#and then were exceptionally proud of ourselves about it

[neutralgray]

9/11 and Spider-Man: A brief Retroactive Revisit

The year was 2001. I was seven years old and just started second grade. I don't remember a lot of the details but I remember enough. People were frightened. Teachers tried explaining to us what was going on in regards to the attacks on the world trade centers. We held school plays to honor the armed forces. Patriotic songs dominated the air waves. People were bound to one another by shared fear and patriotism. Of course these feelings were felt by us children, too. We were young and emulating our parents. If they were scared, then we certainly were. If they were proud and angry, so were many of us. For a little kid caught up in the aftermath of a terrorist attack, it was so easy to feel American.

Say what you can and will about American imperialism potentially leading into the events of the 9/11 attack, but the overarching timeline of "why" 9/11 happened didn't matter much to the average person just trying to live their life. The American government was responsible for a great many sins, often fueled by joint corporate/government interests and looked over due to American exceptionalism... but on a wholly individual level, little of the "why" or "how" mattered to us. We were attacked and guilty of no greater crime than having been born where we lived.

It was a very frightening and unsure time that is difficult to explain for those who simply did not live it.

As with many great tragedies, it affected the storytelling of that age. That fervent patriotism and fear and loss were the brushes that colored many stories. Even in the colorful and larger-than-life stories of superhero comics, this event could not simply be ignored. The pain was weighing directly on virtually every citizen, including those writers and artists.

Then in December, 2001, Spider-Man issue #36 was published. The front cover was simply black with the title overlaying it in stark white. Good comic covers usually tease the fun adventure the 22 pages will contain, but here there was nothing. The cover felt like a breath caught dead in one's throat.

The issue depicted the events of 9/11, as told in the world of Marvel. It was the same great tragedy it was in our world but now serving along first responders were the likes of Thor and Captain America. The comic tried to respectfully depict the great scope of the real world horror, and I personally think it did a good job considering it had to depict such an event co-existing next to colorful superheroes in spandex.

Spider-Man struggles to answer when a crying New Yorker demands to know how he let this happen-- where was he? He tries to console a child whose firefighter father ran into the wreckage only to lose grip of the boy when the he runs off screaming after seeing his father pulled out of the wreckage by other firefighters. The comic depicts our beloved superheroes helping but goes out of its way to ensure the reader that the real heroes in this scenario are the first responders-- the firefighters, police, and simple volunteers who were there to help. It shines a light on them all at the end, noticeably sweeping the colorful superheroes behind the lines of regular everyday heroes.

It was a product of its time and captures a lot of the raw emotions I remember from that period. It could be argued that any depiction of such an event so soon would be distasteful, let alone when you add in superheroes. I would not begrudge anyone who reads it and detests this story for its maybe tone-deaf approach. In the book's defense, though, I do genuinely believe that J Michael Straczynski was attempting to tell a very respectful and solemn story.

Since its release it's been a polarizing issue and while some of these criticisms may be fair, I wanted to address an issue I don't think is a fair criticism. Or rather, it's a criticism that I think misses the cultural context and the reason we tell ourselves stories.

Above is a controversial panel-- arguably the most talked about single panel in the comic. At ground zero for the terrorist attacks, characters such as Doctor Doom, Kingpin, and Magneto are present and assisting. It highlights their shared humanity with the heroes and superheroes. The story even depicts Doctor Doom, one of the most iconic and capable Marvel supervillains, weeping behind his mask at the tragic loss of innocent life. It's a depiction of everyone coming together under their umbrella of shared pain.

A lot has been made of this panel. The biggest criticism is the in-universe absurdity of someone like Doctor Doom crying at such an event. In the world of Marvel Comics, the entire world has been threatened with planet eaters, inter-dimensional dragons, omnicidal maniacs, hostile aliens, and forces beyond our dimension. In universe, the tragedy of 9/11 would be contextually really small compared to so many of the constant dangers the superheroes have faced time and time again. This also means that the tragedies caused by Doctor Doom and his ilk have certainly caused more actual damage in the world of Marvel than the 9/11 terrorist attacks. This criticism demands consistency--logical reasoning in the universe. Why would Doctor Doom cry for the loss of innocent life if he's done worse himself?

I can only speak for myself, but I strongly feel this criticism misses the point of story telling. Stories do not exist in a vacuum-- they don't merely come into being for us to absorb, interpret, and put away. Stories are ideas. They're ideas organized into a narrative that allows for us to share moral lessons, thoughts, and adventures with others. Stories have been used across millennia to explain everything from natural phenomenon to the nature of good and evil. To quote a friend of mine, sometimes it's the UN-REALITY of stories that allows their themes and emotional weights to really flourish. It's reductive to look at a story like this and claim it makes no sense because it's logically inconsistent in-universe. It may pain the nerd in all of us to say it, but that universe depicted on those pages in Spider-Man is not real. It's never been real. Ours is.

This was a story written by real people affected by a real tragedy. It wasn't written to humanize Doctor Doom or provide some new dynamic depth to a silly colorful supervillain. It was written to comfort real readers who were scared and angry and navigating many of these feelings through their unity as a country of people. It reminded the reader they were not alone in grappling these difficult emotions. For a kid who grew up in a post-9/11 world, I can personally attest that seeing my favorite superhero so scared and lost but still trying to do the right thing in the face of real world stakes helped me navigate those feelings, too.

My ultimate point in making this post is to stress that some stories (such as this one) need to be read with the meta-knowledge that it is a story. We may love and cherish our darlings in fiction but their stories are told for our sake, not theirs. A story doesn't have to make sense to them. It just has to make sense to us.

Those stories are the ones that bring us together.

#9/11 #Spider-Man #Marvel Comics #Marvel #Doctor Doom #Comics #Grey's Thoughts #Essay

[warriorsparked]

Mun vs Muse

Similarities:

We are both natural born learners, despite having grown up in poverty and unfortunate circumstances. This, I suppose, is something both Megatron and I are proud of, because we've gone against the odds of backgrounds that were out of our control and have managed to rise from nothing through years of exceptionally hard work. I think the both of us also never forget where we've come from, as it's important to have those roots, and allow it to humble us. Beyond that, as leaders, we are not afraid to get things done and to make the difficult decisions to improve and better the whole picture. We prefer to see long term goals than short term.

Trauma and abuse survivors. Now, I won't claim my life was worse than Megatron's, because it in no way was, however, that doesn't mean the both of us haven't gone through some shit in our times. The both of us are highly uncomfortable about seeking help and appearing vulnerable, though. The both of us had to rely on ourselves to overcome these obstacles, because we had no one else to help us. It means that both Megatron and I struggle to open up. Not always because we don't trust, but because we both know that no one else CAN help us, or that's the way we believe things to be. As I've gotten older, and unloaded some of this, I, however, do attempt to be very upfront and honest with my past traumas, as a way to teach others that it's okay to come to terms with these things and ask for help (altho I know how hypocritical that makes me since I don't seek it myself lol). Megatron and I have both gotten used to dealing and coping with these things alone.

We are both creative when it comes to art and writing. We've both been writing since we were young, and my Megatron also draws (which I do too--when I have time lol). My Megatron also plays the piano, and although I am a beginner and no way NEAR as good as Megs is, it is something that I've taken from myself and put into him, my love for playing. I guess in that aspect, I aspire to be like him when it comes to playing, but time and all of that nonsense lol.

We both like horror movies.

We both grew up around alcoholics and drug addicts.

We're both very passionate about the rights of the oppressed and those who legitimately just want to live their lives without being punished for what they are.

Both of us have had some traumatic experiences with religion, and both of us have... complex and complicated relationships with it all (but we also differ greatly which I'll mention below).

We can both be INCREDIBLY stubborn, although Megatron is definitely far more stubborn than me. I am stubborn in the fact that when I believe or know something to be true, I will not alter it. Unlike Megatron, I can admit when I've been wrong, and I can learn from it. Megatron can and does also, but it takes more time...

I believe that we are both... "old souls" in a sense.

Where Megatron wanted to be a medic, I work in healthcare myself. While Megatron doesn't actively work in healthcare, I still consider the fact that he wanted to help people and heal, and that's myself as well.

Differences:

Well this is a given but... I've never killed anyone LOL. I've never been arrested, etc. I've been pulled over for a breath test and that's it (which I don't drink lol). Safe to say we've very different in that aspect.

While I grew up surrounded by alcohol and drugs, I, myself, have never been tempted by them, while Megatron has used them as a crutch.

I'm a metal head, and while Megatron is fond of music, it's not always the heavier stuff.

I have severe aspergers, Megatron does not. In fact, despite many of his quirks, I do consider him to be neurotypical, behavioural issues caused by both mental and physical trauma (his processor was damaged when he was created and further issues arose from life happenings, but it was a physical impairment--does that makes sense? I feel I'm wording that incorrectly... but what I mean is, he has no learning disabilities and is neurotypical).

Uhhh... I'm not a giant kick arse robot with a fusion canon that can turn into a cool arse tank? lol. XD I'm a lame squishy human, which is a shame tbh.

So about the religious one, we both have complicated views, however, Megatron's still very much in a negative space with it, I've come out. I grew up Roman Catholic, although with my crappy life, I turned to very much hating God (same deal as Megs tbh). However, I considered myself agnostic for a very long time because I just didn't know, and didn't have the power to say so, and now I'm very Buddhist leaning. I won't claim that I AM Buddhist, because I don't feel I have the right to claim such, but I absolutely follow many of their guidelines and beliefs. I believe in growth, and sharing knowledge, I believe in karma, and many more things. My exploration with this was actually due to a Buddhist colleague of mine who told me I sounded Buddhist in my beliefs when they asked, and coincidentally enough, I've always been surrounded by it from a young age no thanks to my dad, so yeah. It's something that I very much do believe and like to better myself and follow, but it's also something I'm not going to force. I'm content with just... being me atm. But I very much support it with my whole heart. :)

I am... like... hella ace lol. Megatron is not. But yeah. I don't like touch, thank you :'D Pls don't touch me.

Tagged: @aircommndr Tagging: You!

#ooc #the mod #dash games #the muse

[hotchley]

🐨 I’m done with all my AP tests, hallelujah and amen. Twas exhausting. The nerdy side of me kind of enjoys the challenge though. After they’re done, the headache and sore arm from writing essays is kind of like bruises after a karate tournament, you know? Like proof that you just fought through something.

I’m sorry for not sending anything in the past few days…I didn’t even know what to say to that acknowledgment from your book. Dude, I love it. I love you. It means so much to me that you would write something like that about me. And I agree—we use our words to take the crap we’ve dealt with and turn it into something manageable so other people know they can get through too. Feelings are less scary once you can put them into pretty words.

I’m glad you’re doing better after the uni thing. Going to well-being is a good move! I know sometimes it can feel a bit awkward. My school has a similar place called SOS. I hang out there sometimes after panic/anxiety attacks, or after my grandpa passed, sometimes I would go there and just cry for a quick minute so I could get back to focusing on class. There’s a giant Baby Yoda squishmallow in there and I absolutely adore it.

I agree with you about Saturn! It’s a gorgeous song. I’ve had that and Light on repeat. Even wrote a fic inspired by the lyrics of Saturn because it was just so beautiful! I named it “bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust” after that line from Four that I love so much. I’m a big space nerd—Space Camp trivia night champion here (I went to nerd camp and beat all the other nerds at a nerd contest)—so all the imagery about stars got me right in the feels. “Light carries on endlessly even after death”. You know how we all have hydrogen and carbon and whatnot from stars in us? Supernovas are stars that burn exceptionally bright. It’s beautiful. But eventually, they explode. And then the stuff that makes them glow gets catapulted to earth, and it finds its way into humans. I like that idea. I think maybe people are like that too: once they’re gone, their light finds its way into other people, and carries on endlessly.

Proud of you!

Oh I get what you mean! I'm left-handed so I always get ink on the side of my hand but then it's like: yeah! I wrote so much that this happened and I did all of that and that's so good of me :)

It's okay, I was kinda glad you didn't because it meant you were focusing on getting through AP testing which is far more important than this. I love you too, and I couldn't not acknowledge that in the most important thing I've ever made. Exactly! I still think about your response to that poem I wrote a year after the phone call, and I realise how important it is that we are honest. Even if it's not flowery. My friend and I had a very impromptu conversation about a very serious issue one time and we both walked away feeling a lot better about ourselves because we weren't alone <3

Oh I used to feel so awkward going there, but it's actually a very calming space (which sounds obvious but yeah) there's some pretty quotes up and a lot of cushions. Like a lot-lot. I literally walked in and when she saw me I went: I just got rejected from uni can I sit? And she was so nice and it felt so good. Cos she told me after my counselling finished that they'd always be there if I needed anything and it really felt true in that moment and it was such a relief. Yes! There is no shame in going and sometimes you do just need a break. That squishmallow sounds great.

Ah nice! I love that lyric. Speaking of lyrics, I did we are cracked and broken from we were liars as a piece of calligraphy, and I was hoping you might like it! It's on my other blog lol. Ooh well done on the nerd camp thing, that's amazing :)

I like that idea too. And I think we're all made up of the people we have spent time with, whether we liked them or not, and that means we carry a piece of them with us wherever we go, and that is what meant by their light carrying on. We take whatever they gave us and we use it. Even if they were awful people, we can take the pain and the darkness and make it light. And it's okay to value that. I don't think I'm being very coherent so I'm just going to shut up okay love you <3

#🐨anon #people talk to me

[gradling]

Oh yeah and since it's good to make a habit of posting positive things here, I finished giving feedback on drafts! And then my roommate and I promptly stayed up until 2 AM working on two random items from my alma mater's annual scavenger hunt. Behold, our unholy creation (the item we did that doesn't have my face in it): a reverse Panera Bread Bowl. The soup is the bowl, the bread is...inside the bowl.

#it's ice we literally froze a bowl of chicken soup #and then were exceptionally proud of ourselves about it #scav #The other item was me asking my sister to do a quick animation of Pride from FMA's shadow things #and then roommate and I built a homemade projector out of a magnifying glass i have and a box #and spent like two hours trying to calibrate it and get screenshare to work on a phone #so that we could stop and start the animation from a laptop #and then we spent like another hour trying to figure out how to get our phones to pick up the projection in the dark #bc it was working in photo mode but not video mode #and then we realized that we could use a screenrecorder to record the photo thing while also recording voices #and it worked perfectly #and now im very sleepy and need to work on my research lol #jam posts

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

[mostlyscenarios]

Knee Pads (18+)

Summary: Bokuto always looks forward to you being at his matches, you being there gives him a confidence boost and something to look forward to after the game. 

Characters: Bokuto X Reader, short features of MSBY. 

TW & Tags: 18+, PWP(I mean, it doesn’t just dive in?), smut (blowjob)

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: gn!reader. Cosmos SA is a completely made up name, I looked at a picture on my wall and thought of it. I had to take multiple breaks while writing this because I was getting horny. There has got to be a better word for balls and I will find it. 

Please don’t not repost my work anywhere or use any part of it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

After almost every game Bokuto played, there was a reward waiting for him, regardless of whether he won or lost. Knowing you were waiting for him was the best motivation there was, and the reward including you on your knees for him? He could hardly control himself. Trying to keep focused on the game was no problem, he knew the sooner he finished the game the quicker he could get to you. That was his thought process at least, but this game seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time. The MSBY team was going up against Cosmos SA and they were entering the third round. The last two rounds had been thrilling, the team they were up against was a good challenge for them. What MSBY "lacked", their team was skilled in. Maybe under different circumstances the thought of being unskilled at something would be upsetting for Bokuto, but now he enjoyed the rivalry it led to. His teammates didn't have time to deal with him upset like Akaashi did, so his so-called emo mode only happened after a lost game (which you would quickly fix with a good hug and positive affirmations). His character growth since he got out of high school was impressive.

Before the third round had started, Bokuto started searching for you in the crowds. Due to being at a different arena, your usual spot was taken by the opposite teams fans. He found you towards the front row, waving your hands to catch his attention. He swore he saw the glimmer of your silver ring that matched his own. He had to take off his before every game but as soon as got off the court he put it back on. Since you to had started dating and gotten married, you had only missed 4 games total. You support kept him going (yes, even the hyperactive man got tired sometimes). He waved in your general direction, trying to not to call any attention to you in the crowds. Taking his place on the court, he tuned into the team in front of him- ready to win the game for you and his team. 

MSBY won after a series of spikes made by Bokuto went unblocked. He celebrated after each one, glancing in your direction making sure you saw him. That had gone unchanged since you started dating, he wanted to make you proud. After giving thanks to their supporters, he escaped to the locker room, avoiding the reporters hoping to ask them questions. He normally would stay around and answer a few questions but right now he needed to see you. By the time he had got to the locker room you were already in the hallway waiting for him. 

“Kou! You did great out there babe!” You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek at the same time. 

“Did you see my spike get through the one block?! Even Sakusa looked impressed.” 

“I did, I’m proud of you.” You could practically see him inflating, he lived for being praised- especially when the praise came from you.

Bokuto started to lean down to give you another kiss but before he could, the door slammed open. “That damn Atsumu, he could have at least warmed me before that fan hugged me,” Sakusa shuttered, not even noticing you and Bokuto by the lockers and going straight to the showers. 

Bokuto rolled his eyes dramatically and finishing what he had started seconds ago, he found your lips quickly giving you a sweet kiss. “I’m gonna go shower, you can wait here if you want.” 

“I’ll wait outside, I’m sure the other boys will be in here any minute.” 

“Okay,” Bokuto took his shirt off quickly, “I’ll be 5 minutes tops.”

You walked out of the locker room and caught Atsumu’s eyes, “did you two have any fun yet?” Astumu knew about your little adventures in the locker room with Bokuto. He had once caught you getting up from your knees and it didn’t take much to put it together, he had teased you ever since. He tried to tease Bokuto about it too but Bo just got proud and wanted to talk about his sex life and how good you were to him. 

“No, and no you can’t join us.” You answered him, remembering the time Atsumu had half jokingly asked once if he could join you sometime but you rejected the idea without a second thought. 

“Aw man, you got any cute friends you could set me up with?” Atsumu asked, leaning against the wall. 

“I’ll have to think on that. Now go shower, you smell horrid.” You pinched you nose, exaggerating. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu waved before walking into the locker room, where Hinata and Meian followed only moments after him. 

A few minutes later Bokuto walked out in a fresh outfit, his hair still a bit damp from his shower. He was handsome as always. You could tell that he used the body wash he had got with you after mentioning you liked the way it smelt. 

“I think that was record time Kou. Do we have somewhere to be?”

“No, I just wanted to be with you.” He leaned into you, giving a quick suggestive kiss on your neck.

“Hmm, are you sure you don’t just want something from me?” You grinned letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

“Maybe…” He trailed off, looking around to see if anyone was there. “They will probably be out of the shower soon, you know Sakusa takes a long time.” 

“Follow me.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to the staircases which were supposed to be staff only. “I think we can entertain ourselves here for a bit.” 

Maybe using the word entertain at this time was not a good idea since Bokuto was getting eager. 

“Why can’t we just do it here?” Bokuto said realizing the secluded staircase was empty, prompting a quick (gentle) slap on his chest. 

“Shush! There may be people around, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“...can we make out then?”

“Koutaro…” You started but changed your mind, “fine. But only a little.”

Thank goodness you two didn’t start your real activity because a couple of staff members walked through. They recognized Bokuto even without his uniform so they didn’t say anything to him about being in the employee only area. Before long about 20 minutes had passed of you chatting, time flew when you were with Bokuto. He chatted about the game; how spiking made him feel, and how great his teammates were. You listened attentively the whole time, and giving him input along the way. He asked you about your morning and apologized for leaving so early. Bokuto always made sure to give you a good cuddle before finally leaving to go to his warm ups. He just loved you so much, he wanted to give you the world. As you talked he started to focus on your lips, a bit shiny from your chapstick. 

He couldn’t help his growing arousal, and you noticed his fidgeting. When you said everyone should have cleared the locker room by now Bokuto literally swept you off your feet. Pushing the doors open, you quickly thanked the higher power(s) for letting the locker room be clear since he hadn't bothered to check before bursting in. He sat down on the benches towards the back of the room; just in case if anyone came in you had some protection. You were still on his lap, lips attached to his, then his neck, his chest, until you slid down on the floor to work your way down to his gray sweatpants. 

“You did so good today baby.” You murmured, gripping the sides of his sweats to set him free. 

“Wait a minute.” He put his hand in front of his crotch and you quickly pulled away; albeit a bit confused. He leaned back to dig in his duffle bag with his gear, then he pulled out his knee pads that he wore in todays game. “Put these on, I don’t want your knees to hurt.”

“Thanks Kou.” You gave him smile and pulled the knee pads up on each leg.

“Anything for you.” He replied, shifting a bit so you sit easier between his legs.

You got back into the same position, but this time comfier thanks to the knee pads. “Now, where were we?”

“Here.” Bokuto was quick, lifting his hips up while you pulled down his sweatpants. Licking your lips, you gently squeezed his thighs making sure to add a few kisses along the way- but still not where he wanted you to be.Trailing your hands over the seems of his briefs, you decided to leave them on a bit to tease him. First cupping him and then kissing his length through the fabric, you made your way back up to his lips pulling him to you so you didn’t have to leave your sitting position. He was getting the full treatment today, he was so patient waiting for the locker room to be cleared out. He could have easily taken you to your shared car and gotten in the backseat, but he know there wasn’t much room (though you two had made it work in the past).  

“No more teasing, please.” He begged, feeling his briefs dampen just the slightest from his precum. After hearing him, you made eye contact with him. He immediately jutted out his bottom lip to give you a pout while giving you puppy dog eyes. 

You wanted to giggle at his pleas but you were in the zone and didn’t want to break your concentration. “Patience Kou. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

Despite your words you gently tugged his briefs down, showing you his cock in its full glory. Feeling the cool air against him was a crime when he could be inside your warm mouth. Thankfully, you answered his wordless plea and put the tip in your mouth, rubbing it with your tongue in a circle then down the center getting a taste of salty precum. Pulling away he let out whine that got quickly cut off when you licked a straight line down his length before taking him in your mouth. 

The sounds made by your mouth while taking him were so erotic it took all his self control not to buck his hips. Using your lips to cover your teeth, you went down again this time taking him all the way. You gagged slightly but held you position. Bokuto hated to see you cry, he would always immediately wipe away any tears that fell. However, the tears forming in the corners of your eyes were nothing but seductive, he liked it. 

“Your doing so good, I promise I’ll treat you when we get home.” You made eye contact with Bokuto as he praised you. Running out of breath you pulled away, making sure to keep a good suction on him so you could make that pop sound he liked to hear. Saliva strung from your lips to his cock, dripping down. Shifting a bit lower, you positioned yourself to get easy access to his balls. You placed the hand that had your wedding ring on top of his thigh to prevent him from moving, and with the other you gently cupped his balls giving them a squeeze before taking one in your mouth. You made a pattern of all the motions he liked, sucking his cock up and down, using your hands as help when you weren’t deepthroating him, lapping the tip like a kitten, cupping his balls- giving gentle squeezes. The way your worked your mouth and hands drove him crazy. Although it had been long since you gave him his first blowjob, you always made him feel like a lovestruck teenager. 

 A loud moan came from Bokuto as you deepthroated him once more. Surely anyone who passed would know what you were up to, if the slick sounds weren’t clue enough. Hearing his moan made a heat light up inside of you that you had been avoiding- wanting to only focus on Bokuto. Bokuto knew he was close, all the pleasure building up as you kept working your mouth. 

Giving into himself, he gripped your chin encouraging you to take his whole length again only moments after you pulled away to give yourself a breath. Taking the hint, you allowed him to guide you exactly where he wanted you to be once more. His hand moved to the back of your head, where he held you firmly as nodded you head back and forth. 

“Y/N,” He moaned, “Let me finish in your mouth.”

You nodded the best you could from your spot, and not even a minute later his cum squirted into your mouth. Bokuto sighed from relief, if you looked at him closely you could see the sweat droplets forming on his head. Removing his hand from your head, your looked in his eyes making sure to open your mouth showing his collected cum. 

“Your so hot, you know that? Wait don’t swallow yet, please let me take a picture.” 

You nodded, giving permission for pictures and Bokuto got out his phone opening the camera app. You had tasted his cum so many times the taste no longer bothered you, and although you weren’t sure if science confirmed it or not, his healthy diet probably helped.

He took a picture of you with your mouth wide open with a peace sign up, then instructed you to smile and say cheese. “Good, you can swallow now.”

Quickly swallowing you wiped your month with the towel Bokuto had gotten out when he retrieved his phone. “Send those to me, will you?” 

“I love you Y/N.”

“You better after that! Cum doesn’t exactly taste great you know.” You teased, getting up from you spot and sitting next to him on the bench. “Let me see pictures.”

Bokuto handed you his phone, the first two pictures were a bit blurry but for some reason it worked. You admitted you definitely did look hot like that.

“We should make a video next time.” You said, cuddling into his side and still catching your breath.

“I have an old tripod, I’ll get out today.”

#bokuto #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #my post #my writing #hq:mine #hqs:mine #🤤

[yangtaros]

why can’t we just get over ourselves? part 2

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

jungwoo x reader, haechan x reader [angst] or [fluff] again it matters who you’re talking to.

11:01 pm

You were cuddling on the couch with Jungwoo, “You know I am still just so proud of you. You did so well.”

He was a bit tipsy and so were you, maybe. You guys were too tired to tell. You had just celebrated his first stage for the new comeback which went exceptionally well.

“You already have a bunch of viral clips on twitter from the stage, look” You showed him his various viral tweets talking about how great of a preformer he was.

He smiled. You went to click off your phone until you got a message.

hyuck💜: are you still upstairs?

You lowered your phone immediately, Jungwoo not noticing, his eyes slowly drifting to sleep.

you: why

hyuck💜: i cant ask you questions anymore either?

you: i’m upstairs. i’m staying over. and you could always ask me questions. i don’t know why me being with jungwoo is changing things all of a sudden

hyuck💜: you know exactly why it’s changing things y/n.

seen

hyuck💜: come downstairs

seen

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol in your system or something more but you get the urge to actually go downstairs. You know you shouldn’t. It’s terrible if you do. But nothing will happen because haechan is just your friend. You just want to sort things out with him. There’s a misunderstanding.

“Jungwoo, baby wake up” He lifted his head from your shoulder, “haechan said i left something at music bank and he forgot to give it to me so I’m gonna go get it”

He nodded and went back to sleep, you lifted his head and placed a pillow under it to replace your shoulder.

****************************

you: haechan open the door

seen

In under thirty seconds you hear footsteps, the door opening quietly.

His hair was messy and he was wearing sweatpants and a black t shirt.

“Hi” he was quiet as a mouse.

You ignore him walking straight to his room. You thought it was funny that after the confidence he had, he was almost silent.

You get to his door and hesitate.

“No ones in there”

You nod and walk in his room, immediately sitting in the same spot you always sit in. The edge of his bed to watch him play his video games or sing his music.

He follows and sits in his chair, swiveling around to meet you.

Pure. Silence.

It takes a good thirty seconds for you to start the conversation, “so why did you want me to come down here”

“What do you think?”

He’s back.

“Haechan. We really should clear this up”

“Y/n, I’ve always been there for you”

“And I’m grateful for that”

“And you’ve been there for me I just don’t get it-”

“What don’t you get?” You rolled your eyes out of frustration.

“Why there’s no us! Y/n. Why am I not in Jungwoo’s place. Why are you not sleeping in my bed? Why do you see me as just a friend?” He whisper shouted, getting teary eyed.

You looked down, scared you’ll see him cry, “Hyuck. I liked you. I did. There were many instances you could’ve made this happen and you didn’t do anything.”

“ Y/n. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same” A tear ran down his face.

You looked up at him, “ Oh don’t cry please” You leaned towards him and used your finger to wipe the tears falling.

You were going to lean back when haechan gently grabbed your arm.

Your faces were close together, “ y/n. please give me a chance”

He held the bottom of your chin and slowly leaned in, his lips right infront of yours.

You should back away. Right now.

But you don’t.

He looks at you through his eyelashes. You nod.

He smashes his lips onto yours. You could tell he’s been waiting a while to do this.

You kiss back with just as much passion.

He places his hands on your waist and tugs you. You can tell he wants you to sit on his lap. You oblige.

Soon you’re having a full on make out session with someone who isn’t your boyfriend.

“Y/n”, haechan says in between kisses, “ You’ve always been mine”

You pull away from the kisses and look at him, hair messy, eyes full of stars, he looks beautiful.

This is so wrong.

But it feels right.

But it’s wrong. You need to end this.

You peck his lips, “Haechan I need to go”

“You don’t need to” He bites your lip gently, making you melt in his touch.

“I do” You ran your hand through his hair.

“Stay and go up in the morning”

“You know I can’t do that”

Haechan pouted. Making your heart skip a beat. You kissed his pout away and moved off of his lap.

“Goodnight Hyuck”

“Goodnight” Haechan watched you leave in awe of what just happened.

part 3 soon.

#nct #nct x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream x reader #nct drabbles #kpop #nct dream imagines #nct dream x you #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 x you #nct 127 imagines #haechan timestamps #haechan x reader #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo imagines #nct angst #jungwoo angst #haechan angst #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #haechan x y/n #haechan imagines #jungwoo x you #jungwoo x y/n

[stxrshxpxd]

red wine x 1990!damon

Pairing: 1990 damon albarn x reader

Word count: 1.064

Warnings: none

* * *

“Red wine suits you. You look exceptionally sexy when you drink red wine,” Damon mumbled, sounding sophisticated and intelligent despite the slur in his voice. I smiled and looked down on the wine glass in my hand and then traced my gaze back towards Damon where he was almost fully laying down on my bed with his elbows lazily propped up behind him for support. His chest looked broad and his chin was pressing into the top of it. They were playing New Order in the living room and he was bobbing his head along to the muffled music.

“You look exceptionally sexy drinking beer.”

“I know,” he answered with a dorky smile and groggily half closed eyes. There was an almost finished dark green bottle in his right hand. The beer was probably warm by now.

I gave a short chuckle. That type of confidence was typical, and admirable, of Damon. To please him I took a big sip of my wine and sensually licked my lips as I leaned back to lay on my side next to him. His eyes were still groggily half closed and he was breathing calmly. He looked content, happy even.

Someone had gotten hold of the record player and changed it to The Stone Roses, and turned the volume way up.

‘When the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars they burn below me, are you all alone? Is anybody home?’

Ian’s voice broke through my closed door and barely even sounded muffled anymore.

“Shall we resume to the party?” I asked, my nose now touching Damon’s. It wasn’t exactly a party, but it was the first word that came to mind and the wine was making it harder for me to find a better one. It was more so a gathering of friends, with an unbalanced volume-of-music to amount-of-people ratio. Outside in the lounge were my three roommates, the boyfriend of one of them, one friend of mine from work, and Graham. The music was pulsating through the apartment. I didn’t mind too much, as I liked the song, but it was rather unfitting for our event.

“I suppose,” Damon said but made no effort to stand. I smiled and we both went in for a kiss at the same time.

Damon and I always somehow happened to find our own corner for a while during parties. It was something our friends liked to jokingly complain about. We hadn’t even closed the door ourselves this time though. My roommate had when she’d seen us in the middle of an innocent kiss. We had seen it as an opportunity to stay for a while, talking and humming and kissing and discussing the choice of music trickling into my room from the lounge.

“Come on then,” I whispered. I managed to pull Damon up without spilling all my wine over me.

I wandered out of my room with Damon behind me, holding his hand loosely.

“God, have you all collectively lost your hearing or something?” I yelled over the music and turned it down as I passed the record player.

They all ignored me or gave halfhearted snide answers. Made of Stone passed over onto the intro of Shoot You Down as Damon let go of my hand and went to sit next to Graham on the armrest of our large sofa. I sat on the other side of Graham and mindlessly sprawled my arms out on top of the backrest. I let my fingertips graze the outside of Damon’s bare forearm and I felt him gently pet the inside of mine. It took a long good while until I forced myself out of my Damon bubble and listened to the conversation in the room.

“Oh, Alex is a good kisser,” Jason, my friend from work, stated with a smirk. The conversation had clearly been leading up to an opportunity for him and he’d taken it. I could tell he had been waiting for the perfect time to announce that, and the most casual yet shock-inducing way to do it in.

Jason was about as gay as you could get and ever since the first time he saw Alex across the room in a pub he hadn’t shut up about him. Alex was soon made aware of his crush and it had quickly grown into an inside joke in our friend group.

Had there not been music playing the apartment would’ve been dead silent for a moment as we all dropped our jaws and stared at Jason’s proud grin.

“No way. Finally tricked him into a snog, huh?” Olivia, one of my roommates, said and sat up on the very edge of her seat. Her hand was holding his boyfriend’s knee, and I was made aware of Damon’s light caressing again.

“He’s been wanting it forever. I finally gave in,” Jason sighed with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, followed by a giggle and a break of character.

“How drunk was he?” Damon asked with a laugh in his throat and an amused grin on his lips. I looked at him for a split second and then glanced back down at Jason who was sitting with his legs crossed on a large cushion on the floor.

“Oh, couldn’t stand,” Jason answered and we all laughed. “It was magical anyway. I could talk about his tongue for days.”

“Oh, tongue? Just how lucky did you get, Jase?” I asked, pulling my hand away from Damon’s arm to put my palm up to the top of my chest and utter a shocked playful gasp.

“I only got to touch his leg for a minute, then he fell asleep mid-kiss,” he admitted and lost some of his pride as he deflated his chest a tad. We all joined in a few chuckling aw:s. Jason quickly regained his remarkable confidence though and insisted it was a successful pull as he would always remember the wonderful taste of Alex’s sloppy drunk kiss.

I turned my head back to look at Damon again and he completed the eye contact as I reconnected our arms. I took a sip from my wine and Damon smiled.

We stayed up for another few hours listening to music and talking and laughing, until there were a couple loud knocks at the wall from the next apartment, and we had to bring the party to an end.

#damon albarn #graham coxon #alex james #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #90s #fic #imagine #smut #fluff #blurb #au #damon albarn x reader

[letterboxd]

A Cinematic Outcoming.

From Istanbul to Chicago, and C.R.A.Z.Y. to Spirited Away, Letterboxd member, writer and film programmer Emre Eminoğlu explores the films that drove his gay awakening.

“I see it as my duty to never shut up about how representation matters.” —Emre Eminoğlu

I was one of the luckiest ones, yet I had no idea how lucky I was. Growing up in Istanbul, Turkey, a predominantly patriarchal, conservative and homophobic society, my luck was being born into an open-minded, secular and loving family.

In this bubble, I was isolated from the struggles of the majority of my people. I was not bullied at school by my peers, I was not forced into being someone else by my family. Yet I still had that voice in my head. As soon as I realized something could be different with me, I became my own bully and forcefully adopted a fictional persona: ‘exceptionally normal’.

Coming out was hard, but coming out to myself was harder. Although I was perfectly aware of my sexual identity, I could not come to terms with the possibility of being ‘abnormal’. Cue cinema. Watching films was a way of escape for high-school Emre—it still is—and it was inevitable that I would come across some LGBTQ+ films. I was not consciously in search of a ‘truth’ about myself but I started seeing my reflection in them, as they slowly disarmed the bully I involuntarily created.

Twenty years later, now, as a 34-year-old gay man professionally writing on cinema and television, I see it as my duty to never shut up about how representation matters. Streaming LGBTQ+ shows on various platforms, seeing widely released, mainstream LGBTQ+ films, listening to the music of openly LGBTQ+ stars, and hearing words of wisdom like “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”, I am confident that the personal, inner bully that I created twenty years ago would not survive a week in today’s world.

‘C.R.A.Z.Y.’ (2005)

Jean-Marc Vallée’s C.R.A.Z.Y. (2005) was definitely not the first LGBTQ+ film I ever watched, but it was an invaluable juncture in my life. It was a hot summer in Istanbul, freshman year of college was over. One of my best friends, who had been accompanying me through most of my cinematic discoveries, told me about a French-Canadian film with this guy on the film poster with David Bowie makeup on his face. We headed to an independent theater in Kadıköy to see it.

Zachary Beaulieu was different. As the lone gay son in a family of five boys, he too was forcefully adopting a fictional persona, and his way of escape was music. He was constantly worried about how to be worthy of his parents’ love, how to realize their ideals of him, and how his difference and truth contradicted all of that. Zac’s 1960s basically mirrored my story in the 2000s. I perfectly muted the life-changing enlightenment I was going through and did not vocalize my inner screams.

In two hours, C.R.A.Z.Y. helped me realize my true self and admit my sexual identity after all those years. It was a personal threshold I had been longing to cross… but there was still a lot to go through.

‘Les Amours Imaginaires’ (Heartbeats, 2010)

Liking someone, falling for someone, being loved, dating someone, sex, refusals, misinterpretations, heartbreaks, break-ups, bad sex. On the other side of the closet, I was being introduced to new, sometimes euphoric, sometimes gut-wrenching experiences. But coming out to my friends was still a challenge. I was feeling so lonely keeping all these wonderful and horrible experiences in my chest.

But I was not alone: LGBTQ+ films were my life’s understudy. The same heartbreaks, worries, and disappointments I was going through were right there on the silver screen. I took note as two best friends, Francis and Marie, fall for the same guy and navigate their friendship in Xavier Dolan’s Les Amours Imaginaires (Heartbeats, 2010). I studied how a popular student, Jarle, falls for the new guy in school, but cannot risk his reputation to be with him in Stian Kristiansen’s Mannen som Elsket Yngve (The Man Who Loved Yngve, 2008) and I watched as close friends Tobi and Achim become lovers, until one’s need to keep everything secret threatens to destroy the relationship in Marco Kreuzpaintner’s Sommersturm (Summer Storm, 2004).

Things were not always accessible via online platforms and the internet, so film festivals were often the only chance to see the latest independent and queer films. Two of the biggest film festivals in Istanbul, thankfully, had LGBTQ+-focused sections; !f’s Gökkuşağı (Rainbow) and Istanbul Film Festival’s Nerdesin aşkım? (Where are you, my love?) felt like home.

‘Tomboy’ (2011)

Being the lone avid cinephile among my friends, I was used to seeing half of my festival picks alone. Even before coming out to myself, my hopes for a romantic relationship included, among other things, having a festival partner. When I, fortunately, found the one, I was delighted to have also found the perfect festival partner. Shortly after our first month together, the first film we saw at a film festival was Céline Sciamma’s Tomboy (2011).

Although I was a 24 year old cis man, I was more than able to empathize with the title character, a ten-year-old trans boy. With his family unaware of his true identity, Mickaël experiences the liberation of a fresh start when ‘mistaken’ for a boy after they move to a new neighborhood—finally able to introduce himself as Mickaël, not Laure.

Changing my career path, a new job in the creative industry, and a stable relationship had similar effects on me. I was still not completely out to my parents, or some of my friends, schoolmates, and acquaintances from my past, but I was freed of the obligation to explain anything to my new friends or colleagues. I would proudly introduce them to my boyfriend, or simply correct people by saying I was attracted to men during a conversation. The perfect festival partner turned out to be a perfect partner as well—over the past ten years, he has helped me grow and be proud of myself.

‘Weekend’ (2011)

We moved in together in the fifth year of our relationship. Right above our bed hangs a poster of Andrew Haigh’s Weekend (2011). At the time we saw it, it was just another film that we watched together and liked—no significance, no symbolism. It is the story of two young men, Russell and Glen, who are fascinated by the connection they find between each other, and are surprised how their one-night-stand evolved into the perfect weekend. When Glen reveals that he will be leaving for another country the very next day, it only makes their connection stronger, and their time together more precious. Being a timid and socially anxious person, none of my romantic relationships or my friendships had formed this organically. Even my first date with my partner was a disaster. We built what we have now over time, slowly and patiently. I did not believe in ‘weekends’.

And yet, one summer night, we met a guy on Grindr, as we occasionally did. What we thought was just another one night stand was in fact a transformative experience for us both. Intense conversation, a triple connection, the drinks we enjoyed instead of hurrying to bed, and the passionate sex turned that casual one-night-stand into a magical reality for us. We realized that we still had feelings and instincts to discover in ourselves and in each other. Over a week-long, unexpected, unpredictable polyamorous fling, we learned to act as one instead of two—only to find out that he was leaving for another country the very next week. This was our ‘weekend’.

‘Hamam’ (Steam: The Turkish Bath, 1997)

Thinking how LGBTQ+ films of other cultures and languages had played a significant role in some precious, threshold-crossing moments of my life, it was alienating not being able to feel embraced and represented openly in Turkish cinema. There were certainly multiple Turkish LGBTQ+ films or characters, but they were in films addressing more urgent issues—right to live, violence against LGBTQ+ individuals, honor murders, trans murders—rather than the nuanced experience of queer love.

Although I discovered it years after it was released, Italian-Turkish director Ferzan Özpetek’s Hamam (Steam: The Turkish Bath, 1997) was a mind-blowing experience for me. The relationship, and the sexual tension, between Francesco, the Italian heir to a building with a Turkish bath in it, and Mehmet, the young son of the family managing the compound, felt much closer to my story and my cultural, familial identity.

Aşk, Büyü vs. (Love, Spells and All That, 2019)

Today, I am glad to see more and more filmmakers finding the courage to maintain the LGBTQ+ narrative in Turkish cinema, despite the oppressive, intolerant and exclusionary policies. Some are telling the youthful, urban stories I was longing for at the time: In Leyla Yılmaz’s Bilmemek (Not Knowing, 2019), Umut, a high-school athlete from a middle-class family in Istanbul, is bullied by his so-called modern and open-minded teammates after not replying to a query about whether he is gay or not. In Ümit Ünal’s Aşk, Büyü vs. (Love, Spells and All That, 2019), Eren and Reyhan, two adult women reunite in the magical atmosphere of The Princes’ Islands on the Istanbul coast, decades after they were forcefully separated by their parents.

The story of me coming out to myself all started with an urge to escape reality through cinema, and on the way, I found films that gave meaning to my muddled existence. When I saw Levan Akin’s And Then We Danced (2019), I smiled as I noticed the Spirited Away poster in Merab’s room; this minor detail another reminder that I was not alone. Merab, a gay dancer who is part of a very traditional and conservative Georgian dance company, was dealing with similar challenges in his life. He was trying to discover his true identity in a society that does not celebrate being different. He was too, finding an escape in cinema.

Coming out was hard. It still is. A recent Instagram post by the 27-year-old actor Connor Jessup, who came out as gay two years ago, reminded me coming out is not a single moment, but a never-ending process, a ‘becoming’. He writes, “When I first came out, a friend wrote to me and said, ‘Now you can really start coming out.’ Start? I thought. I just did it. But he was right. […] I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to keep looking.”

I keep trying, and looking. Learning about myself, my identity, my relationship. And LGBTQ+ films keep helping and inspiring me, just as they did in my journey to accept myself and become the person I am today. This is the power of cinema; unconsciously, you see your past, actuality and possibilities through the stories filmmakers tell. And I am so grateful to these filmmakers.

Related content

The Ten Greatest Turkish Films of All Time, according to the Turkish Film Critics’ Association

Emre’s Favorite LGBTQ+ Films: a personal top 50

Queer Films in Turkish Cinema—a list by Atakan

The Top 100 Turkish Movies of the 21st Century: Emre’s personal favorites

#letterboxd #pride #pride 2021 #lgbtqia cinema #lgbt film #turkish cinema #turkish film #queer cinema #coming out #jean marc vallée

[pinencurls]

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - - 

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 

 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 

“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . . 

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 

“Harry?” 

“Ellie?” 

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 

“Oh- H, Sorry!” 

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 

“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . . 

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 

“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 

“Then stay.” 

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 

. . . . . 

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 

“And you’re almost six foot!” 

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 

. . . . .  

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 

. . . . . 

Unknown Number 

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 

Me

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’ 

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 

. . . . . 

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 

. . . . .

 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 

. . . . . 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 

“That’s the plan, love.” 

. . . . . 

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 

“Breakfast?” 

. . . . . 

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 

. . . . . 

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 

Me 

Meet me at mine x

Harry 

Okay - what was that about? 

Me 

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/ 

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 

“Eleanor would have a field day.” 

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases. 

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Really..she’d be right about that?” 

“I’m pretty sure-” 

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 

“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 

. . . . .    

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 

“Yes dear?”  

“What was that?” 

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?” 

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.” #dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes? #friends to lovers

[roonilwazlibimagines]

James Potter Mini Series - My Brother’s Best Friend (Part Seven)

Pairing: James Potter x Sirius Black’s Sister Word Count: 2.6k Blurb: Rosalind Black has always thought James Potter was cute, but that never mattered because he was in love with her best friend. Although, it seems that everything has been changing since her and her twin Sirius Black ran away from home and found themselves at James’ house. A/N: I hate this chapter, but I wanted to finish it, and this is done! I hate how it ended, but I’m so happy that I finally finished this :)))

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

Based off this ‘Would Include’ Sirius lagged behind James and I as we made our way towards the train. James looked down at me and we both gave each other small smiles before I intertwined our hands together. We had both decided that it was probably safe to tell people about us now considering we both were serious about our relationship. 

When we finally found the compartment with Remus and Lily in it we made our way in and released our hands as we sat down. I sat next to Lily and James sat next to me with Remus on the opposite side. 

Remus’ eyes flickered between our hands and ourselves before Sirius came in and exclaimed, “Guys I had the worst break, James and Rosalind are dating now.”

Lily let out a tiny squeal as she nudged my arm while Remus just chuckled. 

“Was it worse than the break when we got kicked out of our house?” I asked innocently, getting an awkward cough from James and an eye roll from Sirius. 

“Yes,” he held his head up a bit higher, “it was, Rosalind.” 

I rolled my eyes at him before Remus changed the subject and I began to tell Lily everything that had happened during the break while she did the same. 

About halfway through the train ride James’ hand found mine and I gave it a small squeeze turning to see the way his eyes flickered towards me as he gave me a small smile before continuing to focus on Sirius’ story. 

Sirius continued to stay at our side whenever we were together and the only time we were alone was when we went on dates to Hogsmeade (James was more than happy now to go to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop because Sirius refused to go in there with us) and when James used his invisibility cloak at night to sneak me out to the Astronomy Tower. 

The first time was exceptionally awkward as there was not a lot of room under the Invisibility Cloak for two people, especially when James was so tall. I was constantly trying to hold my breath because I didn’t want James to hear how fast my breath was when I was this close to him. He had his wand illuminated and he had a piece of parchment which he kept looking at. 

When we finally got to The Astronomy Tower James looked over at me before he took the cloak off. Our faces were millimeters apart and I could hear his breathing. He grinned at me before he took it off. 

“I quite like being that close to you, love,” he smirked as he folded the cloak and sat down. 

“Oh, shut up,” I rolled my eyes at him as I sat down next to him. He placed an arm around me and I leant in closer to his chest. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment before I decided to ask, “what was that piece of parchment that you had?” 

“What piece of parchment?” James’ response was too quick for him to be that oblivious. I raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed before replying, “I just want you to know that Sirius, Remus and Peter would absolutely kill me if I showed you.”

“That’s okay with me,” I gave him a cheeky smile as he pouted. I pressed a small kiss upon his lips as he pulled out the paper. 

“It’s just a map,” even though he was originally reluctant to show me, he happily passed it over to me, “point your wand at it and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’” 

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. 

“Why don’t I believe you?” it sounded ridiculous. 

“Trust me,” he sounded sincere and thinking that I really had nothing to lose I pointed my wand at the map and said it. 

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP

I looked up at him, even more confused than I had originally been. When I looked back down a map of the school had suddenly appeared with lots of little dots and names. 

“What is it?”

“It’s a map of the school, shows you where everyone is,” he paused, “and shows you all the secret passageways.”

“Hogwarts has secret passageways?” I squinted my eyes at him and he nodded. 

“I’ll show them to you one day,” he bit his lip and I returned my attention to the map, “see,” he pointed to two dots on the Astronomy Tower, “that’s us.”

“Where did you get this?” my attention was focused on the map, trying to take in every detail.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” I scoffed. 

“Why not?” 

“Because Sirius, Remus, Peter and I made it,” I squinted my eyes at him. 

“I don’t believe you,” he rolled his eyes as he tried to convince me that they had made it.

“But who are Wormtail and Padfoot and the other people?” a red tinge appeared on James’ face as he realised his mistake. 

“That’s us,” he admitted, his stare was on the map trying to avoid making eye contact with me. 

“Why do you have such odd nicknames?” I let out a small laugh, not really sure if I believed it or not. 

“I can’t tell you much, because it isn’t really my place to tell you,” he defended when I gave him a disappointed look, “but would you like to see something else cool?” I raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m really not sure,” I laughed as he finally looked up at him. 

“Just, don’t be scared okay, I won’t hurt you,” a wave of terror suddenly washed over me as he stood up and I started imagining what he was going to do. My mouth dropped when James turned into a stag in front of me. 

“What the fuck,” I brought my legs closer to my body as the stag looked at me. My eyes widened and the stag must have realised that I was absolutely terrified because it turned back into James. 

“What was that?”

“My animagus,” he sat back down next to me, “that’s why my nickname is Prongs,” he laughed as I stared at him with an open mouth. 

“Are you telling me that my brother is an animagus and he didn’t tell me?” James seemed to relax as he realised that I was more focused on my brother, “that git!” he chuckled before putting his arm back around me, “what is his animagus?” 

“I can’t tell you about the rest of them, it isn’t my place,” he gave me an apologetic smile but I already knew that as soon as I saw him at breakfast the next day I was going to confront him. 

*** 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were an animagus?” I asked in a loud whisper as I sat next to Sirius in The Great Hall the next day at breakfast. Remus, who was sitting on the opposite side of us choked on his food. 

“Who the bloody hell told you?” Sirius gave me an indignant look to which I smiled at. 

“None of your business.”

“It was James, wasn’t it?” Sirius rolled his eyes as he went back to eating. 

“Might’ve been,” I shrugged my shoulders and started grabbing food to put on my plate. 

“Well I didn’t tell you because it is none of your business,” his chest puffed out a bit and I rolled my eyes. 

“Are you an animagus too, Remus?” he choked again on his food and Sirius looked at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m going to kill James,” Sirius groaned as I slapped his shoulder to shut up. 

“Uhm, I’m not,” Remus muttered as he put down his glass of water. 

“Good morning,” James sat down next to me and placed a kiss on my cheek. 

“Why did you tell her about our animagus form?” Sirius whacked James on his shoulder making us both turn to glare at him. 

“I never said he did,” I pointed my finger at Sirius as I went to grab James’ hand. 

“No one else knows, Rosie,” Sirius clenched his teeth and not having anything else to say I just rolled my eyes at him. 

“She wanted to know,” James shrugged his shoulders as he timidly started getting food for breakfast. 

“Or did you just want to show off?” Sirius raised his eyebrows at James who was making an effort not to look at either Remus or Sirius. 

“A little bit of both,” James said quietly, making Remus snigger and Sirius groan as I let out a small giggle. 

“Well I guess you better tell her the whole story then,” Remus gave James a small smile. 

“I’m sorry Remus,” James gave him an apologetic look. 

“He wouldn’t tell me about you guys though,” I tried to defend him, “he said it wasn’t his business to tell me.”

“Stop trying to defend him,” I sneered at Sirius whose attention was back on his breakfast. 

But Remus said he trusted me so James was whispering to me why they had become animagi and soon I was telling them that I wanted to be an animagi too. 

“No!” both James and Sirius exclaimed as my attention flickered between them. I tried to protest, but they claimed that the matter was settled. 

But that didn’t stop me from racing to the Hospital Wing every full moon to look after them. It gave me an excuse to see James shirtless as I cleaned up all his cuts. He would look down and give me a lazy smile which always made me blush. He swore it didn’t hurt but he always asked to hold my hand and there were times where he squeezed it a little harder. 

Our relationship continued to develop and was supported by Sirius’ less frequent presence who had suddenly become more okay with James and me.

A week before the Quidditch final I was sitting in The Common Room with James. My head was on his lap as he was playing with my hair and staring at the fire. 

“You’re sure you’re going to be there, right?” James had asked for the second time that night. 

“Yes James,” I opened my eyes at him to see him staring down at me with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Okay good,” he bit his lip, “I can’t play without my lucky charm,” he looked down and gave me a wink making me giggle. 

“Sure,” James was stressed about the Quidditch Cup, especially being captain. No one knew that he was this stressed, he was very good at hiding it, but when it was just us he suddenly went from the confident and chilled person everyone knew to a complete nervous wreck. 

“This stress isn’t good for you,” I sat up from my position so I could look at him better, “you’ve been killing your team in practice,” I grabbed his hands in mine, “you’re going to be fine.”

He pulled me closer to him and placed a kiss on the top of my head, “thank you, love,” he rested his head on top of mine and even though he changed the subject I knew that it hadn’t left his mind. 

I had been hyping him up all week in the lead up to it and when we sat down at breakfast on the day of the game I made sure that his hand was interlaced with mind so I could give it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Today’s the big game, mate,” Sirius beamed as he sat across from us, I squeezed James’ hand as he gave Sirius a weak smile, “are you excited? Nervous?” Sirius was placing food in his plate unaware of my glare. 

“Well he will have his good luck charm there so there is nothing for him to be nervous about,” James gave me a thankful smile. 

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius rolled his eyes as he began shoving food in his mouth. 

“Are you cold?” James asked as he used his other hand to caress my arm. 

“No, I’m okay,” I smiled at him as he furrowed his eyebrows at me. 

“But you’re going to change when I play, yeah?”

“No, why?” I gave him a confused look as I ate a spoonful of my breakfast. 

“Because it will be freezing,” he stressed, “give me a minute,” he released his hand from mine and stood up, leaving the Great Hall. 

“He seems stressed,” Sirius commented, making me roll my eyes. 

Remus, Peter and Lily had arrived before James, but he was back within minutes with one of his coats and his Gryffindor scarf. 

“Here,” James handed them to me as he sat back down next to me. 

“What are these?”

“To keep you warm,” when I didn’t put them on he took them back and started placing it over my shoulders making Remus and Sirius snigger. 

“James, really,” I let him dress me, “I’m okay,” he pressed a kiss to my nose when he had finished putting them on me. 

“I don’t want you to get cold,” he mumbled as I wrapped the coat around me and moved my head down into his scarf. It smelt like him. 

“Thank you,” I pressed a kiss to his cheek watching the heat rise to his cheeks as he intertwined our hands together again under the table. 

In the stands with the wind rushing against my skin, I was thankful that James’ way of getting his mind off the stress was looking after me. I was grateful I had James' coat and his scarf to bury my face in, even if it was ridiculously too big for me. 

When he walked on the field I saw him search the crowds and smile when it landed on me. I waved at him and smiled but frowned when I saw Sirius glaring at me. 

I made sure to cheer extra loud whenever James scored a goal, knowing how much this game was stressing him out and I cheered with Sirius when Gryffindor won. When they started making their way back to the ground and everyone was cheering I couldn’t help but make my way down, wanting to wrap my arms around James and congratulate him.

It was a long walk to get down to the field but as soon as James saw me he opened his arms and I ran towards him. I must have looked ridiculous in my too large coat and Gryffindor scarf covering most of my face but James lifted me up in his arms and started cheering and I couldn’t help but giggle when he spun me around feeling nothing but pride and love for the boy in front of me. 

For a moment I forgot that the whole school was watching us. I forgot that Sirius was probably rolling his eyes at us still in the stands, but as James stopped spinning me and we both beamed at the other it didn’t really bother me. 

I wished at that moment that I could tell my sixteen year old self, cold and scared, on the Potter’s front door, the one who was in love with her brother’s best friend, that she really had nothing to worry about. That she was going to find someone who loved her, despite her family. That she had great friends who supported her and loved her and even if her family hated them, it didn’t matter because they had become her new family. 

James put me down and cupped my head in his hands, his palms were warm against my bold cheeks and he pulled me closer into a kiss. I couldn’t hear the crowd’s cheering get louder because all I could focus on was the boy in front of me and the way that even after all this time, he still managed to make my heart rate quicken. 

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders blurb #marauders fluff #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter blurb #james potter mini series #marauders mini series #harry potter mini series #my brother's best friend #jp #jpi #jpf

[thatautisticadhdfeel]

Update on my small silly dog that hates all things grooming:

Now that it’s really warming up, we’ve been working on his spring haircut. His hair gets quite long over the winter, so it’s very important to trim it back before it gets hot out. Haircuts have always been the worst for him, requiring multiple people and several gruelling sessions to complete.

This time I was more optimistic about it, since he’s been improving so much with brushing. Combining those strategies with what’s helped with haircuts in the past (and some exceptionally tempting treats), we found a drastic increase in his ability to cope with the experience. We still aren’t doing it in one session, since I want to end sessions on a positive note as often as possible, but the sessions have been far less taxing for all of us, and getting progressively easier as he’s learned that it won’t be as scary as it used to be.

In the past, he would become so stressed that he’d drool and refuse treats. Over the three sessions we’ve done so far, we only found him drooling once, so we gave him a break and it stopped. The rest of the time he didn’t reach that point since we give him frequent breaks and the experience itself is less stressful. There were only a couple of times that he tried to nip, which were again resolved with breaks rather than attempting to restrain him.

Initially my father was skepticle about me and mom doing it ourselves, which I don’t blame him for since he hasn’t been involved in grooming after the Thumb Biting Incident. He stopped raising objections once I informed him that we were now able to have him sit still, completely unrestrained, while having his chest trimmed.

I do have to keep reminding my mother of stuff, like not being too harsh on him for lashing out from stress, avoiding restraint until all other options have been exhausted, and not pushing ahead too quickly when he’s showing signs of stress, but it has still been paying off beyond my expectations. While he is clearly still uncomfortable with the process, he’s able to trust us with it, and remain calm enough to cooperate despite the discomfort. Most of the high level stress behaviours have completely stopped.

So that’s how he’s doing. He’s a good boy and I’m very proud of him for learning so well after all those years of being scared.

[acnelli]

The Speech

Hermione becomes the first female Minister Of Magic, so Ron has to hold a speech about it. 

Just in case you’re wondering...I was never very interested in Pottermore or anything that got published after DH, so there might have been a female MoM before Hermione but I think this little detail is not important to enjoy the story ;-) I also don’t really see Hermione as a MoM. For me Hermione works at the Ministry, creating and pushing for laws to protect and improve the life of those oppressed and fighting for equality. But I liked the idea of a very nervous Ron talking about his wife in front of a huge crowd.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3.

I'm so screwed.

This sentence was stuck like a mantra in his head ever since Kingsley talked him into this nonsense.

Who in his right mind would want him, Ron Weasley, to hold a speech? Sure, it was his wife that becomes the next Minister of Magic and she also will be the first female one. Which makes him the first husband to hold a speech about the new Minister.

But why couldn't they just skip this stupid tradition?

Not that he wasn't able to talk a lifetime about Hermione. But he sure wasn't ready to talk about her in front of half the Ministry, his entire family, a bunch of friends and not to forget these annoying press people.

Ron was fairly confident that he would say something stupid. He was Ron bloody Weasley after all and if anyone would describe him to a stranger this would be in his character description: Saying and doing stupid and/or inappropriate things.

Kingsley was about to end his speech and Ron knew that it will be mere seconds before he was called up to the stage.

Oh Godric, please don't make me embarrass myself in front of my children.

He thought back to this morning when his fifteen-year-old daughter made him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry, Dad. You will do just fine. And please eat something." Hugo said, as he shoved a slice of toast at him. He picked his breakfast up and even took a bite, mainly to appease his son.

 Hugo stared at him, determination and worry on his face. It never failed to amaze Ron, how much his son was like Hermione, both in looks and character.

 Ron sighed and took another bite before shoving the plate away from him. "I' m sorry, buddy. Might eat this backwards if I'm having one more bite."

 He sipped his sweet tea and wondered why the hell he was such a nervous wrack. It was the Quidditch games at Hogwarts all over again.

  Ron thought he was over his insecurities, but old habits die hard, right? Looking at his two children made him feel a tiny bit lighter though. They both got his ginger hair and freckled skin with the tendency to get burned easily when out in the sun. Hugo got the warm brown eyes of his mother, Rose Ron's blue orbs. Rose sat beside Ron on the kitchen table, sipping her own tea. She was already in her dress for the ceremony, her long wild locks pinned up at the nape of her neck. She rarely touched her breakfast. Ron knew she was feeling the same anxiety he felt. Two years ago, during summer break, Hugo told Ron that Rose never eats breakfast before a Quidditch match and would sometimes spend the better part of these mornings in the bathroom. Rose was in many ways like him. She was funny, loved Quidditch, normally eats on behalf of a whole Quidditch team and had a temper similar to Ron's. Thank Godric, she got the brains of her mother.

None the less, she could easily comprehend what Ron was going through.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ronald Weasley.", Kingsley announced and stepped back for Ron.

He took a deep breath before he finally entered the stage and went to the podium. His family clapped excitedly in the front row, even cheering for him. He looked over to Hermione, who smiled and winked at him. Of course, the whole Weasley family joined the festivities today to celebrate with Hermione. They were all sitting in the second and third row along with his parents-in-law, who looked both proud and just the tiniest bit nervous.

For a short second he feared, that his impulsive decision from this morning. to ditch his sorry attempts of the prepared speech, was probably the worst decision of his life, but when the applause died down, he hadn't much time to panic over it. So, with a final deep breath and a look into Hermione's eyes, he started to speak.

“Th- thank you”, he said after the applause died down and tried not to flinch about the noticeable tremble in his voice.

“Well, as tradition demands, I'm expected to hold a speech about our new Minister of Magic. Speeches are not exactly my strong point and, in all honesty, I dreaded this moment ever since Kingsley asked me to hold it.” Ron threw a pointed look at the former Minister who just gave him an innocent smile.

Over the soft laughter of the audience, Ron heard a snort and quickly located the source. Harry was smirking at him and Ron supressed the urge to flip the tosser off. He hated The Daily Prophet with a passion, but for this headline he might forget about his principles for a day and actually buy this piece of garbage. Nevertheless, he decided against it, mostly because he didn’t fancy to be on the receiving end of some rather nasty hexes performed by his wife and mother.

“Some of you might be surprised to learn that I haven’t prepared this speech during todays breakfast, but for the better part of the last weeks evenings. Though certainly not perfect, I thought the outcome was quite passable. But last night I went over my words and realized that I would tell you things about Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley that all of you already know. Actually, you could have found the better part of my words on a chocolate frog card. Instead, I would rather tell you about the first day Hermione and I met.”

As Ron let his gaze wander over to his family, he saw a smiling but slightly puzzled Hermione looking at him. “The day I met Hermione was, of course, the very first day at Hogwarts. On the train ride I already met Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard about him at some point, saved the world or something like that. Anyway, in that train compartment Harry and I immediately became best friends and while we stuffed ourselves with a ton of sweets, a girl opened the door to our compartment, asking us about the lost toad of a fellow student. I was showing Harry some useless spell my dear brothers told me about, that of course, did not work. This girl though, performed an actual spell just perfect and informed us that she read every first years school book over the summer as preparation for our upcoming classes. Sure enough, she outshined everyone in every class and there wasn’t a teachers question she had no answer to. Back then and especially on that first day, I could never imagine to be friends with Hermione Granger. I thought that she’s a bossy know-it-all and on Halloween, two months after our first day at Hogwarts, she heard me calling her just that. As an eleven-year-old boy, it never seemed possible to me that Hermione could be sincerely hurt by my words. But of course, it upset her. Very much.

That being said, I’ll never regret these nasty words, because this Halloween night was the beginning of a life-long friendship between me, Hermione and Harry. If I hadn’t said that in front of her, she would have never locked herself up in the bathroom to cry and Harry and I would have never ran to this said bathroom, because a mountain troll was wandering the halls of Hogwarts and Hermione was the only one who hasn’t been warned about it. Ever since the three of us beat that troll, I could not imagine a good day without Hermione as a friend by my side. She still nagged us about doing our homework and scolding me for swearing too much and said things like ‘Ron, it’s Hermione, Harry and I’, but when I look back, the unhappiest times were when we didn’t speak to each other or when I wasn’t able to talk to her.”

He paused for a brief moment as surely the darkest time of his life came to mind, when he abandoned Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, his heart full of pure fear and hopelessness when he thought he would never see them again. Or the weeks of Hermione being petrified, as he could still see this young red headed boy talking to her in the hospital wing, desperately wanting her to tell him off for staying out after curfew.

“Hermione did and achieved a lot of great things in her life. Most of these things you might already know, like her helping to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters or her success in freeing the House Elves. Although these are amazing and exceptionally brilliant achievements, Hermione is so much more than the brightest witch of our age and a war heroine. Did you know that the beginnings of her efforts to free House Elves lay in our Hogwarts years? Back then, she started a campaign to free them and it didn’t stop her, that for a very long time, it had been a one-woman-movement. Her courage and ambition to help the defenceless and her undying sense of justice are exceptional and even more admirable, if you consider, that as a Muggleborn, Hermione had been in great danger herself, being the main target of Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Regardless what she went through herself, she never stopped to look out for others, especially her family and friends. And this is what she’ll continue to do as the leader of Wizarding Britain. Hermione will fight for a better life for everyone, for all of you and for those, whose suffering is still invisible to us.

I once read an article about Hermione inheriting the title of the brightest with of our age. It said, that she sure is intelligent, but mainly book smart. If you ask me, a person, who is simply book smart could never use the knowledge in real life, right? Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hermione’s quick thinking and brilliance at everything she does, saved Harry’s and my life more times than I care to admit. Even in the most dangerous and horrible situations she was in, her highest priority had been to keep us safe.”

I was wrong. These were the darkest hours of my life., Ron thought and Hermione’s screams echoed through his mind.

“Hermione saved me in more than one way. She taught me self-worth and confidence, which, especially as a teenager, I hadn’t much of. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was there for me when I needed her the most. And the best thing of all: for some unbeknown reason, she loves me. And in the end, this makes me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

For the next words Ron looked only at Hermione, who gave up to hold back her tears for quite some time now. “Befriending you had been the best thing I had ever done. I heard a lot of people say that they married their best friend. Well, I certainly did. We went through so many adventures -good and bad- together and I`m happy to say, that the good ones outweigh the bad ones big time. I love you, Hermione and I`m ready for this next adventure to come our way.”

#romione #ronmione #hermione granger #ron weasley #hugo weasley #rose weasley #hugo granger-weasley #rose granger weasley #weasley family #granger weasley family #minister of magic #my fic #my fanfiction #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction

[mischievousmoony]

Teacups

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Reader

Summary: You and Hermione are in the Hogwarts’ kitchens for a late night cup of tea when she begins to pester you about the identity of your crush. Little does she know, your crush is her!

Warnings: None

Requested

Masterlist

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Nights like these were rare. Usually, you and your three best friends were uncovering secrets, rivaling some sort of evil, or partaking in a dangerous adventure. But after an exceptionally good D.A. meeting you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to have a relaxing night in the common room for a change.

Ron had also decided he was in the mood to play Wizard’s Chess. 

“It’s been ages since I’ve brought my set out,” he said. 

Harry took Ron up on the offer, seemingly up for a challenge. 

The four of you had sprawled out across the floor in front of the fireplace. Harry and Ron sat at opposite ends of the chessboard, sitting upright with their eyes glued to the game before them. 

You and Hermione had chosen to sit on the other two sides of the board. Hermione was sitting cross-legged with a book in her lap. She would glance up every other moment when either of the boys made a particularly interesting move but was mostly focused on her book.

Across from her, you were paying even less attention to the game. You were sure Ron was going to win, anyway. 

You had decided to lay on your stomach, feet in the air, your head kept up with your right hand. Instead of the violent game before you, your attention had been given to the girl seated across from you. 

As the light from the fire reflected off of her features, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty Hermione looked. And it captured all of your attention. 

You watched as Hermione’s eyes widened at something she read that must have surprised her. Your lips formed a soft smile in response to her mannerisms. The way her books could encapsulate her had always been something you found so adorable. 

Suddenly, Harry’s king was loudly shattered to bits, breaking you out of your trance as pieces of the crown bounced off of your arm. 

“That was too easy, Harry!” Ron exclaimed, a victorious smile on his face. 

Having known he was going to lose since his second move, Harry simply shrugged and began scooping pieces of his king into his hands. 

Hermione then snapped her book shut, “I feel like having some tea. Anyone want to join me on a walk to the kitchens?”

“Y/N will go with you!” Harry said enthusiastically. 

Harry was the only person who knew of your crush on Hermione. He had caught you staring at her in class once. 

It was ironic, as he has always been a little oblivious, but he said he noticed because he imagined that’s how he looked at Cho. 

In your opinion, Harry could not have chosen a worse time to be aware of his surroundings. Because now that Harry knew, he had taken it upon himself to be your wingman, whether you liked it or not. 

Hermione sent you a questioning look as if to make sure Harry wasn’t volunteering you for something you would rather not do.

“I’ll go,” You confirmed, letting your features meld into a cheery expression. Once Hermione wasn’t looking, though, you shot Harry a sharp glare. 

“And you should take my cloak,” he added in response to your menacing gaze, smiling goofily as he looked at you. 

Harry quickly dashed up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories and back down only moments later with his invisibility cloak in hand. 

He handed the cloak to Hermione, beaming at you suspiciously over her shoulder. 

You soon understood why Harry was so enthusiastic once you and Hermione were under the cloak, pressed up against each other to completely cover yourselves. 

At least you were invisible now, or Harry would be teasing you for your blush. 

“We’ll see you in a bit,” Hermione said to the boys as you began walking.

“Could you bring back some pumpkin pasties if they have ‘em?” Ron called out as you stepped through the portrait hole.

The two of you had to be very quiet on your walk to the kitchens because, even though you were invisible, people could still hear you. Especially since any noise you made would echo throughout the silent castle. 

You gulped, hoping that the stark silence and proximity didn’t allow Hermione to hear your pounding heartbeat that was ringing through your ears. 

When you could finally see the fruit bowl painting you nearly sighed in relief. Being this close to Hermione so long had you feeling like you were going to implode. 

Hermione’s hand jutted out from under the cloak to tickle the pair and, shortly after, turn the green doorknob to reveal the kitchens. 

As soon as you were inside you threw the cloak off of yourself and took a large step to the left, distancing yourself from Hermione. You felt as though you had just emerged from underwater and finally regained the ability to breathe.  

While you caught your breath, you looked around the busy kitchen. Despite the late hour, the Hogwarts house-elves were still bustling about. You guessed that they must be making early preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast. 

The first house elf that noticed you and Hermione excitedly dropped whatever they were doing to approach you both, eager to please. 

The house-elf bowed before you, and in a squeaky voice, asked, “How may I be at your service?”

"Oh, don’t mind us! We’ve just come for a cup of tea!” Hermione replied politely. 

“Of course Miss! I will have the tea ready in just a moment!”

“That won’t be necessary!” Hermione said hurriedly before the house-elf had a chance to leave, “We can make it ourselves! You don’t need to wait on us.”

Yet another smile crept on your face in response to something Hermione did. You greatly admired the way Hermione treated the house elves and fought for their rights. 

Having come from a wizarding family, you hadn’t given the treatment of house-elves a second thought. However, Hermione opened your eyes and you were proud to say you were the second member to ever join S.P.E.W., just after Hermione herself. 

“Miss, I insist,” the house-elf pressed, rocking anxiously on her heels. 

Some house-elves felt that they were doing wrong if they let a wizard do something that they could do for them. That seemed to be the case here. You thought that in cases like these, it was better to let the house-elf help you than make them upset. You hated to see them upset.

You knelt before the house-elf, “We really would prefer to make it ourselves,” you said kindly, “But our friend Ron wanted us to see if there were any pumpkin pasties. You would be doing us a big favor by bringing some to us?”

“Of course, Miss! Right away, Miss!” The house-elf said before scurrying away.

Hermione sighed. She did not want to put any of the house-elves to work but it did seem like that was their only option in that situation. She decided to bite her tongue and make her way to the stoves. 

Having been to the kitchens for tea countless times before, you two already knew where everything was. You moved to collect the teacups while Hermione filled a kettle with water. 

“I’m glad you came down with me,” Hermione said as she set the kettle atop the stove to boil. 

You nearly allowed the china in your hands to topple to the ground. Luckily, you managed to catch them, placing them ungracefully on the counter, “O- oh!”

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hermione said, not taking her eyes off the water.

At a loss for better words, you repeated yourself, except with a more curious tone, “Oh?”

“I- I wanted to ask—” Hermione hesitated— “how are you?”

“How am I?” You questioned, suspecting an ulterior motive behind the question. 

Hermione sighed and finally turned away from the kettle to face you, “I mean, is everything alright?” 

As you considered how to respond, you straightened out a teacup that you had previously placed upside down when you had been attempting to rescue it from falling.

“Of course!” You tried to say confidently, realizing your delay may affect how the answer was perceived, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hermione huffed and it seemed she lost her patience as she got right to the point, “You’ve been acting strangely. All year, in fact!” 

You gulped, “I’m not sure what you—”

“Please, Y/N!” Hermione cried out, “We’re supposed to be best friends! But you’ve been so distant… like you’ve been keeping things from me.” 

A blush began to overtake your features. Hermione assumed it was because you were being put on the spot. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you going off with Harry all the time. Whispering about something. Please, Y/N, what’s going on? You can tell me anything!” Hermione’s tone grew more desperate with every word. It strained your heart to hear, but you just didn’t know how to fix things.

“I- listen- it’s not what you think… me and Harry just…” you trailed off, utterly dumbfounded at the confrontation and unsure of what to say as your cheeks grew redder. 

Hermione gasped once again, finally realizing what emotions were actually linked to your blush.

“Are you and Harry—?” 

“No!” You interjected immediately, “Are you serious? Harry and I are just friends.” 

Bitterly, you thought to yourself, just like us.

Hermione stared you down quizzically.

“Then what? Or…” her face fell a fraction, but you didn’t think much of it, “Or, who? Is there someone else?”

Keeping things secret from Hermione was hard. But lying? Lying was just impossible, so you opted to keep your mouth shut. 

“Who is he?” She pressed.

You tightly screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself. You just couldn’t lie to her.

“She,” you corrected timidly, not daring to open your eyes to see her reaction.

“What?” Hermione pronounced slowly, in a tone you could not read, making you terribly anxious.

You wrung your hands, opening your eyes only to stare at them, “It’s not a he, Hermione, it- it’s a she.”

The silence that followed your admission was deafening. You wished you could just disintegrate on the spot.

If only I could apparate, you thought.

“Well, that still doesn’t answer my question.” 

Your head snapped up at once to look at the girl before you. There was an unreadable glimmer about Hermione, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment as you sputtered through your attempt at a response. 

“Of course, I don’t judge you at all,” Hermione interjected, “Because- well- that would just be hypocritical.”

You went silent after Hermione’s statement. For a few moments, you two just stared at each other with matching, wide-eyed expressions.

Then, out of the blue and for no particular reason, the two of you began to laugh. The warm, new sense of freedom simply made you both so happy that you couldn’t help it.

You had been clutching your stomach by the time your laughter had died down. Hermione concluded her laughter with a sigh, leaving you two in a comfortable silence as you gazed at each other with amused expressions.

Until, Hermione’s face abruptly fell, as she realized there was still something bugging her.

“Er- Y/N?” She started apprehensively, “I’m still wondering… who is she?”

You gulped, but the news Hermione had just given you had left you with a sliver of confidence. 

“Well—” You hesitated, not sure how to say it. 

“Yes?” Hermione egged you on, a hopeful look in her eyes. 

The sliver of confidence turned into a great rush of bravery. Hoping that you were reading the signs right, you cupped Hermione’s face and leaned in.

The first thing you noticed was that her skin was very smooth underneath your fingertips. Then, your heart jolted as you felt Hermione start to kiss you back and wrap her arms around your middle. 

You smiled into the kiss, ecstatic that it was happening while simultaneously not believing that it was. 

You had grown more comfortable as a few moments passed. You dropped your tense shoulder and let one of your hands travel to the back of her head.

Meanwhile, Hermione had pulled you impossibly closer so that you were pressed up against each other.

Just when you thought you could stay like this forever, the tea kettle began to whistle.

Hermione slowly pulled away, pausing briefly to share a meaningful smile with you, and turned around to remove the water from the heat. You let your arms drop back to your sides before deciding to grab the tea bags, milk, and sugar. 

As you enjoyed your tea, you two sat atop the counter close enough that your sides were touching. 

You spent your time catching up on all the things you missed when you were being distant. 

It was almost as if you two were ignoring what had just happened between you, as you conversed about very normal things. But you were just enjoying finally being comfortable around Hermione again. 

Besides, you both had a certain glint in your eyes that was present since your intimate moment. And you were both content with letting that small sign be the recognition for your new relationship. 

Suddenly, when you were discussing something that happened in Herbology last week, the house-elf appeared with an entire basket of freshly baked pumpkin pasties. 

Your eyes widened, “Er, thank you! Th- that would be all.”

The house-elf bowed and stalked off. Once you were sure she was gone, you turned to Hermione.

“Now I feel terrible! I didn’t think she would go through the trouble of making a whole new batch!”

Hermione giggled, finding your concern endearing, and leaned in to share your second ever kiss. 

Later, when you finally arrived back at the common room, you were met with two sets of cheering. 

Ron, excited about his fresh baked goods snatched the basket from your grip and began to eat up.

However, Harry’s excitement was not for the steaming pumpkin treats. For the first thing, he noticed when you and Hermione had walked in was that you were holding hands. 

“Finally!” He cheered, throwing his fists in the air with the same energy he has after winning a quidditch match. 

Ron looked up at the commotion and took in the scene before him.

With his mouth full, he commented, “Oh! You two've finally gotten together then?”

You, Hermione, and Harry immediately turned to gape at Ron.

“You knew?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. 

“What!? It was a bit obvious they were pining after each other,” Ron shrugged, turning back to his food, “They look at each other just like you look at Cho.”

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Note: It’s 3 am and I just hope that this is as decent as my tired brain thinks it is

#Hermione Granger #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger imagines #hermione granger fanfic #hermione granger fanfiction #hermione granger x reader #hermione x reader #hermione fluff #hermione granger fluff #hermione imagine #hermione fanfic #hermione granger oneshot #hermione granger one shot #hermione one shot #hermione oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #golden trio era #golden trio imagine #hermione granger x female!reader

[curiouserandthatmuchcuriouser]

I don't talk a lot about this on social media, but two years ago I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Next month is Bipolar Awareness Month, and even though it's not here quite yet, I'd like to share my story. We all fight secret battles, and the first step to breaking the stigma of mental illness is starting a dialogue and finding compassion for others as well as ourselves.

Around December 2018, I started feeling... different than I normally do. I didn't understand what was happening at the time: I'd never had so much energy before, and at first it was exhilarating. I was running around, talking a mile a minute, suddenly completely free of the social anxiety that's plagued me my entire life, completing chores & errands in record time, and feeling on top of the world. My mind was overflowing with creativity, ideas for poems and essays and songs and even a full musical of my own design (in hindsight, it's all nonsense of course). My appetite slipped away and I suddenly felt free from the constraints of sleep, even though I'd never been more productive. I barely ate or slept, but I wasn't hungry or tired. I lost so much weight and I barely noticed.

At the same time, my moods were swinging all over the place -- I was irritable, I was ecstatic, I was angry, I was morose, I was playful, I was paranoid. I was charismatic, I was churlish, I was ambitious, I was friendly, I was sullen. I was crazy. Naturally I was too busy with my newfound productivity and "creative genius" (lol) to even notice the mood swings. I was an artist! With an artist's temperament! And there was so much to write! I started carrying around yellow sticky notepads in my pockets so I could write down my "brilliant" epiphanies (hint: it was more nonsense) wherever I went. I filled them up within days. My handwriting changed, became sloppier, messier. So many thoughts, I couldn't get them down fast enough.

My thought process, my inner monologue, became fast, then rapid, then downright muddled. It was like a movie playing at warp speed in my head, all day, every day, and most of the night too because who needed sleep when there was so much to think about? I developed a horrible sense of grandiosity. It was my newfound purpose in life to help people, personal cost be damned. I gave the coat off my back to a homeless man begging for change at the dollar store. I impulsively blew through what little savings I had on… I don't even know what. On useless crap that I didn't need.

Paranoia overtook my psyche. I was certain that some of my friends were conspiring against me in various ways, and I wouldn't (couldn't) shut up about it to anyone who would listen. I was suspicious of the world at large. I started walking around with a knife tucked into my boot (thankfully I never used it). I drove too fast, recklessly, getting lost on familiar streets (that's not poetic license, I actually found myself getting disoriented in familiar neighborhoods and needing the GPS to find my way home). I was crying while driving, sobbing and squinting at the cars ahead of me. Everything I experienced was fast and bright and sharp in the most confusing ways.

I still thought I was invincible. I was not invincible. In fact, I was 24 years old and I was experiencing my first manic episode, and it ended up being the scariest period of my life thus far.

I couldn't focus on my job anymore, a job that I loved, a job that I had worked hard to get. I would sit down to read an email and the words would swim before my eyes like a school of fish. If I tried typing anything, at least half the words would be misspelled and I'd have to start over. I wasn't getting any work done, not really. I couldn't sit still. I started pacing around the office every chance I could get and taking long walks at night in the winter chill (which I barely felt). I was feverish with mania. I was aggravated by random things and I would lash out at random people, even family and friends (perhaps especially family and friends). No one understood what I was going through, least of all myself.

Finally -- I don't even remember how I realized something was off since I was so far gone at that point -- a lightbulb went on in my head amidst the chaotic movie screen of jumbled thoughts and I realized: I'm not usually like this. I feel... sick. And when a quick Google search of my symptoms suggested "bipolar disorder," I knew I had to get help. One thing led to another, and in January 2019, I ended up moving back into my mom's house and taking medical leave from my job, the job that I loved, to do outpatient group therapy five times a week for several weeks at a nearby hospital… only to quit that job, the job that I loved, almost immediately upon returning to it because I didn't realize beforehand just how long it would take for me to recover.

I was so ashamed about quitting that job, and I still carry some of that shame around to this day, but the circumstances were completely untenable. I was on three different kinds of antipsychotics, which were expensive and caused me to gain close to 100 lbs during the time I was on them. The other side effects of those meds, like the drowsiness and the brain fog, were awful. After five-times-a-week group therapy, I graduated to once-a-week individual therapy (so proud, I know). It took me weeks to regain the ability to read more than a paragraph at a time, which was torture for me, an English major and avid reader. Television became a crutch, an easy way to pass the restless hours. I slept as much as possible during the day because I was so deeply ashamed of how far I'd fallen.

Eventually, I did recover. Considering the state I was in, I am *exceptionally lucky* and I think about that everyday. The meds, the therapy, and time did their job and helped me get back to myself. I still occasionally struggle with symptoms of depression and mania, and I always will. I'll never be the person I was before my diagnosis, but that's okay. I know who I am now, even the dark parts, and I know how to take care of all of me. That's the most important piece of the puzzle: self-awareness and self-care in equal measure.

Looking back, it truly feels like a different person inhabited my body during those awful months. An insane person, one I'd be embarrassed to know, let alone be. My brain became a snapping turtle, and no one was safe. I lost friends, people I trusted who just couldn't see past the actions and harsh words that my illness caused, even after I sought treatment and tried to make amends via heartfelt apology letters and frantic explanations. There is a fine line between accountability for past mistakes and reckoning with mental illness, and in some ways I still feel like I'm walking that line. But at least now I know I can let go some of that shame.

I am forever grateful to my wonderful network of family, friends, and mental health professionals who supported me every step of the way and saw me through to the other side. I love you. I wouldn't be myself without you. Thank you.

If you or someone you love struggle with mental illness, don't try to sweep it under the rug. Know the signs, and seek treatment. Help is available. Getting better is possible.

We all fight secret battles. Let's lead with compassion.

#bipolar disorder #bipolar #bipolar awareness #bipolar awareness month #bipolar girl #mental illness #mental health #it gets better

[felicia-cat-hardy]

My 'Pretty Little Liars' Obsession Led Me To My Best Friend

“Got a secret, can you keep it?” Well, I’ve got one: Though Pretty Little Liars ended in 2017, the seven-season mystery thriller schemed its way into being an integral part of my life for the long haul, so much so that the opening credits live in my head rent-free. To this day, each time I hear the sinister theme song — “Secret” by The Pierces — I’m brought right back to my childhood comfort show (ahem, obsession). The visuals begin with a swipe of mascara, the smear of red lipstick, and a clasp of a heel onto a porcelain doll, which makes me feel like I’m watching someone get pampered for prom. Until, of course, it cuts to four girls standing in front of a casket. It's a chilling moment, one that, until Season 6B, ended with Aria Montgomery (Lucy Hale) delivering her iconic “shh.” I got cast under the show’s spell the first time I saw it, and I wasn’t the only one: Pretty Little Liars led me to my best friend.

Ironically, plotlines about deceit and betrayal actually helped ignite a long-lasting friendship. In 2011, the only other person I knew to be watching PLL was my now-BFF, Taylor, who’s been by my side for over a decade. We were only about 11 and 12 when it premiered, so shout out to our parents for letting us watch a show that dealt with very adult themes like substance use disorder, assault, and grief. Unlike our classmates, who watched tween-appropriate hits like iCarly and Victorious, we became PLL stans.

As fans know, the show is loosely based on the Sara Shepard YA series of the same name, and the first book was my entry point into the PLL universe. I loved reading about blackmailers and murderers navigating high school, but I thought I was the only one who was into it. (Was this my ~I’m different~ complex showing, or were my peers just naturally more inclined to recap Dance Moms? I’ll never know.) So, Taylor first struck up a conversation with me at school because she spotted the first PLL book on my desk — you know, the one painted with porcelain wax dolls warning to “never trust a pretty girl with an ugly secret” in a Gothic script. She asked if I’d watched the TV adaptation yet and we immediately exchanged phone numbers to text about upcoming episodes. We then fell into the fandom. Fast.

I’d never talked to Taylor before this interaction — we had only been in a few classes together — but I always saw her as approachable and friendly. Universally, the beginning of middle school is a big and terrifying year when kids from different elementary schools unite. Eager to meet new people, I reached for friendship at any chance I could get. Taylor made it easy. Aside from being a genuinely kind person (a rare trait for a middle schooler!), she was fangirling over the same thing as me.

Fast forward over a decade later, and the show still feels timeless, especially in its accurate depictions of how dramatic high school can get. It’s no surprise there’s a PLL HBO Max reboot on the way along with the remakes of other buzzy shows from that era (hello, 2010s nostalgia). Ah. It was a simpler time. Back then, Freeform was still ABC Family and for me, Tuesdays meant one thing: PLL is on. What first started as a solo viewing experience soon became a designated hangout time, a time slot reserved for me and Taylor to gush over how much we loved Ashley Benson. (We still do!)

The series had a vibe similar to Gossip Girl or Bridgerton in that a mysterious, unidentifiable pot-stirrer keeps fans guessing each episode, but it was arguably so much better since “A,” the anonymous villain, is out for, you know, murder. Ultimately, it was the type of whodunit that made me and Taylor (and millions of viewers) go down a couple of Reddit rabbit holes — remember the “Aria is A” suspicion? — and this is where my and Taylor’s experience with fan theories began.

Oh, and let’s not forget the location. PLL takes place in the fictional suburb of Rosewood, Pennsylvania, and for two girls from Bucks Country — aka the Philadelphia ‘burbs — we ate it up. The beloved “Welcome to the Dollhouse” episode was exceptionally creepy not only because the Liars get locked into a life-size replica of their bedrooms, but also because our real neighborhood looks extremely similar to their hometown. It operates like Rosewood, too, in that small-town gossip travels at lightning speed.

The Pennsylvania-based plotline also made it easier for us to identify with the characters, who felt like extensions of ourselves. In many ways, we got to know each other through their personalities. Taylor is studious and high-achieving, obviously a Spencer. And I owned feather earrings because I saw Lucy Hale sport them in Season 1, so obviously an Aria. Asking “Are you more of a Hanna or an Emily?” held as much weight in 2012 as asking someone their rising sign in 2021. While it might not say much, it also tells you everything you need to know about a person.

PLL got its start right before live-tweeting shows became popularized, so when we weren’t together, I used to text Taylor on my slide-out keyboard phone (only Zillennials will remember) to compare notes without stumbling upon many spoilers. They read something like this: “Caleb and Hanna are soul mates, TBH.” Like every other fan, we theorized about why A had to be Ian… and Melissa… and Jenna… and Mona… and, you get the point. When our elaborate speculations ran cold, we’d pause DVR’d episodes to gather more clues, like glimpses of Red Coat’s face in her second season introduction, or inspections of those eerie-gloved hands assembling dolls and sharpening knives at the end of each episode.

This game of Clue made room for conversations about all the things. We were in high school during the show’s peak, so it felt like the Liars had laid the groundwork for how to operate our school’s halls. Rosewood High was not traditional — uh, multiple students came back from the dead (*cough* Mona and Alison) — but it did prepare us for the stressors of college applications and first romantic relationships. In fact, Benson’s Hanna Marin would be proud of my matchmaking skills because back then, I introduced Taylor to the boyfriend she’s still with today.

As we both grew up with the show, our friendship got even deeper. The Liars weren’t the only ones to share secrets, and I found it incredibly easy to confide in Taylor. She’s trustworthy, level-headed, compassionate, and an excellent listener. She’s someone I know will always pick up on the second ring and is the type of friend to be there with advice, reassurance, and a quick-witted one-liner. She once joked about never needing a diary because we’ve transcribed the past 10 years of our lives via text.

Our bond has remained strong, especially because the most outrageous PLL-esque plotlines of our lives are ones we’ve experienced together. I love Taylor because I don’t have to provide background for my stories. I’m even so familiar with the cast of characters in her life that when someone re-enters after a long period, I like to say they Alison DiLaurentis’ed her.

And on the off-chance she’s not there to witness something meaningful happen to me IRL, she’s always ready to decipher what went down over texts or dinner and drinks — just like we did when we were teens trying to figure out who A was (minus the wine, of course).

The way she can reconstruct my way of thinking and offer up a perspective I hadn’t seen before is almost paranormal. Whether these are Taylor’s naturally given talents or traits learned from peeling back all the layers of the series, I’m not sure. But she’s always there to decode situations with me — whether they relate to a TV show or during moments when I feel lost.

I couldn’t be more thankful that Taylor entered my life and that PLL played a role in our friendship. I feel so incredibly lucky to know someone like her. Plus, now I have someone who is obligated to watch the reboot with me. Ali was right: Friends do share secrets. And she’s ~quite literally~ the reason Taylor’s got all of mine. Spencer and Aria, you’ve got some competition.

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