#someone should remind me to ask my mum to drive me to get a new one when i can

[justablah56]

You may have sent pictures in one of the discord servers but im to lazy to go though them but is the Taylor plush finished and can i see my son? :3

nooo he's not :[ I lost the tool to make my small pompoms so I can't make his bottom half 😭 he's still just a top half and a cane :[ I really need to go to hobby lobby or smthin to buy new tools

#just blahs #im sorry vik 😭 #it makes me soso sad everytime i see him in my room knowing that i physically cant finish him #someone should remind me to ask my mum to drive me to get a new one when i can #anyways

[literaila]

what does reader think of all the students at jujutsu tech ? is she like a proud mum when she meets yuji and nobara and is like "my son made friends" ? does megumi come home kn the weekends ? are they all sad when he officially starts there ?

trust that reader is everyone’s mom figure. she is the only person with any common sense, the most sane out of them all. if there’s a question that needs to be answered, reader should be the first person anyone goes to (someone might say otherwise but still)

satoru might say that you need to be a little “crazy” to be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you think he’s just projecting.

and you tell him this when you’re discussing megumi, talking about him living away from home—because jujutsu is immersive. it’s something you’re supposed to devote your lives to and you know this.

you do. really.

i mean, you lived there. you went to class with other sorcerers—satoru—and you know that you can’t half ass a career in jujutsu. you know.

but still, you can’t help but lay in bed with satoru and talk about megumi and ask him “does he really have to live there?” you’ll stare at satoru’s face. his half vacant eyes, tired from a day of work and all three of you. “he could come home at night and eat dinner. he could drive over with us.”

“what would the other first years say?”

“they wouldn’t have to know.”

you know you sound a bit naive. like a kid. but, honestly, didn’t satoru fall in love with you when you were one. why should it matter to either of you?

“what do you think nanami and haibara would’ve thought if you went home every night when you came to school?”

you give him a look, half joking. in no world would that have even been possible for you.

“okay,” he rolls his eyes. “what do you think suguru would’ve thought about me? if i went home every night to the gojo clan? or shoko?”

“they both made fun of you anyway.”

“megumi wants to go,” satoru reminds you like you don’t already know it. “do you want him to feel separated from his classmates?”

“stop,” you tell him, groaning into the side of his head. his hair smells like gumdrops and plums.

“i’m just saying,” satoru kisses behind your ear, his go-to method of distraction. “he’s a man.”

“he’s not.”

satoru shakes his head against yours, not saying anything.

“he’s not. you’re not even a man.”

the boy in question grins like this is what he was waiting for you to say. “and i still lived in the dorms, a building away from you.”

you sit up suddenly, thinking. “what if megumi falls in love with a classmate?”

satoru laughs.

“no, i’m serious—“

still, when megumi moves into his dorm room, you don’t even attempt to dissuade him. he seems… as giddy as he can get, carrying his boxes around campus like he didn’t spend half his childhood following you or satoru around.

you’re immensely glad that you agreed to work there with him in this moment. satoru says he has no idea when the other first years will show up—as per usual—and you don’t want megumi to be alone for long.

so it’s fortunate that satoru can introduce him to the now second years, and you can stand along slide megumi all the while, grinning at your pupils and nudging megumi to be polite.

you don’t get to watch satoru smile at your overprotective tendencies or proud-motherly instincts. he finds it… slightly adorable (and insanely attractive) to watch you fuss over your son like he’s a tiny little doll you can dress up.

and really, you’re just glad that megumi isn’t afraid of all of this like you were. that he had someone—two people—to show him the reins. that satoru is going to be there beside him the whole time, you just a classroom away.

yeah, you think, for just once, it’ll all be fine.

and then you get to hear all about satoru’s teaching methods from your new students (which ensues a whole… months worth of arguments).

#hehehe #thinking about reader watching over megumi from the sidelines #fawning over him when he starts to get close to yuuji #comforting him when the inevitable happens #and then beating satoru up when he tells her— #ah #good times #(all the second years love her and seriously question her sanity) #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #a typical family

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Just some late night ranting

This will be an unusually personal post for me. I never truly talk about all these feelings and emotions, at least not my own. So this is quite a different post to what I would usually put on here — and it has nothing to do with Downton.

I just think I have to get this off my chest, and I feel like my friends just wouldn't understand. This will also be my own personal reminder that feeling like this is okay.

I contemplated posting this a lot since I wrote it a few days ago. In the end, though, I am putting this on here with the hope that maybe someone else finds this who needs to read this at least partly as much as I needed to write it.

Also, this is the raw, unedited text copied straight from my notes app, so please excuse any mistakes.

This will talk about loss and grieving for a loved one, so take this as a trigger warning if you don't want to or can't read about that.

It’s currently 3:15 am on the 21st of November 2023. I am writing this to hopefully make some sense of at least some of what's keeping me up so late when I am doing just alright during the day, mostly at least. My friends wouldn't understand, and I don't blame them. How could they? None of them have had to deal with this yet, and I am happy for them. I truly wish they won't have to for years or even decades to come.

My mum is dying. Even just writing that sentence hurts like hell. She was diagnosed with cancer in late January this year. She did the chemotherapy, had radiation treatment and then had an operation. Everything was looking so splendidly after that. The doctors said that she was in remission and that should be able to get back to work sometime in the New Year. She truly started getting better after all the treatment, and it looked like she could start her new job after all. She was originally supposed to start said new job the day she got her diagnosis — a job she has worked so hard for all her life, and now she'll never get the chance to do it. Still, there was hope and we all clung to it. We were happy with the progress she made during the summer. And then they found the metastases, most prominently in her brain, and ever since then she has started losing parts of herself and abilities she once had, almost on the daily. Everything she once loved, she can’t do any more. She’s losing her memories and she’s starting to lose her control of words. My mum was always one of the most eloquent people I ever encountered. She was who I always turned to whenever I needed anything, anything at all. She’s not dead yet, but I am already agonizing over all the things I never asked her and the answers I’ll never get. And that is perfectly acceptable.

My mum attended every single event I ever participated in since kindergarten, all the choir concerts in school and now at uni; every single swimming or reading competition I ever took part in: she was there, front row, cheering me on endlessly. Next week I'll be singing and playing the first ever concert she won’t be able to attend and I am already saddened by her absence even though she is still here. She just won't be there in person. She was and is my biggest supporter. She’s not dead yet, but I’m already grieving just thinking about all the things she won’t get to witness, the milestones I won’t get to share with her. And that is perfectly acceptable.

I'm driving the 300 kilometres home from university every week to help my dad care for her. While I am there, I'm also doing the grocery shopping. People in my hometown have started looking at me and talking to me as if she’s dead already and it hurts unlike anything. She’s not dead yet, but I am already feeling her loss whenever I have to go out and see people who knew her. And that is perfectly acceptable.

I have had some time to come to terms with the reality of it all — that my mum won’t be here forever. Of course, she was never going to — that’s how life works. But she was supposed to have so many more years of life ahead of her. Now, suddenly, she doesn’t. All she has left are a few more weeks. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot imagine a life without my mum in it, and I don’t want to in all honesty. But the truth is: I have to. Because sometime soon that will be my reality. I am already mourning my mum even though she is still alive. I get incredibly sad every time I look in a mirror or someone takes a selfie with me, because I don't just see myself in there, I also see her. I am the spitting image of my mum, and that serves as a constant reminder of what I'm about to lose and it won't ever stop reminding me and my family of this, of her. My mum is my best friend and I will forever be grateful for this special bond we shared and still share. This is not what life's like for so many people out there. People who don't get along with their parents or have no contact with them for various reasons. That's a fact that makes me even more emotional about it all. I am grieving the person I am and I will be grieving who I was when she was here because I know that when she dies, a not-so-small part of me will die as well. And that is perfectly acceptable.

I am grieving the woman who has been with me all my life, who raised me to be so independent, but who also helped my whenever I needed help and who stood by me no matter what. I am grieving my guiding hand in life. I am grieving the woman I have looked up to ever since I was a little girl, amazed by the effect my mum had on other people, most notably all her students. My mum is the reason I am becoming a teacher as well, her passion for that occupation and all it entailed was the match that lit the spark within me. My mum was my role model — she is my role model. 

I am mourning my mother, prematurely. She’s not dead yet, but I am already agonizing over her loss and the huge gap she will leave in our lives. What I’ll do when the time has come to truly mourn her I don’t know and I wish I wouldn’t have to find that out for a while yet. But I'll have to, and that certainty hurts unlike anything I've ever felt. I've lost both of my granddads to the same illness, so I know this kind of loss and what the weeks and months leading up to the inevitable feel like. But what I felt then and what I am feeling now simply cannot be compared. During our drive home from a visit with my granddad ahead of his death almost exactly two years ago, she said: “We're saying goodbye a little more each time we go, aren't we? Because a little part that was there last time has already gone missing and won't be found again by the time we return. And at some point, there won't be anything left at all.” And she was right. The extent this time around, however, feels so much greater and much more profound.

People in my life I've told about this situation ask me how I am doing all the time. All I manage to get out is a (mostly fake) smile and a forced “I'm fine.” Because how am I to say all of this to another person, straight to their face? I can't and I won't. After all, my mum is still alive. She is not dead, yet. I have nothing to grieve for, not yet.

And still, I am grieving this loss. Which is perfectly acceptable. At least, that is what I have decided for myself.

It is perfectly acceptable.

#bit of a personal post #excuse the rant #dealing with grief #loss of a parent #sorry for being depressing on here #grief #loss #death #losing yourself

[writergirl3]

Get To Know Me Tag!

So I thought this would be a cool idea so y’all can find out more about me🥰

I’ve tagged some 4 Townies below, but anyone can take part! If I tagged you and you don’t wanna answer the questions, obvs that’s cool too💙

The tag is just one I found searching on Tumblr, credit goes to the original creator. Maybe someone should make a 4 Town-specific version of this…?

Share your wallpaper;

It’s a picture I took in Greece years ago 🥰

The last song you listened to;

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) - Stevie Wonder

Currently Reading;

Erm… nothing…

Being an English student kinda ruined reading for me. Plus, I really struggle to focus on a book for longer than like five minutes.

Pretty sure the last thing I finished was a Sophie Kinsella book, though.

Last Movie;

Diary of a Wimpy Kid 3, lol… I’m such a child😂

Craving;

Honestly? A night of unbroken sleep…

What are you wearing right now;

Tie-dye blue pjs!

How tall are you;

You ask me? 5’5.

Ask my mum? 5’4…

Piercings;

Double lobes, I always wear some small hoops in them. I used to have my left helix pierced and I loved it but had to take it out…

I wanna get it redone though, and also get my forward helix.

Tattoos;

None, they’re not really my thing!

Glasses? Contacts?;

Glasses to drive and watch TV. Also need them to see anything at night. Other than that, I don’t wear ‘em.

Last drink;

Pepsi Max (I’m never not sipping on the stuff)

Last show;

Friday Night Dinner! If you’re from the UK, then you know…

Last thing you ate;

Some leftover Easter chocolate…

Favourite colour;

Blue, but I’ve recently been drawn to lilac a lot.

Current obsession;

Honestly, not really anything? I mean, I’m always obsessing over 4 Town, but that’s nothing new…

Unrelated Obsession;

Again, I’m not really obsessed with anything rn, but I guess things I’m super interested in rn are baking and rediscovering music from my teens.

Any pets;

Yes! I have a black Labrador and have had three cats, but they’ve all passed on. Also used to have goldfish and stuff.

Do you have a crush on anyone;

Yup! There’s a super cute guy who works at my local grocery store. I literally don’t even know him, but he seems nice.

Also, his hair kinda reminds me of Z’s…

Favourite fictional character;

I mean there are lots, but of course 4 Town have to be at the top of the list!

Tags: Anyone! Specific accounts I tag to do this (only if they want to, ofc) are; @4townn @magicbratt @jessexselinalover @4townlove @4townl0ver

#4 town #4town #4*town #musingmeaninglessly #4 town aaron z #4 town aaron t #turning red #4 town x reader #4 town Robaire #4 town tae young #4 town Jesse #4 town headcanons

[wily-one24]

questions: 6, 12, 34, 38

Ooooh, more asks. I love it. :D

6. What's the best part of being online/ a creator?

Well, the best obviously is the interaction. I love talking to people and going back and forth with theories and discussions and squeeing and fandom loving. It's so much fun. I adore it.

And, of course, being as modest as I am, I love discussing my fics with people in the comments. The give and take, back and forth, it's energising.

The worst?

Sometimes i can put pressure on myself to get things done. It's supposed to fandom, a fun space, and most times I realise this, but this week I have been especially non-productive in fic writing. My friend keeps remindign me that I've been putting out bunches lately, so I deserve a break, but... I feel disappointed in myself.

Also, obvi, the odd fandom hate. But I only ever got that in OUaT fandom. I stay WAY AWAY from fandom dramas the majority of the time. Live and let live. Be free, baby. It's all good in the garden.

12. What's some good advice you want to share?

Do not borrow stress/worry from the future.

It sounds so simple, but I think this is a trap that is incredibly easy to fall into and a lot of us do it, myself included. Something happens and we begin to catastrophise. We think up the worst scenarios. "What if...?" and "When this...?" etc.

An example: my son has lost an item he really wants. He remembers lending it to his friend, but over text his friend said he didn't have it. He has torn his bedroom apart looking for it.

He could barely even sleep last night, almost in tears.

I had to remind him, reassure him. We have a plan.

He's going to speak to his friend face to face at school today and remind him (without accusing) that his is an important item.

If the friend really doesn't have it, we are going to clean his room from top to bottom (and probably excavate some ancient ruins, I have no idea what the hell is in that room, tbh).

If we still don't find it after that, we will make a new plan.

If worst comes to worst and the item is really lost, it is an item and can be replaced. Obviously, it would be better if we find it.

But he should not work himself up into a panicked/anxious state about never having this thing again, when there are things to do and a plan to follow and solutions to find.

This is a SMALL example of things we all do every day. An allegory for the huge, more adult problems we face. Like, we panic about situations and go into crisis mode and borrow stress from the future. TRY NOT TO DO THAT. Follow your steps first. Look for solutions.

At least, follow the steps and look for solutions BEFORE you stress and panic. Once things become present instead of future, then you should worry about them.

34. Any pet peeves?

I mean, rudeness.

More particularly, I cannot stand loud eaters. I just... I can't. It annoys the ever living fuck out of me. I cannot sit next to someone who eats loudly.

It's a personal thing, I admit it. It's definitely some processing thing, I can't tell you why. But it drives me absolutely bonkers. I try to be reasonable and, if possible, remove myself from the situation.

I have had to relax my rules in the house about eating in the bedrooms (well, I mean, the kids are teenagers now, they deserve some responsibility). Because now I tell them with snack foods and stuff they can just go eat in their rooms, rather than sit right behind me crunching on crackers or popcorn or apples or some other loud as fuck shit they happen to find in a draw marked "things that will drive mum batshit crazy". Obvi they can't take, like, entire plates of spaghetti down there, but snack foods yes.

Or I will leave the room so I don't end up yelling. Because I will end up doing that.

There are certain times, like out in public and with large groups, where this is unavoidable. In which case... I try my absolute hardest to grin and bear it. But it's really damned difficult.

But overall?

Rudeness. There's no need for it.

Just be nice, man.

38. This is the favourite song question, which I just answered. You can find the answers... here.

@dahllaz, thank you for some thought provoking questions!!!

#dahllaz #look ma i got an ask #my kids eat loud as an organised plot to drive me up the wall #my son's anxiety comes out in the weirdest moments

[baekhvuns]

I am S T R U G G L I N G

First of all good news I got accepted (pretty easily) and will go to a f-ing private school ( as if I have money) starting next week on Thursday for communication design.

I have to get to know new people ans I don’t like that even if I am an extrovert, I am also an overthinker 😭

Second good news. I got myself new headphones yesterday 🤩

Ok now…i really wanna go to the DPR concert as i have been a fan for so long and i admire them a lot. First struggle-> how doni ask my mum 💀 why do i even have to ask, i am turning 20 in a few month 😭 dad said idc go (???)

Second struggle. Vip or general standing? I am small anyways so i wont see much no matter where i stand lol. Someone texted me but they want 150€ for a vip ticket like- 💀💀 no i thinking will go with general standing :( and then i should wait infront of the hall super early to get a somewhat good spot but that wont work bcs i have school and then i have to drive a few hours to berlin.

I wanted to say something else but i forgot what 👁👄👁

Also how will i know the ticket is not fake if i buy it off of someone else 😭

Thank you for reading, i hope everything turns out well 😭💔

~🪐

omg congrats on your admission!!! communication design sounds so coolio LMFAOOO TOUGH THING ABT ACADEMIES U HAVE TO MAKE FRIENDS 😭😭😭😭 make some friends have an academy au start for u <3

DFHGSDHG I FELT THAT SO MUCH,,,, u should just tell ur mom ur going and then wait for the reaction the day before the concert when u remind them,, boom u will get an answer dfbjhgfjh that's so fun omg take videos bff,, might go to the atz concert

have no clue bff but if u have the chance for vip standing go for it,, bc once in a life time chance !!! but it depends on u ofc GFSJDH BUY IT OFF OF THE HELLSITE TICKETMASTER IS

#✉️ : ask #🪐 anon

[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || onii-chan

note: this was a few ideas given to me by my beloved 🌸Anon - a bunch of new gojotwins!au headcanons c: this one is a little different compared to my other story, so this is a stand alone one. might turn it into a series if it gets enough love, but we’ll see~ you can read the original ask here!

pronouns: she/her

note: mentions of blood and death and spoilers for volume 8 & 9 of the manga. SUPER LONG by the way lol

gojotwins!au masterlist

twins have always been viewed as a bad omen for the parents - there are high chances of both twins developing no Cursed Technique at all, or have a Cursed Technique that is not desirable. So there had been no hope when one of the wives from the main family of the gojo clan was pregnant, and from what they can tell with twins at that

so it was a huge surprise to not only the elders but the entire jujutsu world when not one, but both of the twins were born with the coveted Six Eyes - something that had never happened in the history of the gojo clan. it was a moment to be celebrated!

if only they knew just what was lies ahead

much to the delight of the elders, the older one of the twins was the boy, satoru, while the girl was born 20 minutes after - it wouldn’t have mattered if it was the other way around, but just having the young boy being the one born first was definitely the icing on the cake

both of you were an absolute headache to deal with, causing so much chaos and mayhem that the elders had wondered if they should have celebrated at the idea of having two Six Eyes users under the same house was a good thing

the both of you trained together throughout your younger years, with satoru becoming super overprotective even though you were twins - he understood from a young age that the both of you were starting at different levels of footing because of your gender

yes, you are a girl - but at 7 years old you had exorcise a Grade-Two Curse by yourself with no more than an annoyed click of your tongue and a snap of your fingers, walking away whilst whining about how it got your favourite dress dirty

with that being said though, he loves to tease you are still the younger one between the both of you, and had teased you about how you should refer to him as ‘onii-chan’ instead of his first name

“come on, Y/N~ it’s a sign of respect~”

“i am going to spend you to outer space one of these days.”

the two of you were already known about the jujutsu world way before you even became old enough to enroll in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College - you two were even allowed to enter without an interview with the then principal of the school

who would want to waste their time interviewing two highly over qualified teenagers anyway?

the first time you met geto and shoko, they were both intimidated by your sheer presence. the both of them have heard talks about the gojo twins entering their year as a pair

so when they had first met you, standing there in your uniform with your bright blue eyes hiding behind a pair of blacked out sunglasses and an indifferent look on your face - they definitely felt a shiver go through their bodies

however, when they saw your twin brother appearing behind you with the biggest grin, hugging you from behind whilst you scowled and tried to push his head away - they were definitely less intimidated now

“now, now, Y/N-chan, stop being so scary~”

“nii-chan, i am giving you three seconds to let go of me.”

the two of you quite the duo, especially when you two are always pinned against one another with more difficult and more challenging missions compared to when you were under the care of the gojo clan 

geto felt less pressure to match up to his friend, since satoru and Y/N are always at each other’s throat - wanting to outmatch the other and one up the other with silly things like Curse head counts and how difficult its level is

with that being said, satoru is very protective of you - if any so much as speaks poorly of you, he would not hesitate to put them in their place

“oya? what makes you think you can speak of my baby sister like that?” satoru had hummed towards the small group of men, who were commenting on how beautiful the young woman was followed by a lot of unsavoury comments. 

satoru still sported his casual smile, yet there was a certain air around him that made them shut their mouths up real fast. “mind repeating that? just want to make sure that i have a good enough reason to put your lazy asses six feet underground..”

after that specific incident by the way, satoru had you and your friends out on a little excursion around tokyo - where they just did a bunch of stupid things together to calm down

you can read him like the back of a book though, so when both of your friends went away to browse through some shelves in a video game store, you just wrapped your arms around your brother with a smile. “you know, nii-chan, you don’t need to go about protect my honour. i’m a big girl now.”

he’d just blink down at you before giving you a soft but genuine smile, petting the top of your head with one of his hand while the other was resting inside of his pocket. “if i don’t protect you, who am i going to protect?”

that statement was proven during your second year - a cursed user had overpowered you and shoko and had taken the both of you hostage. the curse user had practically beaten you into a pulp, knowing that you were the stronger one between the two

shoko had been tied up and beaten as well, but you were definitely taking the brunt of his anger - along with being forced to listen about how he was going to sell you to some low life family that had been trying to get you to marry their sorry excuse of a son. 

you don’t even remember meeting the father of the boy, who had claimed to visit the gojo clan home a few times now

“you gonna be a good girl for me?” the man had gripped as he gripped your hair in his hands, giving you a smirk whilst you scowled over at him in annoyance, blinking the blood out of your eyes from the wound on the top of your head. 

before you can give another snarky answer in reply that will get you another beating, the sound of someone kicking the door in. before either one of you can move, the man suddenly let go of your hair with a pained gasp as someone grabbed his hair and forced his head back, looking up into a pair of glowing blue eyes

“get your filthy hands off my baby sister.”

geto was in charge of taking care of the both of you, leaving the room with a simple reminder to satoru that they needed to bring the man back alive

both of you spending most of your time trying to unlock the many secrets of the Limitless, and how to control it better

during the entire star plasma vessel fiasco, you had stayed by geto’s side. and while you didn’t manage to save rika from being murdered, you had, like gojo, managed to touch the core of cursed energy

toji had ‘killed you’ before he went after geto, yet like satoru, he did not decapitate your head; so you had slowly started to use the reverse curse technique to heal your wounds

so you couldn’t believe satoru’s belief when he found you using reverse cursed technique to heal geto, wrapping you up in his arms while you just smile and hold him as well

the three of you plus shoko had turned to one another for comfort, because along the way you four have grown close to the young girl, and her death really affected all of you

but if there is something bright that came out from this, is that you and your brother had really elevated yourselves to become the strongest duo of the new generation - both pretty much an entire chest above the current active sorcerers

after satoru had calmed down, he had told you about what toji had said to him before his death - about how he has a son that he had planned to sell of to the zen’ins

the two of you went to visit the young boy, discovering that he had an older sister as well; and without hesitation you had taken the both of them under your wing, pulling a few strings behind the scenes while also trying to provide him with as normal as a life as you two could

megumi had viewed you as a mother figure, someone who looked out for him and tsumiki, teaching the two of them life skills like sewing and cooking, making sure they always have warm meals. 

you never miss their birthdays either - always making sure to get them either a cake or a small cupcake with a candle on the top to blow out just for the sake of tradition

sure, satoru loves to spoil them too, but he acted more like their chilled older brother - he definitely relies on you more as a parental figure he had lacked for quite a huge part of his childhood

he had remembered how once, when you had made him his favourite curry and rice after a long week, he just sighed and said, “thanks mum,” before he started to eat his meal 

at first you froze in shock, and  megumi did too - but before the blushing teen can apologise, you had already wrapped him up in your arms as you just cried your heart out

satoru had teasingly asked him if megumi can call him ‘dad’, to which megumi just scowled and sent his divine dogs after your brother

satoru loves to introduce you two as the ‘strongest duo’ by the way - which makes you super awkward and you hate it with a passion. he wasn’t wrong, but it’s still awkward

“we’re the Gojos - the strongest duo out there.”

“please stop calling us that.”

feel like because you’re there, geto might still be on the path to the light lmao - like mans will be a teacher in school and you three will be dub the ‘idiot trinity’ or some bullshit nickname lol - the three biggest troublemakers in the jujutsu world

yet the three most capable ones as well - absolutely drive the higher ups of the jujutsu world insane

with that being said though - the three of you definitely hashed a plan to change the jujutsu world together. even shoko agrees that there should be some change to the old ways of the jujutsu world; so the four of you decided to sign up to work as teachers at Jujutsu High 

the first group of students you took under your wing was the then first years - maki, toge, panda, and eventually yuta when he joined your little class

you are the mother for the students while geto is the responsible dad; satoru is the crazy uncle that is not allowed to supervise the students alone, and shoko is the cool aunt who lets you skip class in her office if you want

all the students have, at one point, just referred to you as ‘mum’ and you had always just accepted that with a soft smile and a pat on the top of their head

even if they are taller than you, they will willingly bend down to your height so you can pet them on the head - even megumi lets you get away with it

when itadori and nobara came into the picture, you had taken them un as your own as well - but you did spend a good 5 minutes laughing with geto at the idea that yuji manages to control sukuna like he is just an annoying imaginary friend in the back of his head that refuses to shut up

you had tried to give them some form of normality and comforts as teenagers, even if many times they were forced into very uncomfortable situations

all in all - it was utter chaos the moment both you and satoru were born. yet it was a miracle nonetheless. many times you prove to the world that your bond is stronger than people think it is, and that you two will go through anything to make sure the other is safe. 

you are the younger one, but the more responsible one too. the motherly figure that everyone turned to, even your friends and brother, who needs comfort and a warm meal. yet if provoked, you can become deadly and kill with no hesitation. it’s because of this, both you and your brother are considered as quite the deadly duo; the strongest ones around. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen hc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk headcanon #jjk hcs #jjk hc #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jjk satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #jjk satoru gojo #itadori yuji #kugisaki nobara #fushiguro megumi #maki zenin #inumaki to/ge #nanami kento #geto suguru #gojotwins!au #gojo satoru

[the-al-chemist]

Dragon Heartstring

Or, How Charlie Weasley Got A New Wand

A/N: This story has been buried deep within my pile of WIPs for some time, the idea for the story having existed since around the time I first started publishing the Hexley Saga. I got around to writing the first half between years 4 and 5, and the second half whilst writing Year 5, and I thought that today - the first anniversary of my first published story - was a good day to share it. It takes place shortly after the HPHM kids’ graduation from Hogwarts and shortly before Harry Potter’s first day at Hogwarts. Consider it a transition between the school years and adult years of the HPHM cast, namely Charlie, who is getting a change of wand to mark the occasion. We’ve all got our own headcanons about how and why Charlie ended up giving his wand to Ron. Here is mine. Enjoy.

Warnings: non-explicit wound description, references to canon character death, brief hint of innuendo.

In the spirit of saving money, the Chatfield family had decided to spend a week camping in the Devonshire countryside instead of going abroad, a decision which they came to regret on the second day of their holiday. Typically, the weather turned decidedly British, flooding their tent and all their belongings, and they were forced to change plans.

As Mr and Mrs Chatfield drove through the narrow winding lanes, quietly bickering over the top of the steering wheel and map respectively, they paused by a gateway, where a young girl was balancing with her feet on the metal gate, leaning over it to pat a group of black-furred cows, her back to them.

“Excuse me,” said Mrs Chatfield, having just won the argument as to whether or not they should stop and ask someone for directions. “We were wondering whether this was the right way to Ottery St. Catchpole?”

The girl turned away from the cows and towards their car, and she jumped down from the gate. She wasn’t as young as either Mr or Mrs Chatfield had assumed from her short stature; she must have been about seventeen, possibly even older. She had dark hair that hung in wet strands around her face, and hazel eyes that reminded them both of a cat. The yellow rucksack she had left by the gate looked surprisingly dry, given the rain that was still falling heavily from the sky.

“Yeah,” said the girl. “It’s not far, actually. Carry on over the bridge, turn left, and then there should be signs from there.”

“Is there a hotel in the town?”

“I dunno,” the girl shrugged. “I’m here visiting my family, I’ve always just stayed with them.”

Mr and Mrs Chatfield thanked the girl, and carried on driving towards the town. In their rear view mirror, they saw the girl wave goodbye, before turning back to the cows.

“I’d better be off, too,” Artemis Hexley said to the group of heifers, once the car full of  Muggles had driven away from her. “See you later, girls.”

She picked her rucksack up from the ground, and walked down the lane and over the bridge, turning right and following the path along the bank of the river until she came to a tall, ramshackle house made up of several stories stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Artemis walked to the front door of the house, winding her way around the chickens that clucked and pecked in the front garden. She knocked on the door three times and heard footsteps approaching on the other side.

The door cracked open, and Artemis was greeted by a single brown eye at roughly the height of her shoulder.

“Artemis!”

The door opened fully, and the owner of the brown eye, a red-haired little girl flew out from behind it, wrapping her arms around Artemis’ waist.

“Hey, Ginny,” said Artemis, returning the girl’s embrace and briefly resting her chin on the top of the crown of her head. “As much as I like your hugs, can we go inside? I’m soaked through.”

Ginny let go of Artemis’ waist and took her by the hand, leading her through the door,

“Mum! She’s here!” she called out, much louder than one might have expected for someone so small.

“Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t shout through the house, come and find me to talk to me,” said a lady’s voice from the direction of the kitchen. The voice was followed by the figure of a short, plump lady, also with red hair, appearing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She caught sight of Artemis, and immediately softened, taking her hands off her hips and stretching them out towards the dark-haired visitor, and pulling her into another hug. “Artemis, dear. It’s lovely to see you. Bless you, you’re sodden. Why didn’t you Apparate closer to the house?”

“I only Apparated around the corner, Mrs Weasley,” Artemis replied. “I just stopped to pat the heifers.”

“Well, you had better go and warm yourself up. Go through to the sitting room and get a fire started and I’ll fetch you a cup of tea.”

Artemis nodded and did as she was told. She had known the Weasleys - her friends Charlie and Bill’s family - for a while now, and had stayed at their house several times in the previous two and a half years. She felt almost as at home here as she did anywhere else in the world, and by now she knew that there was no point in turning down a hot drink from Mrs Weasley.

She went through to the living room, and removed her wand from her pocket. She pointed the wand at the fireplace, and flames appeared in the hearth. She sat by the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching as the flames danced in front of her, her wand lying on the floor at her side.

“You know, your hair will dry quicker if you use your wand for that, too.”

Artemis grinned, and turned her face away from the flickering fire, resting her cheek on her knee as she looked at the owner of the voice that had spoken to her from across the living room: a young man of her own age, with a freckled face and hair as red as Mrs Weasley’s and Ginny’s, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

“I’m serious,” Charlie Weasley continued, his face straight. “You’re making the floor all damp.”

Artemis pulled a face at him.

“Are you going to come here and give me a hug, or what?” she asked him.

“Only if you keep your wet hair away from me,” said Charlie, smiling and unfolding his arms as he walked over to the fireplace and sat on the floor beside Artemis. As he went to hug her, she shook her head vigorously from side to side, sending droplets of water flying over him. Charlie grimaced and recoiled from her slightly. “Really?”

Artemis laughed and picked her wand up off the floor, and with a wave, her hair and the water she had shaken onto the floor disappeared.

“What? I kept my hair away from you,” she said. “You didn’t say anything about the water itself.”

She went to hug her friend, but he pushed her away, shaking his own head.

“Absolutely not. You don’t deserve a hug after that.”

“Not even when I haven’t seen you for over a month?” asked Artemis. Charlie had been abroad for the previous six weeks, ever since he had started his new job in Romania. This was his first time coming back home, hence Artemis’ visit to the Burrow. “How long are you home for, anyway?”

“My Portkey back is on Sunday afternoon. I just wanted to see Ron before he goes off to school,” Charlie replied. The youngest of his five brothers, Ron, was going to start at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from which Charlie and Artemis had graduated back in June, in only a couple of weeks.

“Charles Weasley,” said Charlie’s mum, walking into the living room behind a floating tray filled with mugs and a plate of ginger biscuits, “get away from that fireplace at once.”

Charlie looked darkly at Artemis and shook his head. Artemis stifled a giggle. Charlie worked with dragons. A fireplace was the least of his worries.

“Has he shown you yet?” Mrs Weasley said tersely, as the levitating tray stopped levitating and settled on the floor next to Artemis.

“Mum...”

“Shown me what?”

“Nothing,” said Charlie, not looking Artemis in the eye.

“Oh, really? Well, if it’s nothing, you might as well let Artemis see, mightn’t you?” Mrs Weasley’s voice was growing sharper by the second. “Go on. Show her.”

“Alright, alright,” Charlie turned to Artemis, his hand on the sleeve of his knitted jumper. “Just promise me that you won’t freak out.”

Artemis frowned, but she nodded her head. Charlie tugged on his sleeve so that his forearm was revealed, wrapped in a white bandage. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and touched the tip of it to the bandage, which vanished.

Artemis gasped. On Charlie’s lower arm was the largest and deepest burn mark she had ever seen.

“Charlie, what the-”

“Freaking out,” said Charlie, pointing the index finger of his non-burnt arm at Artemis. “You promised you wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, that was before I realised that you had been turned into a living Guy Fawkes dummy,” said Artemis. “How the hell did you get that?”

“A dragon,” Charlie shrugged.

“Are you seriously going to try and shrug this off?”

Charlie shrugged again. Artemis fought the urge to punch him on his good arm.

“Apparently, the fire-proofing charm he used wasn’t powerful enough,” Mrs Weasley tutted, her hands on her hips once more. “I bet that had something to do with that wand of his.”

“I said you should have bought a new one before you left.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the one I have now,” Charlie protested.

“It has bloody unicorn hair poking out of it, Charlie.”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“You hear that, Artemis? My son gets burnt to a crisp because he won’t get himself a new wand, but according to him, it’s fine.”

“For Merlin’s sake,” said Charlie, his fingertips pressed to his temples, “can I just deal with one small, angry woman at a time, please?”

“Suit yourself,” said Mrs Weasley, turning to walk out of the room. “Artemis, dear, do try and knock some sense into him, will you?”

As his mother left the room, Charlie let out an exasperated sigh and pointed his wand to his arm again, replacing the bandage. Artemis had seen Charlie use that bandaging charm before, and she noticed that the bandage he had just applied to his own arm was nowhere near as neat as the ones he had conjured in the past. She lifted her eyes from his arm to his face and glowered at him.

“It will heal eventually,” he said, calmly. “It’ll just leave a scar, that’s all. And it’s not like you’ve never tried to set me on fire before,” he gave Artemis a small smile, which she didn’t return. Charlie shook his head. “Oh, come on, Artie. Don’t pull that face.”

“Don’t be a tit,” Artemis retorted, flaring her nostrils at him.

“I’m not-”

“Look at your arm, and look at your wand,” she hissed. “You need to get a new one.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“If that’s all it is, Charlie, I can pay for it.”

“I can’t let you do that,” said Charlie. “Look, I’ll carry on with this one for as long as I can, and save up, and then I’ll replace it.”

“Brilliant,” Artemis didn’t stop scowling. “In the meantime, I can start writing my speech for your funeral. I’ll make sure to tell everyone how proud and stubborn and downright bloody stupid you are, and how you’d rather get yourself killed than...”

Artemis’ voice caught in her throat, and her sentence went unfinished. Her eyes drifted to the fireplace, where she watched the flames lick at the air, the bright light and smoke stinging her eyes. For a few moments, the only sound filling the air was the gentle crackling of the hearth.

“Alright.”

Artemis looked back at Charlie. He’d uttered the word so quietly that wasn’t sure she had definitely heard him say it. He gave her a small smile, and nodded his head.

“Alright,” he said again. “You can buy me a new wand, and I promise that I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t care if you pay me back or not.”

“I know you don’t, but I do,” Charlie nudged Artemis’ foot gently with his own. “Just don’t charge me interest. I know what you bankers are like.”

“I wouldn’t know how to charge you interest even if I wanted to,” Artemis told him. “I get other people to do the numbers for me.”

Charlie chuckled, then his face grew serious as he started to turn his wand over in his hands.

“It’s weird,” he said. “It just feels wrong, getting a new wand. It’s stupid but it feels like cheating, or something, I dunno...”

“I know. It feels like you’re losing a part of yourself. Betraying that part of you.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not stupid. That’s how I felt, too, when I had to get a new one,” Artemis sighed. “Word of advice, try not to go for a blackthorn.”

“I’ll try my hardest, but I don’t think I get much of a choice,” said Charlie, his eyes on Artemis’ wand. “You got there in the end, though.”

“In the end.”

“If you had the choice, would you have your old wand back?”

“I... I’m not sure. At first I really missed it, but then... I got that wand when I was eleven, and so much has happened since then, and changed since then. I’ve changed, too. Or not changed, exactly... sort of, grown, I suppose.”

“You haven’t grown that much.”

“If I wanted someone to make fun of my height, I’d have gone to visit Bill,” said Artemis, raising her eyebrows at the impish-looking Charlie.

“Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to miss,” he shrugged. “But I guess a change wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And you’re right, this one is looking a little worse for wear.”

“That’s what happens when you use a wand to toast marshmallows on a bonfire.”

“Maybe don’t mention that in front of mum. She’ll really lose her rag if she finds out about that.”

“I mean, you’re a grown man now, Charlie. What you do with your wand is no one’s business but your own.”

Charlie wrinkled his nose and furrowed his red eyebrows.

“You really didn’t think about how that would sound until you’d already said it out loud, did you?” he said, looking at Artemis out of the corner of his eyes.

Artemis placed her hand over her face and shook her head in response, unable to answer through her quiet laughter. Charlie shook his head and closed his eyes as he too started to laugh.

“Honestly,” said Mrs Weasley, appearing in the doorway once more. “Look at the two of you, sitting there giggling like a pair of naughty schoolchildren.”

“Yeah, well,” said Charlie, opening his eyes and grinning at Artemis. “Old habits die hard.”

Charlie agreed to let Artemis take him wand shopping the following day during her lunch hour. After a full morning of lectures, she was feeling restless. She spent the final half an hour before the apprentice curse-breakers stopped for lunch counting down the minutes until she could get up and out of the uncomfortable seminar room. The second that they were dismissed, she threw her rucksack over her shoulder and ran through the halls of the bank to the main entrance, where a larger and louder crowd than usual had gathered. Dodging her way through the throng, she stepped out into the early afternoon sun that was illuminating the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, waving as she spotted Charlie’s familiar freckled face on the other side of the street, where he was leaning against the windowsill outside Eyelops Owl Emporium. Seeing her, he nodded his head in recognition and stood up, a smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry I’m late,” Artemis said as she reached him. She gestured vaguely to the crowd gathered on the front steps of Gringotts, “Had to get past all of that lot.”

“I’m used to that by now,” Charlie half-laughed, and frowned as he looked at the rabble. “What’s going on?”

“Reporters,” Artemis said, and Charlie nodded.

“They still not found the person behind the break-in, then?”

“Nope. It’s all still very big news here, the Prophet’s been all over it.”

“Well, it was a top security vault, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but nothing was nicked, so it’s fine,” Artemis rolled her eyes. “But obviously, Rita Skeeter’s gotten involved and now there’s been a crowd like that outside every day. It’s annoying, really. Right, shall we?”

The two of them started to walk down Diagon Alley in the direction of Ollivander’s wand shop.

“How long have you got before you need to go back?” Charlie asked her.

“Doesn’t matter. They’ve got us all doing lectures for now, and there’s nothing they’re covering that I don’t know already, so I’m thinking I’ll just skip this afternoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine. Merula’s there, I can ask her tomorrow if I’ve missed anything interesting.”

Charlie frowned, but Artemis just smiled and carried on walking. Outside the wand shop, she paused, and her smile faded.

“What’s up?”

“Just thinking,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I never thought to ask whether you actually wanted me to come with you.”

“Well, I assumed you would be, seeing as you’re paying,” replied Charlie. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, which is okay, by the way.”

“Of course I haven’t. You aren’t getting out of this that easily.”

“Worth a try.”

Artemis pulled a face, and sighed before continuing, “It’s just a kind of personal thing, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t mind either way. Do you have other stuff to do?”

“I do have a letter to send to your brother,” said Artemis. “I could go to the Owl Post Office and then come and meet you with my money?”

“Alright.”

“Just promise me you won’t run off with your old wand as soon as I’ve turned my back on you.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Artemis left Charlie at Ollivander’s and made her way to the Owl Post Office, where she paid a sickle to have her letter sent to Bill in Egypt, and spent a little while stroking one particularly friendly tawny owl. On her way back to Ollivander’s, she stopped to ogle a new model of racing broom in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and picked up a pair of milkshakes from Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour as an apology for once again arriving late.

However, when she got back to the wand shop, she realised that she might as well not have bothered with the peace offering at all; Charlie was still nowhere near ready to pay for his wand. Instead, he was standing alone in the shop, and every available surface was littered with open rectangular boxes.

“Bloody hell, it looks like an erumpent’s been let loose on the place,” Artemis said, looking around at the havoc. She placed the milkshakes down on the windowsill and leant against it, frowning at the disgruntled-looking Charlie. “Not found one yet?”

“Not yet,” Charlie muttered. “Apparently the wand chooses the wizard, and none of these feel like choosing me.”

“Someone must have told them about the marshmallows.”

“Definitely don’t mention that in here,” Charlie shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe we should just forget about this and-”

“Charlie, if you dare suggest keeping your old wand, I swear that I will take it from you and shove it so far up your-”

“Artemis Hexley,” a voice called out from across the shop. Artemis immediately stopped threatening Charlie and turned to smile innocently at the wandmaker, Mr Ollivander, who had appeared behind the counter. “What a surprise. I do hope you’ve not broken another wand.”

“Not this time,” Artemis said, pulling her wand out from her robes to show him. “All in one piece, see?”

“I do see. May I?” Ollivander held out his hands and Artemis handed him her wand. He held it up and tilted it in the dim lamplight, examining it closely. “Blackthorn and phoenix feather. Ten and a quarter inches, unyielding, yes?”

“I think so.”

“And is it serving you well?”

“It is now, yeah.”

“They do say that blackthorn wands need to pass through a period of turmoil with their owners to be fully bonded,” Ollivander handed back the wand to Artemis, regarding her over the top of his spectacles with a curious expression on his face, his eyes glittering. “From what I have heard, you have faced more struggles than most witches and wizards of your age.”

Artemis half-smiled and made a non-committal noise as she pocketed her wand. Her hand was gripped tighter than usual around the hilt. Beside her, Charlie swallowed before speaking to Ollivander.

“Artemis is just here as my benefactor today,” he said, smiling in a good-natured way, his voice consciously casual. “The perks of having a friend who works for Gringotts.”

He glanced at Artemis, whose mouth twitched slightly. She hopped up onto the windowsill and sat in the window, next to the two milkshakes she had purchased from Florean Fortescue.

“Is that so?” Ollivander asked, his voice low.

Artemis nodded, making a point to smile cheerfully, but Ollivander didn’t return her smile. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed, and he turned away from her and Charlie, scanning the shelves. Charlie looked over at Artemis and shrugged, before going over to the window and taking a sip from one of the milkshakes.

“You know, last January I received an owl from the Khanna Estate,” said Ollivander, still concentrating on the shelves of boxes. Artemis felt her whole body stiffen involuntarily. “They wrote to inform me that their most recent delivery of rowan wood would be their last ever delivery of that particular wood.”

Artemis closed her eyes. She felt a hand squeeze her right forearm gently, and she opened them again, her gaze firmly resting on the floor. Charlie removed his hand from her arm and shifted his position so that he was directly at her side. She looked at him, and he offered her a very small but reassuring smile, which she took a shaky breath before returning.

Ollivander, oblivious to Artemis’ discomfort, continued, “Of course, I understood the reasons behind the decision, terrible business. Terrible. However, it was a shame, they really did produce some of the finest quality rowan I’ve ever seen.”

“Where are you going with this, Mr Ollivander?”

Though his question was asked politely enough, Charlie’s voice held a distinctly sharp undertone.

Mr Ollivander returned to the shop floor holding a long narrow box, which he opened to reveal a wand, intricately engraved with a pattern consisting of several ancient runes.

“I tried to eke out my supply of Khanna rowan wood for as long as possible, but eventually, I had to use it all. This was the last wand I made with their final batch of lumber,” he said. “Rowan wood, dragon heartstring. Ten and three quarter inches, surprisingly springy.”

Artemis looked at the wand again and felt a tugging sensation in the centre of her chest. Never before had she wanted so much to touch a wand that wasn’t her own. She forgot all about the one in her pocket; she wanted this one. She wanted the rowan wand.

But, Ollivander had other ideas for the wand. He held it out, not to Artemis, but to Charlie.

“Perhaps you’d like to try this one, Mr Weasley.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Charlie replied, looking at Artemis apprehensively. She attempted to look nonchalant, as if she wasn’t fighting the urge to snatch at the wand and keep it for herself.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” she said, breezily. “It’s just a wand.”

Charlie inhaled deeply, before nodding his head.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “This one probably won’t want me either, anyway.”

Artemis forced herself to smile, and Charlie reached forward to take the wand. He picked it up out of its box and held it in his left hand. His eyes closed, and he drew his breath before opening them again. When he did open them, they were on Artemis, and were filled with an expression of apologetic resignation.

“It likes you, doesn’t it?” Artemis asked him.

“I think so, yeah. I’m sorry,” replied Charlie, and Artemis nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. “But, you know, if this one likes me, one of the others might, too. If you like, I can try some more, and-”

“What?” Artemis shook her head. “No, Charlie, that’s ridiculous.”

“I just thought-”

“Well, don’t think. Just wave the bloody thing so we know for sure it wants you before I go spending my money on it.”

Charlie sighed, and tentatively raised the wand, sweeping it across the front of him. From it emerged a flurry of small golden particles that danced in the air like fireflies before disappearing. He turned back to Artemis, looking as if he were about to ask her permission for something.

“I said it’s fine,” she told him, before he could say anything. “Mr Ollivander, we’ll take this one. Thank you.”

Mr Ollivander bowed his head. He returned to the counter, took out a quill,and scribbled on a small pad of paper. After almost a minute, he spoke.

“That will be four galleons.”

“Only four?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. She had never been good with numbers, but from what she could remember, both her own wands had cost almost twice that much. The wandmaker chuckled at the look on her face.

“But you see, Miss Hexley, you’ve already paid for this particular dragon heartstring once before.”

#charlie weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #artemis hexley

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Newcomer: Chapter 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

Words: 2.3k 

Summary: The Outer Banks was a place you’d only heard of until recently. The unfolding changes in your life had led you to this very moment, and it appears you still have much to learn... 

Warnings: swearing, (***) minor time jumps 

A/N - sorry for the delay, had a huge assignment due and work <3 I know this is a slow ass start to the series, but trust I’m trying to build momentum LMAO 

It had been just over a week, and seemingly still trying to settle in. Majority of your belongings, clothes and other sentiments have now been unpacked and neatly placed away in their new space, although you felt the hardest part wasn’t over just yet. Yourself, Caleb and Anya still struggled to find your way around town, mostly succumbing to the help of Topper, who despite initially being ever so welcoming, had grown slightly agitated from the coercion of having to always help. He’d be dragged out of whatever event or plans he had made, just to help out, especially during the grueling days of the unpacking stages of moving. Not to mention the not so discrete argument you’d overheard, just a few days ago, that he had with his mother, complaining about not being able to enjoy his own summer break. 

You couldn’t deny that your presence did somewhat impede on his break, therefore, the guilt was there. You knew you’d have to start taking on some accountability, with or without Topper’s help. 

“Y/N, can we just run to the store real quick, I need to grab a few things and you know how hopeless I am with directions…Please, come with, or else I’ll have to get Topper and we both know how much he loves-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

With a reluctant sigh, you tagged the page you’d just turned over in your book and propped yourself off the bed, adjusting your midi skirt before nodding in agreement. 

One of the most convenient things about the Outer Banks was that nearly everything was within walking distance. It gave you a chance to explore the scenic landscape and water front, and perhaps even chat with a few of the locals you hadn’t yet properly met. 

“So, how are things looking with that JJ guy? He seems pretty cute,” You intrigued, nudging your sister’s shoulder into conversation. 

“Yeah he’s great actually, he's a really funny guy. He, uhm, he wants to meet but-” 

“But what, Anya? That’s exciting! We sure could do with someone else’s company that isn’t Topper.” 

“Yeah, I know but, I, well we, don’t really know him that well. Who’s to say he isn’t some sociopath, Y/N.”

“I highly doubt anyone around here is a psychopath, Anya. Look around, this is a place people come around to relax or retire.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Y/N…”

For some odd reason, you hesitated in a response. Anya was right, you had no familiarity with the people of Outer Banks, although it just seemed like an outrageous place for crime. Ever since arriving, you felt some unexplainable ease here. 

“But I mean yeah sure. I’ll probably meet up with JJ some time… In public though, and you need to promise me that you’ll be on the lookout. Not like you’re busy with any plans at the moment, huh,” Anya remarks, as you appeasingly roll your eyes: God she could be so paranoid. 

“Yeah, yeah. I promise. Think we turn right up ahead-”

Continuing right on the pathway, you could just faintly decipher the movement of people bustling in and out of the stores, and with that a wave of relief settled over you. Seemed like you knew your way around after all, having doubts along each turn of the walk.  

“Make this quick, Anya, the sun’s starting to set, okay.”

“Whatever, Mum!” Anya quips, before rushing off into the convenience store, leaving your lonesome self outside waiting. 

You watched the crowd across the street at the diner, enjoying their dinner, as you observed the locals in action, contemplating who was who, as you heard Evelyn exchange many names with your father over endless dinner conversations. 

One name that stuck by you was “Cameron.” 

Evelyn mentioned it countless of times, although you’d simply assumed they were one of the many well-known families that had established themselves in town. There wasn’t much else you knew, or wanted to know. You hardly met anyone else outside of the house, nor were you in any rush to. 

“Hey!-”

Instantly snapping from your extensive thoughts, the familiar voice dragged you back to reality, as you turned your sight to its direction. 

“It’s Y/N, right? Anya’s sister! It’s me, JJ, the waiter-”

“Yeah, of course, I remember you-”

As formal and proper as your manners from childhood were, just as you’d gone in for a handshake, JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in warmly for a friendly embrace, before letting you go. 

It had caught you off-guard, although not at all in a distasteful way. 

“How are you? How’s Anya?” He asked, folding his arms as he leant against the wooden post of the front deck. 

“Yeah we’re good! I’m sure Anya’s kept you posted, we’ve pretty much moved in now. How about you? I haven't seen you around.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty good! Oh that’s great to hear, that would mean you guys are free to come to the Boneyard tonight!” 

“The what?”

“The Boneyard? Where we have this party with a kegger, Topper didn’t tell you?” 

By the puzzled expression reeked across your face, JJ knew to take that as an immediate no, not questioning it any further. 

“Well if you’d like, I could meet with you guys later and escort you there myself. There’s a few friends of mine I’d like to introduce you guys to.” 

“Yeah, sure. That would be lovely, JJ-” 

And as perfect as the timing could get, Anya returned from her little store run, stunned by JJ’s unexpected presence. 

“Anya- I was just telling Y/N, I’d love to take you guys out tonight to the Boneyard, I was going to text you about it before, but something with my Dad-” 

“That’s fine, but we just don’t know where exactly the Boneyard is.”

“That’s okay, JJ’s got us covered,” You exclaimed, before exchanging a friendly wink to JJ who just managed to catch it.

***

“You texted JJ our address right?” You persisted, growing anxious by the thought that perhaps JJ might’ve forgotten about you two. 

“Yes, for the last time Y/N could you just relax. He should be here any minute now!” 

And just on cue, in the close distance, the roaring sound of an old engine with dull headlights belonging to one of those old, retro “hippie” vans had pulled up through your drive-way. JJ’s head popped out excitedly by the window, waving for you guys to join, and immediately you both walked over. 

It was difficult to convince your father of going out tonight, in fact, he’d been pestering you both to get out and mingle. As soon as you’d both approached him with the idea of heading out to some party, he leaped with relief, and encouraged you both to take up the offer. He was easy going like that, trusted you both knowing how well he’d raised you both. Of course, he covered some basic ground-rules: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking. 

By the time you’d both arrived to the van, you could just make out the silhouettes of some figures inside the van through the grimey windows. JJ was out of the van, as the courteous man that he was, pulling the side door right open. 

“John B-” Pointing to the boy on the driver’s seat, who gave you a friendly wave, made himself known. 

“Kie-” A lovely, young girl, exchanged a gracious smile and nod to both Anya and yourself, before JJ finally introduced “And this is Pope-”, a young, pleasant man sat beside Kie. 

“Guys this is Anya, and her older sister Y/N. They just moved here like a week ago.” 

“Nice to meet you all, thanks for letting us join you guys tonight-” You warmly proclaimed, before gesturing Anya into the van with you following her behind. 

As JJ was carefully closing the door behind you, John B mentioned how JJ spoke of you two, confessing you to be the “mystery newcomers” before kindly welcoming you to the Outer Banks. 

You felt Kie’s over gaze fall between yourself and Anya, and felt somewhat intimidated, although it there was no threatening intent to it, however more of a protective sentiment. 

“So you guys are Kooks, huh?” Kie blatantly questioned, before Pope nudged his elbow into her, as though to signal her to stop whatever interrogation she had planned. 

“Sorry, what?”- Anya questioned in response, frowning as she looked around the van, back to you.

“Kie, stop. They don’t know about any of that stuff. Just drop it, okay!” JJ insisted, as he ran his fingers through his blonde locks, almost in frustration. 

“We really have no idea what this whole Pogue-Kook business is, but perhaps you could enlighten us one day, Kie-” You suggested, as amiable as possible, not wanting to already cross the line with the few locals you’d just met. 

“I sure will, I just can’t believe you guys live with Topper. He’s such an-”

“Ass?-” Anya intervened, finishing off Kie’s sentence precisely the way she intended, making Kie smile in agreement. 

“Yeah, I don’t think he likes us very much,” Anya confessed, and as much as you hated “gossiping”, you couldn’t deny this one. 

“Well Kie, you’re on to talk… What about your Kook year?” John B laughingly mocked, as Kie infuriatingly shoved his shoulder. 

“S-So what exactly is the difference between a Pogue and a Kook?” You intriguingly questioned, shifting your gaze from Kie to Pope. 

“Well, to put it short, Pogues live on the Cut, which I assume Topper would rather die than enter. Whereas yourselves and our Kie here, live on Figure 8,” Pope answered.

“So it’s just a social class thing?” You quipped, being reminded again of how very unprogressive things were around the Outer Banks. 

“Exactly!-” Kie shouted, a hint of relief, as though finally finding someone who’d shared mutual understanding with her cause. 

“I mean there’s more to it-” JJ added.

“But it’s best if you guys don’t get as involved, your only just new here-” He calmly reassured.

“Just keep an eye out for the Kooks, they usually come to these sort of events anyways for the booze they can’t afford-” Kie ridiculed. 

“Yeah, especially Rafe-” Pope uttered, his tone reeking of bitterness to the name. 

“Wait-Who exactly is that? The name just sounds familiar-” You brush off, not wanting to vex Pope any further. 

“Good God, he’s the worst of the worst-” Pope scorned. 

“An asshole-” Kie provoked. 

“He’s the older brother of Sarah Cameron, I’m sure you’ve met her. She’s Topper’s girlfriend,” John B confessed.

“HA! Topper has a girlfriend, since when?!” Anya broke out mockingly laughing: as Kie and JJ chuckled to her comedic outburst. 

“He must be that bad, huh?” You uttered, as the rest began to settle themselves. 

“He’s a terrible person, Y/N. If I was you guys, I’d avoid him at all costs,-” Pope insisted, although by the seriousness of his voice, it seemed more of a warning than anything. 

***

The Boneyard was a secluded location of the island, where the ashy white trunks of dead logs were arranged in a way to accompany large crowds, and rowdy parties far from the complaints of the adults. As you’d all arrived, kegs ready at the hand, the party had already commenced, as people from which John B described had consisted of Pogues, Kook and tourists. Regardless, all strangers to you. 

As you finally eased yourself into that party mood, you found yourself enjoying the company of the Pogues, they were quite the friendly bunch. And it seemed ANya was letting loose as well, no thanks to her new-found companions: it always seemed like an impossible mission for Anya to enjoy herself, although witnessing her from the standpoint of a bystander, you felt comforted. 

“I’m just going to go grab myself a drink-” You assured John B, as he nodded in agreement. 

As you crammed yourself through the crowd, you felt a tight grip pulling on your elbow, making you topple in the direction of whomever it was that grabbed you. 

“Topper, what the fuck?”

“How the hell did you get here, let alone find out about this?” He exclaimed, by the faint smell of the beer oozing with each breath, you could tell he was slowly becoming intoxicated.

“No thanks to you-” You snapped, before jolting your arm out of his strained grip. 

“Seriously, Y/N. Does your Dad even know you’re here?”

Before you could even respond, some sort of internal sixth sense, felt an intense pair of eyes on you. As you shifted your gaze, to a bunch of people standing behind Topper, you’d immediately recognised his face. 

For some odd reason you felt a shiver crawl down your spine, as though in fright of seeing some ghostly figure. His intense, blue eyes just fixated on you and only you, as he took sips of his drink, with one hand snugged away in a front pocket. It seemed he was in conversation with a bunch of other guys, all dressed quite similarly to one another in their polo shirts and summer shorts, and yet he was not at all engaged... Only to you.  

“Earth to Y/N!” Topper loudly interjected, stirring you to snap back, as you fixed your view on him. 

“Y-Yes, yes he does. Now could you just let me be?” 

And before you knew it, you instinctively stormed off, before Topper had the chance to drunkenly question you any longer. As you disappeared into the crowd, heading for the kegger, your mind persisted in contemplation. 

That was Rafe, surely. You vividly remembered the whole, minor incident during your first encounter with him. 

After what the Pogues had confessed about him, and by his looming nature, you’d never felt so unnerved by someone, you’d in fact, never even met.

But why?

TAGLIST - @juliep7654 @foggybanditgardenprune​

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outer banks #obx #sarah cameron #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #ward cameron #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut

[scarecrowmilkfog]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

#zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws

[cherryxcadbury]

everything has changed-marcus rashford

this is a lil long oop

Y/n: your name

Context: Y/n and Marcus were friends when they were young due to their mom's being very close. At age 14, y/n moved to London with her family. A few years later, Marcus has become a professional footballer and they meet again.

1st person POV

"Are you sure we're taking the right turn Mum?" I asked my mother who was driving the car, my dad giving her directions.

"I think we'd know more about Manchester then you do. We lived here for twenty years!" My father exclaimed.

"Yeah Dad but I grew up here. You can't beat that." I shot back.

"Good point. But it's been what 7 years? You're twenty one now. Are you sure you'd remember much about Manchester?" Mum added.

"You make it seem like I was a fetus when I was 14. Fourteen year olds aren't babies." I scoffed.

"Also, where are we going? The turn to Gran's house was back there." I questioned with confusion.

"Were you not listening when we left the house this morning?" My Mum quizzed knowingly.

"Even if I was listening, how would I remember? It's been like four hours since we started driving. And I was half awake. I wouldn't remember shit if my life depended on it." I defended.

"No swearing." My dad scolded.

"Sorry." I apologised sheepishly.

"Now where are we going?" I inquired, "Like do I need worry about it or can I nap?"

"Let's just say we're seeing someone who you should look presentable in front of." My mum advised.

"Is this presentable?" I checked for confirmation.

My dad turned from the passenger seat and took in my appearance. It consisted of high waisted boyfriend jeans that ended a little above my ankles, a cropped white spaghetti strap tank top, and some Nike trainers.

"That's acceptable, you might be a little cold due to the top though." My dad warned.

"She can use my shawl." My mum offered, tossing a silky item back towards me.

I nodded and thanked her. It technically threw off the whole look, but I didn't care that much.

"So who's so important that I need to look presentable in front of?" I repeated my everlasting question.

"Remember my good friend, Mel?" Mum reminded.

Melanie Rashford. The sweetest, most hardworking woman in all of Manchester. Her and Mum had became good friends after Mum and Dad moved to Manchester. She never had much with being a single mum, feeding five kids. However she always welcomed new neighbours with a dinner. Even if that meant she couldn't eat for the rest of the week.

"How could I forget her? She's the best!" I grinned.

"Well, you and your father haven't seen her since we left. And it's been a couple years since I saw her. Last time I met her in London I promised that she'd be the first person we saw when we came to visit Manchester. And since you're going to be job hunting in Manchester, it'd be a perfect place to start. As you know, Mel knows almost everything going on in Manchester." Mum explained.

"She also said she was very excited to entertain us in her new home." My father chimes in.

"Oh yeah didn't one of the kids become a footballer or something?" I queried innocently.

I was lying, completely. I knew that Marcus had become an amazing footballer. We'd been good friends up until I moved to London. Sure he was two years older than me, but I always loved kicking around a football with him. His elder siblings treated me like a little sister, and no matter how old I got, I never felt embarrassed playing football in front of him. Even though he was pretty good, I wasn't half bad. I just wasn't professional level like him. It didn't really matter though because I doubted that he'd remember me.

"Stop pretending that you don't remember Marcus." My Mum teased.

"Wha— I never said I didn't remember him! I just couldn't remember if he was a footballer. Anyways, didn't he get knighted or something recently?" I continued.

"MBE actually." Dad revealed.

"Does that mean I need to call him Sir?" I groaned.

"Knowing Marcus he probably wouldn't ask that of you. He's done so much for England though. He's a good kid." Mum answered.

My eyes bulged out, "So he'll be there?"

"He should be, yeah. Why? You nervous to see him?" Mum joked.

"What? No. Why would I be nervous? This kid used to be a good friend of mine." I stuttered.

"It's a shame you two couldn't keep in touch." Dad lamented.

"I mean I would've kept in touch if he could. But he was really busy and there was a point in life where they couldn't afford it either." I responded, my heart suddenly aching for what the family had to endure.

I was happy they were finally getting the lives they deserved.

"Did you hear Marcus became one of the youngest English captains in almost twenty years?" My father brought up.

I did know it. I was very aware of everything England football related.

"Wow that's crazy. Good for him. It's a shame I didn't know." I gritted my teeth, lying.

"He's coming off of some injuries right? Can he function?" I asked with genuine concern.

"From what Mel says, he's fine. His injuries don't hinder his ability to get around. He'll look fine when we see him I'm sure." Mum nodded.

The remainder of the car ride consisted of my parents talking with me chiming in occasionally. I wasn't just nervous to see Marcus, but his whole family too. Last time I saw them I was an awkward teenager. Now I was a slightly less awkward young adult. I looked at my reflection in the rear view mirror and put my hair into a bun with a few strands falling out in order to achieve that "effortless" look.

I wasn't huge on makeup, especially when I had a long car ride. I was not going to be that person who tried to do makeup when the car was moving, so I waited. What? Marcus was an MBE, I needed to look decent. When the car finally did stop for more than a few seconds, I grabbed some mascara, foundation, contour, and concealer. All of which happened to be my mum's.

"If you're doing makeup for the first time in forever might as well add some lip gloss." My mum suggested, handing me her gloss.

I put it on quickly and draped the shawl over myself quite fashionably. I got out of the car and looked around. Where were we?

It was almost as if my mum could read my mind. Because she answered, "The Rashford home."

I don't know whether I was just dumb, but I didn't expect our stop for my makeup to be OUR FINAL STOP.

"Let's go then. I guess." I shrugged my shoulders, dying on the inside.

The three of us walked over to the door and rang the bell. I expected to see Mel's warm face, but instead we were greeted with a smiling maid who brought us to the sitting room. It was absolutely gorgeous. Not very family room like and super chill, but visually it was stunning.

"I feel like I'm in a room at Buckingham Palace." I whispered to my dad.

"You're telling me." My dad muttered.

"Well if it isn't my favourite family in the world." A female voice greeted.

I looked up to see my mum and Melanie racing towards each other, getting into a bone crushing hug. My father followed and also gave Mel a huge hug. Just not bone crushing. After they were done, Mel smiled at me. I got up and walked towards her. I saw unsure of what to do so I just copied my parents.

"Uhm hi Auntie Mel." I spoke softly.

"Oh my god y/n. Look at how beautiful you've become. You're all grown up!" Melanie sighed, her eyes watering with pride.

"Thanks Auntie Mel. We've all missed you." I replied earnestly, giving her a hug.

"As have we!" Mel grinned while four of her five kids arrived in the sitting room.

They were a bit older than me and even though they treated me like a younger sister, we weren't insanely close. So you'd imagine my surprise when they all gave me hugs and began to chatter animatedly about my life. I told them about how I was finishing up university in a month or so and was on the hunt for a job, possibly in Manchester.

"What did you study in university?" I was asked.

"Psychology." I informed.

"I believe Man City is looking for a team psychologist or therapist or whatever you call it. You should submit an application." One suggested.

"Yeah right! Marcus would not be happy about that." The eldest sibling exclaimed.

"I wouldn't be happy about what?" A new voice entered the conversation.

It was Marcus. Obviously. He walked into the sitting with a look of confusion on his face. This look quickly turned to a smile upon seeing my parents beaming faces.

"Mr and Mrs y/l/n! It's a pleasure to see you again!" He greeted, giving them big hugs.

"My god Marcus, we're so proud of what you've become!" Dad complimented.

I found it kind of odd how my parents acted the same to Marcus and his elder siblings. They showed the same pride in each of the Rashford children's accomplishments. I was sure they would've favoured Marcus since he's the footballer.

They talked a little bit before the attention was finally directed towards me. Great, just what I wanted. Note the sarcasm.

"Marcus you remember our daughter I'm sure, y/n." My Mum reintroduced, pointing towards me.

Marcus's line of vision shifted so that he looked directly at me. He looked at me with peculiarity before a wave of recognition passed over his face. He grinned.

"Of course. Oh my days it's been a while hasn't it?"

I nodded, "Uhm yeah. It's so nice to see you again Marcus. I mean sir."

Marcus and the other people in the room chuckled when I addressed him with sir.

"We practically grew up together. No need to call me sir y/n." He chuckled.

I held out my hand for a handshake, but he hugged me instead. I smiled a little against his chest.

"I missed those two." I heard Mel whisper.

We broke the hug after thirty seconds and waited for conversation to resume.

"Do you know Marcus, that y/n has been looking for a job in Manchester." One of Marcus's elder brothers informed.

Marcus looked at me for confirmation, and I gave him a small smile and nod.

"That's great! What do you plan on doing?" He asked with genuine interest.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Well I'll be getting my psychology degree from university in about two months. So I'm just seeing what options I have in Manchester. Your sister told me that Man City was looking for a team psychologist, so maybe them."

Marcus's eyes widened.

"What? You can't work for Man City. Work for Man United instead!"

I held in laughter at his reaction, "What's wrong with City? Plus I'd prefer the team that tends to win more."

"Well they lost the champions league." He defended.

"At least they qualified for the champions league." I shot back with a smirk.

He was stuck there. He rolled his eyes with a small smile while the others laughed.

"Still, I'd be happy to show you around Manchester again and perhaps help you find a job that's not at Manchester City." He offered.

"I'd like that." I accepted.

"Well why don't you two go now?" Mel suggested.

"What?" We both questioned.

"Well it's a Saturday. And you two are young so I'd imagine you'd want to be out and about rather than spend some time here with the old adults. All we'll do is talk and eat. So go and explore Manchester!" Mel encouraged.

"I'm okay with that if you are..." I told Marcus who nodded.

We said our 'see you laters' to everyone and I followed Marcus to the garage. Once we got to the garage I was stunned to see multiple expensive cars. Very unlike teenage Marcus.

"This one's the one we're going in." Marcus gestured to a smooth black Mercedes.

That was more like Marcus. He wasn't the flashy type who drove bright coloured flashy cars. I walked towards the car but stopped when a football was passed to my feet.

"You still any good at football?" Marcus queried with a smirk.

I scoffed,"Please. I was never good."

"What do you mean? You were the best partner I had before signing to Man United."

"Did you not beat me almost every time we played?" I reminded.

He rolled his eyes, "Well you were holding your own against a current professional footballer. So I'd say you were pretty good in retrospect. Can you still juggle?"

I blushed a little at his compliment and nodded.

I placed the ball on my foot and began juggling, doing several touches with my feet before working up to my knees, shoulders, and eventually head. I was careful to not hit any of the cars. After a little bit I caught the ball with my hand, as I had a feeling it'd hit a car.

"Not bad y/n. Not bad at all." Marcus complimented.

I curtsied jokingly before we both got into the car. He was actually a decent driver.

"Y/n, I missed you, a lot." Marcus confessed.

I looked at him very confused.

"What? Really?"

He nodded.

"How come you never visited when you were in London then?" I gulped.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, "I thought you forgot about me."

I felt like laughing, "How could I forget you Marcus? We were almost like best friends. Plus even if I wanted to forget you it'd be too hard. You face was plastered everywhere in London. There was no escaping you. Especially during the World Cup."

"I was also a little too shy." He added.

"That's something we both have in common." I jested.

"You wanna know a secret?" Marcus asked.

"Obviously."

"Well when I was younger, I kind of fancied you. But I thought it was weird because I had two years on you." Marcus admitted.

"I could see how that would be weird yeah. But I adored you Marcus. Still do, kind of." I agreed.

"Wait what happened to your girlfriend?" I suddenly remembered.

"Oh we broke up last year. We've stayed friends though, so it's all good." He informed.

"She was such a sweet girl. Pretty too." I muttered.

"Not as beautiful as you." Marcus murmured.

I did a double take in his direction to make sure I heard correctly.

"What'd you say?" I eyed him.

"Nothing." He shook his head, eyes focused on the road.

"Really? Because I swear I heard you call me beautiful." I smirked.

"Maybe I did. It's no secret you've grown up to be even more gorgeous then you were before." Marcus sighed.

I thanked him and felt my cheeks become warmer rapidly. We said nothing for the remainder of the ride till we got to downtown Manchester. We were just about to get out of the car before I stopped him.

"Marcus?" I spoke, putting a hand on his forearm.

"Y/n?" He mimicked with a laugh.

That was all I needed for confirmation because the next thing I knew, I was brought my lips to his. Within a second his lips responded to mine and they began to move in sync. After a whole minute we broke the kiss. I was breathing heavily.

"I-uh. Marcus I'm sorry, I don't really know what got int—" I started but was cut off with Marcus kissing me.

"Don't be sorry. At all. Unless you're sorry that you did it. In that case I'm sorry." Marcus started rambling.

I giggled at how cute he was.

"So. Job hunting? I don't know about you, but suddenly I really want to stay in Manchester." I smiled.

"Let's go!" He cheered.

Like a gentleman, he opened the door for me and we walked through the city with his arm wrapped around my waist and my head against his chest.

five hours…

@footballnews:

Liked by @rashford_fan22, @mancitylove7, and 22,673 others

@footballnews: This just in! Manchester United forward was spotted leaving the HR department of rival club Manchester City. He was seen with his arms wrapped around a girl, who was grinning madly while the forward was seen with a smile on his face as well. Are we sensing a certain footballer signing for Manchester City? Or was his business at the Manchester City building strictly due to the lass who appears to be his girlfriend? Whatever it is, we know one thing for sure, and that is that this woman has the one time England Captain wrapped around her finger. Link to the photos of the 'couple' in our bio!

Tagged: @marcusrashford, @manutd, @mancity

Comments:

@marcus.rashy: We'll support our king whether he goes blue or stays red❤️💛💙🤍

@mancity_news: this will be some of the best news I've heard all summer😁😁

@gloryglory_manutd: LIES! Fake news! Rashford wouldn't leave just to go to city😬

@simp_for_rashford: who's the girl? 🤫

@my_raheem_STARLING: excited🤩🤩

@ashanti_grayson: @y/n.y/l/n this you girlie? don't lie😏

↳@y/n.y/l/n: I have no idea what ur talking about cuzzo;)

↳@marcusrashford: no idea my arse @y/n.y/l/n

↳@y/n.y/l/n: I hate u😡 @marcusrashford

↳@marcusrashford: love u too😜❤️ @y/n.y/l/n

#marcus baker #rashy #marcus rashford imagine #marcus rashford imagines #Manchester United #man utd #man city #beans #england nt #football #soccer #epl #jesselingard #yn #imagine #marcus rashford blurb

[queenshelby]

A New Life

Part Ten: The Hunt

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,154

Warning: Smut

After about twenty minutes and you finally managed to get dressed, the doorbell rang and Cillian’s sister arrived to look after the children.

Cillian’s sister was in her early thirties and currently pregnant with her second child. She had kindly offered to look after Max and Cian’s children and, after you had met her already a few weeks ago, you thought that this was a good idea since Max wouldn’t be able to walk the whole 12 km you had planned.

Max was excited to see her and Cillian’s young nephew who, recently, had turned four was going to spend the day with him and the other children.

‘Good to see you again Y/N’ she said, greeting you with a hug and you recalled the last time you had met her at Cillian’s house when him and Cian were making dinner. It was obvious to you that she liked you and, even more so, it was obvious to her that you liked her brother and that this feeling was mutual.

‘Good to see you. How was the drive?’ you asked, knowing that she was travelling from Cork, which is where she lived.

‘Pretty good actually. I went to see mum and dad last night for dinner and stayed there’ she pointed out, looking at Cillian as she did. It was obvious to you that she was teasing him, but you didn’t know what about.

‘I got the message, thanks’ Cillian chuckled and, just as he did, his sister pulled him aside.

***

‘You know what I am about to say’ she said to Cillian in private so that no one else could hear them.

She had been trying to get Cillian to ask you out for two weeks now, but he outright refused.

‘And I told you that I am not interested in dating. Despite, she’s twenty years younger than me’ Cillian pointed out again after having made the age gap between you and him quite an issue.

Of course, his sister didn’t know that you were, in fact, sleeping with each other but, this didn’t change the fact that neither of you were wanting to be romantically involved with anyone right now.

What his sister did, however, know was how you both looked at each and how much Cillian enjoyed your and Max’s company. Unbeknownst to you, she had flagged with Cillian several times before and simply wanted him to be happy.

‘Think about it Cillian, she’s young which means that she probably still wants children. Despite, you wouldn’t be the first actor who dates a younger woman. Apparently, it is quite common’ his sister said, grinning cheekily.

‘You need to stop it’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Did Ma put you up to this?’ he then asked somewhat amused after she begged him during his last visit to Cork to find someone, settle down and give her some more grandchildren.

‘Maybe’ his sister grinned in response before carrying on. ‘She said that, perhaps, you just need a little a bit of help’ she then said, causing Cillian to chuckle again before sighing in disbelieve.

‘Ma thinks I need a little bit of help with finding a woman, eh?’ he asked somewhat amused and his sister nodded with a wide smile.

‘Yes, and I have something in mind to help you along’ she went on to say before dragging Cillian back into the kitchen.

Cillian’s sister was into boardgames and a little nerdy, just like her brother. She had recently started a business and was organising parties and fun activities for children and adults. This, amongst other things, included murder mystery parties and escape rooms and she he had a little surprise prepared for your hike as well with the help from your brother Cian who was about to bail on the adventure.

***

‘Listen up folks! I am trialling out a new little business idea and you will be my test objects. I am sending you all on a scavenger hunt’ she announced with excitement, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Seriously?’ he asked, unimpressed. He was tired enough as it was and didn’t want to spend the entire day looking for cues.

‘I suppose we better form teams then’ Laura said, looking over towards Cillian who was still preoccupied with his second cup of coffee and didn’t notice.

‘I have already set up three teams and each team will get an envelope with separate sets of instructions. At the end, you will all meet at the same place but you will get there via different ways. The first team to arrive will win’ she explained before handing out the envelopes.

‘Well Y/N, it looks like you are stuck with me for the day’ Cillian said as his sister handed him a green coloured envelope with both of your names on it and you couldn’t help but get a little excited about it all.

You would be spending the next five or six hours with Cillian and you were rather happy about that.

Laura, on the other hand, was disappointed that she was paired up with Evelyn while the other couple at the house was paired up with each other.

***

After addressing a few housekeeping matters and putting on your hiking shoes, each team made their way to the nearby reserve which is where you all had to split up.

Cillian and you were headed south and, after a twenty-minute journey, you questioned Cillian’s navigation skills.

‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ you asked, curious as to whether Cillian knew where he was going.

‘Yes, I am sure. Trust me, alright?’ he confirmed and you nodded and agreed to simply follow his lead. You were way too tired to argue with him and, ten minutes later, were glad that you didn’t as, sure enough, you arrived at the trail referenced inside the envelope you were given.

As you arrived at the trail, the crisp air was blissfully quiet and the area almost seemed deserted. You were surprised that it didn’t attract more tourists but Cillian told you that it was simply too early in the day.

The peace and quiet could almost be felt even as the cool morning breeze wafted through the trees and gently stirred the still morning air.

‘I am fairly sure I know where the first cue is’ Cillian then said as you began walking down the trail still rugged up in long pants and jackets and, when you were sure that really no one was around, you took hold of his hand.

You weren’t sure whether you should have done that or whether it was inappropriate since you weren’t dating, but Cillian quickly confirmed with a kiss that it was alright.

‘I actually like the fact that it is just us for the day walking through these woods’ Cillian then chuckled after your lips drifted apart and he didn’t really appear pressed for time.

‘And why is that?’ you asked cheekily and with a big grin on your face.

‘So, I can keep doing this’ he responded before kissing you again, this time more passionately.

By this point, you were less than an hour into your journey and already lost some time simply by stopping and kissing each other but a kiss wasn’t all you wanted.

‘Is kissing all you want to do while we have this time alone together in the woods?’ you asked while suggestively biting your lip and Cillian couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I suppose I am not very competitive and don’t care if we win or lose so, if we find a quiet and secluded area then, by all means, we can do whatever you want’ Cillian said with a wink and you eagerly nodded before pulling him close again.

‘Hmm how cheeky Mr Murphy’ you giggled and, sure enough, about twenty minutes later, you arrived at a rather secluded area which is also where the next cue was hidden.  

You bent down to pick up the cue and you could immediately feel Cillian’s eyes on your ass when you did.

By this point, you had removed your jacked and stuffed it into your backpack which caused more of your beautiful skin to be exposed.

‘Are you staring at my ass?’ you asked cheekily before reminding Cillian that he was meant to read the next part of the instructions inside of the envelope.

‘Of course not’ he chuckled in response as he was still trying to catch his breath after having walked uphill for quite some time.

‘Out of breath, are we old man?’ you then teased but Cillian wasn’t amused.

‘Call me that again and you are in trouble’ he said before telling you that he was a little out of shape after having missed last weeks’ PT sessions and, just as he did, you pulled him close for a passionate and long kiss.

With a mischievous look, you leaned into him, took the envelope out of his hand and ran your hand over Cillian’s crotch.

‘It looks like this guy isn't out of shape. To the contrary, he seems to be perfectly healthy’ you smirked before pushing Cillian against the large tree in front of which he was standing.

‘He is very eager and active, that’s for sure’ Cillian laughed just before you began to unbutton and unzip his pants in order to free his hard member.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he then groaned as you began to stroke him gently while keeping an eye out to ensure that no one was watching you.

But your sense for your surroundings soon vanished when Cillian pulled you even closer for yet another passionate kiss.

As the kissing furiously escalated you became soaking wet and needed to feel Cillian’s cock inside you. Breaking contact, you quickly turned around and suggestively leaned forward against one of the large rock formations.

There were no words needed and Cillian quickly grabbed hold of your tights and pushed them down your legs along with your panties.

‘So fucking wet again’ Cillian observed with a husky voice as his fingers brushed against your wet folds, collecting some of your juices and spreading them before he lined himself up with your entrance from behind.

‘Well, I am always aching for you, you should know that by now’ you said, wiggling your ass to encourage him to slide inside you.

Then, all of a sudden, you let out a loud cry as, with one swift thrust, Cillian’s cock smoothly penetrated you and entered your waiting pussy.

‘Shh’ Cillian reminded you as each slow and agonising thrust elicited protests from you to speed up but he ignored them with a smirk and proceeded at a painfully slow pace, making sure your body and pussy felt each deep impact.

Coated by your slick juices, drops of your sweet nectar began to drip from Cillian’s cock with every thrust and you could hear him groan behind you, watching his cock impale on your pussy.

‘You are so fucking sexy in those hiking clothes’ Cillian observed and, hearing your soft but growing moans in response, caused him to increase the force and speed of his thrusts.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and, eventually, he leaned forward and gave your ears a playful nibble before taking your hands into his so that your entire body weight was balanced solely by his hands and cock.

As he began to speed up and thrusted into you earnestly with the full length of his cock your assets began shuddering from the forceful pounding.

You loved hearing Cillian’s soft growls and he loved hearing your heated moans as you were fucking like animals in heat and your rough but yet passionate love making had been quickly building up to a climax.

‘Oh god Cillian, cum inside me. I want to feel it, all of it’ you moaned as you became louder and more desperate.

‘Not yet’ Cillian said determined as your lustful moans echoed throughout the forest and no doubt spooked some animals. Instead of continuing his assault on your pussy, he pulled his dripping and erect cock out of your warm wetness, leaving you once again to pout and beg in desperation.

‘Please no…Cillian…fuck…’ you huffed out as you turned around to look at him in confusion.

Your plead for more was met with a grin and then a kiss which was passionate but not as heated as the last.

‘Common, let’s keep going and find another cue first’ he said, pulling up his pants and covering his erection as best as he could after your lips drifted apart.

‘Cillian, I am fucking soaking. I need to cum’ you said, disapproving of his teasing, but he enjoyed it way too much. It was his game.

***

An hour and two cues later, you found yet another perfect love making spot deep inside the forest.

‘This perfect, there is no one around and the area is covered with bushes’ you observed just before your lips met with his, demanding him to take you and make you cum without saying anything else.

Cillian nodded and, without words, you both somehow stumbled over to a flat rock not too far from the marker indicating the direction of the trail.

Covered by dense vegetation, this large, smooth rock seemed perfectly suited as a bench for groups of people. For the two of you, though, it was just the perfect place for other activities...

As you sat down on the rock Cillian bent down and proceeded to give you what you deserved.

‘These will need to come off’ Cillian said, kneeling before you and tugging on your tights.

You quickly undid your hiking shoes and then pushed them off before allowing Cillian to remove yourtights and panties.

‘Let’s hope no one comes down this way, eh?’ he then smirked but you no longer cared and pulled him close, desperate to feel him inside of you once again.

Spreading your legs apart, he leaned above you and took you in fully with his eyes. Your smiling and blushing face, cheeks and pussy reddened with arousal turned Cillian on immensely. Your hard nipples poking through your exercise top, heaving with each breath were a sight he knew he would remember forever. And your shy but warm hands, gripped Cillian’s hand with great trust as your shining eyes encouraged him to take you right then and there.

Cillian unbuttoned and unzipped his pants again, pushing them down together with his briefs before aligning himself with your entrance.

Without hesitation, he took a deep breath and plunged straight into your tight wetness as a whimper escaped your quivering lips. Cillian was pushing in firmly and pulling out in an agonisingly slow manner. This only increased the pleasure and soon your bodies were moving in tandem like a well-oiled fucking machine as grunts and moans filled the air.

Cillian was joyfully fucking you as his cock pounded against your pussy and relentlessly assaulted it as your dueling tongues enticed each other to hotter and deeper kisses.

His thrusts soon fastened but, just as you were about to approach a hastening climax, he slowed down again. Although fucking you senseless was what his body yearned to do as he saw your heaving body under him shining with sweat, his reserves of self-control still held.

Pushing in deeply so that you could feel his warm cock filling you up, he remained in you for a short while before pulling out completely.

As you gazed at him with pleading eyes, he smirked, then leaned in to kiss you before slamming his cock unexpectedly into your waiting pussy starving for more.

Again and again, he followed this process of pushing deep into you, holding it there so you could feel such fullness, before pulling out completely and leaving you yearning crazily for the next thrust.

Taking you to new heights of pleasure with each deep impact, he began to speed up unconsciously as your moans and hot pussy walls rapidly eroded his self-control.

All too soon, he felt the climax approaching inevitably. Even as your bodies were lost in pleasure, however, your ears picked up the murmur of early hikers at the summit not too far from where you were. And yet, Cillian’s cock began to pound you harder and faster with increasing urgency and desperation.

‘Don’t you dare fucking stop now’ you moaned quietly and Cillian certainly couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he forcefully pushed down as his hips returned from their swing and thrusted firmly upwards into you. Impaled on his thick and painfully erect shaft, your pussy lips widened, as did your eyes.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your climax was approaching fast and hard and you began to quiver.

With a groan, Cillian reached his high at the same time as you. His cock was exploding deep inside you, filling your waiting pussy with sticky ropes of hot cum. Even as your pussy walls convulsed with pleasure, they were quickly painted white with his swirling cum while trying their best to milk him dry of every drop.

Wrapped in a deep kiss to muffle your moans of pleasure, you could hear the nearby crowd approaching and, at the sound of the cracking of some sticks, Cillian quickly pulled out of you and helped you up from where you were lying.

Seeing your sore and well-used pussy dripping your juices and his thick cum made Cillian inhale sharply before he pulled up his pants.

You were quick to get dressed yourself before anyone would see you and, sure enough, minutes later, the small group pf hikers found your little hiding spot and greeted you.

***

After another few hours following your small detour deeper into the woods in order to get some intimacy, you finally found the last cue which led you to a small local pub.

You weren’t surprised when you learned that you were, indeed, the last team to arrive at your destination.

‘Did you guys get lost or something?’ Cian asked when you both finally sat down at the table and ordered two pints of Guinness.

‘We just took our time. Those cues were tricky’ Cillian chuckled which is when Evelyn informed you that you arrived an entire hour after she did.

‘I had to stop and take some sightseeing photos as well’ you then told her, cheeks blushing red while you were already thinking about how you would be sneaking into Cillian’s bedroom that night.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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.

.

“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

.

.

.

“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles imagines #harry styles x mc #harry styles fic

[heshoes]

Twin Telepathy

❝And I never thought it would be true that one day I'd have to live without you.❞ In which a connection started at birth remains strong until the bitter end.

Warnings (BC THIS ONE IS TRIGGERING): ⚠️ angst, main character death.

Idk the word count but this one is short

Main Characters: Harry Styles, Edward Styles

There is no smut in this one my loves. I wrote this like 5 years ago and I’m posting it here now. I hope you enjoy and reblog let’s talk about it after you read.xx

5

Age five is when Harry and Edward noticed that they were identical. Age five was the time of development for secret languages, tricks, and pranks pulled on parents, grandparents, and even the teachers at primary school because they could get away with it.

They would even switch classes sometimes.

Harry was always good at maths. He progressed at counting blocks and telling time where Edward was a bit more fuzzy in the subject. However,  Edward could always read and excelled in primary school literature despite the fact that he would throw a tantrum anytime his mum would pull him away from the television in order to for him to read her a bedtime story.

“What time is it Harry?” Their mum would ask knowing full well what the time was herself,  as she took her seat behind the two curly headed boys on the floor who sat helplessly too close to the television. One because he really couldn’t see all that well, the other because he wanted to be close to his brother.

“I’m not Harry! I’m Ed.” Harry laughed cheekily as he told a lie while his brother squinted to look at the cartoon characters on the telly screen.

“Well, Ed,” His mother spoke playing along with his game, “What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock! Time for bed?”

“Thats right!” Their mother laughed, “When did you get so much better at telling time Edward?”

“Uh-oh”

“That’s right, Harry. Uh-oh.” The boy laughed in his mothers arms as she began to tickle and he began to squirm. Edward found it amusing, and because his brother laughed so did he, feeling the same exact joy that his brother did from the top of his head down to his tiny toes. Rushing for his mother in order to save his brother from the tickle monster, Edward pulled Harry from her arms, and for once he didn’t put up a fight when his mother asked him to read to her after he and Harry were dressed in their pajamas.

•••••

10

Ten was the age of growing into your face and the ever present awkward phase that everyone has to go through. By age ten, Harry had to wear braces and Edward wore a pair of glasses thicker than should be allowed. Their pranks didn’t work as well as they used to when they were younger due to the physical tell all’s that adorned their faces, but it didn’t make the boys any less close together. If anything it made them stick together more. Age ten was also the age in which they were constantly bullied.

As the boys walked down the hallways books would be ripped from their hands or feet would be purposely stuck out in order for one to trip. When Edward fell and broke his glasses, Harry had decided that he had, had enough. Edward was angry, furious even, but because he could barely see he couldn’t do much about it. Harry, however, could and the anger that Edward felt radiated off of his twin in hot streams.

“Apologize!” Harry shouted at the much bigger boy, standing his ground though he was much shorter.

“For what?” The boy challenged in a much more condescending tone. He knew what he had done and he was proud of himself for it.

“Apologize to my brother or I’ll– I’ll...”

“You’ll what brace face?!”

“I’ll kick your ass!”

The crowd in the hallway ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at the use of Harry’s language as he stood in between Edward and the boy who was much taller. Edward had since put his broken glasses in his pocket as he squinted, tugging at Harry’s arm to get him to walk away from the situation, but Harry wouldn’t budge.

Harry wasn’t prepared for what was to come. As the boy lifted his fist to connect it with Harry’s jaw he was cut short. Before any contact could be made, the boy who was much taller was seated forcefully on the ground holding his bloody nose in his hand, looking up at Edward.  Edward looked down on the bully while flexing his hand open and closed hoping that if he shook it hard enough the pain of breaking someone’s nose would go away.

Harry looked at his twin with shock in his eyes and a smile on his face as Ed continued to shake his hand while all three of the boys were escorted to the principal’s office.

“I thought you couldn’t see?” Harry whispered to his twin  in hopes of a quick explanation.

“I can’t see things that are far away, but that fucker, he was pretty close.”

Harry and Edward both began to laugh as they sat patiently in the principals office for their parents to collect them for their suspension from school.

•••••

15

Fifteen was the age of rebellion, girls, and more argument’s between the boys than usual. They had since grown into their faces and their own personalities and though they were still close, they didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. Harry had gotten into sports and school, while Edward had gotten into bands and trouble. The one thing that they did both agree on at the moment however was going to Tash Fraser's birthday party. Although she was two years their senior she had still sent the boys a personal invite. She was turning 17 and this of course would help boost their popularity for the year.

They were already high on the food chain at school for boys of only fifteen years old, and since they had grown into their faces and out of their braces and glasses, they had become rather attractive aside from the baby fat that they still had here and there.

“You ask.” Harry spoke, shoving Edward towards their parents room and grabbing the newspaper out of his hands, disturbing him from his place at the table as he read while flicking his brand new tongue ring against his teeth. Harry didn't care if Ed was angered by his rude interuption. He was older after all even if it was only by two minutes. Edward should do as he said.

“Why would I ask?! I just got off of punishment. I’ll be lucky if I can go anywhere. If I ask, dad will take one look at me and say no. No doubt I'll go anyway, but I'd rather do it without having to sneak. Leave me alone and give me my shit back! If you wanna go so bad you ask asshole!” Edward pushed his twin back, both of them equally aggravated by the other.

“We won’t be able to go anywhere if mum and dad hear you cussing! Fat chance on sneaking out with your big mouth!” Harry spoke aggressively above a whisper to his brother, making himself be heard.

Edward pulled his tongue ring between his teeth, playing with it and making Harry cringe before he nodded his head up and down in agreement.

“So what are we going to do?” Harry asked as if he were fresh out of ideas though he really didn’t bother to think of any.

“We’ll make them breakfast.” Edward spoke quickly, thinking on his toes much to Harry’s approval. And so they did, buttering their parents up with toast, pancakes, tomatoes, sausage, and bacon in order to get a simple, “alright” from their mother and father.

“You have to be home no later than one thirty!” Their mom reminded them as they headed out the door, riding with a mutual friend in order to make their way to the party.

“We’ll be home by twelve.” Harry yelled back jokingly earning a slap to the back of the head from his brother.

As the night went on, the music grew louder and the illegal activity had gotten more out of hand. Drinks of the alcoholic kind had been passed around, and though both Harry and Edward had one or two, neither of them dared to get drunk, knowing full well that their mother would be up waiting for them to get back.

“It’s one fifteen.” Harry spoke looking at his silver wrist watch that Edward had gotten him as a gift on their thirteenth birthday. “We should get ready to leave soon.”

Edward nodded his head in agreement as he looked around the crowded room for their friend. Hoping that he was sober enough to take them home. When he spotted him and told him that he was ready to go, their friend agreed to drive them even though Harry had notice the stumble in his step.

“Nuh uh, Edward. He’s drunk out of his mind.” Harry spoke to his twin, but was ignored as soon as the words left his lips.

“I can’t get in trouble again Harry. He’s fine we just live right up the street. It won’t take us long to get home. It’s fine.” Edward began to walk towards the car, but as soon as he took a step Harry pulled him back.

“Ed no! Why don’t you ever listen?!”

“Harry! If you want to stay here and get in trouble with dad because you’re not home in time then fine! Stay! I’ve just been freed and I’m not gonna be grounded again over something as stupid as this! I’ll see you when you get home.”

Harry let his brother go tired of arguing back and forth. There was no arguing with Ed and no point in trying to get him to think clearly when he had gotten an idea of his own.

Twenty more minutes passed before Harry had found a sober soul in the party who was willing to take him home. He hadn’t been drinking again, but he had the worst headache that he’d ever had in his life and it felt like it would split him clean in two if he didn’t get home and lie down. As they got in the car they traveled down the road only to see that it was blocked, a sudden panic started to set in. Harry’s head pounded worse and his mouth went dry and before the police got the chance to turn them in the opposite direction, Harry saw the car that Edward was in wrapped around a tree as if it were a flimsy piece of  aluminum foil.

•••••

20

Today Harry was twenty and though this was considered to be an age of a milestone in life, he didn’t celebrate it in the traditional way. Harry hadn’t celebrated any birthday since fifteen because he saw no point in it. Instead of throwing a party or hanging out with friends, every year since after his fifteenth birthday, Harry would go to the cemetery in Cheshire so that he could be close to his brother.

Today was a day of remembrance.

As Harry sat against the cold granite headstone that represented Edward, he thought of the time that they spent together while he was living. Harry was thankful that he was in a fairly secluded area because he would talk to Ed and tell him about the things that went on in his day and as he thought about his brother, he would laugh out loud when he would remember a prank that they pulled when they were younger, like when Harry dressed up as Edward for an hour at school just so that he could take his maths test for him. Their mum was so proud of Edward for passing with flying colors.

Or when Edward would run into Harry’s room and pretend to be him when they were supposed to be sleeping. Harry had a girlfriend at the time and would sneak out of his room at night to go see her, where they would make out under a tree. Harry realised that he had never thanked Ed for that so he did it now. A simple “thank you” left his lips before he fell silent and his eyes began to water. Because this was a day of remembrance, Harry would also remember the day that he lost his best friend.

Harry remembered the waiting.

Waiting in the oddly cold  room at the hospital with his mum and dad as doctors rushed about doing everything they could in order to save his brother.

Harry remembered the tears.

Tears that rolled down the faces of his family and himself as he rocked back and forth in his chair with with his hands clasped together tightly, saying a silent prayer that Ed would somehow walk out of the emergency room with maybe only a couple of stitches here and there.

Harry remembered the screams.

The deafening screams that came from his mother, his father, and himself when the doctor came out of the operating room and said that Edwards heart had given up and that his poor body was too weak to put up a fight.

Most of all, Harry remembered how he already knew that Edward was gone before the doctor came to announce it. His head had stopped hurting and his stomach was in knots, but he could no longer feel that strange connection that he and Edward shared since before he could remember and since age five, the age that he and Edward realized that they were identical.

Harry sat against Edward’s tombstone and allowed his tears to fall uninhibitedly, ridding himself of the pain that he felt everytime he thought about that fateful day. And though it hurt that he no longer had Edward around physically, he wasn’t sad anymore because he knew that he was there in spirit. The feeling that Harry felt was more overwhelming  because everytime he thought about it, he could barely believe it.

He never thought it would be true that he would have to live a day without his best friend, his brother, his twin.

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #Edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Not yours.

summary: someone tries to force their way back to y/n's life and harry isn't having any of it.

word count: ----

based on these requests:

“also!! what about something angsty? maybe artemis gets hurt or something and harry is just in full on dad mode”

and 

“What about caleb seeing the trio on tabloids, so he gets slightly jealous and “want’s” back into Artemis’ life unexpectedly.”

and

“ could you write something for my shy little boy about Artemis real father finding out that harry adopted him and showing up at their house claiming that Artemis is his son and basically trying to claim his rights as a father, and harry gets REALLY protective, plsss i would love that concept”

and

“Can you do one in the shy little boy universe where Artemis's dad tries to come back in his life or something. Like he sees them and he's life 'give me a second chance' . I love your writing. Thanks”

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

November, 2019.

Park days were the best days for the Styles family. They didn’t get to have them as much as they’d like as they were always so busy, but today was an off day and Artemis was responsible for choosing what they were going to do. And of course he chose the park.

Y/N packed some snacks in a picnic basket while Harry took the job of dressing Artemis up. Obviously Artemis ended up way too dress up for just going to the park but it wasn’t a secret Harry was crazy about them wearing the same color or matching outfits to go out.

Harry had picked a pair of white shorts and paired it with a pastel yellow polo shirt he tucked into the shorts. Artemis looked adorable although Harry knew his son most likely get the clothes dirty as soon as they arrive to the park.

“Daddy, my nose itches.” Artemis tried to take off his glasses but Harry stopped him.

Last month they had an appointment with the ophthalmologist and Artemis had to change his glasses at his doctor's request. But Artemis wasn't happy with his new ones, he was always looking for an excuse to take them off or hiding them from his parents.

"Better?" Harry asked, using his fingers to scratch softly where Artemis pointed it itched. The much smaller boy nodded. "You need the glasses, sweetheart. Don't take them off."

"I like my old ones better, why can't i have those?"

"Those doesn't work for you anymore, monkey." He explained. "C'mon, let's put your shoes on." Harry knelt in front of him to watch how Artemis ties his sneakers up, he smiled when his son made it without a problem.

"I just put the things in the car, are you ready?" Y/N said when she saw them coming down the stairs.

"Yes! Let's go, let's go!" Artemis almost jumped from the lasts steps.

Artemis rambled the entire ride about all the fun things they’d do together once they got there, constantly asking if they were at the park already. When they arrived, Harry was surprised it wasn’t so full of people, considering it was the weekend. Y/N unfolded the blanket on the grass, laying the stuff they brought.

“Daddy, let’s play.” Artemis pulled from Harry’s arm, making the latest chuckle.

“Just be careful, please. We don’t want you to fall.” Y/N remained her son, who was too busy running around with his dad.

It was a beautiful day outside, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and the weather was perfect despite being in the middle of November. Harry had packed a Frisbee Artemis liked to use in their backyard and that’s what they were using to play.

Harry made sure to throw it softly at his son, not wanting the toy to hit him in the face. Artemis threw his hands in the air every time his daddy caught it.

Everything happened too fast, none of his parents could catch Artemis before he was face down on the grass. He had tried to throw the Frisbee higher but didn’t control his strength and he ended up on the floor.

Harry’s eyes grew wide as he ran towards the small child, his heart breaking as he heard his loud sobs. He picked him up from the grass and scooped him in his arms.

"Are you hurt? Where does it hurt, baby? Is it your arm?" He said, panic visible in his tone.

"He scraped his knees." Y/N said before cooing at Artemis, trying to calm him down. "Got some band aids for your knees, my love. It's okay." She took him in her arms and handed the band aids to Harry so he could put them on his boy's knees after cleaning the little blood that was there.

Caressing his hair softly, Y/N sat back down on the blanket, putting Artemis on her lap to wipe his tears off. "All better?" He nodded with a pout on his face.

Harry copied his son's pout, sitting next to them on the blanket. He didn't like seeing his love being upset, and he'd lie if he said he didn't feel a little guilty for him getting hurt.

"It's okay, accidents happen and sometimes we get hurt." Y/N said as if she could read Harry's thoughts. "What if we eat and then we can go for ice cream."

The smile reappeared on Artemis' face as he stood up from his mum's lap and cheered excitedly. Artemis ate whatever Y/N had packed for them, hurrying his parents so they could go get dessert.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked Harry at the end of the day when Artemis was falling asleep on his daddy's shoulder as he carried him back to the car. "You've been quiet since he fell."

"Just worried. Should we take him to ER?"

"For scraped knees? Don't think so. Harry, it's fine, really. He doesn't even remember he has them." She assured. "Tomorrow it will be all better."

"But he cried so loud." He furrowed as they reached the car and Y/N opened the door of the backseat so Harry could put him on his carseat. "I was worried he hurt his elbow or something."

"I guess it was more out of surprise. He wasn't expecting to fall facedown on the floor." Once everything and everyone were in the car, Harry started to drive back home. "Please don't beat yourself up for this. It was literally an accident."

"But i was playing with him."

"Yes, but you couldn't have prevented it from happen."

She put a hand on his thigh, not wanting him to feel any worse from something so small. Artemis doesn't have a lot of accidents as he is a calm boy who doesn't play sports or anything that requires running or jumping, but when they happen, he gets scared and that's normal. No kid likes to see blood coming out of them, even if it's only a little.

"As a parent the best you can do is stay calm during these situations. If you don't panic, then he doesn't either." She smiled at him.

Y/N loved how protective Harry was, his skills as a parent never failed to show in any situation. But he was still very new at it, and he couldn't help but want to put his boy in a little bubble so nothing bad would happen to him.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･���✧ ✧ﾟ･:

A week later, Y/N was cooking dinner while Artemis was upstairs in the movie room watching a cooking show on Netflix. Lately he's been obsessed with those and could watch entire seasons if his parents let him.

Harry was out having a meeting with his team but promised to be back for dinner, so it was just the two of them in the house.

The buzzer sounded, alerting someone was at the other side of the gates. Y/N put down the knife she was holding and walked towards the little screen that allowed her to see who was there.

Her breathe hitched when she saw Caleb standing there. He was looking the other way but Y/N could recognize him anywhere. A frown appeared on her face as he hit the buzzer again. She stayed in her place, starting at the screen and hoping he'd turn around and leave.

But he didn't.

She was ready to go outside and tell him to leave but she heard the gates open before she could do so. The gates opening meant Harry was home.

And home he was. But he furrowed as soon as he saw a body standing there. He didn't recognize the man but he was pretty sure he's seem his face before.

He parked inside but didn't close again the gates as he returned outside. "Can i help you?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Is Y/N home?" The stranger asked, putting his hands inside of his pockets. "I need to speak to her."

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Doesn't matter, i need to see Y/N."

"Uh, it does matter, actually. Why is it so important to speak to my girlfriend?" Harry questioned again in a protective tone.

Before he could answer Harry's question, Y/N came out of the house, closing the door behind her before rushing towards the two man. She stood beside Harry, taking his hand in hers.

"What are you doing here, Caleb?" She asked and Harry's brain finally clicked. He looked so different from the only picture he's seen of him. "What do you want?"

"I need to see him, Y/N." Caleb said, almost in a demanding tone. Y/N looked up at Harry, who already had a deep, angry frown on his face. "I-I saw that video of you three at the park and... Y/N, i'm ready to meet my-"

"He's not your son." Harry barked angrily.

"Harry's right, Caleb. He's not yours in any way." She said sternly. "Besides, i bet it isn't the first video or picture you've seen of us, what could possibly make this one different?"

"I saw him getting hurt." He said defensively. "It.. awoke something in me. I want to be a father, Y/N."

"Then go ahead and get a family of your own because neither Artemis nor I have anything to do with you. Do i have to remind you, you signed the paper giving up your paternal rights?" Y/N started to get angry and Harry squeezed her hand.

"I was twenty-one, Y/N."

"So was I!" She now exclaimed.

"I think it's best if you leave." Harry spoke again, trying to control his anger before he punched that man straight on the face.

"And you are?" Caleb asked "Oh, right. You're the guy she replaced me with. Does my son calls you daddy too?"

"She didn't replace you, she just moved on with someone way better." He smirked. "And yes, my son calls me daddy, must hurt, right? Now get the fuck out of my property before i call the bloody cops."

Harry let go of Y/N's hand just to push Caleb out, not being able to hold his anger anymore. "If i ever see you close to my family, i'll fucking ruin you."

When Caleb was back on his car, Harry finally closed the gates and turned to see Y/N. "I'm sorry you had to see him, my love."

Y/N sighed. "I'm okay. I just... I hadn't seen him since he..." Her lip started trembling but she swallowed the tears. "Seeing his face brought back a lot of emotions."

"Couldn't imagine." Harry took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. "But you won't see him anymore, over my dead body."

"Thank you."

Harry smiled softly at her, supping her face with his hands and pecking her lips. "Thank you for letting me be the one by your side."

"I wouldn't dream of having anyone else."

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs1 @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @harrysthicccthighs

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #dad!harry #stepdad!harry #harry styles fanfiction

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | epilogue

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue

word count: 4.4k

description: it’s been five years since the Miroh Heights murder cases came to a close — and five long, bittersweet years since you’d caught a glimpse of Han Jisung. Things in Miroh Heights have changed drastically since then — but when Felix sets you up on another blind date in an attempt to help you move on from the past, you realise that, once again, you’ve signed up for much more than you bargained for.

masterlist

recommended listening: stray kids - “sunshine”

epilogue.

“See ya, Miss l/n!”

You turned to wave back at the little girl who had called your name, her round eyes visibly bright from the waiting room of your clinic. Seven years old, front teeth just beginning to come in. One of her hands clutched a half-unwrapped lollipop as her mother held onto the other. 

The first time you had seen them, the child had been unwilling to speak — bullied relentlessly at school, her mother had informed you through a veil of desperate tears — but now, her laughter filled the warm air, traumas that had once been etched into a too-young face already beginning to heal and fade.

Evening sunshine warmed your cheeks the moment you stepped out of the building’s doors, a light breeze rustling the papers in your hand as you quickly tucked them into your bag. “Five years of graduate school hasn’t made you more organised,” Felix often teased you, and you would smack his shoulder in retaliation.

Five years hadn’t changed your friendship in the slightest, either—and you had to admit you were beyond grateful for that.

As always, the city around you was humming with life: evening rush hour, with people darting here and there, frantically flagging down taxis and catching their buses. Usually, on days like these, you should have been hopping into the first cab home and collapsing like a corpse as soon as you reached your apartment. But today, you remembered with a sigh, was not going to be one of those days. 

“Hey, Doctor l/n!”

You whipped your head towards the voice, a smile spreading across your tired features as you saw who it belonged to. In a slightly jaded Mini Cooper—second hand, of course, but worked just like new — Yang Jeongin waved at you from the driver’s seat.  

“I’m not a doctor, ‘innie,” you reminded him playfully as he unlocked the passenger door and let you climb in.

“Not a doctor yet,” he corrected you, grinning. “Besides, ‘child therapist’ doesn’t have as much of a ring to it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and waved at another one of your patients as Jeongin started the engine. “You really didn’t have to offer to drive me, you know — the streets are a nightmare during this hour.”

“It’s not that far,” Jeongin protested, “Plus, I barely get to see you now, you’re so busy.” You didn’t have the heart to argue. The kid loved being behind the wheel so much, he made it seem like you were doing him a favour.

You watched Jeongin turn onto the main road, squeezing the car in between a van and a motorcyclist. He really had grown up over the last few years — his hair was darker now, remarkably sharp cheekbones overtaking his once-rounded cherub cheeks — but in some ways, nothing had changed at all. He still had that natural knack of brightening whatever room he stepped in — the Yang Jeongin effect, Hyunjin called it. And his heart was still too big for his own good: you remembered how he had adamantly refused to take the money Jisung kept offering him after the case had finally closed, and when Hyunjin had asked him why, Jeongin had simply replied, “After everything that’s happened, it doesn’t feel like he’s the one who owes me.”

On the other hand, Jeongin had been more than happy to take Prosecutor Kang’s compensation money instead, and had finally visited a car dealership with you and Hyunjin. 

The moment he had seen the Mini-Cooper — a beat-up thing from the 90s that you were amazed was still running — the younger boy’s eyes had lit up. “It’s just...it looks like the one our family used to have, before...the incident,” he had explained sheepishly, making you and Hyunjin exchange a look. And so, after a fiery back-and-forth between you and the salesman—not to mention a few sleepless nights at the mechanic’s — the rest was history.

The light turned green, and you spotted a photograph wobbling on the dashboard — a laughing child you recognised immediately as Jeongin. Behind him, a woman with a familiar wide smile had her arms around a man with eyes resembling a fox’s, with none of the slyness. “How’s your dad these days?”

“Mostly stays at home taking care of my mum, but he swears he wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jeongin turned his head to you excitedly, as if a thought just hit him. “She got out of bed a couple days ago, you know? The first time ever since my dad left.”

Your mouth fell open in a surprised smile, and Jeongin continued, “He’s real excited he got to teach me how to drive, too. I think he feels like he missed out on a lot of things, like...walking me home from school. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Graduation.” He shrugged. His words might have sounded sad at first, but you could see the way the lines of Jeongin’s face were more relaxed now, at peace. 

“Mind if I make a quick stop?” Jeongin asked abruptly, and you checked your watch before shaking your head lightly.

“I’m still about twenty minutes early. We’ve got plenty of time.”

He turned onto a familiar street, and you rolled down the window as Glow Cafe slowly came into view. It was just as busy as it had ever been — even the cars were stalling by the curb — but Hwang Hyunjin spotted you almost immediately, waving through the glass window. Quickly hopping out, Jeongin popped the trunk open, and you watched him haul two crates of coffee beans into the bustling cafe. The once-famed “delivery boy” of Miroh Heights only really did deliveries for Glow Cafe now, after Hyunjin had offered Jeongin a position as a barista until he graduated—and although he wasn’t the best with his hands (or his memory, for that matter), Hyunjin didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Him being here is more than enough for business. You should see the students flock in here every morning just to catch a glimpse of him.” The former barista snorted. “What’d I tell you? They’re eating him right up.”

They waved at Jeongin now as he jogged obliviously out of the cafe, Hyunjin’s laughs muted by the glass as he threw you a knowing wink. He had graduated himself, two years ago, officially inheriting the business after his grandmother had passed away. Glow Cafe had since come a long way, with Hyunjin always at the forefront of new design ideas and enthusiastically telling you about his plans to expand even more in the future.           

“Get this: ‘CEO Hwang, the most eligible bachelor of Miroh Heights,’” Felix held up his hands as if picturing a giant headline, giving his signature wolf whistle as you burst into laughter and Hyunjin kicked the blond man in the shin. “Ow!”

“How did you even get into the press with those cheesy titles?” Hyunjin  groaned.

“Not just ‘get into the press’, ‘jinnie,” you reminded him, giggling, “he’s the head journalist now!”

It was true—with his impeccable wit and seamless way with words, it came to nobody’s surprise when Felix maneuvered his way to the top of the local press in a matter of years. The head of the press still loathed him with a biting passion— “I can feel her glares all the way from her office,” Felix retorted — and rumour had it that the two seemed to fire shots at each other all day long. The image of a powder-faced, middle-aged woman bickering with your notoriously insufferable best friend made you laugh, but you also knew deep down that Felix always took his job more seriously than he let on. His eloquent articles had gotten his name out across the city in no time,  and so you took comfort in knowing that — no matter how hard the head of the press bared her teeth—nobody could touch Lee Felix now. 

Five years, you thought to yourself wistfully, eyes catching a familiar detective’s office as Jeongin drove past. What a trip down memory lane. You’d seldom come by this part of town since then, and seeing the familiar buildings sent a flood of memories and mixed feelings stirring in your chest. 

The well-loved Detective Bang, much to the disappointment of adoring students and professors alike, had moved abroad to a bigger city—whether he had been taken by a new precinct, or a new big case, you couldn’t be sure. “Rumour has it he’s doing undercover work now,” Seungmin had mentioned to you once in passing, “We haven’t heard from him in a while, but he’s making a big name for himself out there, that’s for sure.”

The District Nine police station whizzed by you in a blur, and more of the prosecutor’s words rang through your head.

“Meanwhile, the chief of police keeps insisting he’s glad to be rid of him, but we all know he secretly misses Chan.” Seungmin had shaken his head, and you had smiled at the image of the stoic police captain—chief, now—grudgingly sulking over the loss of his best friend.   

Jeongin made one last turn, and the narrow buildings opened up into the heart of Miroh Heights—the oldest part of town, where the roller rink, record shop, and the diner were. The sight of Mia’s Diner made you sink down instinctively in the passenger seat, and you couldn’t keep the raw dread out of your voice as you let out a long sigh. 

Jeongin gave you sympathetic look. “For someone who’s going on a blind date, you don’t sound too happy.”

“That’s because I’m not, Jeongin. I don’t even know why Felix keeps insisting on these. The last time I agreed to one was—” you broke off before you could finish what you were saying, the unspoken words echoing in your mind. The last time I agreed to one was when I met Jisung.

That’s right—the last official blind date you had been on, you had met Han Jisung — and he had turned your entire world upside down. For years afterwards, you had told yourself that you wouldn’t take that day back for the entire world, but now...now, you weren’t so sure.

After all, how could you be sure of someone you hadn’t heard from in over five years?

The rehabilitation centre didn’t allow letters in or out— you had learned that the hard way after your first letters had been sent directly back to your doorstep. Usually, they had told you, if things went well, patients could start correspondence again after a year or so—but you had gotten absolutely nothing. Not a single word. 

Five years—he should have been out by now. He could have been anywhere, doing anything—but he certainly hadn’t remembered to write or even call you. 

Had he really forgotten about you?

“Five years is a long time, y/n,” Felix told you gently, after you had adamantly refused the blind date he kept insisting on. “People...change, and maybe he’s—moved on.”

Moved on. 

You didn’t know how to tell Felix how much the thought of that hurt more than you were willing to admit, how this was the sole reason why you hadn’t been able to go on a single date for the past five years. You didn’t know how to tell him that Jisung hadn’t left your mind since the moment he had disappeared from your sight, five years ago, in the corridor of that courthouse. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Jisung had said.  And yet he was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Felix wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You’re in your mid-twenties now, y/n. Loosen up a little, yeah? You’re allowed to go on dates, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m hopeless, ‘lix. I’m pretty sure the stray dog on the street has a more interesting love life than me.”

“Maybe,” Felix mused, “I think I saw it running around with a litter of puppies the other da—ow!”

“You okay? You look kind of sick,” Jeongin remarked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Got everything you need?”

You resisted the urge to laugh. If only Jeongin knew how you had prepared for this date—by mapping out all the ways you were going to end it as quickly as possible. Faking food poisoning? Check. Arrange a time for a friend to call you and pretend an emergency came up? Check— although Hyunjin had had a strange glint in his eyes when he had agreed to it. Worst comes to worst? Pepper spray, check. You let out a slow exhale. “Sure. All set.”

You thanked Jeongin with a hug and hopped out of the car. Just as you began walking towards the diner, you heard him call out behind you.

“Oh, yeah, Felix told me pass on a message — from him to you.” You turned back, and Jeongin gave a boyish grin that was half apologetic, half laughing. “‘Go get ‘em, tiger!’”

You gave an exasperated cry and yanked open the diner door.

━━━━━━━━

You were beginning to wonder if you’d been stood up.

Mia’s Diner was usually busy, bustling with students and townspeople alike, and tonight it truly was: booths packed with couples both old and new, laughter and the smell of food wafting through the warm air as friends and families celebrated the start of summer. The jukebox was on and playing an old disco song you liked but didn’t know the name of, the checkered floor tiles clicking with the sounds of brisk waitresses’ heels and dancing feet.

You didn’t know why Felix had insisted on coming here, of all places, what with the mixed emotions and memories you had tied to it, but you had to admit that the jovial atmosphere of Mia’s Diner on a Friday night never really disappointed. You found yourself relaxing slightly—just slightly, bobbing your head lightly to the music.

“Mia’s Diner?” You repeated incredulously. “Seriously, Felix, do you only know one date location? For the so-called ‘Matchmaker of Miroh Heights’, you’re sure lacking in the variety department.”

“Easy, tiger. Just trust me on this one, okay? You’re gonna owe me one.”

“I’m not—” you began indignantly, but Felix continued.

“Plus, the poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either. You both need this.”

“Years? Are you setting me up with a hermit?” 

“Oh, yeah. A big-time loser, seriously— but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”

And so, for the second time, Felix’s schemes and pleading puppy eyes had gotten you here—sitting at an empty booth, waiting for a blind date. He hadn’t even bothered to show you a picture of the man in question. You couldn’t help the smile from slowly slipping from your face as each minute passed, and you nibbled your lip anxiously.

Your date was thirty minutes late.

You peered out the window, at the lights of the town glowing a faint neon  against the clear evening skies. Each time a car filled in a parking space, you sat up, craning your neck to see if it was him—before slumping back down in disappointment. Five years, you thought to yourself glumly. Five years, and you still had no luck with dates. Maybe you just had no luck with love, you thought dryly. You imagined Felix laughing later when you told him about it and sighed, a twinge of worry replacing the dread in your gut.

Had something gone wrong?

After turning the waitress away for the eighth time, you fished out your phone from your pocket, tapping on the foreign number Felix had given you. Zero new messages, zero missed calls. At least I can tell Felix I tried, you thought glumly. Maybe I should just call Jeongin again, and ask him to pick me up. And then you could drop by Glow Cafe for a bit, before trudging back to your apartment like a fallen soldier.

Just as you were punching in Jeongin’s name, feeling a sense of guilty relief wash over you, you vaguely registered the diner door swinging open beneath the lively music, and a pair of footsteps trying to shuffle past the dancing couples.

For a split second, you thought you saw a pair of tattered black Converse—laces untied, soles worn—but the mirage disappeared, and was replaced by a pair of dress shoes that eventually came to a stop at your booth. You sighed, fighting back the tears that had suddenly threatened to well in your eyes. Shit. This is not the time to be thinking about him. Why were you still thinking about him? And why on earth had you agreed to this? 

You lifted your gaze, trying to muster up a smile, hoping your disappointment didn’t show on your face— 

And immediately froze.

“Hello.”

Standing before you, looking almost like an apparition — a golden silhouette against the backdrop of the dim diner — was Han Jisung.

You had to blink several times to realise you weren’t hallucinating again. He looked...different, and yet in some ways, he looked entirely the same: his hair was shorter, but tousled as it had always been, cheeks flushed and breathless as if—as if he’d been running through a storm.

You felt your body moving before any intelligible thoughts could form in your head, pulling you forwards like a magnet until you were standing face-to-face, your shaky eyes darting across his features, not daring to believe what you were seeing.

All of a sudden, the glint in Hyunjin and Jeongin’s eyes made sense, Felix’s words replaying in your head as overwhelmed tears began welling in your eyes without warning.

“The poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either.”

“A big-time loser, seriously — but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”  

“Y-you—are such a dork,” you stammered out, one hand weakly hitting Jisung’s chest as you felt the tears finally spill down your face. “Han Jisung, you are such a d—” 

Your words were cut off when Jisung pulled you into his arms, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. Your shoulders shook with muffled sobs as you buried your face in his chest, memorising everything about this feeling, not wanting to take a single second for granted, memorising everything about him. Jisung no longer carried with him that scent of gasoline and fire — instead, he smelled faintly of lemongrass, and a hint of warm, fresh laundry.

“I missed you,” you finally whispered hoarsely, “I just—missed you, so much.”

He chuckled in your ear, the low, familiar hum stirring faint, faraway memories in your head, and you gripped onto his shirt harder, as if he would disappear completely if you didn’t hold on tight enough.

Jisung had found you in the crowded diner before you had seen him — just like the first time he had met you. And just like the first time, he had felt his breath hitch in his throat, hands hesitating on the door, wondering if he should turn back instead. He had watched you bob your head gently to the music, a small, tentative smile on your face.

You looked good — no, amazing. Different, and yet entirely the same. Kind, worried eyes catching him completely off guard, like the flash of a camera.

Just as bright.

Just as brilliant.

The truth was, there hadn’t been a single day where he hadn’t thought of you — of your voice, your touch, your laugh. Jisung had asked Felix for help the moment he had gotten released, but what he hadn’t forseen was your reaction.

“She won’t go on a blind date, mate,” Felix had informed him exasperatedly, “Took weeks of convincing. Good news, though — she finally caved. You sneaky, hopeless romantic bastard.”

She might have forgotten me, Jisung had thought. And even if you hadn’t, you might not even welcome the sight of him—after all, he hadn’t been in touch since he had left, all those years ago. But in the end, the inexplicable pull in his chest had grown unbearable, and he found himself walking towards you, wading through the crowd, feeling the ache in his heart softening with each step he took. All the way back to you.

You pulled away slowly, vision blurry as Jisung lifted a hand to cup your face, never taking eyes off yours. He had grown in the time you had been apart—he was taller, his once-lean frame stronger—and, most of all, there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, and you laughed in disbelief, “I think you’re my blind date.” 

“How—w-why—”

“I told you I wanted to do this all over again, didn’t I? And I promised that I would try to do it right this time.” Jisung smiled apologetically, wiping your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shook your head, eyes widening when you saw what he had been carefully clutching in his other hand: a small bouquet of sunflowers, their golden yellow petals as tousled as Jisung’s own blond locks. 

“Apparently they symbolise new beginnings,” Jisung said, pulling a stray petal from your hair and chuckling, “Keeping promises. Eternal happiness. That kind of thing.”

“Why didn’t you write?” You whispered, as Jisung tucked the bouquet into your hands. 

“I wanted to...to heal. In every sense of the word. I didn’t want to show you, until I...knew I was really better. Believe me, I wanted to.” Jisung’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were fighting back tears. “I wanted to, so, so badly.”

You shook your head, mumbling something about how much of a stubborn idiot he was, and Jisung’s laugh made a hesitant smile tug at your lips. As if sensing the lightening atmosphere, the waitress had promptly appeared behind Jisung and meekly cleared her throat, setting down the menu. Jisung turned back to look at you, his grin growing playful.

“I hope you’re hungry?”

The diner seemed to come back to you all at once in a flood of senses, the music and murmur of restaurant goers sending a pleasant hum through your veins as you and Jisung sat down. The night went by in a warm blur, Jisung telling you about his life at the institute, the unlikely friends he had made, the dreams he hadn’t realised he had. 

“I’m going to go back to school,” he admitted, one hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I’ll be a bit behind, but...I want to study something I actually like this time.”

You had told him about how you had been working in a child therapy ward ever since you had graduated, about all the children you had met and loved and cared for. As you talked about them, you saw a wistful look in Jisung’s eyes, and a thought crossed your mind. “Have you heard anything from—from Minho?” 

He gave a small smile, but shook his head. “Rarely. It hasn’t been long since he was released, but he said he was planning on going abroad. Doing some travelling. I think...he’ll reach out when he’s ready.” He then added, as an afterthought, “And if he doesn’t, I wouldn’t blame him.”

The sad simplicity of Jisung’s words stirred a strange feeling you couldn’t quite place in your chest, and your mind flashed back to the cold-eyed coroner and his stiff smiles; then, to the raw pain that had cracked through his strained features the last time you had caught a glimpse of him. Maybe you would meet again one day, or maybe that truly would be the last you ever heard of him.

Healing of the mind, you knew, was a strange process—one that always took much longer than you would expect. There were always scars that reopened along the way, old hidden wounds that surfaced right when you least expected them. There would always be answers you might never find, you mused sadly, closure you might never get.

But sometimes, you thought as you listened to Jisung talk, memorizing the feeling of his fingers interlaced with yours, sometimes we can only hope to hold onto what we already have. 

The end of the night drew closer, and when Jisung and you had stepped outside the diner, the city was swimming in the dark ochre of the setting sun. Eventually, the two of you ended up back in the wide garden behind the hospital, your laughs and giddy conversation slowly hushing into softer murmurs. In the distance, the rush of cars on the main road grew sparser, the windows of the buildings around you flickering to life one by one like young stars. Here, though, as you rested your head on Jisung’s shoulder beneath a willow tree, the world seemed to stand still, and all was quiet.

You heard Jisung yelp suddenly and looked down to see a familiar dog pattering around your feet—a stray, with scraggly fur like an overgrown teddy bear that had been through the wash one too many times. It immediately pounced onto Jisung, beginning to lick your boyfriend’s face like no tomorrow.

“Oof! Hey there, old buddy.”

You laughed, scooping the dog off—only after it had gotten a few slobbery licks in—and shivered slightly as a cool night wind swept past you. Noticing, Jisung shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders as you raised a teasing eyebrow at the cliche move.

“It looks good on you,” Jisung insisted, and you laughed incredulously.

“Your jacket?” You asked, ruffling the dog’s ears as it curled up at your feet.

At that, Jisung looked back up at you—seeing the faint outline of your smile in the dark, your eyes sparkling as you looked back at him expectantly, obliviously—and in that moment, Jisung wondered what he had ever done to deserve someone as perfect as you. 

After a beat, he replied, “Happiness. Happy looks good on you, love.”

Your mouth parted in surprise—both at his words, and at the unexpected name—and Jisung took the chance to lean in and kiss you, pressing his soft lips to yours. Gently, at first — carefully, but as you began to kiss him back, you felt Jisung slowly relax. You kissed him the way you had wanted to for so long, feeling the years of distance, of heartache, of endless waiting finally unravel beneath your lips. His hands reached up to gingerly cup your face, pulling you closer into him as if he never intended to let go. 

Happy looks good on you, too, Han Jisung, you wanted to say once you pulled away, forehead still lightly pressed to his. And you deserve it, more than anything. You watched Jisung’s features come back into focus beneath the dim moonlight. His gaze was fixed on yours, filled with nothing but pure adoration, and you felt a sudden surge of warmth coursing through your chest. 

I love you, you wanted to tell him, more than you could ever know — but something in the warm yet playful look in Jisung’s eyes told you that he was already thinking the exact same thing.

So you just smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

                                                YOUNG GOD | END

ryu says: to you — yes, you, who has reached the end of this series! this epilogue is my way of saying a big thank you to those who stayed along for the entire wild ride that was young god. thank you for loving the characters, the world of miroh heights, and of course, the story! there are easter eggs and full-circle moments all throughout this epilogue, so i hope you enjoy and have fun finding them all ^^

disclaimer: in my opinion, all epilogues are open to interpretation: i’ve left some characters’ stories untold, some loose ends untied for this exact reason. miroh heights’ story has finally come to a close here, but what happens to the characters from this moment on continues in the reader’s mind now. 

all that cheesy, pretentious stuff aside, i hope to see you in the next story!

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