was surrounded by his element, and he almost wanted to dive back under just to soak in his renewed bending.

Anuk produced an ice mirror, angling it to catch the moonlight. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely a patch of hair that was no longer black, dangling right in front of his eyes.

His eyes were blue, like the colour he was born with.

“Yue’s blessing,” Anuk breathed. “What?” Jason questioned, looking up from where he was scrutinising his new hairstyle. Anuk had his head tilted reverently towards the moon.

“Princess Yue lived because Tui gave her life,” Anuk recounted, “Her hair was a stark white because of this. When Tui’s mortal form was killed, Yue gave back her lifeforce to revive Tui.” Anuk chuckled, “It’s why most people from the poles don’t bother dyeing their hair.”

Jason himself eyed the moon contemplatively. He closed his eyes, and realised with a start that the green was gone. The pit’s effects - the murderous rage, the unnaturally-green eyes, the blockage of his bending - they were gone.

Anuk had taught him a traditional bow used to start and end water-bending fights, a sign of respect for the opponent. Jason bowed towards the moon, and hoped he was doing it right.

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly, “Yue, Tui, whatever you prefer to be called. Thank you.”

The moon shone on the ocean, and he swore he could see Yue’s face once more, smiling.

#Gotham's White Lotus #I think I did the weird present tense turned past tense thing again #ew #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #fanfic #I honestly forgot I wrote this but man it's neat #crossover #moon spirit yue #I got 100 followers recently which is cool #I'm honestly just vibing so it's nice people seem to like my stuff

[asimper]

A year and a day

Inspired: Lord Huron - "The Night We Met"

Pair: Bruce Wayne x reader

Warnings: none

POV: you will understand from the context, some romantic drama here

***I am sorry, this is my first writing here. I was just thinking for a long time about this scene and decided to put it somewhere... Sorry 💔 ***

I had been waiting for him for hours. He booked this place a long time ago, where was the first date, saying a lot of lovely words about how wonderful it would be... He forgot it... He forgot and didn't come. I am so stupid to think that he will take it seriously. Of course, he had other things to do, more important than to spend this night with me. Huh, just a day, nothing significant. But I bought him the most expensive watches, ordered with "It will stop when my heart will end loving you", with the unlimited power of working. 300.000$ for a thing. Y/N, you are a serious woman, run a business, but hoped that this man will change from an adventurous bachelor to a lovely man ready for relationships... Stupid woman... I am so stupid...

*

-Master Wayne, what date is it today? asked Alfred walking into the cave and looking at a dark blue box.

-The 15th, he was working on a new system of security around the city, that will manage to determine the robber in some seconds.

-Actually, it is the 21st, he gave him the box and looked with disappointment at him. She came early in the morning, refused to enter the house, just gave me this box, and said that she understood you and your intentions to her. Oh, and she named you an asshole, but I would name you worse, he took off his glasses, smooth over the nose where had been the glasses. How could you forget?

-I... I didn't forget it, okay? We both know that these days I was working and sleeping. And... Was she crying? Bruce was worried, looking at the box with an uncomfortable feeling.

-No, but we both know that she did it yesterday. You are going to lose her. She makes you happy, but you make her cry.

Bruce took the box from the table and opened it. One of the most expensive watches... Petek Philippe Grand Complications. On them were written, "Look on their back".

-It will stop when my heart will end loving you, said loudly and he fell on the table in pain. How could I lose the time?

-I can buy you something to give her. I saw a very beautiful necklace that... Alfred didn't finish, looking surprised how he took from nowhere a light blue box.

-I was going to purpose her. I know, a year is too early, but...

-Her flight to London will be in 4 hours, you can take a shower before going and stop your air-jet.

He hugged him and run away.

They met a year and a day ago, at a gala. Bruce and Y/N are the people that rule with Gotham but didn't know each other until that night. They lovely talked, discovered that Y/N has 40% of the Gotham's airport, Bruce 45%. She owns a company of cybernetic prostheses, she could literally make from a dead man in a healthy and strong, thanks to engineering degree and mom's lessons of neurology. After that gala they met again, he asked her on a date in that restaurant. He gave her red roses, of course, he found everything she likes and dislikes. They talked, and walked, and laughed... He was never so free to someone as with her, even if everyone said that Y/N is a severe woman. At the end of the night, they kissed. Bruce didn't want to spend a night with her and forget, he wanted more, even if she was ready to go with him that night. She was often traveling from Gotham to London, where her company had the main building, but she always tried to spend her time with him, even when he was full in work. Y/N knew that he is Batman, she always knew it, and she took care of his injuries whenever she was in Gotham.

She gave her luggage and went to her flight. Disappointment. Heartbreak. She should expect it... She laid on the chair, reading her book, something about the human body.

-Why we are not taking off? she asked neutral and when she looked up, she saw Bruce. What are you doing here?

-Y/N, he sat in front of her and tried to take her hands in his, but she pushed him away, looking with hate. I didn't forget. I know that we were supposed to go to that restaurant on the 20th. I was working and I... I lost the track of time. I thought until Alfred came that is the 15th.

-Don't lie to me, Mister Wayne. Be honest, you didn't even pay attention to our "meetings", she was full of anger, almost ready to cry from a breakdown. You don't love me, but I couldn't see it before.

-Don't say it, you know it is not true.

-I want you to leave, said but Bruce was sitting next to her, continuously looking at her. Bruce, leave my fucking plane.

-It is mine also, 5% more than yours, he said with a little smile. Don't be a dummy, you are a wise woman.

She saw her gift on his hand, but instead of happiness, she felt disgusting.

-In this case, I will leave, she took her book and stuff, arranging everything in her bag. We are going to meeting separately, not even talking together. We have never met in a public place. We say that we are single. I am not even a girlfriend to you, Bruce. I need to shut up when young reporters flirt with you, but if someone is touching me, you are ready to burn the entire planet, her nerves were done, tears laying on her cheeks, trying to handle her sobs. For sure you cheated on me already. God, I am so stupid that I thought that you, a bachelor that slept with more women than I can imagine, will stop on me, a girl with not a manipulative personality, not a model or ballerina, and with a gap of 20 years. SAY SOMETHING! she shouted at him and stopped in fear of the light blue box.

It was open and... Tiffany & Co. Schlumberger, Two Bees, Engagement Ring... She froze, still sobbing in silence.

-Y/N L/N, I planned to say it yesterday, but... Will you marry me? he stood up and went closer, gently taking her left hand. I hope it is the right size. Of course, it is, I took the size of the rings you are wearing when you went to the shower at your house, he smiled looking at her hand.

-You were last time in my house half a year ago, she murmured staring at him.

-And? he started to clean her face from mascara and salty tears. I was sure that you are my perfect woman from the first met, from the night we met, darling, he sat down. I wanted it to be perfect, but I messed up, as usual.

-Bruce...

She kissed him, feelings of happiness messing with anger, butterflies in the stomach, and a lot of things, like where are they going now. He took her thin body in his big hands, hugging her like it is the only reason to live.

-Y/N Wayne, she whispered in his lips and giggled. The best gift you could give me. I love you so much.

-I love you too, my lovely wife. You know, he kissed each finger from her hand with the ring, meanwhile, she is looking at it, it was pretty hard to take that size, I sized with my finger.

-Dummy, she laughed and kissed him again. Where are we going now?

-To our ceremony, Mrs. Wayne. We are going to Bali, where it will be the dress that you wore in London for fun and liked a lot, and we will get married at the seaside. We will take a lot of photos and post them everywhere, to know who you belong to.

-More precisely, who YOU, playboy and millionaire, belong to, they laughed and kissed again...

#batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #wayne x reader #dc #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #asimper

[kaistarus]

Just A Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Hinata X Reader

Words: 5.9K

Summary: You and Hinata share your point-of-views during important milestones throughout your relationship.

A/N: This is a full relationship development and I’m very proud lol hopefully you can find some joy in it :3

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Hinata was weird.

That lurked in your mind as you leaned on a conspicuously sticky bar table listening to him tell you his entire life’s story. Your original intent for the night had been to quickly pop into Yachi’s birthday party since you worked at the butt crack of dawn. Give her the present and maybe have a drink. Whatever you did it was meant to be fast.

Too bad you had never been good at sticking to plans.

“I moved to Brazil right after high school to learn beach volleyball,” Hinata said, his smile soft as he looked longingly in the distance. “But I didn’t explore as much as I should have. I really want to go back.”

“Out of high school?” You cocked your head to the side, “that’s wild. I moved to Tokyo and still felt completely out of place.”

“Well, it didn’t go too hot at first.” He scratched his cheek. “I actually got my wallet stolen my first week there…”

You fought to keep lips from pulling into a smile.

There was something in the carefree way he carried himself that made it hard to turn away. The moment Yachi introduced you there was an odd sense of comfort that washed over you. Which made no sense because you had known absolutely nothing about the guy-aside from him being a professional volleyball player and attending high school with Yachi.

Still, it was no reason to let your guard down.

“Sounds like they took advantage of the clueless foreigner,” you teased, curious butterflies tickling your abdomen when he pouted. “I’ve always thought Italy looked cool. If I could travel somewhere.”

Hinata’s lips mindlessly curved into a relaxed smile as you spoke, as if that was their default expression when not preoccupied. And it made conversation with him easy. It dissipated your usual anxieties about overthinking every action or word. You truly felt like you could be yourself and just exist within his presence.

“I have a friend in Italy!” Hinata said, elation lighting up his amber eyes. He began drawing circles in the condensation of his glass with an awkward laugh. “I think anyway. He travels all over the place, but he was in Italy last I knew.”

“That’s so cool,” your jaw went a little slack. You didn’t know people actually did stuff like that.

“Yeah Noya’s the best,” Hinata nodded resolutely. “He visited me for a while in Brazil. I taught him some Portugese and we played beach volleyball. He was so jealous everyone called me Ninja Shoyo. It was awesome.”

Hinata could speak Portugese? Ninja Shoyo?

So many questions…

“What’s a Ninja Sho-” You began until your phone lit up after receiving a message and you realized just how late it was. “Oh my god, I have to go.”

“Wait,” Hinata interrupted you mid-frantic scrabble to zip your jacket. You furrowed your brow at the smartphone he placed unlocked on the table between you. “Could I-uh-you know… talk to you again sometime?”

You blinked a few times before swiping the device off the bar’s gross table. “Yeah,” you said, a warmth you didn’t recognize filling your chest as you created your contact. “I’d like that.”

An absentminded smile painted Hinata’s face after you waved good-bye and when you stepped outside beneath the light snowfall you realized your lips were curved to match. But there was still too wide a gap between how little you knew about Hinata and how much you desired to be close to him. That new part of you burned too bright in your chest to be ignored.

And you would simply have to change that.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata huddled in the corner of the gymnasium over his duffle bag, staring at his cellphone in case he received a last second message. His eyes flickered between the ticking clock above the bleachers and his phone’s black screen, stomach sinking as the seconds passed. He anxiously unlocked his phone to scroll through and analyze his last conversation.

Had he said something wrong? He supposed he’d never actively tried to flirt before, so it wasn’t unlikely he offended you somehow. He furrowed his brow and chewed on his thumbnail, rereading his last message. Maybe he overdid it with the emojis?

Wait, were you at work? You could also just be busy. Maybe he was just overthinking everything…

“Why are you crouched in the corner like a creep?” Atsumu crept up behind him, eyeing him suspiciously.

Hinata jumped, shoving his phone back into his duffle bag. “Nothing.”

“Bull shit. You’ve been acting off for weeks,” Atsumu squatted to Hinata’s eye-level and leaned forward with a sly grin. “Someone’s keeping secrets.”

A warmth rushed to Hinata’s face. He was a terrible liar if questioned directly. “I wouldn’t keep secrets from you guys. I mean, we’re practically family now.” he chuckled unconvincingly.

“Right,” Atsumu gave him a once-over before standing. Hinata let out a relieved sigh that he’d been spared for now.

“What’s happening over here?” Bakuto boisterously called out while skipping over to the boys. Sakusa trailed behind him with his hands shoved deep into his sweatpant’s pockets.

“Hinata’s lying out his ass.”

Hinata whipped around toward Atsumu with his jaw slack. The audacity of this guy. “I am not!”

“The guy’s zoning out at practice, making heart eyes at his phone, and fucking notre daming over his duffle?” Atsume raised his brows at Hinata. “Either he’s getting scouted for a different team or he’s dating someone.”

“You’re leaving the team?” Sakusa asked monotone, as if he couldn’t care either way. If Hinata wasn’t used to the constant monotone he’d be offended.

“No,” he denied, qualming Bokuto’s prepared puppy-dog eyes. “And I’m not dating anyone.”

Which wasn’t a lie. You were nothing more than a friend at this point. Even if his heart ignited a flame anytime your name crossed his mind.

“A crush then,” Atsumu waved him off. “Either way a massive Hinata life development you lied to us about.”

“I didn’t lie, I just,” Hinata wrinkled his nose while thinking of ways out of the predicament. “I think Shugo is calling to start practice. We should probably-”

“You’ve got a crush?” Bokuto’s eyes appeared to sparkle when he flung an arm around Hinata’s shoulder. “Who is it? Do we know them? You don’t need to sweat Hinata I’m an excellent wingman.”

Hinata waved his hands in front of him. “You don’t know them and it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”

“Oh, don’t be so considerate. We’re offering our services Hinata.” Atsumu said smugly while Bokuto nodded excitedly.

Hinata forced a half-smile. This had been exactly what he wanted to avoid. If his feelings were just a measly crush he would have gladly brought them up to the guys, but they were way more extreme then that.

“I’m not offering anything,” Sakusa raised his brows slightly in Hinata’s direction before walking off. “Good luck.”

“Buzz kill.” Atsumu pouted.

“Look, this is more complicated than you guys realize,” Hinata brushed Bokuto’s arm off his shoulders. “I can’t really explain it, but I don’t think you guys can help me.”

“Hinata, it’s okay. We all have our faults. Some more than others, but we’re here for you.” Atsumu patted his shoulder understandably and Hinata shot him a glare.

“Akaashi always tells me to ‘just be yourself’.” Bokuto nodded proudly, clasping his fist with determination. “Then you’ll attract the people who are meant to be in your life.”

Hinata blinked a few times. That… was really good advice.

“That’s stupid,” Atsumu scoffed. “You gotta stalk them on all social media. Analyze their personality and figure out exactly what they're into. Learn their ins and outs and become their type.”

That… was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

“I don’t know Atsumu, that sounds kind of wrong,” Bokuto tapped his chin and Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed deeply.

“Okay, but numbers don’t lie and I have the highest success rate.”

Bokuto and Hinata tilted their heads mulling that one over. No. It still seemed dumb.

Hinata zoned off as Bokuto and Atsumu began debating the morals of online stalking and the value of Akaashi’s opinions. He already knew that if he wanted real help picking apart the fire in his chest he’d have to talk to someone who’d take him seriously like Yamaguchi. Then he’d actually get to dissect the confusing emotions in his heart-look at them from all angles.

Learn to understand them and tend to them properly. Help them grow.

He watched Atsumu chase a cackling Bokuto around the gym until their captain Shugo scolded them. Hinata smirked. Even if they weren’t the most helpful he still appreciated knowing he had people willing to help him... in their own way.

*******************************************************************************************

You and Hinata spent the majority of your free time together, but even after several months it was nothing more than two friends placing comfort in each other’s company. Most Thursdays it was normal to find Hinata lounging on your living room sofa. He watched some volleyball commentary video on his cellphone, legs propped lazily on the armrest, while you answered work emails at your coffee table.

On a normal Thursday night you would continue whatever show you’d been watching-currently Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood-but tonight you were stuck finishing last minute work. You heaved a sigh and glanced over your shoulder at Hinata, his breathing relaxed while his eyes flickered across his phone’s screen.

You weren’t oblivious to your feelings. Maybe at first you were able to brush them off as excitement about a new friend, but they had shifted into something intense. Always festering in the forefront of your mind throughout your daily routine.

It became obvious when you noticed you spent more time counting the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose than focusing on conversations. When you realized you spent more time at work trying to pin-point the exact shade to call his hair than getting actual work done. Even more so when your heart would do acrobatics at the sound of his voice whenever you talked on the phone.

No matter how you looked at it, it became impossible to deny.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You looked back again and Hinata’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, his earbuds pulled out and phone placed on his stomach. 

“Yeah,” you half-smiled and he raised his brows to show he clearly didn’t believe you. You let out a breathy laugh, breaking the eye-contact to lean back against the couch and place your head on his bicep. “I’m just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teased, a hand gently placed on the crown of your head.

“Shut up,” you said with no bite behind your words.

He snorted, rubbing his thumb against the top of your head. “...what if I was also thinking?”

“That’s probably more dangerous than me thinking,” you laughed, rubbing your socked toes together with a soft smile. When he didn’t respond you twisted around to check on him, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Hinata?”

“Nevermind.”

You gripped the couch cushion for support as you leaned in slightly. There was no way for you to be sure, but you could have sworn Hinata was blushing.

“What were you thinking about?” You questioned. Your heart was beating a million times a second in your chest and there was something akin to hope burning beside it.

Hinata looked in your eyes challengingly, “what were you thinking about?”

“You.”

He seemed taken aback by your bluntness, but brushed it off quickly. “I want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as you stared into his hopeful amber eyes.

“Well, do it then.” You responded, barely above a whisper. Hinata took a while to process, but once he had his face lit up crimson.

His hand cradled the side of your face and you watched him carefully, allowing him to make the moves. You kept your mind blank so as not to overthink the situation, but you hoped at least one brain cell was functioning enough to get you through it.

The kiss Hinata pressed against your lips was a little too hesitant, too off-center, and too brief. Yet the beaming smile he gave you afterward sent your heart into a frenzy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The dopey smile on your lips felt too embarrassing and you buried your face against Hinata’s chest.

After a little coaxing with promises of television and snacks you peeked back up, happily met with Hinata’s dazed smile. The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other’s arms and supplying random kisses because ‘they definitely needed practice’; ending with Hinata falling asleep in your bed for the first, but definitely not last, time.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata hated being sick.

He hated fighting through a thick fog to collect words when stringing together sentences was usually effortless. He hated the pounding headaches following any light reaching his unfocused eyes. And Hinata especially hated his fit lungs struggling through breaths that came out raspy and weak through his aching throat.

Nothing good came from being sick. It was a lesson he learned long ago.

“You need to sleep,” you whispered against the crown of his head, your fingers carding gently through his sweaty locks. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the cool skin at your collarbone while gripping your shirt at your shoulder.

Unfortunately, you were making it really hard for him to hate anything anymore.

“You’re going to get sick,” he pointed out, voice scratchy from his throat’s soreness.

You hummed dismissively, planting a small kiss on the top of his head. “My immune system’s pretty strong.”

Hinata knew it didn’t work that way, but was too selfish to argue your flawed logic. The bare skin of your neck helped chill his overheated forehead and he cuddled ever closer into you, twining your legs together. He wrinkled his nose when he realized how gross his fever was probably making him.

He’d have to wash your sheets and stuff when he was feeling better.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he pouted.

“That one’s gonna have to wait,” you chuckled lightly, beginning to rub soothing circles into his lower back. The vibrations from your voice sent a pleasant shiver down Hinata’s spine and the corners of his lips lifted. “You know, you’ll get better faster if you sleep.”

“But I wanna stay awake with you,” Hinata whined, lazily beginning to trace designs on your shoulder. The world was so cruel.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, barely above a whisper. Hinata grumbled a nonsense of a response and you chuckled lightly. You fell silent for a long enough period that Hinata began believing you fell asleep before him until you asked, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” Hinata yawned, snuggling against your chest. “I love secrets.”

Silence enveloped his apartment again and Hinata almost dozed off.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He blinked himself back to consciousness while the words rolled over in his mind. He froze. The fast paced rhythm of your heart was the only source available to keep him grounded as his foggy brain worked to unpack your words.

Love?

He glanced up to meet your nervous eyes paired with flushed cheeks. He stared in disbelief while you continued to patiently wait for his reaction. This better not be some sort of fever induced hallucination.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, eyebrows creased. Aside from his mom and Natsu, obviously, but he figured you’d know what he meant.

The corner of your mouth lifted into a hopeful half-smile. “Well, I’m honored.” Your touch was gentle as you brushed the hair back from his forehead. He subconsciously leaned into your touch with a wondrous stare and his eyes scoured your face for his answer.

Except you were the answer.

“I’ve never been in love before, but…” He struggled for the right words-any words-settling on what he could piece together at the moment. “I feel like things are better when you’re here. Like, I can do anything I hope to and more. I just feel happier when I’m with you and it’s easier and everything makes sense…” He wrinkled his nose. “Is… is that love?”

You cradled his fevered cheeks tenderly. “I think that’s for you to decide Hinata.”

He nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said determinedly. “Then yeah. It is, I love you, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad,” you smiled, looking at him with an affectionate stare that set his heart ablaze. He took a deep breath before disappointedly letting his forehead drop to your chest.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad.”

You let out a bubble of laughter, rubbing your thumbs tenderly against his cheeks. “We’ll make up for it plenty when you’re feeling better.”

He tried to hold back a smirk, but failed. “Fine.”

“Now go to sleep,” You ordered, planting a quick peck to the top of his head.

He grumbled half-assed as he situated himself more comfortably, but Hinata was all talk at this point. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and his heart hummed with contentment. He was in love. A smile dusted his lips as he began drifting off.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.

*******************************************************************************************

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at your boyfriend across the couch chowing down on take-out sushi. Hinata’s eyes were glued to the television’s screen, his hand alternating between shoveling food into his mouth and rubbing mindless circles on your shin across his lap. Things were comfortable, easy, perfect some might even say.

Too perfect.

“Why aren’t we fighting?”

Hinata turned, cheeks stuffed with food and eyebrows raised with surprise. Under normal circumstances you’d consider it adorable, but you wanted to be serious.

He swallowed with a wince before raising an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“No, but we’ve been dating for a while and we haven’t had the big fight.”

“We fight all the time,” he placed his plate on the coffee table with a roll of his eyes. You huffed because he clearly wasn’t on the same page. “Just yesterday I was pissed because you left an empty container of milk in my fridge.”

“It wasn’t empty.”

“There was a dribble. That’s not enough for-” He put up a hand and took a breath. “Not the point. Point is: we fought right?”

“That was hardly a discussion.” You waved him off. He had angrily brought it up, you kissed him sorry, and he forgave you. Hinata didn’t know how to hold a grudge and all you had to do was buy him more milk.

“Okay, a few weeks ago then. You fell in the toilet because I forgot to put the seat down.” He nodded confidently. “You woke me up in the middle of the night for that one.”

You shuddered at the memory of being shocked into full consciousness by falling into a pool of your own piss. In your shocked state you may have chosen violence and decided to pick a fight with Hinata at three in the morning, but it was well deserved.

“Okay, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Are you sure?” He raised a brow. “Waking up with my girlfriend on top of me and slowly realizing she’s threatening to end my bloodline kind of feels like a fight.”

“Okay, that’s-” You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored his amused smirk. “I’m talking about relationship ruining fights.”

He tilted his head, clearly not following you.

“Like, you insult me using some secret I’ve only divulged to you and I leave crying with no self-esteem.” You explained with exaggerated hand gestures and his nose wrinkled. “Or I walk in on you having an explicit affair with Kageyama, or maybe you get drunk and I over hear you talking with-”

He put both his hands up, “back it up. What the hell was that last one?”

“An explicit affair?” You blinked a few times and cocked your head to the side. “With… Kageyama?”

“Yeah that’s what I-we’re gonna unpack that later.” He palmed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Anyway, why would any of this happen?”

“Because that’s what always happens.” You answered honestly. Maybe you sounded like a pessimist, but that was just the reality of the world. At least, you had never seen it work any other way. “So just… tell me how it’s going to happen.”

Hinata looked crestfallen at your statement and the dejected look in his eyes made your heart sink to your stomach. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to question your sanity, but was taken back when he crawled forward to rest his head on your chest.

“If I ever hurt you like that,” he mouthed against your collarbone. “I would never forgive myself.”

Your heart raced and you brought a hand to card through his unruly locks, nodding to acknowledge his words.

“Don’t overthink,” he said, kissing your neck softly. “If we’re good then we’re good. Maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

Your lips curved into a small smile and you nodded again. You let yourselves just exist with him for a while. Heart’s beating in unison while you twirled tufts of autumn through your fingers. His lips dusting across your neck as he whispered loving affirmations against you. And maybe he was right.

Maybe it was just meant to be.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata moved expertly around his kitchen preparing breakfast, sneaking glancing at you perched drowsily beside the stove adorning one of his larger shirts. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like that-hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep, in only his clothes-but it still warmed his heart when you existed so casually in space. Like you belonged there.

His lips curved into a smile as he cracked several eggs into a heated frying pan. The dull thudding of your heels hitting a cupboard mixed with the sizzling on the pan for the background of your comfortable silence. Even without conversation his life felt brighter in your presence and he was thankful his apartment was such a convenient location for the both of you.

You yawned deeply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and finally focusing on him. Hinata selfishly wished you could be with him more often. The days he woke up without you were the coldest.

“What are you staring at?” You slurred with another yawn.

Hinata shot you a lopsided grin, “my beautiful girlfriend.”

You side-eyed him with an amused smirk, “kiss ass.”

Hinata slid the eggs onto a couple plates before going to stand in front of you. You raised a curious brow, but weren’t given enough time to voice a question before he pressed his lips to yours. His mouth curved into a smile against yours-another reason he loved you being here so often was it meant more of this.

Your hands cradled his face as he appreciated that you still tasted like mint from his borrowed toothpaste this morning. Another subtle way he’d nudged himself into your life he realized, toying with the bottom of his shirt you were wearing.

“What’s this for?” You asked, sliding your hands over his shoulders and hooking them behind his neck.

“I just love you,” he replied earnestly. Your fingers laid a scorching touch as they teased the baby hairs on his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Hinata took his time with languid kisses-he could kiss you a million times and the hunger for more would always linger.

Your breaths were heavy when you pulled back to place your forehead against his, eyeing him with pure affection that set his heart ablaze. “I love you too, Shoyo.”

He trailed his knuckles down your cheek and relished in the way you leaned into his touch. How had he gotten this luck? Hinata placed a tender kiss on your forehead, temple, cheekbone, tip of your nose, and finally on your lips.

“You should move in.”

Hinata’s eyes widened in shock at his own question because that had been the last thing he’d planned on doing this morning. Well, the suggestion was out there and it’s not like he wanted to take it back...

You blinked several times as you processed. “With you?”

“Ideally.”

You furrowed your brow while mulling it over and Hinata counted his heartbeats to stay grounded. Worst case scenario you say no and things are awkward for a bit. Best case scenario he takes a large step forward with the love of his life.

Oh god, he should’ve planned this better.

“Okay.”

“I understand,” Hinata sighed. “It was totally random and I shouldn’t have expected-did you say yes?”

“Yeah,” your cheeks flushed and you bit your bottom lip to fight down a smile. “I mean, I’m here most of the time anyway, right?”

Hinata nodded mindlessly before a face splitting grin covered his features and he scooped you off the corner. You squealed while he spun you around with a bright laugh, interrupting any of your comments with a passionate kiss. While you were busy tangling your fingers into his unruly hair he glanced toward his bedroom’s door.

There was probably enough time to celebrate.

*******************************************************************************************

“She’s beautiful,” you said in awe, cradling the swaddled newborn in your arms. She was sleeping soundly, tiny breaths leaving her partly open mouth. The baby looked too fragile for this world, features too small and delicate to be realistic.

She was amazing.

“Well, she’s our daughter,” Tanaka’s chest puffed up proudly. He sat beside Shimizu on her hospital bed with an arm hung loosely around her. “Obviously she’s going to be perfect.”

You wouldn’t fight his dramatics; he deserved to be happy today.

“What’s her name?” Hinata breathed. Seated beside you he leaned heavily against your side to observe the baby.

“Sayori,” Shimizu yawned. She and Tanaka had deep bruises under their eyes, and you smirked knowingly down at the sleeping demon in disguise.

Hinata hesitantly moved his hand toward Sayori before planting it back on his lap. You raised a brow, reaching over with the hand not helping cradle Sayori’s head and grabbed his forefinger. Hinata looked at you panicked, but relaxed as you guided him toward Sayori’s small fist that pressed gently against her pink cheeks.

When she instinctively wrapped her fingers around his forefinger his eyes widened and he whipped his gaze to you. “She grabbed my finger,” he whispered.

“They do that,” you smirked, a frenzy of butterflies attacking your stomach as he stared at Sayori wondrously.

“That’s amazing.”

“Okay, stop using my kid as a way to feed your baby fever.” Tanaka huffed. Shimizu elbowed him in the stomach and a warmth trickled up your face when his words hit you.

“What’s a baby fever?” Hinata asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is it dangerous?”

“No,” you stumbled over a reply that wouldn’t make the situation incredibly awkward. “It’s when you, uh, want kids.”

“Oh,” Hinata shrugged, bouncing his finger to play with Sayori’s hand. “What’s wrong with eventually wanting kids?”

“That’s not-”

“No, it means you want a kid now.” Tanaka emphasized by smacking the hospital bed. “Like, go home immediately and make a baby level now.”

Hinata blinked a few times before his face lit up red, “oh.”

You nodded awkwardly and both of you remained quiet while Shimizu chastised Tanaka in the background. One of you should probably deny the baby fever thing… right? You glanced over to Hinata, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared intently at Sayori.

“Okay, Sayori needs to eat soon, so I’m kicking Hinata out.” Tanaka announced.

Hinata didn’t put up any fights and you passed Sayori back to Shimizu, making plans to see each other again soon. You offered your services for future babysitting with Hinata’s vigorous agreeing behind you and they were more than grateful for it. Regardless Tanaka shooed you out when Sayori began wriggling in Shimizu’s arms.

As you and Hinata made your way to the metro that would bring you to your apartment complex the air between you was heavy. An obvious awkwardness that was harder to ignore the longer you walked together.

“I’m not surprised their baby ended up looking so cute,” you laughed, filling the space with nervous chatter. “Shimizu is really pretty.”

He nodded, looking up at the cloudless sky thoughtfully. “Do you think our baby would be cute?”

Your heart rate quickened at the idea. It wasn’t like you’d never thought of it, but talking about it outloud was a completely different monster. “I think it would have pretty great genes.”

He nodded, furrowing his brow at the sidewalk ahead.

Hinata wasn’t an idiot. Neither of you were ready for something like that. Several nights ago you’d decided to get drunk and attempt making meat buns-you’d nearly set the kitchen on fire. That doesn’t scream parent material.

On a larger scale, Hinata had just been selected for Japan’s Olympic team. There just wasn’t time for something like that. No, a baby wasn’t realistic.

However...

“What’s our apartment’s pet policy?”

He turned to you with a raised brow, “probably an extra fee and a weight limit. Why?”

You smirked mischievously at him, “want to get a dog?”

His jaw dropped. “Oh my fu-can I name it?”

“Only if I get to pick the breed.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Hinata grasped your hand and yanked you toward the closest metro station. “Look up the closest pet store and let’s go!”

You chuckled, allowing him to pull you toward a random station that probably wouldn’t lead you where you needed. It would work out in the end. Things always seemed to fall perfectly into place with HInata.

*******************************************************************************************

Hinata glared across the roll of wrapping paper at the small puppy crushing the end of the tube, tearing edges of red and white striped paper with its sharp teeth. Hinata tugged it out of the pup’s mouth, but that only encouraged the behavior as it leapt forward to chew with more vigor.

“Can you grab your son?” Hinata waved the roll around, letting the Shiba Inu chase the end that Hinata held just out of reach. “He’s making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You paused your typing at the dining table and giggled at Hinata’s antics. After closing the laptop you jogged over to scoop the puppy up, flipping him over in your arms to rub its belly. The puppy let its tongue hang out and wagged its tail vigorously at the attention.

“Oh, Deku, are you giving your dad a hard time,” you cooed down at the puppy, lifting him to look him in the eyes with a furrowed brow. “That’s not very nice.”

Hinata rolled his eyes fondly at your pathetic attempt of scolding while Deku licked you on the nose. Just several months old and he already knew how to manipulate people with his cuteness.

“I bought our bullet train tickets,” you said while nudging him the roll of tape he’d started looking around for. “Natsu called me earlier. We decided that you and I should get there around 3.”

Hinata tore a piece of tape off with his teeth while he held the wrapping paper still around the boxed pair of rollerskates with his foot.

“We have to stop by Tanaka’s place before we head out,” Hinata wrinkled his nose at his poor wrapping job. “Noya’s visiting for a while and he wants to meet Deku.”

“Of course,” you smiled as you held a chew toy above Deku’s face so he could nibble on it in your lap. “We have some presents for Sayori, anyway.”

Oh yeah. You had split the present wrapping in terms of difficulty, so you had the pleasure of wrapping weirdly shaped toys while he was left with boxes. Somehow, his still turned out to be a disaster.

He could hear Natsu’s complaints already.

“The train doesn’t leave till one, so we should have plenty of time.” You stated once Hinata taped the final present, completing his small present tower. Deku wriggled himself free from your grip and immediately attacked the empty wrapping paper roll.

Hinata smiled absentmindedly as he watched Deku hold the tube still with his small paws as he gnawed the cardboard. He felt you crawl over, lying your head onto his lap as your eyes followed his to watch your dog-son together. He felt at peace, running his fingers through your hair while Deku wreaked mischief nearby.

He felt like he could never get happier than this, and he never wanted it to end.

“He really is a troublemaker,” you snorted as Deku dragged the tube across the living room proudly. “Gets it from you.”

Hinata rolled his eyes and pinched your cheek. “It’s because you let him do whatever he wants.”

“Do not!”

He chuckled, taking his time tracing your features. The curve of your cheekbones, the dip of your lips, the bridge of your nose-everything he’d kissed into his memory by now but still couldn’t get enough of.

Hinata’s heart burned bright as he ran his knuckles along your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled softly, leaning subconsciously into his touch.

“I mean… I really love you, (Y/N).” Hinata grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “I think this is it.”

You met his stare for several moments before your cheeks reddened. “Oh.”

Hinata nodded, pressing a loving kiss to the back of your hand. “I just-I always want you with me and if it’s not you in the end then… then what’s the point?”

Your mouth fell slightly open and he felt your hand flex in his grasp. He assumed he made a mistake-said too much too fast-but his chest was so warm and full and it was hard to reign in his emotions when he got that way.

A smile blossomed across your face and it eased his anxieties when you held his cheek. “You’re it for me too, Sho.”

He blinked several times as the words rolled over in his mind. “Wha-really?” He twisted himself so he could look you in the eyes, begging for you to be telling the truth.

You nodded shyly, your face crimson. “Yeah. You have been. I’m not… I don’t think I’d be able to love anyone else ever again.”

It felt like he’d been hit by a train at your confession and he pressed his mouth against yours before he’d even processed the statement. Your content hum against his lips was enough to drive him insane.

“Well, I’m going to love you forever.” Hinata promised with a dopey smile. “So don’t even think about that.”

You snorted, but nodded anyway. Hinata glanced down at your lips again with hooded eyes and started leaning forward, but was rudely interrupted by a damp cardboard tube hitting his forehead.

He glanced up exhaustedly at the Shiba Inu puppy panting obliviously at the both of you, waiting patiently for the love and attention he knew he deserved. You pushed Hinata off to grab Deku, but he jumped into a play bow and jolted back when you reached for him.

Hinata smiled dazedly as you chased Deku around the apartment, juking around furniture to attempt to throw the puppy off-course. He had never felt so complete than he had in that moment because he realized that this was it for him.

It was you. It was him. It was a troublemaker dog. And it was a promise that you’d be together forever.

And that was pretty damn perfect.

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