#it's neat to walk through the streets of paris! :)

[britishchick09]

204 rue de rivoli, where rewrite nadir’s flat is! :)

#fun fact: a real persian guy also lived here! ;D #rewrite erik walks here all on his own during a future rewrite mystery stoty #he's becoming an independent lass! #...and a very nervous one #he accidentally turns on the wrong road and is like '!!!!!' but he eventually finds his way! :) #christine would look around carefully but erik had the tiniest bit of human interaction before that and it made him internally freak out #he's not a social butterfly! (neither is christine but her brain wouldn't have an error 404 at a cab driver tipping his hat to her) #she's very proud of erik for going out on his own though! :) #usually when i look at a route i just see it on the map but this time i traveled through paris! :D #i didn't make erik's mistake but i traveled through there just to see what it was like #it's neat to walk through the streets of paris! :) #so many haussmann buildings!: o #poto rewritten

[justmeinadaze]

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) Part 6 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Security Dom Steddie X Sub (slightly bratty) Singer Fem Reader, SMUT, spanking, dirty talk, slight rough play (they show her a bit more of what they are into), FLUFF, they go on a date through Paris and she shows them around, they do discuss being more exclusive (as if she or they would want anyone else🙄 ), ANGST, slightly so with her talking briefly about being sober and her fears of being in a relationship again.

Word Count: 4812

“Obviously, you’re taking us to the Eiffel Tower, right?”, Steve grinned in your direction as you three walked the streets of Paris. 

“Yes but tonight when it’s all lit up.”

The day couldn’t be any more perfect for you and you were the happiest you had been in a long time. You took them around to each place you could think of that didn’t have a long line, stopping at bakeries and little shops to have them taste everything while looking for little trinkets to bring back home. 

They seemed to really be enjoying themselves which made you smile. Eddie had befriended a street musician who handed him an acoustic guitar and he sat beside him as they played a couple of songs. You took them to a vintage store where they had a blast looking at the clothes. Steve keeping trying on different hats asking you how he looked. One had a brim that three sizes too big causing you to spit out your water as you laughed at him. 

After grabbing lunch, you took them to a park nearby and had a picnic. 

“Seriously, I’m going to gain like thirty pounds off of this bread but so worth it.”, Steve chuckles as he takes another bite of his sandwich. 

“Oh, yeah. The food is phenomenal but you have to watch out for the butter and the sauces. Don’t even get me started on the chocolate.” Eddie smiles when your eyes playfully roll back.

“Did you parents show you all these places or did you find them yourself?”, he asked.

“A bit of both. The first few years I came here I basically recreated that vacation but as I wondered the streets I found more places and things to enjoy.”

“Excusez-moi.” A little girl shyly comes up to your blanket holding out a pen and paper. “May I have your…”

“Autographe?”, you smile up at her comfortingly as she grins. “Of course. Um… Quel est… ton nom?”

“Chloe.” She beams in your direction.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. My French isn’t great.” 

“It’s…okay.” Her grin grows as you give the paper back to her and lean up on your knees to give her a hug. 

“Merci, Miss Y/L/N!”

“Merci, Chloe.”

The three of you watch her as she runs back to her parents. 

“That was adorable.”, Steve smirks.

“It was. I didn’t know you had fans that were so small.”, Eddie adds. 

“Yeah, that’s another reason I want to be better. I’m supposed to be a role model for them you know?”

“And you are, honey. You’re already doing so much better and we are extremely proud of you.”

***

“Why do I have to wear a suit?!”, Eddie shouts from the bedroom as he adjusts his tie.

“Because we’re taking her to dinner, you idiot.”

“I’m just asking!”

“Plus, this will technically be our first date with her so we should look nice.”

Both men turn when they hear you exit the bathroom and their mouths fall open in shock as their eyes drink you in. Your hair was pulled up into a neat bun displaying a pair of earrings that shimmered when you moved your head. The thin spaghetti straps held up a gorgeous, black, V-neck style dress that just barely touched your ankles. When you nervously shifted your weight, the slit in the fabric exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh showing off some fancy, matching black high heeled shoes. 

“What, um, what do you think?”

“You…you…Jesus, I may be underdressed.”, Steve breathily chuckled.

“Eddie?”

“You look beautiful, princess.”

Blushing, you loop your arms into theirs as they escort you out of the hotel. When you three arrive at the restaurant, they watch you in amazement as you talk to the people in charge and an antsy gentleman leads you to a table. Steve pulls out your chair and you thank him as you take a seat. 

Both boys straighten up when a man comes out from the kitchen and heads towards you but immediately calm when you smile, assuring them that this is someone you know.

“Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, my love! How are things?”

“Things have been rough but they are getting better. Julien, these are my friends AND security, Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington.”

They grin as they shake his hand and he returns their smiles with a bright one of his own. 

“Who better to watch your back than a friend that loves you, ah? Now, mon amour, should we start with the usual champagne?”

“Oh, no. Um, do you have something without alcohol?”

“Hmm? Oh! How about citron pressé?”

“Sure, I trust you.”, you giggle as you shrug, watching him disappear without asking the guys if that was ok with them. “I have no idea what that is but—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Both men had been starring at you with a cute, goofy smile plastered on their face. 

“Nothing. You’re just adorable.”

“It’s nice seeing this side of you to. You really needed a break, sweetheart.”

The rest of the meal couldn’t be described in any other way beside perfect. They talked to you more about some positive things in their lives trying to keep the mood uplifted. Eddie told you about his love for fantasy related things like D&D which made you laugh when the other man rolled his eyes. Steve surprised you by telling you of some movies he actually really liked.

“Ok you can’t sigh aggressively when I talk about sci-fi fantasy shit but then tell her that one of your favorite movies is Star Wars!”

“It’s completely different, Munson.”

“How!?”

“It’s actually not that different.”

“Thank you, princess!”

“But to be fair, George Lucas said he made Star Wars kind of like a western so Steve may drift more towards that then regular sci-fi.”

“Ok, you’re not on my side anymore. Hush.”, Eddie responds playfully.

You did your best to tell them more happy memories with you and your family but you struggled because it hurt. Every time you stuttered through a story, though, one or both of them would reach for your hand and urge you to continue. 

After you were done eating, you kept your word and took them to the Eiffel Tower as it was all lit up. The people in charge cut off a section so you three wouldn’t be noticed or bothered which you greatly appreciated. 

“Wow, check out that view.” Steve exhaled as he took a few pictures pausing when he noticed your face as you leaned against the railing. “You alright, honey?”

“Yeah. I just wish I could stay here in this moment. I’m having a lot of fun with you two and I think this is the first time in a long time I’ve actually been…happy.”

Eddie’s palm gently reaches out to run down your back before bringing you to his chest to wrap you up in his embrace. 

“I know what you mean. Stop me if I’m wrong Harrington but we’ve never felt like this about anyone before. We really like you, Y/N.”

“We’re all in if you are.”

“You barely know me. What if I fuck up again? What if I hurt you? What if…I’m not what you thought I am?”

“She’s doing that thing again.”, Eddie murmurs to Steve as he releases you and leans against the railing. “It’s like her own brand of self-harm…or maybe self-protection?” He raises his eyebrows inquisitively and you quickly shift your gaze. “Ah yes. There it is. She keeps says ‘What if I’ but what she really means if ‘What if you’.”

“Baby, we’re not asking you to marry us or anything. What we’re asking for is MORE nights like tonight. To be able to take you out more and get to know you better and vice versa. We know you’ve been through a lot and still are. We would never push you like they do.”

“And quite frankly, sweetheart, I don’t think there could be any more surprises because you’ve already showed us you’re not who we thought you were originally.”

“Spoiled, washed up singer.”, Steve explains when you look at them in confusion. 

“When it comes to the I’s, babe, we got you covered. You slip again and want to run all over Vegas, we’ll come get you. You have one of those moments where you try to verbally hurt us, don’t worry, we got you. We have ropes and handcuffs for situations like that.” You can’t help but giggle when he winks. 

“When it comes to the you’s, you can ask us anything and we’ll answer. If there’s something you need or need to know just let us know and we can talk about it.”

Glancing out towards the city, you feel everything run through your brain at once. You knew from the moment you met them that they were different. You trust them with your life so why were you so scared to trust them with your heart?

Because everyone who’s supposed to love you, hurts you…

Do they even love you? They can’t possibly…like you said they barely even know you. I guess it couldn’t hurt to jump in with both feet.

“Ok. Can we…we keep it between us?”

“We honestly assumed you would because of the press and everything.”, Eddie answers with a small smile. 

“I think that’s another reason Simon was with me. He liked the attention from the press.”

“Hm. Well, coming from a small town where everyone was in everyone’s business, trust me, we don’t want that kind of attention.”, Steve retorts as he leans over the railing like you had. 

Looping your arm through his, you lean your head against his shoulder as Eddie holds your hand and looks out into the city.

##############

“I have a request.”

“Oh lord.”, the metalhead playfully sighs making you smile.

“Calm down, Mr. Munson.”, you giggle. “The other night I asked you two to show me how much you care about me…” They nod when you pause, urging you silently to continue. “Can you show me how to take care of you?”

Both men, who were now sitting on the couch in the hotel room looked up at you now with slight confusion. 

“When we first got together, you said you liked it rough. The other night you implied there was more to what you both were into. I want to give you what you want.”

“You do, honey.”

“You really do.”, Eddie follows almost too eagerly. 

“I still don’t think your ready.”, Steve sighs as he takes off his jacket and starts rolling up his sleeves. 

“Isn’t this all about trust? Not only do I trust you two but you should trust me to know my limits. Well…in this regard.”

The other man takes off his jacket as well, removing his button up shirt underneath along with it now donning a white tank that displayed his muscles and tattoos in a way that had you salivating. 

“Oh, come on, Stevie. We can start slow. Maybe we can show her what a punishment would look like. Something small for running away and having us worried.”

Steve sighs playfully as he motions with his fingers for you come closer. As you sit beside him on the sofa, he gently pets the back of your head while they both continue to look at you with nothing but care. 

“If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just say the safe word, ok?”

“Ok, Steve. I promise.”

He grins as his hand slides down to your back and guides your body till you’re laying across his lap on your tummy. While he flips up the underside of your dress Eddie runs his fingers through your hair, moving any lingering strands away from your face. 

“How many you think, Ed? 10?”

“10 sounds good. I think she can handle that.”

As your stomach tightens into knots with nerves, Steve’s palm soothes you as it runs down your spine and over the meat of your ass. Abruptly, it lifted and came down spanking your behind eliciting a shocked gasp from your lips. He didn’t hit you hard as it was meant to test.

“How did that feel, babe?”

“Um, odd but g-good.”

“Has anyone ever spanked you before?”, Eddie asked.

“No. Not like this.”

“Honey, I want you to count for me, ok?”

“O-O-Okay. One.”

His hand come down much harder and this time you let out a little moan especially after Steve soothes you by running his fingers along the reddening skin. 

“Two.”

“Good girl, sweetheart.”

He spanks you twice in quick secession and they both let out a groan of their own as you breathily count them off. Steve tugs down your panties, his hand coming back to travel a bit between your legs as your mouth falls open when his thumb slides between your sex. 

“Oh, Eddie. Little baby is so wet right now. I think the spanking doesn’t feel so odd anymore, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, ringed fingers gripped your hair tightly and tugged you back. 

“He asked you something, your highness.”

“Feels…good…AH! Five!”, you moaned as Steve spanked you again.

Eddie held a tight grip on you as the other boy began steadily rubbing your clit while occasionally delivering a harsh smack to your ass. 

“What number are we on, baby? Wouldn’t want Stevie to lose count and have to start all over again.”

“Mmm—Nine—Please, Steve. I’m gonna…”

You didn’t see it but they smirked at each other as he slide two fingers into your core and rapidly pumped them inside of you. Your eyes rolled as the coil snapped and as you moaned his name his hand came down one final time while you panted out that final number. 

“Good girl, honey.”, he cooed as he delicately lifted your dress over your head. “Let’s get this off here.” You keened into his neck as he sat you up and placed you in his lap while Eddie ran his palm along your legs. “Did you like it, baby?”, Steve whispered.

“Yeah, I liked it a lot. Did you like it? Spanking me?”

He chuckles under his breath, trying to stifle the moan that wants to come out at the sound of your little voice. Reaching for your hand, he places it directly on the bulge in his slacks. 

“I loved it.” Your eyes flutter closed as his lips tenderly trail up your cheek to your ear. “You like that, pretty girl? You like making us feel good?”

“M-More. Please. I can handle more. I swear.”

They glanced at each other mischievously knowing you were all riled up. 

“No.”

“Please! I can handle it!” As you begin to whine they smile and you can’t help but laugh. “You’re messing with me?”

“A little. We’re kind of curious in this headspace how far your brat can go.” Eddie’s grin grows as you climb on to his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Do you want me to be more bratty?”

“I think you’re capable of it. I work with you remember?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hey. In here, honey, you answer us, not the other way around.”, Steve scolded. 

The metalhead tries to keep the upper hand as you grind your hips against his own. His eyes remain heavily on yours as he licks his lips to keep any other sounds from escaping. 

“In here, sweetheart, we have control.”

“You do out there to!”, you whine as you point absently outside. “Where do I have control?”

“Stop moving.”, he says sternly.

“Make me.”

His eyes grow dark as the smile he was adorning falls from his face. 

“Stop. Moving.”

You falter for a second as his voice and demeanor throw you off guard but you remain steadfast as you continue. Steve laughs from your side before Eddie lifts you up with one arm and carries you to the bedroom. 

Throwing you on to the mattress, he holds your down with his palm on your chest as he uses his other to unbuckle his belt and free his cock from its confinement. 

“If you want to stop, just tap twice, ok?” When you nod, his fingers grip your hair as he hovers his face above yours. “Ok?!”

“Ok! Yes, sir! Tap twice!”

Steve nonchalantly throws himself beside you as he watches Eddie slide his cock into your mouth. 

“She’s so fucking stubborn sometimes. I swear.”

While the metalhead takes over thrusting his length down your throat, Steve is always alert, watching you to make sure you really were ok. They genuinely did trust you would say the safe word if you needed but neither boy wanted to push you that far. 

“Fuck, princess your mouth feels so fucking good. With all that fucking sass, I’m not sure she deserves our dicks in her pussy tonight, Harrington.”

Eddie tried to control his eyes from rolling back when he felt you groan around him. 

“Did you have something you wanted to say?”

“Please. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise I’ll behave.”, you beg as you shift up to your knees and continue stroking him with your hand. “Please. I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Pinching your cheeks between his fingers, he brings your lips to his before firmly pushing you backwards onto the bed. 

“Go show Steve how much you’ll behave.”

As you crawl over to the now naked man, you tenderly kiss his stomach making him smile as he strokes your hair. Delicately running your tongue along his slit, he moans as he pulls your hair into a ponytail with his hands and watches you fully take him into your awaiting mouth. 

Eddie jostled you around a bit till your ass was fully on display for him and you both whimpered as he guided his cock into your entrance. The warmth of his chest encases you as he leans against your back and kisses your shoulder. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can take him better than that especially with the way you run that sassy mouth.” Taking over Steve’s hold of your hair, he guides your movements making you gag and drool as the man mewls with pleasure. “Atta girl. There you go.”

Eddie rolls his hips hard, roughly nudging against that tender spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back. 

“Is that the spot, pretty girl?” Pulling your head, he forces you to look at him. “Is it? Right there?” You struggle to form words as he continues to grind against you. “Answer me, Y/N.”

“Ah! Y-Yes, there. D-don’t stop. Please…”

The metalhead grins as he pushes you back down on Steve’s cock before releasing his hold on your hair to grip your waist as he leans back on his knees and pounds his hips into yours. 

“G-Good girl, honey. Fuck. You take us both so well.”, Steve coos as he pets your head.

Eddie’s fingers slide underneath you, rubbing fast circles into your little bundle of nerves, driving you crazy in the best way as you throw you head back in pleasure. 

“FUCK! Eddie please!”

Ringed fingers wrap around your throat and pull you up to your knees as you lean against his shoulder. 

“That’s right, baby. Say my name again. Who’s making you feel this good?”, he murmurs into your ear as he slams into you harder. 

“Eddie! I’m…Eddie, please…”

Your hand takes hold of his wrist as your other clings his hair while your arm wraps around his neck. His fingers move faster to match his pace while you continue chanting his name until the ball drops and your body trembles against him as you cum. 

“Fuck me.”, Eddie groans, shoving you back down against the mattress and holding your wrists behind your back as he chases his high. 

Grunting above you, his rhythm becomes sloppier and you mewl as you feel him release his seed inside of you. 

“Good girl, princess.”, he praised as he gradually pulled out of you and kissed any part of your skin his lips could reach. “It’s Steve’s turn, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready.”

Your head shot up in search for him and as your eyes met his soft ones, his fingers reached out to caress your sweaty face. When you nod, he motions for you to come closer, taking hold of you under your arms and scooting you both up closer towards the pillows. 

“Come here, honey. No, the other way.”, he instructs as you started straddling his waist. After turning away from him, he guides you down till your back his against his chest. One of his strong palms holds on to your chest as his other holds the base of his cock and runs to along your dripping lips between your legs. “Jesus. Eddie made you feel real good, didn’t he, baby?”

Nodding, you turn your head to kiss his cheek and he moans as he breaches your entrance, sheathing himself inside of you with minimal resistance. As he thrusts his hips up against you, his fingers move around to massage your nub as the hand on your chest takes hold of tit making you growl in ecstasy.

“Steve! So…so deep…oh god.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, Y/N?” Picking up his pace, the bed begins to move underneath you as he clings to your sweaty, messy frame. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s our girl. Your pussy is just fucking clinging to me, pretty girl, God damn.”

 Pushing up, you balance on your hands as your hips push down to meet his. 

“Can you see it? My cock disappearing inside of you?”

“Steve, please. Please!”

Tugging on your hair, he pulls you back against him, hugging your tightly as he thrusts into you harder. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room and your eyes roll back as you drag your nails against his flesh.

“I’m…I’m…”

Without warning, he shoves against your back pushing you up and pulling himself out of you, yanking your hips backwards till your pussy was hovering over his face. Roughly, his hands pushed you back down, urging your lips over his cock as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you still as he his tongue devoured you. 

Your hips grinded against him as his head moved quickly from side to side causing you to lift your head and scream as you came. As he continued to lick your clean, you bobbed your head around his length wanting him to feel as good as he had just made you feel. 

His grunts reverberated in your cunt as he pumped his hips upwards till you felt rope after rope of his spend hit the back of your throat.

Falling to the side, you both panted till Eddie’s voice broke the silence. 

“Yeah, that’s cool. Just put your feet by my face.” You giggled as you lifted your leg and touched his nose with your big toe. “Ew, gross. With these beautiful pedicured, toes. Still purple, I see.”

“I like purple and no one is looking at my feet that closely in an arena style concert.”

“Do you want to take a bath, Y/N, or a shower?”, Steve asks.

“I want to curl up into a cocoon and sleep for 100 years.”

“Ok, bath it is.”, he grinned as he rolled over the side and lifted you into his arms. 

While he got everything ready, Eddie’s hands lightly gripped your shoulders and tilted you forward. When your eyes shifted to the mirror, you realized he was looking at your behind.

“It doesn’t hurt. I mean, it’s sore but…”

“I figured. I just need to take a look and make sure you don’t need any ice or anything. I’m sure you’ve noticed but Steve Harrington has big hands so sometimes he unintentionally leaves marks that last for a couple of days.”

“Part of the reason I ask questions.”, he winks as he guides you into the water.

“No one has ever asked me questions before or even done any kind of aftercare. I like it. It makes me feel cared for. 

“We do care… a lot.”, Eddie smiles as he holds up your hair while Steve continues to clean you. 

“Is this normal for you two? The shared partner thing?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘normal’ but we’ve done it before. Never with a client, however.”, Steve sighs. 

“So…this could look bad for everyone if people found out?”

Both men stopped moving as they gave you their full attention. 

“Yes. And not just because of the press.”

“People may not hire us anymore if they thought our judgment could be altered when it came to protecting them.”, Eddie followed in a serious tone.

“Are you implying Mr. Munson, that your judgment in keeping me safe has now changed?”

“I’m saying, Y/N, I would take a bullet for you but, for example, us keeping you sober isn’t a part of the security job description. If…If you wanted to get drunk right now we shouldn’t have any say in that…”

“Unless it leads to you roaming Paris in your underwear or makes someone want to hurt you.” Steve glances over your serious face. “What are you thinking, honey?”

“I just…I see what you mean. I wouldn’t want either of you to take a bullet or get hurt because of me. I’d rather it be me…”

It had been a while since you saw their eyes shift into this particular authoritative glow. Steve almost too roughly cupped your cheeks in his hands as he forced you to look at him. 

“Don’t ever think or let us hear you say that again. It’s our job to keep you safe not the other way around. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, I understand.”, you whisper as your hands takes hold of his wrists. 

“Y/N, like I said, we care about you but if your safety is on the line BECAUSE of us then we would end this right here right now.”

You pushed down the urge to cry at the thought of them leaving you. They had done so much for you in the short time they had been a part of your team. 

“I promise I won’t interfere. I trust you both to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s for a moment before he kisses your forehead and lets you go. 

##########

The following Monday, the three of you were sitting in your manager’s office waiting for him as he burst through with Sarah in tow. 

“Well, look who decided to finally grace us with her presence. How was the vacation, Y/N?”, Jack sassed. “I don’t know why you two are even here. You’re fired.”, he gestures towards the boys. 

“No they aren’t.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said no they aren’t and you lower your voice when you speak to me!” Sarah smiled from her seat as the men on either side of you contained their excitement for you. “Jack, I’m tired. You were one of the ones that kept pushing me to get sober and now that I’m trying…I shouldn’t be on tour right now especially not with people like Mark shouting at me every 10 seconds. I need time to really have go at this.”

“Y/N…”, he sighed. “We’ve had this tour set up for months. Now I’ve put up with a lot from you but—”

“But nothing. I’m telling you no. I need a break. I can do interviews and keep working on the album. I can do little shows here but I can’t do a country wide tour right now.”

“Y/N, listen to me. Hear me. If you do this, if you cancel this tour, I will be forced to drop you as a client.”

You straighten up as you exhale, tapping into that sassy girl that resides within you. 

“So be it. Sarah? Have you thought about being an agent?”

“Me? Oh, um, I mean…”

“You’re honestly the only person I trust who has always had my well-being in mind. I’ll pay you what I pay Jack and then some.”

She smiles as she glances towards your now former agent. 

“I guess I just got a promotion.” You both stand, giving her a big hug before she pulls back to cup your face. “I’m really proud of you. I’ll come by later today and we can talk about a statement for the tour.”

“Y/N, please! Don’t do this! Look, why don’t you sit down and we can talk about this rationally.”, Jack begs. As he reaches for your arm to stop you from leaving, Eddie swats it away. 

“I’m sorry, sir. You aren’t allowed to touch Miss Y/L/N.”

“But if you would like to speak with her, feel free to call her agent Sarah to set up an appointment.”, Steve grins as they both follow you out of the office. 

#############

@rckstrbee @melodymishahiddlestan @strangerfreak

@siriuslysmoking @micheledawn1975 @cositaslua

@munsonmoonshine86 @unfocused81 @paleidiot

@dad-steddie @aol19 @strngrlytn @mrsjellymunson

@needylilgal022

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[itsmymeaningoflife]

When your eyes did not know me (like I know you)

Daryl was captured and experimented on, scrambling his mind and wiping his memories. When he was found roaming the streets of Paris, he could only remember one thing. One name. Carol.

Daryl woke up shaking.

He did most days. Sometimes his cheeks were stained with the tears he cried in his sleep, other times he couldn’t shake the crippling nausea that racked his gut, forcing him to scramble away from where he slept to wretch into some bushes. Most days though, he would wake up feeling empty. A soul-crushing void where all the love he had for his old life, his old people, used to reside inside him. He didn’t remember them. He couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried. But he knew that they were there, because he missed them. God, he missed them so desperately. He felt it clawing inside of him, screaming at him to remember the people that were gone. Ripped away from his memories but not from his heart. And every morning when he awoke Daryl trembled, hollow and scared, unable to trust his torn up mind.

He had his name at least. Daryl Dixon. A plastic medical wristband with his name scrawled in neat lettering scratching uncomfortably on his wrist was one of his first new memories from when he opened his eyes here. It was here he learnt that he had been tossed aside- left to rot with all the other discarded experiments. But his wristband was intact, and he had his name, his real name. And that was more than most here. He didn’t remember what had happened to him. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe forgetting everything was a mercy. Daryl was found, shivering and twitching on the streets of France, unable to form a coherent sentence let alone recall what had happened to him, by a group just like him. People who had been taken and used. They took him back to their base and coaxed him into a bed. Someone fed him a tea, to which he mindlessly obliged, and before he knew it he was sleeping. He slept for four days. And when he awoke, a man with a broken pair of glasses taped at his nose sat with Daryl to explain what had happened to him.

He was a test subject, he was told. Just like everyone else here. A group of scientists that survived ‘the collapse’ insisted they could find a way to rewire the brain so that it was immune to reanimation after death. But the only proof of this experimentation Daryl had was his arms full of needle prick scars and bruising. That and his name tag.

Daryl.

He knew it was his. It was the only thing that felt right. Felt certain. Even on the bad days, when he couldn’t bring himself to get out of his sleeping bag and his mind spun aimlessly, unable to navigate through the endless fog of loss, he knew his name was Daryl. And he knew that there was a world that he didn’t belong in that crumbled and he found a new life- a better life- amongst the chaos.

Sometimes he would get flashes, usually in his dreams, of what he presumed was his old life. A motorcycle. A woman’s smile. A hand reaching out to him. A crossbow. A white flower in a bottle. But he didn’t know what any of it meant. Didn’t know why these things were once important enough to him to stick in his scrambled mind. Another man in the group, an old guy who clung to a walking stick to hobble around, had told Daryl one particularly bad night after dinner that people do return to the light. He explained that had come to them way more far gone than Daryl, had slowly been able to drag their memories back. Every night he prayed that it would happen for him too. He didn’t know if he was religious before, he wasn’t even sure if he was now, but he prayed all the same; begging for a second chance to be Daryl Dixon again.

There was another name though. One that these people said he was babbling, over and over again when they first found him. A name that he mumbled in his sleep. A name that felt just as much a part of him as his own two hands. A one word mantra that made him certain that he had someone, at least one person, that he cared about.

Carol

The name that he couldn’t put a face to- only a sense of home. The name that tasted bitter on his tongue, like sadness and regret. But his heart ached longingly at the sound of it. Daryl tried- god he tried- to remember something from before. Who was he? Did he have a family? Who was Carol? Who was she to him? How long had he known her? Why was her name the only thing that stuck firmly in his fragmented mind?

“Carol.” Daryl mumbled to himself quietly as he took a shaky breath and tried to calm himself. Her name helped anchor Daryl’s mind and bring him back to the present. “Carol. Carol. Carol.”

“Who’s Carol?” Asked one of the women in the group as she took a pot off the fire. Daryl remembered that she was found by the group after him, but he didn’t know her name. He didn’t bother learning anyones name. And didn’t want to get close to anyone here. No one at all. Most of their names were made up anyway, not all of them being as fortunate as him to have their tags still intact. The man with the walking stick had said talking about the things he could remember might help bring other memories to the surface.

“Don’t remember” Daryl said plainly, pushing himself up to sit “And the bits I do remember are too foggy. I don’t even know if they’re real.”

He had so many questions and no way of getting answers. Every day he woke up and debated leaving this group of strangers in search of the person that was, for some reason, so important to him. But every day he gave into the urge to stay. At least here he was safe. At least here he was surrounded by people that understood what he was going through.

“You must have loved her a lot.” She commented, pouring two mugs of warm tea, handing Daryl one, and settling down opposite him to drink her own.

“Why do you say that?” Daryl mumbled into his mug, not wanting to face the possibility that he had once loved someone so much that her very name had survived the cracking of his mind, but now he couldn’t even conjure up her face.

“You know her name, don’t you? That must mean something.” She shrugged, as if it was clear as day. When Daryl didn’t reply, the woman prompted “Tell me about her?”

Daryl hardly glanced up.

“I know her name was Carol. I know that we must have survived together.” Daryl began, staring absently into the fire as he spoke aloud some of the things he had pieced together for the first time. “I remember that she liked the colour red. I remember that she liked baking, and she was good at it too. Always smelt sweet, like she’d just made a fresh batch of cookies.”

Daryl felt sad all of a sudden, washed with the sense of deeply rooted loss. These things must have been true for them to hurt him the way that they did. But it was like he was trying to hold on to the details of a really good dream as it slipped away when he woke.

“I remember hugging her and being happy. I was so, so, so happy. The happiest I’ve ever been in my life” He continued through the lump in his throat. “And I remember hugging her and being sad. She was sad too.”

As he spoke, things fell into place, ordering themselves neatly in his mind. And he grew quieter, knowing he still couldn’t fill in all the gaps.

“And she told me something very important, but I don’t remember what she said. Or what she looked like. Or how she talked. Or the way she laughed.” Daryl shrugged sadly. “There’s nothing there. It all just gone.”

“Are you going to go looking for her?” The woman asked gently, entranced by the way he spoke about Carol

“I’m gonna try. One day.” Daryl nodded firmly.“Sut she could be anywhere. She could be anyone.”

“She could be me.” The woman smirked and Daryl snorted out a small grunt of laughter at this strangers absurd attempt of humour

“There’s one thing I do know about her, just one thing.” Daryl assured with a shake of his head. “If I loved her as much as I think I do, and I met her again, I would absolutely know it was her.”

“That’s pretty romantic.” Smiled the woman with the short grey hair as she idly played with the twine around her wrist. “I’m sure she loved you, too.”

#caryl #twd #carol x daryl #caryl is endgame #daryl dixon

[eriksangel666]

Madeline and the Phantom of the Opera: An Original Story by @eriksangel666

In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, there lived 12 little girls in 2 straight lines.

They left the house at half past 9 in rain or shine. The smallest one was Madeline.

The little girls all loved to sing. In music class, their voices would ring.

Miss Clavel wanted to reward their talent with something sweet. Then one morning, she read the paper and said: "I know just the treat!"

Just before bed, she told them, "Girls, get plenty of rest. Tomorrow we're going to the opera, and I want you looking your best."

"The opera, the opera!" cried the girls with cheer. They slept and dreamt of the wonderful music they'd hear.

The next evening, in dresses pressed and neat, they set off for the opera and walked down the street.

The opera closed since it's chandelier was not quite right, but now it was fixed and ready for re-opening night.

In two straight lines, the girls sat down with glee. But there was one problem: little Madeline could not see.

She strained to peer over a lady's bouffant hair when she looked up, saw an empty box and thought "I can see from there!"

Since tonight was special, she did not want to frighten Miss Clavel. So she tiptoed very quitely and snuck out quite well.

Upon arrival, she saw the door had no locks, and easily entered the opera box.

Madeline loved her view of the stage, but her presence filled a mysterious man with rage.

"Mademoiselle," said a voice, "this box is mine."

"I won't stay long," she said, "the opera ends at 9."

"If you don't leave, there's no telling what I'll do!"

To the grump invisible man, Madeline just said "Pooh pooh! You are invisible, how could you have a place? If you want your seat that much, show me your face!"

At once he showed himself. He was no ordinary host. Madeline realized she had met the Opera Ghost!

"Oh Monsieur!" she gasped, her face turning white. The ghost cackled at her expression because he thought it was fright.

But after a few seconds, he was no longer glad. He realized Madeline was actually sad.

The ghost asked "What are you staring at?"

"You remind me of my friend," she said "A bad, bad hat."

He frowned. "What's that?"

"My friend Pepito always acted like he was mad. But really, he was lonely and quite sad."

She asked, "Monsieur, are you lonely too?" The ghost was shocked- she actually knew!"

"Yes," the Ghost whispered to Madeline. "I have been lonely for quite some time."

"But the music makes me feel less alone. And for that, I'm glad the opera is my home."

Madeline smiled. "I would never want the music to end." She took the ghost's hand. "May I join you tonight as a friend?"

The ghost blinked and became quite shy. He did not want Madeline to see him cry.

He said, "I would love nothing more mademoiselle." He sat her in his lap and they listened to the singers excel.

Madeline asked questions about the people who could sing, and the Ghost taught her music facts that were most interesting!

They mostly talked, which made the Ghost quite glad. Maybe having one friend wasn't all that bad.

At the end, Madeline gasped, "I must get back to Miss Clavel!"

The ghost smiled "I'll bring you back, she won't be able to tell."

Other guests would have been in a daze, but Madeline loved being guided through the Opera like a maze.

The Ghost kissed her hand. "Ma petite chou, I'll bid you goodnight." And with a flicker, he vanished completely out of sight.

The beauty of the music made all the girls weep. Miss Clavel said, "Allons-y, you little girls need sleep."

Late at night, Madeline wondered if she made up the ghost in her head. But she rolled over and found a letter that fell out while changing for bed.

She opened the note and it filled her with glee. For at the bottom in cursive were the letters "O.G."

It said, "Next time you want to hear music that's sweet, join me in my box and I'll bring you a seat."

Madeline now has a friend who lives under the Opera House floor

And that's all there is. There isn't anymore.

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik #madeline #miss clavell #paris #ludwig bemelman #poto crossover #fanfic #fanfiction #phan fic #original poem #eriksangel666 #if anyone wants to draw illustrations that would make my day please and thank you

[strooples]

Tournament settings in Bakuten Shoot

I still find the setting of the 3 world tournaments for 1st season Bakuten Shoot to be a very interesting choice. China, the US, then Russia.

All 3 countries bring to mind some not-so-great current events and geopolitical tensions. All 3 countries have people who tend to (unfortunately) be stereotyped because of their birth country’s system, government, and its effects on global politics.

But for a world-trekking adventure like Beyblade — where we inevitably meet a diverse set of characters from origins spanning all over the world — it feels both perfect and deliberate. Because we focus on those countries simply as the novel places our main characters go to (for instance when they go to Moscow, Russia — Max in the dub makes a comment about how pretty the country is and how nice the people are; IDK what the sub says though). Which conversely leads us to focus on our new opponents & new friends as people before nationalities. It’s almost like a “Screw stereotypes, let’s just beyblade!!” reminder from the creator.

And even in our main team itself, we have:

Max, who is American + grew up in the US but half-Japanese ethnically. In the manga, it was even mentioned how Max struggled to make friends initially in Japan at first due to being hafu (which the anime sadly left out when introducing Takao and the audience to him). So it was a neat little thing to have a character mirror a real scenario of someone who would logically struggle to fit in when coming to Japan, like the story of many hafu people in reality (whether living there their entire childhood or abroad). And after the introduction, focusing on him as the wholesome person he is, seeing his competent blading, and showing him having a great time with his friends touring the world. Which TBH is quite a nice treat, since Americans in Japanese media tend to be heavily stereotyped one way or another.

…and…

Rei, from an unnamed village in China. Who is a nice kid that cracked under the pressures at home, chose to run away, experience the world, and play for a new team. We really get to see his issues back at home with generational trauma, why he had to leave, but also seeing him as a person. We see problems present in his home environment’s culture, but also the person behind it who pulled through and expanded his world. Like being a great friend, a teammate that pulled through, and getting the chance to play for the Japanese team as an equal regardless of his past, his origins, or the pressures previously put on his shoulders.

So honestly, it’s just a neat detail that clicked in my mind once they reached Moscow after the journey through mainland Europe!!

Side note:

I’ve got to say that my favorite destination of theirs is Hong Kong when they were a bit off of mainland China — staying there as a stop before the Chinese tournament. I still think of the pretty sunset depictions of Hong Kong as the Bladebreakers walk around street corners trying to find Kai. It was so pretty!!

I remember stumbling into a Wordpress blog from googling Beyblade (it was something about Kai?? no clue). And the US-based blogger talked about how a lot of his travel bucketlist included the Beyblade destinations such as Hong Kong, London, Paris, Rome, and Moscow. It’s such a cool thing to imagine how many people this show must’ve inspired to go and see new countries! :D

#beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #max mizuhara #rei kon

[peakyblindas]

Fancy meeting you here. (Agent 47 x OFC)

(So...uhh, yeah here we are I guess, I’m a simp for the bald clone man.)

Pandora is in Paris and runs into the last person she’d expect.

Paris was Pandora’s favorite city, she enjoyed the food and the culture, But mostly she enjoyed the role it allowed her to play.

Tonight, in the expensive hotel named The Golden Swan or ‘le cygne d'or’ she was a heiress from the South of the country named Océane Devillers and she was here to attend a opening at a private art gallery down the street, the next night, Then at the after party, she would slip some poison into the drink of the headlining artist, Vincent Ponce.

She’d be back in the hotel spa before anyone even noticed her.

The sound of heels on marble was her favorite sound. Of course when playing the role of a french heiress, you have to dress the part, designer shoes, expensive silk blouse, pearl necklace, Diamond earrings, All completed the illusion. 

Cutting through the lobby was the quickest way to the lifts that lead to the rooftop restaurant, where dinner was being served.

There was a man checking in at the front desk, he was wearing a thick coat and fedora against the nights rain. 

“And your name, Monsieur?” The polite receptionist asked 

“Tobias Rieper.” 

Pandora’s heart stopped in her chest, What in the hell was he doing here?

                                                     X

After a quick dinner, far quicker than Pandora would have preferred, She walked up to the desk, a fake smile plastered on her ruby red lips.

“So sorry to bother you..” 

The receptionist smiled back 

“But I was supposed to be meeting a friend of mine for drinks, A Mr. Rieper? And he didn’t show.” She leans on the desk “He has checked in, hasn’t he?”

“Yes Miss, he checked in over an hour ago.”

She laughed, polite, fake. 

“The fool has probably passed out in his room, he always gets tired when traveling.” She paused to laugh “I don’t suppose I could get his room number, to go wake him?”

“Uhh..We aren’t allowed to give out guests room numbers..”

“Oh please? Just this once?” She tapped her fingers on the desk “He’ll be livid if he misses me.”

The Receptionist sighs

“Just this once.” She types away on her computer “He is in room 205, fourth floor.”

“Thank you so much.” 

She reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a wad of euro bills “For you breaking the rules..”

She slid her a twenty, the receptionist quickly took it and stuffed it into her jacket pocket

“Thank you so much Madam.”

                                                              X

Pandora half didn’t expect an answer as she knocked on the wooden hotel room door.

But he did, In a weird turn of events she had been right about him being asleep, a lucky guess, judging by the dressing gown he wore around his muscular frame. 

Agent 47 never seemed to change, always had his clean shaved face and head, always had piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you, All though they did widen in surprise at seeing her.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mi amour.”  She smiled, keeping up the fake accent 

He didn’t answer.

“Well..invite me in, it's the polite thing to do.”

She stepped over the threshold into his room, it was painfully neat.

“Or do they not teach you manners at the ICA?”

She dropped the accent, slipping back into her natural English, all though even that was a fake, she was Russian by birth. 

The door clicked shut and before she could react she was being slammed against it, his arm on her throat.

“What are you doing here?” 

There wasn’t a hint of emotion in his voice, there never was.

“Currently I do believe I’m being threatened.” He increased the pressure on her throat “Alright, Alright..I’m not here for you, if that's what you mean.”

He relaxed and removed his arm

“If I was here for you, 47, you’d be dead.”

A brief smile flashed across his face.

“Then why are you here?”

“Best cocktails and spa in all of Paris.” She walked over to his bed, the sheets were tucked in so tight she wondered if he even slept under them, she sat down “On a job, you know I can’t tell you what, I suspect you signed the same NDA” 

“At least give me a place, so I know we’re not after the same target.”

“Art gallery.” 

He nodded “Not the same.” 

“When is your hit?”

“Tomorrow.”

She smiled “So you have one night in Paris?” 

She kicked off her heels “Whatever shall you do to pass the time?”

He slid the security chain over his door and moved towards her, slow, Like the predator he was.

But she was no mere prey. 

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

#OC: Pandora #hitman fanfiction #agent 47 x ofc

[bslack12]

Les Catacombs de Paris

As the holiday weekend approaches up, there were still classes to have and sights to see. Before our off day on 14 Juillet, it was time to visit one of the city's most famous sights. We were told it was a miracle that our group got tickets, and while I thought that my trip would have been just fine in an alternative situation, once again, Paris was there to throw my doubt right back in my face.

I started my morning, however, with some reading in breakfast in the shadows of the Palais du Luxembourg, an amazing way to kickstart what turned into quite a long day/night/day. After a metro to Denfert-Rochereau, we we finally able to descend hundreds of feet below Paris into the world of Charles-Axel Guillaumot. His story was an absolutely fascinating one to read, as his architectural passions turned into an obsession with Paris, something that seems normal until you know that the Paris that he is concerned with is only inhabited by bones.

Once we were down below, it was a nice little wind through fixed up quarries that, at a time, loomed over, or more aptly under, the safety of the city. My head was brushing the top of the ceiling at most time, so my walk included a lot of ducking; it is a good thing that I am not claustrophobic.

Once we entered the "empire of the dead" , it was an absolute wonder to see the endless rows and tunnels of neatly stacked bones ornamented with skulls in various patterns. With the skulls themselves, it was unreal to see the injuries that had most likely inflicted death upon another human in hundreds of years past. There were quite a few bullet holes, but the ones that remember most were a pair that looked as if it had been stitched together. It was such a cool experience to be transported underground and just walk along lines of history right in front of your eyes. While I thought it would just be bones and bones and bones, the story of Guillaumot, the display and arrangement of the catacombs, and the simple truth of the experience itself was quite remarkable.

After our walk-through was complete, I made my way across the street to the Musée de la Liberation. It was very cool as I got to learn a lot about an aspect of World War II that is not focused about much in the US, but it the entire story of the war here. It was not a large museum but it was super informative and full of neat artifacts from the time.

I made my way back to Maison de Mines at a time early than no other during this trip. This was because I needed to nap and prepare my body for the daunting challenge of a Bastille Day all-nighter that was to begin Thursday night and last until after noon on Friday.

[pipesinparis]

week 3

saturday

Saturday we went to the tuilleries again to read our monologues and eat street food at the carnival area that they had! I loved hearing everyone’s monologues and seeing how people interpreted their paintings! After, we went to Comedie Francaise to see Scapin which I really enjoyed! I thought that Scapin was a wonderful main character and I loved how interactive the actors were with the audience! At one point Scapin brought a little boy up onstage to whack Geronte while he was swinging in a bag. 

monday

Monday we did a tour of the Bastille area and went to the Conciergerie. Walking to the Bastille area was really interesting especially because nothing was left! They had a commemorative monument in the center of the area and had marked off the area where the fortress had been before it was destroyed! After that, we walked to the conciergerie where we saw a lot of beautiful places on the way! We walked across il saint louis and saw beautiful apartments and a wonderful view of the Seine! The conciergerie was very interesting! We learned about imprisonment during the revolution, which I found especially interesting because I study criminology. Seeing Cesare Beccaria quoted in a museum felt very full circle for me because I am very familiar with his work. There was also a video about the legal process during revolutionary trials which I also found very intriguing. While we were visiting the conciergerie, the military pilots were practicing their route for Bastille day which was very neat to see, especially because we had spent the morning learning about the revolution and the first Bastille day!

tuesday

Today has most definitely been my favorite part of the trip! I had no idea how stunning the Palais of Versailles would be! Walking through the Chateau was so enriching for me! I loved seeing all of the art that was displayed. The interior design was unlike anything I had ever seen. I couldn’t stop admiring the textured wallpaper and the ceiling art that had been dedicated to different greek gods! The hall of mirrors was also stunning! It was hard to believe that the place we were in was meant to be a home, even if it was for royalty. While I was very confused when we were told that the Grand and Petit Trianons had been built as “escapes from the main palace”, I understood when I got there. With that being said, the Grand Trianon was so indescribably beautiful and I will probably never forget when Sophia and I stepped outside and saw the view of the gardens from the pink marbled courtyard. All of the gardens were also so beautiful and well manicured and the boat ride we took was so much fun! It felt very surreal to be sitting in a boat floating down a pond in Versailles. The Hamlet was also stunning but made me remember how egregious monarchs are. The fact that Marie Antoinette built the Hamlet to reflect a regular village feels very dystopian, although I can also understand wanting your children to have some sense of normalcy. 

wednesday

Today was our solo adventure day! We started off with a silent walk around the Saint Sulpice. I really enjoyed being able to reflect on the trip and the experiences I have had and I think it was a great way to kick off solo day! I decided to take the 42 minutes to walk to my destination and I’m so glad I did! I saw so many areas of Paris that I never would have been and felt so creatively inspired the whole time. My destination was the Cognaqc-Jay Museum which had the personal collection of Ernest Cognacq, who founded the Samaritaine department store, and his wife Marie-Louise Jay. The museum was very small but I still enjoyed seeing their personal collection. My favorite part was the small hallway of statues which were there to represent the standards of beauty at the time! The blurb on the wall reminded me a lot of the Venus de Milo. On the way back, I wandered around the 11th and Il Saint Louis, which I can safely say is my favorite part of Paris. I ate at one of the restaurants Gossip Girl filmed at and stopped for ice cream at Berthillion which Herman had told us about when we were headed to the Conciergerie on monday! At the end of the day, we all met up to talk about where we went and it was so exciting hearing about everyone else’s adventures! 

thursday

Today was the last official day of the program and I was a lot sadder than I thought I would be! It was also Bastille Day which was so fun! Yesterday we kicked off bastille day by attending a fireman’s ball which was so much fun, mainly because of the time spent with our group! Almost everyone went and we had a blast dancing together! This afternoon we all met up at Amorino again to get ice cream before heading to the Jardin du Luxembourg for the last time to discuss a moveable feast and our overall thoughts on the program. I really enjoyed hearing everyone’s interpretations of A Moveable Feast and I loved hearing everyone’s “pows and wows”. After, we all met up for a group dinner and went to see the fireworks for Bastille Day together at the Pantheon! 

Reflecting 

I knew that studying abroad would be a very memorable experience and that my knowledge and perspectives would have expanded, but I never could have anticipated the extent to which that has happened. Looking back on my first post on this blog, I feel like a completely different person, but I will save that for another post. I think that my best advice for someone who has never been to Paris is to take your time here! While most people won’t be in the city for 3 weeks straight, I still suggest slowing down! Pick one big activity that you want to do every day and spend a while there! Don’t just rush through to check off a list of places you feel like you have to go to! With that being said, I do think it should be required for everyone visiting Paris to take the train out to Versailles because it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I also encourage everyone to try and see at least one performance whether that be a ballet or a puppet show! The culture regarding the arts here is so much different than it is in the United States and I think that everyone needs to experience that so we can begin to bring a piece of that appreciation back with us!

[nixll]

venice for one

pairing : harry styles x reader

summary : after getting broken up with and struggling with your own insecurities, you make the split-second decision to take a solo trip to venice. you expect the week to be a fun-filled adventure, but when you accidentally have a run-in with a famous popstar, things don’t go quite as you expect them to. 

word count : 9.5k

warning : smut, 18+

“you don’t ever do something just because it makes you feel good?”

paris for one by jojo moyes

The moment you step off the train and onto the platform, you feel a sudden urge to turn back around, toss your bags back on the bench you had been seated on, and make the same exact trip you had just taken again, only backwards this time.

Instead, you force your feet to take one step after another, your suitcase dragging noisily behind you against the concrete platform as you lug your tote bag higher up on your shoulder. In your hand is a note scribbled with the name of the bed and breakfast you booked yourself into, and directions written neatly with bullet points, but as you enter the city of Venice, Italy, you know finding the place you’re looking for is going to be much harder than you had first thought.

The city, as gorgeous as it is, is a slightly confusing maze of sidewalks and canals, and there’s people everywhere. The anxiety you had managed to push away when you got off the train is slowly returning as you look at your directions and attempt to find your way.

This trip had been a split-second decision, one made by your irrationally, heartbroken brain only a few hours after your boyfriend had dumped you. The breakup had come as a surprise to you, especially after many of your friends had brought up the idea of marriage after several years together, but your now ex-boyfriend had thought otherwise.

“You’re not the girl I fell in love with,” he had claimed in an uproar as he threw a suitcase together, “you’re not the fun, outgoing person I used to know.”

You had tried arguing against his claims, but it had done no good, and in the end, he had walked out with nothing more than a promise to come back to what had been your shared apartment to get the rest of his stuff over the next few days. When you called your friends to tell them what happened they had done their best to fill your head with encouraging words and stories about how you were still a fun person to be around, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized your ex was right.

You weren’t the same person he had fallen in love with, and you hadn’t been that person in a long time. In some ways that was okay. You had fallen in love young and where you grew up, he still acted like the immature college student you had met years ago. He partied constantly, going out with friends at all hours of the night, and you honestly don’t remember the last time the two of you hung out somewhere other than the bar down the street. Nice restaurants had never been his thing, and in wanting to make him happy, you had never opted for anything but what he suggested.

You knew he wasn’t happy anymore, and neither were you. You were getting older and concerning yourself with your job and what your future looked like, not when the next time you could go for a cocktail hour was. You had settled into a routine for yourself, one that required no more effort than you needed, and in having that, your now ex-boyfriend decided you were a prude.

After a while, though, you wondered how much of what he had said to you was true. You don’t remember being much of a party girl when you were younger, but you definitely had your moments, and you definitely hadn’t had one of those moments in a long time. You knew if asked what word could describe you the best, adventurous or outgoing wouldn’t be the first word, or second or third to pop into anyone’s head, but maybe you wanted to be those things.

Maybe you wanted a stranger on the street to look at you and wonder what kind of adventures you had been on because just by looking at you, they can tell you know how to have a good time. Maybe you wanted to be that pretty girl in the room, the one that nobody could take their eyes off of.

Five hours after your relationship had ended, you decided you didn’t need your ex, but you did need a change of pace.

You were going to take a trip to Italy by yourself. You hadn’t told anybody, not even your friends, and had only left a brief voicemail to your workplace calling out sick for the rest of the week and no other explanation. It had taken you an hour to book all the tickets needed for travel and to find a place to stay that would take you with such little notice, but in practically no time at all, and with two haphazardly packed bags, you had been on your way to Italy for what you hoped would be a fun adventurous few days.

So far, the idea of a fun filled week had completely escaped your mind and your first day in Italy had started out with a drag.

You had yet to find the Bed & Breakfast you had booked yourself into, and with a sore shoulder from carrying your bag and your hand growing increasingly sweaty as you gripped onto your suitcase, you were beginning to think about what your best bet would be on getting home.

Not a single person you had managed to stop speaks English, and even after you show them the name of the place scribbled at the top of your sheet in Italian, nobody is seemingly able to help you. Venice is not the biggest city, and you remember briefly reading about how it is possible to walk the entire city in the matter of an hour. With a glance at the watch on your wrist, you’re ready to turn around and make your way back to the train station in the hopes of catching a ride back.

That’s when you spot it: the barely-there sign with a name on it that matches the one on your paper.

Vera Ospitalità.

It’s a cute little blue building, looking exactly like it did when you were Googling places to stay in Venice. It hadn’t cost very much, and the lady had sounded sweet over the phone when you asked how soon she would have a room open.

“We always have a room open, cara.”

You hadn’t quite understood what she meant at the time, but the sight of those two Italian words fill your body with a jittery joy as you let out a shout, catching the attention of a few people walking past you. You pay them no mind as you pick up the pace, not taking your eyes off the sign until you’re standing in front of the door and pushing it open.

The bell above lets out a delightful jingle as you walk in. You can only imagine what you look like to the lady sitting at the desk as you walk in with sweat dripping down your forehead and a slightly rumpled paper stuffed in your hand, but she offers you a cheerful smile.

“Are you Irene?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you step up to the desk, letting your bag fall from your shoulder. “We talked on the phone yesterday.”

“Yes! Hello, cara,” Irene says, standing from her seat and reaching for the guestbook she keeps under the counter. “I am happy to see you made it. How was your trip?”

You smile, trying not to think about the want to turn back around and head home you felt only minutes ago. “It was good! Happy to finally be here.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Just sign these forms and I will get you your key.” Irene pushes the book your way and you easily sign your name on the dotted line. “There is only one bathroom upstairs, but you get the room directly across from it.”

Your head snaps up from the book. “One bathroom?”

“Yes,” Irene nods, “but it has a tub, and the water runs perfectly. And there is only one other guest staying here this week, so there should be no trouble.”

“There’s only two of us here?”

Irene pauses. “You ask many questions.”

You offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“There is a young man staying here also, about your age. I only have four rooms and I don’t get many guests.”

You briefly wonder if you should have chosen a slightly more expensive place to stay, but your expectations hadn’t been very high coming in and how bad can it be when there are only two of you staying?

Irene hands over your key, directing you up the stairs to where your room waits for you. “Breakfast is served at 7 if you would like some, otherwise I have a list of places around the city you can visit.”

You give Irene one last thank you before you’re heading up the stairs, your suitcase and bag in hand. Your room is immediately at the top to your right, with the door across from yours labeled bagno with a cute little wooden sign. There are two more rooms a little further down the hall, and then one at the very end with the door open enough for you to glance inside.

There’s music playing – something you’ve heard on the radio a million times before but can’t remember the name of – and you can make out the silhouette of someone sitting at a small desk next to a window. With the way the setting sun is shining through, you can’t make out any of the figure’s features, but you know that this is the man Irene mentioned downstairs.

You wave a hand. “Hi.”

You can see him turn his head, but can’t make out any features still, nor an expression, as he stands and shuts the door without a second thought.

You frown, deciding not to dwell on it as you unlock your room and step inside. It’s small, and you know your friends would try and make it sound better by calling it quaint, but you decide that it’s not any more or any less than you need for the week. There’s a small desk and dresser off to the side, and a twin size bed with a side table sitting next to the headboard. The sight of the small, but very neat room is comforting after the mix of emotions you’d spent your afternoon with, and you find yourself wanting to just fall against the comforter and end your day there.

So, you do, quickly changing into your sleep clothes and doing your nightly routine, you let all the anxiety and the interaction with the man down the hall fall from your mind as you slip under the covers and rest your head against the pillow. It’s early, but you figure you’ve had enough adventure for the day. Plus, you still have the next few days left to spend in the city.

Sleep comes easy to you, so easy that you’re shocked awake the next morning at the sound of loud footsteps coming down the hall, and then a slam of a door. Lifting up from your bed, you glance at the clock on the table next to you and let out a small groan. You hadn’t been planning on taking up Irene’s offer of breakfast at 7, but now that you were awake you figured you might as well do exactly that. The grumble your stomach lets out seems to further settle the idea to get ready and go downstairs into your head.

The banging across the hall continues, and you know the sound belongs to the man from down the hall. Not wanting another interaction like the day before you decide to wait for the sound of the door opening and steps retreating down the hall, knowing the man has returned to his own room before you head into the bathroom with your things to get ready. You throw on a simple outfit for the day, doing all your daily necessities. The smell of cologne fills the small space, and normally it would be something that would irritate you – someone else treating a space as only their own with no other thought of anyone else who might occupy it – but the scent is pleasant enough and you decide to leave it be. When you’re done, you listen again for the sound of footsteps, but there are none.

Opening the door, you peak down the hall. The door at the end is shut, but you still cross the space to your room quicker than normal, opening the door and slipping inside. Just as you grab your shoes and anything else you plan to use throughout the day, your phone finding its spot in your pocket, you hear a door open again. You listen quietly as the man moves down the hall to the stairs, only slipping into the hallway when you know you won’t run into him. He’s already disappeared into the front room when you yourself reach the stairs and start the trek down.

When you reach the bottom floor, Irene stands just across the room in what you realize is the dining area. There’s a jingling as the front door opens, and you look over just in time to see a head of dark brown hair escaping through the entrance.

There’s something odd about you and this stranger avoiding each other, but you don’t let it cloud your thoughts. You don’t even know the man, and don’t have any care to get to know him.

Irene spots you lingering by the stairs and waves you over. “Have you met the other guest yet?”

You smile as you walk over to sit at the table situated in the room. The space isn’t very large, only big enough to hold the essentials of a kitchen and a table that seats six, but the feel of it all is very intimate. It also smells terrific, the smell of sausage and pastries filling the room. You’re suddenly grateful that you chose this place over any of the others, weird neighbors be damned.

“He’s nice, is he not?”

You purse your lips as Irene places a plate loaded to the brim with various breakfast items. The sight makes your stomach grumble again and you laugh in an attempt to conceal it. “I haven’t exactly met him yet.”

Irene frowns. “You haven’t?” She tsks. “He’s very friendly, but he never eats breakfast here.”

“Never?” You glance up from your plate. “How long has he been here?”

“Only few days, but he comes once a year and stays here rather than big fancy hotel.”

You nod, taking a bite of the croissant on your plate. You close your eyes giving a small hum of pleasure at the taste of the buttery pastry. “He’s missing out.”

“You’ll meet him soon enough, I think.” Irene waves her hand around as she takes her own seat, carefully digging into her own plate of food.

You continue breakfast with polite conversation. Irene asks why you decided to come to Italy, and you fib your answer a little, explaining it was just a need to get away for a bit. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to reopen the fresh wound that was your current relationship status.

When you’re done, you bid Irene farewell for the day and head out on your own. The sun is warm as it beams down on your face, the air slightly cool from the canals. You plan to just walk around the city for most of the day, not having much else to do until the afternoon when the gallery you had opted to go to opens.

For a few hours you simply meander around the city, stepping into shops with clothes that cost far too much money, but you try them on anyway. You find a nice place for lunch, deciding you’ll come back to try something else for dinner after the gallery. The day all goes fairly quick, but you head back to Vera Ospitalità with a grin permanently etched into your features.

Irene is not at the front desk when you walk in. It’s getting fairly late in the day and after the large and filling meal you had chosen to eat for dinner, you decide that you’ll end your day with a nice bath and then head to bed, excited for the boat ride you had booked for the next day.

That plan is immediately foiled when you climb the stairs and hear the shower already running. You don’t have any idea how long it’s been occupied, but you figure he has to be done sometime soon and choose to wait in your room until he is.

Fifteen minutes pass before you realize it, and the shower is still going. It occurs to you that all of the hot water must be gone now and you feel a bit frustrated at your thought of a nice night being ruined by a man who doesn’t know how to shower quickly. Trying not to let your frustration get the best of you, you snatch up your towel and storm out of your room to stand in front of the door across from you. There’s some steam coming from the crack between the door and the floor, but you ignore it as you knock on the door.

There’s a noise that sounds something like a grunt, and then the shower shuts off. You listen to shuffling, a rumple of clothes, and then the door swings open and there, for the first time since you arrived in the tiny hotel, you finally come face to face with the stranger who’s been living down the hall from your room. It suddenly hits you why he had been so eager to avoid you the day before and ;told you that he must’ve been trying to avoid you this morning too, obviously trying not to make his presence known.

Harry Styles stands in front of you in a pair of loose shorts with a towel hanging from his hand, his hair dripping down onto his forehead. His tattoos are on full display, the pair of ferns peaking up from his waistband, and his skin is glistening from all the water he hadn’t been given the chance to properly wipe off. Steam pours out through the doorway and the sudden heat of it sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t realize you’re staring until your eyes meet his and he cocks a brow. “You’re not going to be a creep and ask me for a photo, are you?”

His tone is dangerous, and he’s got an accusatory look plastered on his face. It makes something in you want to snap back, that anger from not being able to take a bath like you wanted still lingering a bit, but instead you stand there, trying to think of the best words to say back to the man in front of you who clearly thinks you’re here for something other than a nice vacation. Every possible thing you had wanted to say before the door had opened has suddenly disappeared from your brain, only to be replaced with the slight shock of your current situation. Your mouth opens and snaps closed one time, then again, as the words you want to say struggle to fall from your mouth.

Eventually, you hold up your towel.

Harry’s head tilts to the side, his gaze curious. “So, you’re not just renting the crappiest hotel in the entire city in order to get some sort of insider photos?”

You frown, the shakiness you had felt disappearing as you think about Irene and her hospitality. “It’s not a crappy hotel.”

Harry smiles, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s amused and not because you’re doing a nice thing by defending Irene. “No, but it sure isn’t popular and nobody ever comes here. I’m always by myself when I come – Irene makes sure of it.”

You remember what Irene had told your over the phone when you asked about booking.

We always have a room open.

You purse your lips and try holding your head a little higher. “I’m not some crazed fan. I’m just here for a nice vacation.”

Harry looks you over. “Nice vacation? You don’t seem like the type.”

“It…” You stumble over what to say, trying to get a grip on the current situation you’re in with a half-naked famous popstar standing in front of you. He leans against the doorway, an arm propped against his head, and you swallow. “It was spontaneous.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “You still don’t seem like the type.”

“You don’t know me,” you manage to say, feeling slightly offended by his words, but Harry just grins.

“And I don’t care to.” He claps his hands together, the sound muffled by the towel still gripped in his hand. “Pleasantries aside, I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt my shower next time, and also if you continued to not take photos of me whatsoever.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Harry has already pushed himself off the doorway and is marching down the hall before you can even think of what to say back to him. He doesn’t even bother turning back to look at you, just walks into the room and slams the door shut.

You wince at the sound, trying to still get a grip at what just occurred. You step into the still hot bathroom with its steamed-up mirror and slightly wet floor, but you disregard it as you move to the tub. You turn the handle for the hot water and aren’t surprised to find that it’s ice cold. You let it run for a minute, trying to see if it’ll warm up even the slightest, but you give up and shut it off when it remains cold.

You realize that not only had Harry left you with no hot water to take a shower in, but he also hadn’t bothered to ask for your name. When your head hits the pillow minutes later, choosing just to settle in for the night, you let the exhaustion of the day wash over you and fall asleep easily, though the irritation with Harry settles in well into the early morning.

Your alarm goes off early after a couple of hours, waking you up well before you know Harry will be awake. You quickly gather up your clothes and head to the bathroom, turning on the shower and hopping in before another second passes.

You take your time getting ready, lingering under the hot water for as long as you can before getting out and slowly going over each of your tasks in your morning ritual. You’re in the middle of finishing up your hair when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yes?” you call out, already knowing it couldn’t be anybody but your neighbor down the hall.

“It’s Harry,” he says, muffled through the door. It occurs to you that he never actually told you his name the night before, but you know he’s assumed you already knew who he was before. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong in that assumption. “Are you almost done?”

You grin at the turn of events. “Almost.”

It’s another ten minutes before you’re done. You had expected Harry to have turned around and headed back to his own room to wait, something you would have done if you had been in his place, but when you open the door he’s standing there across the hall, leaning against the wall next to your own room. It takes you by surprise, seeing him standing there. He’s already dressed for the day, a nice, knitted shirt on with brown shorts to match and checkered vans decorating his feet. The only thing out of place is his hair, still a mess of curls from where he hadn’t had the chance to comb them down yet.

You offer a smile as you step out of the bathroom. “All yours.”

Harry has a sour expression on his face as you pass by to get into your room. You don’t bother giving him any more attention than that, though, not keen on him accusing you of anything else.

At 7 you head downstairs. Irene is already settled into the kitchen with a plate full of food waiting for you. She smiles when she spots you. “Sleep well?”

You nod. “Finally met Harry.”

“Oh, Harry!” Irene claps her hands together. “Isn’t he so lovely?”

You hum in response. “Lovely,” you try to hide the sarcasm in your voice, “that is definitely the word I would use.”

Irene’s eyes flicker behind you, and she brightens at the sight of Harry coming down the stairs. “There he is! Harry, come have breakfast.”

Harry appears, hair now perfectly in place, walking around the table to greet Irene with a hello and a kiss to her cheek. “Can’t, love. Have places to be.”

“Oh, stay for a bit. It’s too early to have anywhere important to be. Talk with us,” Irene urges, gesturing to you already seated at the table.

You give an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, talk to us, Harry.”

Harry forces a smile onto his face. “Only for a bit, yeah?”

Your frown is immediate as Harry takes the seat across from you. You had remembered what Irene had said the day before, about Harry never joining her for breakfast, and that had led you to expect him to decline Irene’s offer and head out for the day, but now you were stuck with him sitting there in front of you.

“What are the plans for today?” Irene asks, seemingly unaware of the tension at the table.

Harry gives her a genuine smile as he steals a roll from the plate she had placed in the middle of the table and takes a bite. “Goin’ to wander the city a bit, might take a nice boat ride.”

“I’m doing a boat ride too,” you chime in. The look Harry throws you is something similar to a glare, but you just smile, knowing you managed to get under his skin already this morning before he had even tried to touch yours.

The rest of the conversation is tense, with Irene staying blissfully unaware to the dirty looks you and Harry throw at each other. A part of you wonders how you can act like this with a complete stranger, but when you accidentally kick his shin under the table, and Harry returns a swift kick of his own, the thought is completely overshadowed by the irritation you feel when you look at him.

When Harry finishes his roll a few minutes later, he delivers a quick peck to Irene’s cheek and heads out, offering no goodbye to you. When he’s gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and stand from your chair.

“Thank you for breakfast, Irene.” You make to move for the stairs, planning to take a little time to yourself before your planned boat ride later, but Irene stops you.

“He is better once you get used to him,” she tells you.

Your nose crinkles at that, wondering how much she actually had caught on to when it came to you and Harry. “I just think he doesn’t like me very much.”

She waves her hand. “He did not like me very much at first either, but he warms up in time.”

With a final nod, you head upstairs. The hours pass quickly as you find random things to do – playing games on your phone, reading a book. You had briefly wondered about calling your friends back home, curious if they had thought about you since you had last spoke to them, but you eventually decide against it when it’s time to head out for your boat ride.

The air is warm when you step outside, and the place where you’re supposed to go is only just down the block. There’s a delightful breeze that blows through your hair as you walk down the sidewalk, admiring the city as it moves through its daily ventures. You reach the dock you need to go to much easier than you had the Bed & Breakfast, but your stomach immediately drops as soon as you step on the pier.

Harry is standing with who you assume is the skipper of the boat you’ll be on. He has an impatient look on his face and his arms are crossed as he taps his foot against the wooden planks. When he spots you walking down the pier, a look of realization crosses his features.

“You’re going on a boat ride?” he asks, his brows raised above the rim of his sunglasses. “This boat ride?”

You look at the skipper and give a not-so-confident nod.

“Ah! You’re the girl who booked me so late the other day!” he announces almost proudly, and you offer an apologetic smile, choosing to ignore a clearly frustrated Harry.

“I’m so sorry about all that, it was so last minute—”

“Do not worry, darling. It seems to be my fault.” He gestures between you and Harry. “I seem to have made the mistake and made a double booking on accident. Either the two of you may ride the boat together and I’ll give half off, or one of you can leave and I’ll give full refund. I am booked full rest of day.”

You can feel Harry glaring at you through his glasses. “I’m not giving this up,” you tell him, feeling your own irritation grow at the sight of his.

“Well, neither am I.”

The skipper glances between the two of you before giving a delightful shout. “Two of you it will be! Let’s get going.”

You and Harry give the same exasperated look to the skipper, but he’s already climbing on the small speed boat, waving for you to follow.

Harry looks to you. “Ladies first.”

You don’t bother with a thank you as you climb onto the boat, Harry not far behind, and find a seat on the small bench available. With no other place to sit, Harry is forced to sit next to you on the bench clearly fit to hold two people intimately. Neither of you say anything as the skipper starts the engine and pulls away from the pier and into the lagoon you were meant to be traveling.

For a moment, you regret not just walking away and letting Harry have the boat ride to himself. You can’t imagine being able to enjoy it when he won’t even look at you even though his shoulder and thigh are flush against your own as you both attempt to fit on the bench. You still want to make the most of it, so you turn to look at Harry, deciding to attempt to show some of the same hospitality you had been experiencing so much of in Italy

“Do people really stay in the same hotels as you to get photos?”

“What?” His sunglasses have fallen slightly down his nose, and his eyes are visible just over the rim.

You swallow down any frustrating feelings you might have against Harry right now. “Last night, you accused me of being in the B&B so I could get a photo of you—”

“Sorry about that,” Harry mumbles out, pushing his glasses back in place. “Shouldn’t have come at you so quick.”

You can tell that some of the tension has left his body and that makes you feel a bit better about being stuck with him now. “Do people really do that, though?”

You wish he had taken the glasses off now, just so you could see the expression hidden behind them. You can’t tell what he’s thinking with his eyes hidden behind the dark rims.

“I’ve been doing this for over ten years,” he finally says, “I’ve had people break into my home, fans have snuck into my tour bus, and I’ve been chased down the street. You checking into the same place I am staying, a place that is normally empty year-round, and trying to snap a cheeky photo would not surprise me in the slightest.”

You suck in a breath. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I see that now.” Harry smiles as he stands up and leans against the boat, looking out over the water. You look over the design on the back of his shirt, the image of a horse clearly visible. “Sorry for using up all the hot water last night.”

Your eyes flit to the skipper standing at the wheel, but he pays neither of you any attention as he hums to himself. “It’s okay.”

“Also sorry for not asking for your name since you clearly already know mine.” He looks back over his shoulder at you. “So, what is it?”

“What?”

A smile. “Your name, love.”

“Oh.” You give up your name, falling from your lips as you remember the bit of hurt you felt the night before upon realizing he hadn’t asked for it then. It had been a strange feeling, wanting a complete stranger to know your name. especially when you and said stranger hadn’t gotten on so well, but now that he had asked for it you felt a sense of accomplishment.

Harry repeats it, his accent lilting something sweet. “S’a lovely name.”

He’s still looking at you when you say nothing, and it leaves you with a strange feeling. You try to think of what to say next, and when it comes to you, you almost laugh.

You hold out your hand. “Truce?”

The smile Harry gives you takes up the entirety of his face, dimples proudly displayed on his cheeks. He takes your hand in his own, his palm warm in yours. “Truce,” he confirms.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for the rest of the ride, only interrupted by the sounds of the boat on the water and the skipper’s humming. Even with all your misadventures, you couldn’t deny that the city of Venice was gorgeous. And in some way, everything had seemed to work out for you so far, even creating something that resembled the beginnings of a friendship with Harry after a rough start.

When the boat pulls up to the pier, you realize that you feel more comfortable around Harry. No longer does he intimidate you like he had when you first laid eyes on him, but rather you feel easier with him, like you’re able to strike a conversation with him with no worries at all.

So, you do try to talk to him as you step off the boat, but he apparently had the same thought and the two of you laugh as you talk over each other.

“You first,” you tell him, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“I, uh,” Harry stutters over his words as he removes his glasses, looking up and down the pier to keep his eyes on something other than you. “I was just going to ask if you had eaten lunch already.”

“I think it’s well past lunch time.” You look down at the watch adorning your wrist. “But no, I only ate breakfast.”

Harry’s eyes flash to you, and the green of them is startling under the sunlight. “Would you like to go for a late lunch?”

You much prefer this friendly Harry to the one you had first been introduced to, and you understand that there’s a garner of trust between the two of you now. “I’d love to.”

Harry leads you down the pier and back onto the concrete sidewalks around Venice. It’s settling well into the afternoon, the sun beginning to drift just below the tops of the buildings around the city. You don’t bother asking where you’re heading off to, trusting that Harry will have a great choice in wherever you go.

Eventually, after walking a few blocks, still basking in that comfortable silence from the boat, Harry stops at a door with a sign overhead that you don’t understand. He opens the door and waves you in.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with the smell of pasta and bread hitting your nose. You breathe it in deep and the hostess at the front smiles as she watches you do so.

“First time?” she asks, her accent thick.

You nod, jumping a little when Harry appears next to you and places his hand on your arm.

“This is one of my favorite places,” he tells you, gesturing with two fingers to the hostess. “They have the best spaghetti.”

The place isn’t as packed as you would expect it to be, most likely because of your arrival between lunch and dinner, but there’s still enough people for it to feel a bit crowded. The hostess walks you over to a booth in the corner, a bit hidden away from the other patrons in the restaurant, and you know it’s because of who you’re with.

The popstar in question sits across from you but doesn’t bother grabbing a menu for himself. “Wine okay with you?”

You nod and wait for the waitress to come over. When she does, offering up her name in a sweet lilting accent, Harry orders the wine and you give a thankful nod as she walks away before turning back to Harry. “So, the spaghetti?”

Harry lets out a low moan. “It’s the best. I come here every time I visit. Practically a regular when I’m in Italy.”

“It’s that good?”

“Better than good.”

You leave your menu resting in front of you, untouched until the waitress returns with a jug of wine and two glasses. She hands one off to each of you before topping them off with the jug.

“Your usual, Mr. Styles?”

The question sends Harry beaming. “Please. And she’ll have the same,” he gestures to you, and you give a soft confirmation.

Once the waitress has left, Harry takes a long sip of his wine before clapping his hands together. “So, what brings you to Italy?”

This Harry sitting in front of you is much different than the one you had met face to face for the first time the night before. There’s something softer about him, as if the edge was taken off the moment he put his hand in yours earlier. You like this Harry more, you think, with his giddy smile and soft giggle.

You remember how you had lied to Irene when she had asked you why you had traveled to Italy, but something tells you not to do that with Harry. “My boyfriend dumped me.”

Harry’s face drops, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you wave a hand in front of you before he can get it out.

“I’m already over it, but there were some things he said that made me rethink a lot of stuff.”

“Like what?” His gaze is curious, and it makes you want to tell him everything going on in your brain, how you’re still upset and hurt, but want to feel free while you still have the time to here in Italy.

Instead, you sugarcoat it a little. “Just stuff about how he missed the girl I used to be – more fun and care-free.”

“Are you not that girl?”

You shrug, your hand playing with the stem of your wine glass before you lift it to take a sip. “I don’t know, but I liked the sound of being adventurous and doing something unexpected so—”

“So, you booked a trip to Italy?” Harry grins. “That’s quite impressive.”

“What is?”

“Deciding to just up and go to a different country for no other reason than you want to. I think you’re a bit more outgoing than your boyfriend gives you credit for.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Harry smiles into his glass. “Right. Ex-boyfriend.”

Your food arrives not long after that, two giant plates of spaghetti with pieces of garlic bread on the side. Harry laughs at your surprised expression at the sight of the amount of food now sitting in front of you.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to feed an army.”

Harry picks up his fork, stabbing it into the noodles and twisting it around. “Try it.”

You follow his lead, picking up your own fork. When you take a bite of the pasta, you shut your eyes as the taste coats your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“I told you.”

The two of you eat practically in silence, savoring the taste of your meal and not letting the flow of conversation interrupt your eating. Neither of you finish your plate, Harry coming much closer to doing so then you are and you’re left trying to finish the still half full jug of wine in the middle of the table.

You don’t know when you start feeling like telling Harry more about yourself, maybe after your third glass of wine, but eventually you’re telling him all about the fear you had of coming to Italy.

“What do you mean you almost didn’t come here?”

You giggle a little. “I stepped off the train and almost turned right back around to get on.”

“Why?”

You give an exaggerated shrug. “My own brain? I don’t know.” You look down at your glass of wine. “Sometimes I feel like everyone’s opinions of me are right, y’know? Maybe I am that girl that just doesn’t do anything except work and go home.”

“I get that feeling.”

Your eyes shoot up to look at Harry. “You do?”

Harry gives a lazy raise of his shoulders. “Of course. I have reporters and paparazzi up my ass at practically all hours of the day. Sometimes I wish I could scream at them that I’m not everything they think I am, nor do I want to be.”

You let out a snicker and Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. I almost forgot I was sitting with a famous popstar.”

Harry groans, but there’s a playful look on his face as he wags a finger at you. “That’s cheeky.”

You decide to keep going, seeing how far you can push it. “My friends are going to love it when I tell them that I got to hang out with the Harry Styles. I’m pretty sure one of them used to have a poster of you in their bedroom.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Another had the cardboard cutout.”

That sends Harry into a fit of giggles, causing you to follow his lead. You both are a little too tipsy by this point, and the jug is nearly finished.

It doesn’t occur to you how long you had been inside the restaurant until you walk outside and see that the sky has turned dark. The blocks are lit by streetlights, and under them Harry looks like something out of a dream. You don’t mean to lean into him as you walk back to the B&B, but you do so in order to try and keep your balance and Harry doesn’t seem to mind with the way he tosses his arm around your shoulders lazily.

“Tonight was fun,” he tells you, trying not to walk faster than you do. The position is hard to keep as you walk, but neither of you pull away. “’S been a while since I’ve done something with someone like this.”

You smile at his admission. “You mean you don’t go out somewhere with a complete stranger at least once a week?” You tsk. “You’ve gotta get out more, Mr. Styles.”

The B&B is quiet when you arrive back, and you feel like a teenager again as you sneak past the front desk and up the stairs, trying your best to keep quiet since you both know Irene has already gone off to bed. Your exe’s words briefly flit through your brain, and you wonder what he’d say if he saw you now – drunkenly stumbling around in a mysterious city with a man you’ve known barely longer than a day.

When your foot catches on a step, Harry is there behind you to steady you before you can fall forward. His hands catch your hips, helping keep your balance, but rather than it be something that would send your stomach in knots, the gesture makes you laugh out as you think about how funny it would have been to fall face first into the carpeted floor.

You clamp a hand over your mouth, staring behind at Harry who looks like he’s barely keeping himself from laughing. You maneuver your hand so it’s just your index finger pressed against your lips, a soft shhh falling past them. Harry nods, pretending to zip his lips shut and locking them, before throwing the pretend key over his shoulder. The action threatens to send you into another fit of giggles, but you manage to hold it in as you take the rest of the steps two at a time.

The boards creak beneath your feet as you walk to your door. Turning, you just about run into Harry, your hands flying up to press against his chest in an attempt to keep from stumbling into him.

“Sorry,” you stutter out, taking a step back and resting your back against your door. “Wine’s getting to me.”

Harry smiles, and in the barely-there light of the hallway, you think you can see something playful glittering in his eyes. “S’getting to me too.”

You suddenly remember the feel of his hands on your hips moments earlier, and the way he had kept his arm wrapped around you the whole way back. There’s that knot in your stomach that hadn’t appeared before, slowly making itself known now as you try to think of what to say next.

Harry speaks first, his voice low and his words slurred. “I had fun tonight.”

“So you said.”

“How long are you staying?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Tomorrow is my last full day. I leave the next morning.”

Harry looks a bit disappointed by that, but it’s quickly replaced by something else. “Y’know, I think I have a terrific way for you to prove to everyone when you go back that you still know how to have a good time.”

You swallow when Harry takes a step closer, your back pressing further into your door. “And what’s that?”

A smile, one that’s devious and just a little bit convincing, “Let me kiss you?

You bite your lip, trying to get ahold of the situation. This is not at all how you expected your vacation to go, but you can’t help but agree that it is the best way to prove to everyone and yourself that you’re not who they think you are.

You realize that this is it – your moment to prove to yourself that everyone else was wrong. How could you not be adventurous when you’re in a random country all by yourself, about to kiss a boy you’ve never met? That’s the perfect thing to do to prove everyone wrong.

And maybe there’s something in the way that Harry’s advances make you feel that adds to you giving a soft yes.

When Harry kisses you, it’s just as you would have imagined it. And then somehow, it’s more. His lips are soft against your own, the distant taste of strawberry chapstick and the wine from earlier lingering on them and you want to savor that taste, burn the memory of those flavors together into your brain. His hands find your hips again, pressing into them unlike he had earlier. There’s intention behind the grip, the promise of something more to come.

You clumsily reach for the doorknob behind you, not daring to move your lips away from Harry’s. The door falls open and almost takes you with it as you stumble back, barely catching yourself by gripping onto Harry’s shoulders. You press your mouth back to his, feeling like he could swallow you whole in that moment.

You reach blindly for the zipper on his shorts, your hand brushing over the tent forming there and causing Harry to let out a hiss at the friction. You smile against his mouth when he reaches down, taking the matter into his own hands and unzipping his shorts as he kicks off his shoes. You follow his lead and let your shoes meet his own in a pile on the floor. The pile only grows as you both precede to strip, and when you’re left staring at Harry’s naked body, a small gasp falls from your lips.

You reach out to run a hand across the butterfly inked into his stomach before letting it trial down to tease one of the ferns against his hip. You remember them from the night before, half concealed by the shorts he had kept on, but now having them on full display sendsa shudder through you.

“You’re pretty,” you tell him softly, and he laughs.

“So are you,” he replies, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, gently pushing you back onto your bed.

You had almost forgotten about the twin size bed in your room until you fall against it. You want to laugh at the size of it compared to your two bodies collapsing onto it, but Harry rests himself on top of you and attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking a deep mark into your skin.

One hand finds his hair, raking your fingers through it and tearing a groan from Harry’s chest, while the other scrapes at his back, your nails threatening to leave red scratches all over his skin. Harry lingers against your neck for only a moment before he’s trailing down your body, planting kisses against your skin as he goes.

When he reaches your hip, he digs his fingers into your stomach as he leaves a kiss in the curve there before he plants himself between your thighs. The bed is squeaking in protest to all of this movement, but it’s not bad enough for you to want to stop.

Harry kisses at your folds before bringing his fingers up to spread them. Both your hands are tangled in his curls now, tightening their hold as Harry’s tongue finds your clit. You squirm as he presses his mouth against you, coaxing a few moans from you before you remember that you’re not alone in the building.

“Harry,” you gasp out as your hips buck against his mouth, “the bed.”

You don’t think he hears you at first, the squeaking growing louder with each move he makes that causes your hips to come up off the mattress, but then his hands are under your thighs. Slowly, without moving his mouth away from you, Harry slides you off the bed. He meets the floor first, a bit more gracefully than you do as you slip off the bed and onto the floor. Harry laughs when you let out a yelp as your ass hits the carpeted floor.

You’re face to face with him now, and there’s slick covering his mouth. Without thinking, you grab his face and kiss him, letting your own taste wash over your tongue. Harry groans into your mouth, the vibration moving through your chest.

“I wanna taste you,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“Swear I won’t be able to hold it in much longer.” He’s breathing heavily and that only makes you smile something wicked that sends Harry’s brain into overload.

“Just a little taste,” you mutter before pushing at his chest so he falls back onto the carpet. You move between his legs like he had only minutes ago, your hand coming up to grip the base of his dick.

Harry lets out a hiss as you wrap your hand around him, giving a slow pump. When you lick the tip, though, he can barely hold back the moan he lets out and you laugh a little.

“Good?” you ask, taking him into your mouth finally and Harry feels like he’s slowly losing the will to function, wondering if he can even get the words out.

“Good, yeah. Yeah. S’good.”

You give him a few more pumps, moaning against him when he brings a hand up to wrap in your hair, but you don’t want him to lose control before he can get inside of you, so you restrain yourself and pull back.

Harry gives you a pitiful look when you pull away, only to be replaced with something much more eager when you begin to climb on top of him. He lays back against the carpet, grabbing your hips as you guide yourself onto his cock.

You both let out a mixture of sounds as you slide down onto him, letting yourself get used to the feel of it. After a minute, you rock back onto him, and Harry takes that as a good sign. Before you know it, he’s lifting his hips off the floor to fuck up into you, turning you into a whining mess as you chase your orgasm. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and you’re sure that Irene must’ve heard you at this point, but you don’t care anymore as you press your hands down onto Harry’s stomach and try to meet the pace he’s set.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, but you could already tell with the way his thrusts have become more frantic and sloppier. You can only nod, falling against his chest as you feel the beginnings of your own orgasm start to take over.

When yours hits, you cry out into Harry’s chest. Harry doesn’t stop, though, instead wrapping his arms around you as he chases his own. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he’s pulling out of you and moaning into your hair. You can feel the hot spurts hit your stomach, dripping down onto his due to your position. The two of you stay like that, his arms still wrapped tight around you, holding you to him.

“Harry?” you finally say after a few minutes of you trying to catch your breath. You can feel the effects of the wine from earlier still mixed with the aftermath of your orgasm, and it’s all making your brain feel a bit hazy.

“Yeah?”

You roll off of Harry, the heat of being pressed to him becoming a little too much, but he doesn’t let you go, and you find yourself laying sideways, Harry’s arms still wrapped around you as you lay face to face. “Do you usually fuck random strangers you barely know in Italy?”

Harry lets out a soft giggle, one of his hands beginning to rub at your back. “You’d be the first.”

You reach a hand up to run through his curls, pushing them back off his forehead. “Glad to know I’m not alone there,” you mumble. “So, what do we do now?”

Harry shrugs the best he can in his position on the floor. “We clean up, try to fit in your tiny bed, and figure it out in the morning?”

You hum in response. “I don’t think I can face Irene in the morning.”

“Oh, that woman sleeps like the dead. N’way she heard.”

“Still.”

Harry thinks for a moment. “How about I go downstairs in the morning, grab us some of Irene’s lovely breakfast, and convince her to go out for the day so you can be free of the embarrassment of her hearing us having really amazing vacation sex?”

You roll your eyes. “Then it’ll be obvious what we’re doing.”

“Yes, but I think Irene would appreciate the heads up before she’s wondering why the boards are creaking so badly the whole day.”

You smack your hand against Harry’s chest and a laugh bubbles up from it. “Are you saying you’re going to have me spend my last day in Italy locked away in a bedroom getting my guts rearranged?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” he laughs.

You hum again. “Y’know, I thought I hated you this morning.”

“That was kinda evident by the way you kicked me under the table at breakfast.”

You gasp. “That was an accident!”

“Ah, so you just wanted an excuse to play footsie, huh?”

You hit him again. “An accident, Harry.”

Harry laughs, pulling you further against him. You let out a yawn as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. “We should probably get up. I feel a bit gross.”

You hum in response, tickling Harry’s neck with the vibrations. You hear Harry say your name in an attempt to get your attention, but you’re already drifting off against his chest with the promise of him etched into your brain for when you wake up.

Harry figures he’ll get up in a bit rather than disturb you now, letting himself relax against you. He means to only lay there for a few minutes until he knows he can remove himself from you so he can clean up, but soon enough his eyelids are falling shut as he too drifts off to sleep.

#completely obsessed with jojo moyes and her books #so im happy i had this idea #italy!harry is a fucking babe also #harry #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #one direction imagine #my fics #italy!harry

[mc-lukanette]

I haven’t watched the new episode but I heard it was awful. Do you have a fix-it that I can pretend is canon?

- Marinette is stressed, and extremely so; her schedule is more hectic and the kwami have been keeping her busy with teaching her any guardian rules/lessons they know from their limited knowledge that she might not have gotten from Fu since he hadn’t had the time to teach her due to what happened.

- Because of these factors, her dates with Luka have often been interrupted and constantly replanned, only the cinema date being anywhere near complete due to her giving him the guitar pick necklace. Luka is trying to be respectful and not pry, but can’t help being disappointed whenever she leaves.

- Eventually, Luka talks to her on the matter, concerned for where she goes and how she always seems anxious when she does. Marinette assures him that she adores him, but she has... things that she has to do, and even though she wishes so badly for it to be different, she’s forced into this situation and she’s so sorry for it.

- Luka is pained by the secret she’s forced to keep, but gives her a sad smile and ends the conversation there. She can tell that he’s putting on a brave face from the slump as he walks away.

- Later on, Marinette is walking down an empty street, muttering to Tikki about the situation, when an unfamiliar form descends from above and lands in front of her. Tikki quickly conceals herself and Marinette goes on the defensive, recognizing that this must be an akuma. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?!”

- The akuma reaches out... and gently takes her hand in his. “We have a date planned today, Marinette, and I want to make sure that we get to finish it this time.” “...W-what? Wait--Luka?”

- In that instance, someone from a distance screams at the sight of the akumatized Luka, yelling for someone to call Ladybug. Luka faces them, muttering, “You’re disrupting us,” his sentimonster helper using their ability to make the person and even the phone they were trying to use go completely silent, much to their shock. Roger, who was nearby at the time, approaches and gives a speech about defending Paris, then tries to attack Luka, but Luka uses his own power to flash Roger back to where he was a minute ago (meaning Luka’s sentimonster is an equivalent to Silencer whereas Luka himself is similar to Viperion); this happens to put Roger in the middle of the street - where he’d originally been directing traffic - and he has to dodge an oncoming car.

- “Luka!” Marinette states, panicked. “You can’t do this! You’re akumatized, you’re not thinking!” In response, Luka settles his hand on her shoulder. “I’m thinking perfectly well, and all I can think is about how you’re so burdened by something that I could never help you with. Now I can, and I’ll stop anyone or anything from bothering you or interrupting us, so we can have the date you deserve.”

- It’s at that moment that Marinette realizes that this akuma literally just wants her to have a nice time and that’s the sweetest freaking thing she’s ever heard.

- She can’t help being torn. On one hand, this is an akuma who will inevitably cause havoc, and she stops akuma as Ladybug... but on the other, this is Luka and she’s so touched and this is an offer for them to finally have a date not interrupted by an akuma because he IS an akuma, and she’s felt so bad ditching him before so this is a chance to remedy that.

- Marinette can see Tikki peering at her judgementally from her purse, but the opportunity is too tempting to pass up and Marinette agrees to go on a date with him, exciting Luka as he enthusiastically tugs her closer so they can walk together.

- Cue montage of Luka recreating their dates, though this time where she can actually enjoy them without interruption. Luka and his sentimonster occasionally use their powers and Marinette clearly hesitates, but he dotes on her so much that it’s hard for her to not want to continue their dates.

- Meanwhile, Shadow Moth probably: Wh--where the heck is Ladybug???? (there’s also probably a moment where Luka mentions Shadow Moth and Marinette uses the opportunity to gather some information)

- During one of the recreated dates, Chat Noir shows up and manages to snatch Marinette away, jumping up and out of harm’s way while trying to find a place to hide. He ducks into an alleyway and is about to go on about how neat his save was when Marinette huffs and asks, “What do you think you’re doing?!” “...U-uh, saving you?” “I didn’t need saving! We were on a date!” “You were on a what now.” “Chat Noir, it’s very rude to interrupt someone’s date. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m still stuck on the fact that you said you were dating an akuma--”

- At that moment, a hand clamps down on Chat Noir shoulder. He stiffens and turns, seeing Luka there and very much not happy. Luka squints, asking lowly, “What did you call her?”

- Chat Noir can only weakly look back at Marinette, who waves apologetically at him right before he’s yeet’d off into the distance. The sentimonster gives chase.

- Marinette does eventually leap into action as Ladybug once she recognizes that okay this was amazing and incredible and I’m officially de-stressed but Luka is akumatized and there is definitely a rule against Ladybug dating supervillains.

- Naturally, when Ladybug arrives, Luka’s first concern is what happened to Marinette. Ladybug tries to get him to back down and points out that he won’t even remember any of this once de-akumatized, but Luka insists that, “It’s okay. Marinette will remember.”

- Ladybug is internally like okay but can you not, I’m trying to fight you here and you’re making it difficult.

- Ladybug tries to negotiate/convince Luka into getting de-akumatized, until Chat Noir shows up on the scene again, the sentimonster following after. The fight itself is significally difficult and limiting; if they make any loud, disruptive noises, they’ll be silenced, but if they try to fight Luka directly/physically, he can zap them back to where they were a minute prior; knowing Luka, he could even engineer it so that one of them perhaps gets trapped if they’re not careful.

- Post-deakumatization, Marinette meets up with Luka and gives him a long overdue kiss. Luka is stunned, having been prepared to apologize for getting akumatized, and asks her what he did to deserve it, to which Marinette explains that he’s amazing and she’s happy to have him.

- They end up talking and Luka apologizes for trying to pry about her secret, but explains about his dad and the mystery behind his identity (foreshadowing the conflict for a future episode: I'd have the whole Jagged thing be a different episode so it gets proper focus). Marinette insists that she understands and he has nothing to apologize for, but pauses and laments that their dates might very well continue to be interrupted.

- Luka hesitantly starts to ask if she thinks it’d be best if they broke up, but Marinette cuts him off to insist otherwise. She wants to make this work with him but it’s complicated and she literally (stressing that it’s not a trust issue) cannot tell him why she leaves all the time. Luka smiles reassuringly and points out that a perfect song doesn’t exist and that every song goes through edits. Marinette asks what he means and Luka explains that he can’t help wanting to be selfish and spend time with her, but also that the knowledge of them dating is enough.

- Marinette, considering this, realizes that - yeah - not going on dates doesn’t mean they can’t be in a loving relationship, and maybe they can stop planning dates and get together right after she deals with akuma instead. She’s been a mess because of stress and that’s caused even more problems, so it doesn’t make sense to cause herself more stress by breaking up with Luka; she needs to take care of herself.

- The episode ends with Marinette in her room, some of the kwami being a bit chaotic/loud but Marinette being completely unphased and talking excitedly to Luka on the phone about their recent date “after that crazy akuma attack,” as Luka can’t hear the kwami due to their voices not breaking through technology.

#type: ideas #episode: Truth #Flower Arrangement Shipping #other: ml spoilers #((Kind of an expansion of ''The Evillustrator'' but with essences of ''Silencer.'')) #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[lumosinlove]

Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

~

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

~

New York City, 1920

~

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

~

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

~

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

~

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

~

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

#finn o'hara #hazelverse #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #o'knutzy #historical #historical au #ancient greece #1920 #wwi

[lily-drake]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE, THE BEST BAT BOY OF THEM ALL!!! YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!!!!!!

Happy Birthday Tim

Tim never really cared for his birthday, afterall nobody ever remembered it, and he doubted that Bruce would care.  He had never shown much of an interest in him, which was fine since he wasn’t supposed to get close to him.  His entire job as Robin was to make sure Batman didn’t go crazy, he wasn’t supposed to get attached.  So he didn’t, at least that’s what he told himself.  It was around 10:45 PM when Tim went upstairs at Alfred’s request.  Timidly the 14 year old walked into the kitchen only to be met with a small white cake.  Upon closer inspection the cake had red and green letting that spelled out in neat scroll, “Happy Birthday Timothy” with perfectly cut strawberries decorating the sides.  Tim stared at the cake in awe, he’d never been given a birthday cake before, except at galas; but that didn’t count as he wasn’t really aloud to eat any.

“Good to see you up here Master Timothy.  Happy birthday young sir.  I apologize for the others absence, but I’m afraid that they are ‘busy’.”

Tim swiftlet lifted up his arms in a placating manner,

“Oh no, it’s fine.  Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”

Alfred gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Well, I believe that it is time for a bit of cake.”

Alfred walked around the counter and pulled out a plate, for, and knife before he cut a large piece and plated it.  Tim held back tears as he took his first bite of the cake.  This was the best cake he had ever had, and this was definitely his favorite birthday.

*******

Tim stared at the computer screen in front of him trying to figure out what he was missing.  He was tired, he hadn’t slept in a few days, and he was on his 8th cup of coffee from that hour alone.

“Tim, come with me!”

Dick said, suddenly on his right side.  Out of habit he turned and threw a punch at him.  Dick quickly ducked and laughed.

“Your getting faster baby bird.”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes turning back to the computer.

“What do you need, Dick?”

He asked typing something onto the screen and scrunching his brow in frustration at the facts in front of him.  Dick rolled his eyes and sighed before he grabbed Tim and pulled him from the computer chair and onto his feet.  Tim groaned and tried to pull away in protest, but Dick overpowered him and he was dragged up the stairs.  Tim looked around to see where he was so he could make a quick escape if necessary.  When he looked forward again he saw he was being dragged to one of the main room doors.  He was thinking and going through all of the things he could have missed or forgotten, but nothing came to mind.  When the door opened the lights were off until they suddenly turned on and loud voices screamed,

“Happy birthday!”

From all around the room.  Tim blinked a few times everything catching up to him as he looked around and saw his family; Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, and Dick all around him.  The room was covered in decorations and on the table sat a decent sized 3 tier cake, just like the one he had had when turned fourteen, but bigger.  Tim ran through his memory and tried to recall what the date was and froze.  Oh, it was his 16th birthday, he had forgotten all about it.  He was pulled out of his stooped by Steph grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the table were 16 candles lined the rim of the cake and in the center it said, “Happy 16th Birthday Tim!” in the neatest cursive with a robin made of frosting right below it.  There was also neatly plated and perfectly made sushi on another table near them.  Tim smiled as everyone began to sing happy birthday to him and when he was done he blew out the candles happy and content with his day.  There was so much warmth that spread through his chest as he talked and ate cake with his family.  So much joy that surrounded the manor, he even saw Bruce smile.  Tim didn’t need to wish for anything, he was happy, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

*******

Tim looked at his watch and frowned.  He was now officially 19, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered much now.  He was alone in Paris training with Lady Shiva, and his family didn’t care.  They were the ones who kicked him out afterall, he wasn’t wanted.  He sat under a shady tree bench in the park and watched as people talked and interacted with eachother.  It was peaceful, but that didn’t fill the hollowness he felt in his chest.  As he stood and began to walk away he felt someone crash into him and fell foreword, someone landing on his back.  Quickly the person got up and began to call out apologies obviously embarrassed.  Tim got up and turned around and came face to face with a girl about his age with dark black hair that tinted blue in the light and show startlingly bright bluebell eyes.  The girl was still talking and he wasn’t sure if she had even breathed yet.

“Hey, it’s ok.  Don’t worry about it.”

The girl immediately bit her lip and bowed her head as she tried to hide her face.  Tim smiled at the girl who was slightly shorter than him.

“I’m Tim.”

He said casually as he held out his hand.  The girl gave an awkward smile before excepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Marinette.  Sorry again.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette.  Do you know where any good coffee shops are, I haven’t slept in a while and I really need a pick me up to finish my things.”

Marinette lit up and nodded.

“I totally understand.  I design and commissions keep me up all night half the time.  I live in a bakery and have concocted the best wake up coffee.  My friends say it’s very dangerous and I’m going to kill myself with it one day, but all well.  Why sleep when you can get things done?!”

Tim smiled at the girl as she began to walk and talk.  She was cute and was very dramatic in the way she spoke and expressed herself.  They walked across the street to a small bakery, the one Marinette must live in, and walked to the front where a short Asian woman stood near the register.  When the woman saw Marinette her smile grew as she welcomed them.

“I’m gonna make one of my specials for him!”

Marinette called out as she went to the back and started making some kind of coffee concoction.  The woman rolled her eyes, but she still held an amused smile.

“Hello, I’m Sabine.  Please choose a sweet, you’ll need it if you’re going to drink her “Miracle Cure”, as the college students like to call it.”

“Thank miss.  Please, call me Tim.”

He said giving her a small smile back as he browsed the selection.  In the display he noticed lots of animal themed treats and smiled.  There were many ladybug and cat themed ones as well as an orange fox, a turtle, a bee, a blue snake, a monkey, and a red dragon.  It was an interesting choice of animals and he wondered if they were important in some way here.  He found a small tarte aux fruits with an assortment of fruits that formed the red dragon.  When he looked up he saw the woman waiting for him still wearing her friendly smile.

“Could I please have the Tarte aux fruits du dragon please?”

“Of course dear.”

Carefully she opened the door to the refrigerated case and grabbed one of the fruit tarts and carefully put it in a small box.  Tim went to the register right as Marinette had finished and placed the large drink in front of him.  He pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Marinette’s hand.

“Nope, on the house.  An apology for earlier.”

She said with a bright smile.  Tim was shocked and felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years begin to bloom once again.  He gently took the coffee from her hands and carefully picked up the small box with a plastic fork atop it.

“Thank you, Marinette.  That’s very kind of you.”

Her smile brightened and before Tim could stop or even think of what he was saying the words had already left his mouth,

“If you’re free, do you want to walk around Paris with me?”

Marinette blinked for a moment shocked, but then smiled again and nodded.

“Sure, that sounds nice!”

She took off the apron she had been wearing while making the coffee and hung it up on a wrack before walking out from behind the counter snd grabbing his arm and almost dragging him out the door.  When she realized what she was doing she quickly dropped it slightly blushing and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“S-sorry.  I should have asked first.”

Tim snickered a little, she was adorable.

“No it’s fine, so where to first?”

Tim asked as he gently placed the tart in his satchel and sipped the coffee.  When he did he felt his mind begin to clear and he felt more awake than he had in a long time.  He understood why it was called Miracle Cure now, this stuff was amazing!

“Well, where were you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of going to the Arc de Triomphe then head towards the Effiel Tower.”

Marinette beamed and nodded and began to walk towards the Arc de Triomphe.  She knew the path by heart as she often went there for inspiration.  The two talked the whole way there and bonded over their love of coffee and insomniac tendencies.  As they arrived at their first destination the sat on the steps and watched people pass them.  Tim pulled out the small tart and began to slowly eat it and smiled.  It tasted like Alfred’s cooking, though he didn’t want to admit that this might just be a bit better.  He glanced over at Marinette and noticed that she now had a sketchbook out and was drawing something.  He didn’t want to disturb her as he didn’t like being interrupted when he was really into something and let her draw as he watched the people.  Suddenly there was a loud crash.  He looked up and was shocked to see a giant child walking around smashing and destroying buildings.  He looked over and saw that Marinette had disappeared and he began to panic.

He stood up and began to move so he could get a better place to watch and analyze what was happening so that he could see if he needed to interfere.  He watched silently from a roof and saw a bunch of people begin to surround the child all with the same theme.  His mind flashed to the animals in the bakery and connected the dots as he glanced at all of the different people in animal costumes.  He watched as the Ladybug ordered everyone on the plan and on what to do which lead him to believe that she was the leader of this group.  It only took a few minutes and he watched the cat hero completely destroy a toy car from the giant child’s hand and a purple feather and butterfly flew out.  The ladybug hero quickly caught them and released them into the air.  She threw the object she had summoned into the air and he watched in amazement as thousands, maybe millions, of small ladybugs flew around the damage done and repaired all of it, including the bodies that had not been moving moments ago.

Tim ran back to the Arc de Triomphe and waited there to see if Marinette would come back.  It took a few minutes and then he saw her figure running towards him with panic and worry.

“Tim, I’m so sorry!  Are you ok?  I shouldn’t have left like that, I’m so sorry.”

Tim gave her an awkward smile and nodded.

“It’s fine, you came back afterall.”

She smiled at him and he lifted his arm out for her to take,

“Shall we continue our walk Mademoiselle?”

Tim asked with a slight bow.  Marinette giggled and gave a small curtsy before she placed her hand atop of his.

“Why of course Monsieur.”

They both laughed as they walked.  They enjoyed the silence for a bit before Tim asked what had happened.

Marinette gave him a sad sigh and explained the situation that had been happening in Paris for about 4 years now.  Tim was shocked that this hadn’t made it to the Justuce League, especially if it had been happening for four entire years.  Tim asked a few more questions that Marinette happily answered and they felt happy and content in the warm companionable silence.  Tim thought of all of his past birthdays, and he knew that this one was on the top 5 best list of his favorite birthdays.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!!!!!!!!! #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Maribat #marinette dupen chang #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #timinette #timari #romantic timinette #Bruce Wayne #alfred pennyworth #Tim is best robin #Fight me

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jaemin i am once again late for his birthday but, happy birthday prince na! find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark

there’s a bright pink post-it note on your mailbox on the first day of summer. it says there’s a letter inside

you don’t understand who put it there and why

and of course there’s a letter inside, it’s your mailbox - what else should there be?

you open the letter as you’re sitting criss-cross on the edge of the lake, right in the patch of grass that’s tall enough to hide your figure when you lay down

it’s short and it isn’t signed by anyone

it just asks you to meet ‘him’ at the movie theater in town next week for the eight pm showing of some b-rate comedy film

you pop one of the strawberries you brought with you in your mouth as you try and figure out who ‘he’ is

he must know you somehow, if he doesn’t - that’s just creepy

you look at the handwriting 

it’s neat, so you roll over on your stomach and make a little list to yourself

renjun? no, he’s spending this summer in paris

haechan? no, he’d never write a letter and not put his name on it

jeno? no, he’d never write a letter in the first place

jaemin? your hand hovers over the next strawberry and you rest your cheek against your palm

na jaemin? why would na jaemin ask you out to a movie date?

you only know each other through mutual friends

you’ve hung out with him once or twice

each time, barely sharing two or more words due to his popularity with just about everyone else in the room

and the fact that you weren’t much of a talker

and he wasn’t much of a listener

you shake your head, no - it’s definitely not na jaemin either.

when the day of the movie comes around, you pace around your room wondering if you should go or not

a part of your mind, logical and sound says of course not. this isn’t the 1940s who is writing letters to ask people on dates that is normal

why can’t they just send you a facebook message or a text

but the other part of your mind, curious says you have to - at least to see who this secret admirer is

you decide, at 7:45pm to throw caution to the wind - it is summer, and the movie theater will be crowded, if you need to make your escape you’ll be able to

there’s nothing to lose

you get there five minutes late and look around for anyone familiar, anyone at all 

when you feel someone tap your shoulder

you turn and blink

“jaemin?”

“you got my letter!”

the movie isn’t good, you aren’t paying attention during most of it, just eating the popcorn jaemin bought and pretending you’re not sneaking peeks at him every five minutes mulling over the same thought

why did he ask me to go to the movies? does he want to be my friend? is this a date?

he turns, when the credits roll, and ask if you have to be home by a certain time

you shake your head, so he asks if you’ll come with him to the lake

you walk through the grassy patch where you’d read that letter he sent - there are some teenagers out and about, a family bbq somewhere nearby 

so you two stroll till you’re at the edge of the quietest part of the lake and jaemin pulls something from his back pocket that he hands to you

it’s another letter

you start to open it and he makes a sound

in the dark summer night you don’t see his face go red

“don’t read it now-”

“why not? i want to.”

you state bluntly, pulling the folded paper from the envelope and fishing your phone out to use the flashlight

as you start to mouth the words outloud

jaemin shakes his head, turns and runs straight toward the lake

“jaemin!?”

you chase after him, stopping short of the water as he wades in till he’s hip deep

“jaemin?!?”

“it’s embarrassing, i said don’t read it now!”

“fine, fine i won’t - come out of the water!”

you and him walk down the road, his jeans sopping wet and a big smile on his face as you roll your eyes

“that was a dumb thing to do.”

“you were going to read my own letter out loud to me, what did you think i would do?”

you stop a street down from your house and suddenly, even with his wet jeans and that dumb grin on his face

you can’t help but be honest with yourself about jaemin - he’s handsome and he’s sweet 

and this wasn’t weird at all

which makes it weird...........if that makes sense

“can i read it now?”

you ask and wave the letter with one hand, he says ok - in three seconds

when you want to ask what happens in three seconds, he’s already running down the block and away from you counting, 3, 2, 1 -

you sit on your bed, open the letter and read it outloud

i like you, i hope you’ll spend this summer with me. if you don’t believe that i like you, i can prove it. remember right after the fifth football game of the season, in haechan’s dorm, when he was tipsy and we had to hid when the ra came to check on us? you hide with me, under the bed. it was maybe two minutes. just us, alone, listening to haechan lie, trying not to laugh. you smelled like honey and strawberries. i wanted to kiss you under that bed, but i was scared you’d slap me and the ra would catch us. i mean actually that might not prove anything to you. but i like you. if you have nothing else to do, do you want to spend this summer with me?

you set the letter down and get up to grab your phone

you want to text jeno for jaemin’s number but you stop yourself

instead, the next morning you show up on your bike in front of his house

he’s in the yard doing some kind of chore and when he sees you he almost trips over the hose in his hand as he runs over 

he’s going to say something, but you drop a letter in his hands and ride off before he can make a sound

when jaemin opens it

all it reads is

yes, i want to spend this summer with you. 

and you do spend everyday of it together. sitting at the lake, trying to fish or listening to music or just watching the clouds go by

jaemin can talk for hours and usually chatty people rub you the wrong way, but his voice can almost lull you to sleep

and when it does, he pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your hair even though when you wake up he pretends he’s just counting passing butterflies

you visit him at his part-time job at the main street florist, where he does a lot of bouquet wrapping and flower decorating

he brings some of the unused flowers over to your room and teaches you how to weave them together or press them between the pages of your books

you see more shitty movies, you ride your bikes together, you ignore the jealous glares at the mall from other people who wish they were dating jaemin

and jaemin distracts you with silly jokes and general goofiness that you wouldn’t expect from someone so handsome

the first time he tries to kiss you, in your backyard while your parents are away

you mumble for him to stop because you’ve never done it before and he smiles and says ok

if you want him to stop, he’ll stop. he’ll wait forever if he has to.

you shake your head and explain no, it’s not that you want him to wait forever it’s that you don’t want him to be disappointed when you kiss back and sparks don’t fly or whatever it is that happens in love stories

he laughs, he says

don’t worry, the sparks fly for me when you’re just standing next to me. im sure kissing you will feel like the whole parade.

the line is corny and you push him a little, only to curl your hands around the fabric of his shirt and pull him in

his lips are soft and he mumbles again, that you smell and taste like strawberries

as the summer dwindles down you start to panic a little, because his letter had said 

do you want to spend your summer with me

but now that it’s ending you are scared to ask if this will continue - or if jaemin will act like it never happened

on the last day of august, you are walking hand in hand with him from the mall and you stop and look up and jaemin waits

“are you going to leave me when fall comes?”

his smile falls a bit and his features grow serious

“no, are you going to leave me?”

“your letter just said you wanted me to spend this summer with you-”

“i meant this summer, the next, and the next, and the next - every summer. from now until forever.”

you try to hide your smile and you try again to tell him to stop being so romantic

but this time, you are the one who brought it up

you lean up and press your lips to his and jaemin whispers

“i mean it - forever.”

now, so many summers after that one - you come home and there’s a pink post it note on your mailbox

just like there is every first day of summer for the last decade

you open it and there’s a letter inside

meet me at the movies at 8pm?

you tuck the letter into your bag and trot up the stairs to your apartment, the doors open and you push through

jaemin is sitting at the tv and waves without looking when he hears the sound of the lock

you sit down beside him, his arm coming around you

“so what movie are we gonna see this year?”

“oh you know the usual, some bad comedy - but hey.”

he turns to you with the same gleaming smile he’s had since he was a young boy

“the popcorns on me.”

#jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #nct scenarios #nct au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #sfw #na jaemin #nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream imagines

[mariamermaid]

I put a spell on you

Sherlock Holmes (19th century) x fem dancer Reader

Summary: After his brother´s persuasion, Sherlock agrees to go to the Ballet with him and is mesmerized by the dancer…

Words: 1.9k

A/N: This is more for the movies/ enola holmes movie, since it´ll take place in the late 19th century. I´m not too familiar with the ballet, so let´s ignore the accuracy.

 Halloween Masterlist

 Théophile Gautier´s ballet “Giselle” was an absolute success. Even years after the ballet was first performed in Paris, the London theater decided to bring the play back. An act that brought Mycroft Holmes into liberating excitement, much to his brother´s concern. The fog these days laid thick in London and Sherlock, who had just solved an exhausting case, that ended with a dangerous pursuit, in which he broke his arm, wasn´t practically excited. But the younger brother wasn´t left with many options. “God, Sherlock, what happened this time?”

Mycroft pointed towards his arm, hanging in a sling to his side, above his shirt. The jacket was loosely thrown on top of his shoulders, Sherlock shrugged not paying much attention to Mycroft´s needless worries. Around him were a few men gathered and Sherlock found himself falling for simple, but plain and boring small talk. Sighing, he followed his brother into the hall and braced himself for boring hours. But then, the classical music started, Sherlock expected it to be the best part, until he saw you entering the stage. It was the first act and you played the Giselle in the village. Giselle was portrayed as a young, innocent but endearing girl. The white long tutu graced your figure perfectly and throughout the act, you danced across the stage with ease. The forester Hilarion and the prince Albrecht are both in love with Giselle, but after Hilarion unmasks Albrecht´s disguise as a farmer, the girl is led into a disaster. Heartbroken after finding out about Albrecht’s true identity, she falls into his sword and dies. In that scene, Sherlock found himself clinging onto the seat and when the light went out to announce the break, he realized how hard he had grabbed the armrests. His tongue slid across his lips, trying to relax his jaw. He then joined his brother and his entourage outside at the bar for a drink, but the picture of you in the white tutu floating across the stage as if it was nothing, didn´t left his mind. “She´s stunning”, he admitted and the men around him nodded.

“Who? Y/n, she´s a natural”, Mycroft added slightly smiling. “You know her?” Sherlock asked interested and the men echoed in laughter. William Grey, a friend of Mycroft and well-known man in London, grinned. “Your brother, Mr. Holmes, is one of the many men running after Miss Y/L/N.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, he hated admitting that he failed. “I never ran after her.” To Sherlock´s despise, the topic was then dropped. He wanted, no he needed more information about you. While the men gathered for a second round of whiskey, Sherlock did what he did best; research and investigate. He unobtrusively glided through the doors leading to the rooms behind the stage. And there you stood, one hand against the wooden bar and practicing your posture. You had changed costumes, after Giselle´s death, you now wore a blood red tutu and your lips were painted in the same color. Sherlock felt goosebumps raising on his skin, in the soft light of the mere headlights behind the stage, the dry dust floating in the air, you did indeed like a ghost. But a stunning ghost, so beautiful, Sherlock just stopped in his tracks to stare at you.

A man, who worked behind the scenes and was just arranging a background piece, bumped against Sherlock. “Man, don´t stand around!” He eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “No spectators behind the stage”, he added and his low went low. “I…” He didn´t know what to answer, his eyes were still glued onto you. A man, as far as Sherlock guessed he was the regisseur, came to talk you and you nodded to whatever he was saying. You then turned to get your hair checked again, but you noticed the unknown man standing around. His tall figure with his neat clothes, his eyes meeting yours. For a second, you stood still, admiring his dark locks and his angular features. But then you remembered the work and disappeared within the crowd of people running around. “Didn´t you hear what I just said?” Sherlock jerked, as the man spoke up again, louder and clearly angry.

“Sorry, I must´ve taken a wrong door somewhere.”

As quick as he appeared behind the stage, he vanished again. Sherlock found his seat next to his brother, who eyed him confused. “Where have you been?” Luckily, the lights went out before he could think of an excuse.

 The second act started, the forester Hilarion waits at Giselle´s death bed, until the nature ghosts and their queen Myrtha appear to welcome Giselle in their realm. Sherlock couldn´t tear his eyes of you, you were pale with powder and your once white gown, was now black as the night. Albrecht finds the ghost as well and follows Giselle into the woods. Myrtha and her wilas, dance around Hilarion until he drops with exhaustion and dies. Myrtha shortly after finds Albrecht, but he is protected by Giselle´s love. At dawn, the queen loses her power and Giselle forgives Albrecht, before she vanishes.

The whole act was preposterous, the dance of the dead ghosts and in between them; you. Sherlock saw the light of life in your eyes glistening. You looked magical to him; he couldn’t describe any other way. The hall echoed with applause and Sherlock even joined in the standing ovation, your performance was outstanding. He then waited outside with his brother again; some men with wife´s went home, but Sherlock waited with anticipation. It was almost an hour later, when he finally saw you. The stage make-up was gone and you looked exhausted, but happy. You had a coat thrown over your shoulder and a dark red, rather simple dress. Your hair was loosened, but remained closed. People quickly approached you, congratulating on the success and praising your abilities and talent. But you had spotted Mycroft within the crowd, and with him the man who had caught your attention earlier. You slipped away and made your way to them. “Mycroft.” You smiled as he greeted you, leaning down and placing a delicate kiss on your hand. “Y/N, extraordinary and perfect as always.” A faint blush was on your cheeks, but then your glance wandered to Sherlock.

“Who is your companion, Mycroft?” It was almost awkward, how Sherlock couldn´t do anything but stand around and stare at you, his brother chuckled. The sight was rare, but welcomed for him. “You´ve heard of him, my brother Sherlock!” A grin crept on your rosy lips and you put out your hand to greet him as well. Sherlock could´ve punched himself, a lady like you holding her hand out first; what kind of gentleman he was! He took it softly and did his brother equal, placing a kiss on your hand. “Mr. Holmes, are you working on a case right now?” Sherlock stopped, raising his eyebrow confused.

“It seemed like you nosed around behind the stage in the break, are you looking for a thief?” The assumption you made was perfectly fine, but your tone stated differently. You knew he wasn´t there for a case and Mycroft snickered. “You have to excuse my brother, Y/n. Snooping around runs in his veins.” Sherlock breathed out, a slight annoyance rising. He didn´t like the way his brother was able to interact with you, not unless he was able to do so as well.

Mycroft changed the subject; “My birthday, Y/n, next week, I hoped you would come?” Your eyes left Sherlock and jealousy rose in him, a feeling he wasn´t very familiar with. “I have a performance, but I will try to sneak away afterwards.”

William Grey interrupted your group, saying his goodbye´s for the evening and you cleared your throat. “I´m going home as well, training and rehearsals are getting the better of me.” For once this night, Sherlock was quicker than his brother. “Can I walk you home, Miss Y/L/N?”

You grabbed your bag a little tighter, hanging over your shoulder and he noted how hard to read your expression was. “I don´t need a man to protect me, Mr. Holmes. But I´m willing to let you accompany me in exchange for some details about your solved cases, I´m quite a fan if you will.” Sherlock smiled and tilted his head proudly.

“So, you recognized the murderer due to his shoes?” You asked interested as the two of you walked through the dark streets of London. The light from the lanterns fell softly to the ground, but the air laid silent. It was late, barely any light left in most houses. Sherlock nodded, lurking down to you. “That´s fascinating, Mr. Holmes.” “You can call me Sherlock.”

For the first time, you actually blushed. “Willing to solve some riddles for me, Sherlock?” A shiver ran down his spine as you called him by his name, but he nodded. “When the water comes down, it rains. I go up, what am I?” Sherlock paused for a second, but a grin spread on his lips. “An umbrella.”

“I can fly but I have no wings. I can cry but I have no eyes.” “A cloud.”

"I dance as the night rises and a wooden pole accompanies me; what am I?” He chuckled confident.

“A ballerina.”

You stopped on the street and behind you laid a park, dark and the silhouettes of trees and bushes rose like giants in the night. “A witch, Mr. Holmes. A witch on her broom.”

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, behind you walked a black cat and the coincidence let him shiver. He usually wasn´t a superstitious type, but you were not to be underestimated; he was sure of it. He swallowed realizing how you had been able to distract him from the logical solution. “As far as I´m concerned, I have bewitched your mind, Sherlock.” From your coat you pulled out a notepad, his notepad. All notes on previous cases and current observations were written down. “How-“

“For a detective, you´re not very good at sneaking around, behind the stage.” You fell into his word, before he was able to ask questions. He wondered how on earth you had stolen his notepad, maybe due to his lack of movement with the broken arm? You were absolutely right however; you did drive him insane. Laughing, you held his notepad still up. “Don´t worry, you´ll get your notes back, if you solve my last riddle.”

His tongue glided over his lips. “A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance.”

He anticipated more, but you closed your mouth, grinning. “I´ll see you next week, Sherlock.”

Sherlock hadn´t realized that you had reached your destination and you turned to leave him standing in the middle of the street. “How did you steal my notes?”

You laughed out loud as you hurried into a dark alley, he guessed that the entrance to your apartment laid there.

“I put a spell on you, Sherlock Holmes.”

He hurried after you, but as he entered the alley, a dead end as he realized, you were gone. There was no door and no windows at the wall surrounding him, you had basically vanished into thin air. Sherlock smiled in excitement; the evening turned out so much better than he ever imagined. He lit himself a pipe and strolled to his own home. A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance, your words repeated in his mind. I´ll see you next week. Mycroft´s birthday party and you don´t want to dance. What does a lady do, that gets invited by someone, who she doesn´t want to dance with? She arrives accompanied by a different man.

#sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock imagine #henry cavill #robert downey jr #benedict cumberbatch #mariamermaidimagine #enola holmes

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #single chapter fics #Anonymous

[bunny-girl-senpaii]

Types of People: Big Cities

paris: silk gloves, winding staircases, fragrant red roses, listens to Lana Del Rey, passionate and ambitious, writing love letters in black ink, wistfulness on the city streets, the smell of fresh pastries in a French bakery, romantically dark eyes, a bit of a flirt. 

london: long trench coats and stylish boots, dark hair styled in neat braids, books tucked under their arm, evening skies and streetlamps, marble statues, the click of heels on a glass floor, sharp smiles, raised eyebrows, mystery novels on a stormy night. 

tokyo: skies the color of cotton candy, walking alone on a sunlit sidewalk, singing at sunrise, gauze curtains, probably a good artist, friendly and easy to talk to, soft-spoken, wind chimes and a gentle laugh, idealistic, romanticizes life, likes pastels. 

sydney: cherry red lip gloss, ferris wheels with friends, clear blue skies and a loud laugh, wandering through the city at sunset, hides their pain with humor, lemonade in the summertime, quick grins, lots of friends but not popular, plays the guitar. 

new york: tragic smiles, usually calm but has a dangerous temper, sophisticated, long boots in autumn leaves, silver jewelry, dimly lit alleyways, flickering street lamps, thick dark hair, probably a heartbreaker, snow flurrying over a brightly lit office building. 

san diego: not many friends, a bit of a dork, usually sunny and energetic, a loud laugh and bright eyes, messy short hair, palm trees swaying in a summer breeze, watermelon in warm weather, loves long hugs, overshares everything, clumsy but lovable. 

chicago: wants to be aesthetic, moonlit street corners, tall buildings, messy buns, dark eyes and awkward smiles, too pessimistic, long car rides, music playing faintly, not very popular, cups of tea gone cold, loves their family, raspy voice, slightly clumsy. 

#types of people #aesthetic #aesthetics #types of aesthetics