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#like if i can’t write novels you’d think fuck it let’s write fics right
blueeyesatnight · a month ago
Text
The Cross: Part 4: Saddle Sore
Title: The Cross
Pairing: Pero Tovar x reader (no y/n)
Rating: R (going to increase, I do not write with kiddos in mind so no wee lurkers please)
Word Count: 8800 
Warnings: language, I curse. Also a creepy man making creepy attempts at us. Very Medieval appropriate sexism. Also there’s monsters. They bite.
A/N: Listen, I bought the novelization for the movie and like we about to have ten kinds of problems because they keep describing Pero as feral and bestial and like...I’m here for that. 
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You might have been better off saying you were, actually, a witch and more accustomed to flying than saying what had just tumbled out of your mouth. All four men looked shocked but Tovar's hands flew up in annoyance.
"Of course she never rode a horse...too used to carriages or did slaves carry you from room to room?" 
He looked at William, "I told you she could not take care of herself." 
They had offered to let you pick a pack horse if you wanted one and you had responded too quickly, without consideration of how ludicrous it would sound, and you blamed a lack of coffee which you definitely should not mention. 
You had the good grace to look embarrassed, “I know the basic idea, I can manage.”
“You’ll be too saddlesore to move and if we run into the tribes…” William looked doubtful, shaking his head, “You’ll have to double up or we might as well just strand you out here.”
You clenched your jaw. Erik leaned in, “She can sit in front of me.”
You did not think that was the best option.
Their guide shook his head-- he was not touching the strange witch-woman they found as he was more baffled than them as to how someone so clean and fresh looking manifested here. He accused you of springing out of the ground which you found ridiculous, ill-advisedly joking, “Wouldn’t I be dirty if I did come out of the ground?” 
They then decided you’d fallen out of the sky.
“Stupid,” Tovar had grumbled, “She has people, somewhere near. They must be very powerful and very well supplied if this is what their undesirables look like.”
“What makes me so undesirable?” You had huffed.
“They left you here to die, sabia.” He mocked, “No weapon, no animal or knowledge how to ride one...you would not have lasted a day out here if we did not find you. And how did we? You shouted into the wind. Like a great fool.”
He had stared at you hard, “I still think you will die.”
“Well if you decide to be the one to do it please at least be quick about it, will you?” You had snapped.
Rizzetti didn’t like that nobody had acknowledged his request to let you ride with him so he tried again but you turned your back on him. When you did Rizzetti reached out to touch your back and Tovar moved between the two of you and looked over you to talk to William, blocking the Italian from putting a hand on you without ever touching you himself.
“We should just leave her.” Tovar suggested.
William eyed him, poignantly ignoring the statement, and instead looked you up and down-- not a lecherous stare, almost assessing your size, your height, your weight. Like he was considering his options.
After a pause he spoke to Tovar again as though you did not have ears and could not hear them.
"If we run into the hill tribes I'll need my arms to shoot." William told Tovar without preamble, "So it's you or Rizzetti...and he does seem anxious to get closer to her." 
The Spaniard growled, "Why do you always get me into these terrible situations?" 
William patted his friend's arm, "Cheer up, I've gotten you into worse trouble than forcing a pretty girl to sit in your lap." 
Rolling his eyes and his whole head with it he mumbled something about hoping you had a very expensive bounty for your return and gently tugged on the fabric of your shirt, “Come, sabia. God knows if you can even mount a horse.”
You went to go pack up your bag in silence. They watched you as you considered what to do, unpacked the bag, laid some things out, and rolled your sleeping bag up as tight as it would go. William and Tovar were watching your bag, Rizzetti was watching other things and the guide felt mildly as though looking at you would somehow hurt him. William and Tovar had a short-hand, able to make a lot of sense to one another without much dialogue. The Spaniard was making room for you on his horse while the Irishman got a closer look at you; William leaned over nosily inspecting your sleeping bag, “What is it made out of?”
“Something that keeps water out. It’s warm.” Do not say polyester. Do not say polyester. 
He poked it, “Soft. Not silk?”
“No, no...I’m not that wealthy for all he is making fun of me.”
“Wealthy enough.” William reasoned, “Honey on your food, food you give away freely like you don’t worry about it. Water in a metal flask, a large one, one made by a master craftsman... something that feels like silk and looks like it has down in it.” 
You felt the heat creep up your neck, “I understand what you’re saying. Doesn’t change facts-- I’m not some spoiled little princess where I come from.”
“Which has to be close. Why don’t you bring us there if it has honey to throw away?” William cocked his head and you cocked it right back.
“This will not make sense to you...but I was not far from here, but I am terribly far from here.” You shrugged, “I know that’s ridiculous. Besides, you aren’t here for honey. You’re here for something else. Don’t know what.”
“We’re here to trade. Honey would suit us fine.” William tried but you shook your head.
“No it wouldn’t. You are not tradesmen, you’re mercenaries.”
Tovar’s head perked up and he raised his eyebrows at William, pointing to you with the butt of a dagger he was tucking into his belt as he re-arranged his saddle bags to make room for you, “And how do you know that, sabia?”
You gestured to the weapons and you shrugged, “I don’t expect you to understand me but I said I studied things...I studied enough to know you’re mercenaries.”
“Do you keep saying this because you think we are stupid?” William asked, almost genuinely curious.
“No.” You tied the drawstring on your backpack tightly and before you could do much Tovar popped it out of your hands and tied it on the back of his horse with a grumble about your general uselessness, “I just...I don’t know how to explain in a way that won’t make you think I am a witch.”
“Because you’re a witch.” The Spaniard reasoned, “A witch or a little lady, off on her own. Either way-- trouble for us.”
He gently tapped on your wrist but his frustration was apparent, “Have you ever had to get on a horse or am I expected to build you a ladder?”
Out of spite you refused the hand he put out for you to step on and insisted on pulling yourself up on the horse who had as much patience for you as its rider.
It was not your most graceful moment.
You saw William holding in a laugh and Tovar rolling his eyes and swearing in Spanish-- you assumed swearing anyway he certainly didn’t seem happy. Just before he got on William smacked his arm, “Al menos huele bien.” 
“Sí, eso es lo importante.” Tovar grumbled and jumped up behind you fucking elegantly. You tried to skooch forward and give him room in back of you but he growled a little and said, “Stop moving all around.”
He put a hand on your hip and jerked it back until you were completely flush against him, you could feel the line of his legs and his hips, he moved the hand from your hip to the reins and said, “Hold on.”
Hold on, right, how hard could this---
Even though he started the horse off slow you almost fell four times in the first fucking hour and he was clearly pissed off and bitching a blue streak to William the entire time. 
“Stop pulling her mane!” He hissed, swatting your hands, “Hold onto it when we have to go faster, don’t just pull on her for no reason.”
You were trying not to lean back and snapped at him as much, “I’m trying not to lean on you!”
“What, not a soft enough pillow for the princesa?” 
“I didn’t think you’d like it… I don’t want to be in your way.”
Rizzetti was watching, “You wouldn’t be in my way little princess, and I wouldn’t talk half so mean to you.”
You glared at the Italian but you felt Tovar growl.
“I’d like for you to not confuse the fucking horse.” He swatted your hands off the mane again, and he pulled the horse out of her pace and into a full stop. He took a minute and put his hands on your hips, “Don’t fight the movement-- feel how I move, do the same, or you’re going to push her out of her pace. Don’t just throw your weight down dead on her back, nobody can run like that.” 
He put his hand on your waist, firmly, fingers splayed, and you oddly realized how large his hands were-- it was no wonder he plucked daggers out of the sky so easily, he could probably grip two in one of his hands. He pulled you completely back against him, he leaned in close to your ear, his beard tickling your skin, and whispered, you guessed so Rizzetti could not hear and make more comments, “Is almost like a dance, you can’t go against the movement or you stumble. You have to move with me or she stumbles.”
You felt warm-- his beard felt nice and even around them for a night you were developing a nose-blindness to them. His voice...that accent, it sank right into the pit of your stomach and you tried not to think about how his hand felt on you. You hadn’t been touched by a man in…
Not the time. Not the time at all.
You gulped, In a while. It had been a long fucking while.
His hips snugged up against yours and he pressed against your waist a little, “You listening, sabia? Or is she not a quick study?”
You let out a long breath, “She’s a quick study...like a dance. I’m not a great dancer.”
You heard him make a small noise in his throat, a curiosity perhaps, and he started up the horse again, forcing you to feel the pace that was set.
It meant that you spent most of the day with his hips swaying into your backside, forcing yours along the saddle. If it wasn’t so uncomfortable you’d have been climbing the fucking walls in desire-- the saddle wasn’t exactly designed with two in mind.
You tried your best to focus on the motion-- perhaps if you could stop yourself from wanting to be touched it wasn’t the worst idea to think about it like finding your motion with a partner. After all, dancing wasn’t exactly something you did...ever. But you liked to think you weren’t awful in bed. Just...find the motion. Sway with him. Do not focus on how it feels just focus on getting it done.
At least the saddle soreness did distract you from any other thoughts about the Spaniard. 
The day was spent riding-- uneventful. Everyone eventually begging a stop for different reasons, mostly Rizzetti complaining of leg pains.
At one point Tovar snapped, “She will hardly be able to walk tonight and she asks to stop less than you.”
Rizzetti seemed more sensitive to the comment and snarled, “I’ll give her a reason to not walk tonight.”
Everyone ignored the threat because as Rizzetti got down he hissed on the leg. You leaned back to whisper to Tovar, his hand tightening on your waist as you did, “When did he get hurt?”
“A week? It is getting worse.” His beard did tickle you every time he spoke and with your head turned to keep your comment quiet he was a hair’s breadth from your lips.
You nodded, trying to ignore the proximity, “He’s going to fester.”
Tovar’s eyes slid down you and he pulled the horse to a stop-- if Rizzetti was going to take a break so could you. He hopped down first and then helped you with markedly less complaining than this morning and he whispered, “Do you have anything to help him, sabia?”
You thought about the small bottle of hand sanitizer in the bottom of your bag. You chewed on a lip saying quietly, “He’s too far gone. It would take everything I have and it wouldn’t help.”
Tovar nodded, “Lista, sabia. You are learning. Save it for yourself.”
After he helped you down he let you stretch and walk around, noticing that you kept a wide berth from Rizzetti. William meandered over to him, “And?”
“What?” Tovar snapped.
William just looked at him, nodding a little, and said, “How is it?”
“I believe she’s never ridden a horse,” He grumbled but kept his face down.
He would not be admitting it, but you had paid attention to him-- you moved with him. In fact you moved quite well. He had whispered in your ear and then you had moved perfectly in the saddle. Not perfect because you did it right but perfect because you responded to every press and prod he gave to correct you. It got to be so easy-- his hand would just ever so slightly bend on your waist and you followed it. 
Frankly, once you started swaying your hips with his he had the unbidden thought-- when was the last time he had been with someone? Nearly a year. 
Shit.
You had picked up the idea of how to move with him easily, more easily than he would ever tell you. 
How well would you move under him? How well would you learn it? 
Shit. 
He knew better than to think about it. He believed you when you said you were not a whore. If you were not...he would never get to know what you would be like spread beneath him.
William had a way of reading Tovar and the Irishman smirked, “We could trade for a while, if you were so bothered.”
No. He didn't want to see you swaying in sync with his friend. 
“No, our luck this is when the hill tribes will attack and when you try to shoot she’ll fall off and be trampled-- then what was the point of dragging her along?”
“She’s alone.” William didn’t respond to the fact that Tovar was not trying to get rid of you, “I don’t think we should leave her.”
Tovar chewed on an errant part of his beard, “She will die if we do.”
He shrugged, “Less work for me if she does.”
But when Rizzetti was done taking a piss and pretending his leg wasn’t getting worse Tovar helped you back on the horse-- neither one of you saying anything about how easily you both slid back into position.
*
You were riding with them nearly a week and knew some things to be true. You were definitely noseblind, because nothing bothered you anymore including yourself and you sensed you were getting rank. You acknowledged that however you were here the town you had been by, three hours from where they had found you, should have been reached days ago and you had no idea where to go or what to do-- if they let you tag along, you would tag along. Maybe when you found the box you could consider what to do next but right now it was just a matter of survival. 
The whole ordeal was both ridiculous and becoming so very real.
How were you here? 
Why were you here?
If for some reason you were plopped here because you needed to meet these mercenaries you studied so that you knew what to look for when you went home...what the hell were you looking for?
At least after the first couple of days Willam was chattier with you-- and Tovar, too, in his own gruff way.
William had told you that he met Tovar while fighting for Spain but would not elaborate on the story after Tovar cut him off in gruff Spanish. 
Riding was easier for you now. 
They had let you try walking one of the pack mares around the camp at night but Tovar shook his head at William when the Irishman suggested one night that they should let you try to ride by yourself.
“She seems like she can keep her balance, it’ll give you a break.” William shrugged but Tovar shook his head.
“Every day we are out here and the hill tribes don’t attack us means that they are more likely to do it tomorrow-- you put her on that horse and you are calling on every God to send us a fight because she won’t know what to do in one. She will freeze. She will get thrown. She will die. Why bring her only to let her die that way?” Tovar shook his head.
William leaned close and whispered, “Getting too used to having her there?”
Tovar had rolled his eyes, “At least she keeps pace now. She isn’t completely stupid.”
William snorted, “And nothing to do with that pretty little backside learning how to bounce against your hip?”
“I’m not Rizzetti.” Tovar bit back but also looked over his shoulder to make sure you had not heard. He was not Rizzetti in that he would not try to take it...but he had enjoyed what he had had. He thought he might be permitted as much. 
You had come to trust him, trust him and William, and he knew you felt safer with them than the other two men. He wanted to keep that trust. Wanted you safe. You were surely going to get him killed or break his horse down but you were…somehow he felt you were worth protecting. Just a pretty little thing without a thought to how to survive in such a hungry world, there was an innocence to how you just looked at the world that he did envy. Had he ever been so naive? What might his life had looked like if someone had preserved it? 
Rizzetti was getting more dangerous now-- louder, nastier. He was probably feverish but kept himself apart enough that nobody could easily tell. He eyed you more and more, something Tovar noticed.
Rizzetti's leg was getting worse. The smell managed to break over the combined smell of four men's musks and also your own growing ripeness. 
That night it felt like it was stabbing your nostrils.
Normally you slept and when you did you slept deeply-- the men had mocked you the first few nights, Tovar proclaiming you’d be eaten in your sleep and never even notice. 
They did not let you keep watch-- Tovar insisting it was because you were too stupid to see danger-- but tonight you might as well have tried. During Erik Rizzetti's entire shift you only pretended to be asleep, really you were awake, senses tuned to him, feeling like he was watching you. At night it was easy to get lost in all the other thoughts and panic you kept at bay during the day's survival tasks. You inched closer to Tovar's sleeping form. You were so used to being carved out against the Spaniard all day that you sought him out more so than William at night. 
You were sleeping so fitfully. 
You got up after you awoke in a fright and stretched, looking to see who was on duty. If it was Rizzetti you would just curl up between the other two boys again. As Rizzetti got more...volatile you noticed they had gotten closer to you. The first night they kept two feet between you on either side, now the three of you practically slept in a pile. 
There was honor among mercenaries.
You were under no illusions-- mercenaries who survived, and survived this long, were good at doing terrible things and probably didn’t terribly mind doing them. You knew these men were not angels. But they were…
They weren’t going to let you die out here. They had found you, by chance, and you had nothing to do with what they were here for, and they could have just left you for dead. They didn’t. Their partner had progressively more unpleasant notions about what you should be doing to him to ease his obvious discomfort. They didn’t agree with him or remotely try to do the same thing to you and you half sat in Tovar’s lap for hours and hours each day.
You trusted the two of them not to hurt you-- when you woke and saw it was Tovar on guard duty, his swords both on his lap with a whetstone and a leather cloth, you got up and walked over.
“You should sleep now, I don’t need you napping on me again.”
“One time.” You complained.
He hadn’t actually minded half as much as he made it seem-- at least it hadn’t been so bad because the horse had been walking instead of trotting and he had gotten to just enjoy you, soft against him, breathing evenly. 
You watched him care for the blades and he noticed, “You watch the weapons a lot for a woman, what did your father do? Was he a smith?”
You shook your head, “My father left when I was very small...I don’t really know what he does.”
That made the Spaniard cock his head, “No brothers?”
You shook your head, “Only child. My mother...she’s….”
You sighed, “It’s a sickness? Of the mind. She is...alive, but she’s not herself. She looks at me and doesn’t know who I am.”
 Tovar considered this, “You really were traveling alone?”
“Yes.” 
His face seemed a little soft for a moment but that was quickly smothered, “A good way to die.”
“Likely. Yes.” You agreed, “But then, how much easier your day would be.”
He snorted, “This is true.” 
You watched him clean and sharpen his blades. 
The inscription was easy to see in the firelight. 
You held out a long finger and without touching the blade traced the letters and asked him, “Can you read?”
“A little.” He tapped the letters, “Can you read this sabia?”
“Deus det mihi vires. Latin. God give me strength.” You frowned just a little, “You’re missing one part, I have heard it as deus det mihi vires et imperium.”
He looked a little struck by the fact that you so easily read it, “I had it done this way. My first sword I had made, I had it just so.”
You cocked your head, hoping for a little more story, and he sighed deeply seeing what you wanted, “If he gives me the strength, I have the power. I don’t need to ask for both.”
You smiled a little-- this man nearly ate his own fingers off, he was ravenous whenever a wisp of food was by him, and he was always looking for more. You didn’t think of him as someone who meekly sat and asked for only enough but not any more.
He tapped your pant leg, by your pocket, “What is it that you hide in there?”
He had noticed that you kept your phone tucked securely under your jeans, the snugness of the material working better than a pocket to keep the machinery close to you while you rode every day. 
“Something from my home, something that doesn’t belong out here.”
He eyed you when you said that, “Why did you come out here all alone?”
“I was...looking for answers. To questions I had in my studies. I was...alone. I had nobody. I had nothing left but the hope there were answers so I came out here….honestly with very little planning. Just...started walking. Hoping I found some kind of path.”
After a moment he snorted, “A good way to die.”
“I know.” You nodded-- he was right. If you had felt woefully deficient before you had walked out of your lab it was nothing to how you felt now thrown into such a different time, but at least you knew there was no way for you to have prepared for the deficiencies of practical medieval life and all you could do was try your best to learn, “I...I don’t know how to live out here. Like you do. I’m….all the things I’m good at, they won’t keep me alive. But I know that and I'm trying.”
Tovar looked at you without mockery, “What are you good at, sabia?”
“You’ll make fun of me.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged.
After a moment you trusted him with it, “I...study weapons. I know all about weapons and trade routes and maps... I study them. But you were right, I have no idea how to use one. A weapon.”
He looked surprised, “You...study weapons? But you don’t make war? You can’t fight?”
You shook your head, “No.”
He had never considered something so strange, “Why study them then?”
You ran a finger over his blade, letting it coast gently down the center groove, admiring the way the metal gleamed, “I think they’re beautiful.”
What compelled him to do it he couldn’t say but he reached up and grabbed your chin, not so hard that it hurt but he was firm, his eyes looked dark, “War isn’t beautiful and fighting is not a poem for you to study little sabia. Do not get too close to it...it doesn’t know you can’t fight. It will eat you.”
For the first time in your experience here you were afraid… afraid of the violence that had framed his whole life, his whole existence, that you had had the gall to once study like a piece of tapestry or an illuminated manuscript.
The moment was broken by William waking to give Tovar a turn at sleep and when Tovar dropped your face he waited just a minute as he walked back to the sleep area and then turned his head a little, “You coming to sleep, sabia?”
You wished he said coming to bed because the phrase was so close….so so close to something else. 
You wished that you could smother the little part of you that was growing...ever so much more attached to him. He packed away his long swords, kept his dagger under his arm, one had wrapped around its handle, always ready.
Always.
He lived like life was at war with him, or maybe like death was. Like death was making a constant forward assault on him and he had to outmaneuver it.
You had lived a life of such peace, such...such safety.
You couldn’t tell how much danger you were in from Rizzetti or anything else in the darkness around the camp. You didn’t speak Italian. 
William did.
William and Tovar could hear how much worse Rizzetti’s pain was and how desperate he was for a distraction, especially one like you.
Without William on the other side of you Rizzetti had a clear view if he woke. When he woke. It would be a when-- his pain didn’t let him sleep long or well. Before he closed his eyes Tovar grabbed the edge of your sleep bag and nestled it closer to him, close enough that he draped one arm over your hip, his cloak harmlessly laying on top of your soft and warm bag. 
He didn’t think Rizzetti would try anything, not while you were so close to Tovar.
But he didn’t want to guess wrong.
*
The time was different here than you ever anticipated.
Tovar was right and you were an idiot: having given away your food on the first night the men had shared what little they had left of jerky with you but they were stretching it thin-- eating every other day. Water was scarce. You learned quick you were drinking yours too fast and then had very little left and had to go without for the whole day. It had made your head spin and Tovar had cursed you for an idiot who was going to get herself killed.
You were hungry.
You had never been so hungry. Tovar could hear your stomach, “Poor little princesa, not used to going so long between meals?”
“No.” You were too hungry and thirsty to fight with him, “But I’m learning.”
He didn’t know what to say in response, just gently squeezed your waist. Rizzetti began complaining a blue streak about his own hunger and Tovar finally asked William something in Spanish. They stopped earlier than normal after William had spent some time eyeing the sky. 
He walked off alone, coming back a short enough while later with two ugly looking birds-- carrion birds if you had to guess, feasting off of some unfortunate creature that was already picked to bone William told you. He had dropped them at your feet without a thought and the men got to building a fire, they only realized a few minutes into that you had no idea at all what to do with the birds.
“You want to eat princesa?” Tovar nodded to the birds, “Get them ready.”
You tucked your chin against your chest, biting back the embarrassment, and starting plucking which you imagined was a first step. They all noticed quickly how bad you were at this and Tovar groaned, “Have you never had to cook for yourself?”
“No.” You shook your head, “Not like this.”
William took some sympathy and sat to show you what to do-- you plucked, you drained, you separated organs. Tovar cut spits and then the bird was dismantled and parceled out to each member of the party.
While it was roasting-- rotating spits being something you were able to manage-- Tovar sat roughly beside you, eyeing Rizzetti.
The man was staring between you and the bird like you were both the same kind of temptation. 
Tovar didn’t trust him. Not anymore. He had never quite trusted him like William but it was worse now.
Rizzetti seemed to see the stare.
He called you a whore, but did it in Italian, and William’s knuckles tightened. Tovar saw and guessed what was being said.
And you...you were focused on the bird and hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on. Dinner was a stiff affair with William handing out the food and then offering to take the first watch. 
Tovar gently patted the space next to him, “Come and get some sleep sabia.”
Rizzetti walked off the camp by himself, cursing in Italian about men unwilling to share, even though there was no privacy to speak of in a camp and you’d never been alone with any of them to do anything remotely like he was suggesting he had convinced himself somehow it was happening. Tovar did not speak Italian, but William did, and William eyed the man as he went off. With the way he looked at you Tovar did not need a translation. Tovar’s almost feral claim of you, hovering with a sharp eye and a ready blade, had only inflamed Rizzetti more. While William had thought it amusing at first to put you with Tovar he was surprised now by the Spaniard’s reaction-- he had clearly taken on the role of protector. In fact it made William sometimes think his choice to bring you in was, perhaps, one of his more stupid moments of sentimentality-- the brute in him knew better. 
Rizzetti’s frustration was a problem for the group. When he stomped off Tovar whispered to William in Spanish, “He can’t stay. He’s going to fight us or hurt her.”
William didn’t disagree.
You looked worriedly between the men, sensing their tension, not fully understanding what it was about. Tovar waved his hand at your bag, “Sleep while you can.”
You wanted to resist but you found yourself exhausted by the daily grind in this time-- without something to scare you awake you were often struggling to keep your eyes open. 
There was solid advice in what the Spaniard said: rest while you can. This time had a way of shifting the ground from under your feet.
William watched the two of you-- you settling into your strange bag. Tovar sitting up still, watching the line where Rizzetti had walked away with suspicion. It took him a minute but he slowly lowered himself and looked over at William, both of them nodding at one another.
Rizzetti was becoming a problem. 
William was the de-facto leader, Tovar his second. They’d win in a contest, even if Rizzetti was at full faculty. But they’d come all this way for him...for a leg and a woman to be the things that soured it all now felt like a shame.
But William had told you that you’d be safe, and he intended to keep that promise.
As good luck would have it Rizzetti stayed away for the night-- having probably gotten caught in the dark like a fool, brain too fever rattled to realize the problem until it was too late.
When Tovar was woken for duty and the Italian wasn’t there he was cautiously optimistic that the man had gone off to die on his own.
I should be so lucky.
As ill luck would have it Rizzetti did return the next morning...and his temper had drawn other attention to their group. Whether he fell asleep or walked about the whole night he was running back to camp when Tovar was on watch, the sky lighting up under a beautiful sun that was going to make them hot and sweaty for the entire fucking day undoubtedly. 
It would have been serene if not for Rizzetti screaming to wake them.
Screaming because he was being chased by the hill tribes in the distance and his busted leg was scarcely strong enough, he was slow running to the horses.
Tovar cursed and roused you roughly, “Up, up, up.”
You were bleary eyed, not used to such quick movement, but scarcely before you could roll your bag Tovar all but threw you on the horse.
“Hold on tight, do not fall. If you fall you will die.” 
What?!
You were holding on for dear fucking life. 
*
How were you expected to be this scared for fucking hours? The horses were worn down, you knew this, you were worried the horse’s legs would just collapse under you but the tribes were catching up…. You had been chased all day. Tovar had been keeping you caged between his arms and his legs, you had never fully appreciated how strong the man was until rattling between his limbs was all that was keeping you from being trampled by a herd of galloping horses.
William was turning in his saddle to shoot back at the men pursuing them, but sparingly, afraid to lose all his arrows. 
They needed a solution. 
“We can’t keep the pace!” Tovar hissed. 
William knew that.
The horses were exhausted.
You pointed to a forked ridge, “Can we hide?”
The men both looked ahead-- it was far. Not so far, but far for horses as tired as theirs. 
If the horses died and they were on foot they would die within days.
“Cut the pack horses loose!” William shouted when they finally got enough headway and saw the dividing gorge come up.
You had eaten about a gallon of sand, you weren’t sure whose things were where, but right now if cutting loose the pack horses got you off of the fucking horse you couldn’t care less. You needed the sense of panic in your throat to stop. You needed the chase to stop. You didn’t want to die. You could tell even your hardened mercenaries were nervous.
The men pulled their horses behind a large rock, hoping that the tribes followed the running horses.
You must have been panting loudly because Tovar very gently put his hand over your mouth and whispered, “Quiet….quiet.” 
You nodded, not pushing his hand away, trying hard to steady your breath or hold it. 
You closed your eyes and leaned back against him. After a moment his hand fell from your lips to your neck, gently holding you against him, letting himself feel your racing pulse slow. 
“Breathe, sabia.” He whispered, “But quietly.”
You tried to listen. 
Hadn’t there been a thing about yoga breathing? In through the nose, out through the mouth? Deep and steady and calming? Or was that for birth? 
It was something to try at any rate.
You did it, Tovar’s hand dipped from your throat to your collarbone as though your breathing, deep and slow, was somehow soothing to him.
“Good girl.” His voice was husky, low, and his beard was in your ear and that phrase...that phrase buried itself in some deep part of you and lit you on fire. 
His hand where it was…
No. Definitely not the right time.
But you let yourself lean heavier against him and -- were you imagining it?-- he seemed to lean forward against you. His head seemed to rest against yours.
You closed your eyes-- there was something to having to share the saddle, you felt...close to him. Physically, obviously, and Tovar gave spectacularly little else to go off of for closeness, but the way he just let you be against him right now, the way you were breathing. You realized after a second that he had lined his breathing up with yours. 
Just a few moments. A few moments-- endless and quick at the same time-- where he was breathing in perfect sync with you, where his tiny praise had set you on fire and his hand made your skin feel like it was dancing. 
The group was quiet.
After what felt like forever William proclaimed, “Alright...they’re gone. Let’s rest the horses.”
The sun was nigh on setting and nobody would be allowed to leave. No extra food, no extra water, tensions running extremely high.
Tovar got off and helped you off the horse, idly stroking his fingers up and down your spine for a moment, studying your face, “Calmese?”
“Calmer.” You nodded.
He snorted, “I thought you do not speak Spanish.”
“Stop saying easy words if you want to trick me.” You managed a small smirk at him and the humor, small as it was, at least broke a little of the tension.
Rizzetti hissed something in Italian that made William smack his arm with a glove and give him a hard stare.
What a long night it would be.
Despite your assurance to Tovar that you were calmer your hands were shaking from the day and you were ravaged by the adrenaline. To try and keep yourself steady you took your book out from your bag and tried to look it over. 
The guide-- Najiid, you learned-- was poking the fire and offered, only half in jest, “They’d probably take the woman as a fair tribute.”
“No.” Tovar simply said, whetstone back out on his sabre, the answer low and sure.
Rizzetti moved about uncomfortably, his pants torn open to show the wound which he had tried to clean but today’s rough ride had made it sweatier and grimier and sandier. It was already souring. He clearly had a fever.
Rizzetti moaned, “We should turn back-- toss her to them if they return.” 
“No.” William echoed Tovar’s response.
The Italian glared at you and in English he said, “Does the clever little girl have anything in that book to make a poor man feel better?”
You looked up at him.
You had categorically avoided interacting with Rizzetti as this century had a whole different set of rules and you knew that-- you knew that biting back at him the wrong way could put you in a position where neither William and Tovar would defend you against another man. You also...you knew they were mercenaries. All of them-- strong, seasoned soldiers. You knew even Rizzetti in this state was much stronger than you, and he had hurt and killed people before. You’d probably not be much of a target for him.
“No. I’m not a physician.” 
You almost chuckled at your own joke-- how many times had you been asked were you that type of doctor? But obviously the here and now of this whole situation did not exactly have that same kind of humor. 
Tovar’s head ticked toward you a little, he remembered what you said about having something in your pack, and nodded ever so slightly at you.
Good girl. You heard it echo in your head and shivered a little.
Quicker than you would have thought Rizzetti reached out and grabbed a handful of your shirt, pulling you closer, the smell of him and his putrid wound was almost enough to make you gag, and he whispered, “Don’t be so stupid little girl.”
But then he froze.
You hadn’t even seen it happen but Tovar had pulled his dagger, held it against Rizzetti’s throat, and pulled you back with surprising calm, “She is smarter than you.”
He tucked you behind him when Rizzetti’s hand loosed on you and Rizzetti growled at him, “Why do you care? Or do you just not want to share your little whore with anyone else?”
“She’s smart enough not to whore with any of us.” Tovar raised the dagger from Rizzetti’s throat to his eyes, “And we should be so smart not to touch what we cannot afford.”
“Calm down. Nobody is whoring with anyone and we are not going to make more noise than we should right now-- we need the fire, without it we will freeze, but be quiet or those tribes will find us again.” 
Tovar sat across from Rizzetti and spread his legs, patting the ground in front of him and you didn’t hesitate but got right between them as if you were still on the horse and curled in on yourself, trying to read your book in the dimming light while Tovar leaned back, twisting to keep maintaining his swords and daggers. 
Rizzetti’s fever was getting worse and he was getting louder and louder. 
To distract from this the men divided up everything that was in their bags, the bags left from men now dead on the road, Rizzetti nudged yours with his foot and said, “What about hers?”
“My mother always said a woman gets to have a few secrets.” William pronounced, eyeing Najiid who would be the only other one to fight him and shook his head, muttering about not needing to know what was in the witch’s bag.
The contents were pitiful. 
No food, no water.
Cutting the pack horses might have killed them slowly rather than letting the tribes kill them fast.
There was mild disagreement over who would get a magnet and Tovar tossed it outside the circle of fire. At some point Tovar gently moved you and got up to walk over to William, whispering, “He won’t make it...if we keep him with us tomorrow, we will be dragging a corpse.”
“I heard that.” Rizzetti growled but Tovar didn’t care. He’d cut the man down early if given half a chance to do so.
“He’s earned the right to die where he wants.” William shrugged but then a noise rustled. 
You were in a unique position as you were across from Najiid and Rizzetti, they were closer to the stone wall than you were. 
And it happened so fast.
Something jumped over your head, knocking you face down in the sand, and then a strangled half cry sounded and instantly silenced. You looked up to see what had happened and didn’t see anything….except blood.
Blood in the sand.
You felt a cry in your throat but you were scared-- you had never seen that much blood somewhere before.
You heard the hiss of blades and someone reached out for you, a hand touching you and you almost screamed but Tovar put a finger on your lips and shook his head, gesturing to get behind him which you forced yourself to do.
What the hell was that?
You had asked them days ago: there were no mountain lions here. 
All three of you were listening carefully, trying to figure out what had happened and what could take two men down so fast, so horribly.
The action was so fast.
Honestly.
You had been studying mercenaries and armies and soldiers for years-- you knew they had to have incredible strength and reflexes to survive war from this time. The armor was heavy, the weapons were heavy, and the enemy was often fast. Animals were fast. 
You were horrifically slow compared to them.
So unused to real battle.
These were supposed to be datapoints on a chart, little X’s and O’s on a map, and that...that was not what was happening. 
Something charged the three of you and splintered the group down the middle, forcing Tovar and William apart and leaving you exposed in the middle.
It was horrific.
You would later recognize it. 
But right now all you could think of was that this was a monster. 
It was large, with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth that was nearly the length of its body, and it pounced on you with claws that were four inches fucking long.
Christ this was not real, this couldn’t be real...but the dig of its claws onto your thigh felt real as hell and you screamed.
When it pounced on you it had roared and made to bite you in half but seemed to pause, sniffing curiously at your left leg, even raising a claw to almost...poke….
There was a yell and William stabbed at the animal and it headed off to face him while Tovar reached down and pulled you up, “Stay behind me idiot.”
The action was over shockingly fast when the animal more or less froze in front of William and then retreated when it was mauled by his sword.
William had the clawed hand and everyone, everyone left alive, was fucking terrified.
“What the hell was that?” Tovar hissed, eyes wide with disbelief at the claw.
You shook your head and so did William, nobody knew.
Everyone was quiet for a few minutes acknowledging that monsters existed, trying to swallow that reality, and then just stared.
What happened now?
William shook his head, “We hope two of the horses can be scavenged...they won’t return for a bit. We try to rest...moon’s big and low, if the horses come back, we start now, tonight. Whatever it was, we don’t linger here too long and hope it comes back.”
He nodded at you, “We need to clean those.”
You looked down, your right leg had two pretty deep scratch marks that had torn open your jeans and exposed your leg, it was up high on your thigh but thankfully didn’t seem to be near the femoral artery. Now that William brought your attention to it you realized your leg was actually stinging quite badly. You assumed the shock was making it better but oh hell would that get worse. For a second you quietly panicked-- injuries like this could get you killed in this time. 
Tovar gripped your shoulders, trying to focus you. You had to be ignoring him because he snapped his fingers right in front of your face and then gently slapped you, “Sabia!”
“Yes?” You finally focused, the sting of his palm against your cheek enough to jar you and oddly, from him...not a sensation you hated. At all. 
“Your bag, what did you have in your bag?” He reminded you and you forced yourself to think but just couldn’t really organize thoughts.
With shaking hands you put your sleeping bag down and just dumped the contents of your bag onto it. 
Ok.
An old, long-sleeved, soft sleep shirt that felt like butter for the colder nights in the lab, some silken pajama pants you hadn’t ever bothered changing into since you were here, an old t-shirt you’d been sleeping in at home, a toothbrush, a hair brush, something….ooo, gum… and what was the thing? The thing. Something. 
Aha.
A small handheld bottle of hand sanitizer, useful now that you had to rely on the efficiency of janitors for your continued exposure to soap, and you looked at the clothes. The t-shirt would have to do. 
Ok.
In theory you knew what to do. 
The men were watching with interest at first, unsure if they should interrupt, both sort of quietly agreeing to just keep their distance unless you asked for help or seemed to be doing something stupid. You were trying to rip the shirt and held it out for Tovar, “Can you strip this?”
“What is it?”
“A shirt.” 
You didn’t have the energy to explain t-shirts right now.
He eyed it-- for their time it would be an expensive shirt, good cotton, dyes on it with design, limited seams, very clean stitching. He was going to ask if you were sure but you just stood up, opened the button on your jeans and pushed them down to your knees so that you could sit back on your sleeping bag. 
Naked thighs.
For one moment both of them wondered if you were even wearing underclothes as they were not expecting to see quite so much of your flesh. 
You weren’t remotely paying attention to the fact that your boys were a few feet away both hot-faced with embarrassment.
You stretched your legs in front of you, letting the phone fall out of its snug spot against your left thigh and the denim, and William coughed and made himself focus on that, “Was this what it was smelling? Can I see?”
You tossed him the phone, he caught it and turned his back to you, and then you opened your hand sanitizer. 
This was going to fucking sting. 
Tovar knelt closer, his knife out, stripping the fabric, and swallowing hard against the sight before him. You, pants around your knees, legs spread, with what appeared to be very little fabric blocking him from something else, laying back on a blanket by firelight, your chest heaving a little with quicker breathing….
With less blood, this might have been a dream. 
He sniffed at the bottle in your hand, “What is it?”
“Alcohol.” You gritted your teeth, “Not for drinking, super strong. It will clean it but…”
You sighed, “This is going to hurt.”
He pulled a dagger and flipped it, holding the blade in his hand and extending the handle to you, “Bite. Try not to scream.”
You opened your mouth and let him put the knife in it and he tried hard not to stare. You bit down and knew the worst part was coming.
You opened the lid and poured it into the claw marks and bit down, trying so hard not to scream even as your whole body convulsed and your thighs twitched with the burn.
HOLY FUCK!
You bit and bit and bit, tears running down your face and you were shaking with the effort of not screaming. 
Two hands grabbed your shoulders, squeezing to counter the pain, and he waited for the trembling to subside. He tapped your knee, told you to bend it, and started wrapped and tying off the strips of clean shirt, trying to keep his dirty hands as clear from your freshly cleaned wound as he could. 
You were coming down from the pain, slowly opening your eyes, and saw him studying you. He had already tied off your wounds-- efficient and tidy. He was seeing if you were there behind your eyes and when you surfaced, blinking slowly, he nodded at you, smoothing down your hair, “Good girl.” 
Well holy fuck was that not a sensation you needed right now a clench in your cunt that was competing with the sharp sting in your thigh. You really needed him to stop saying it that-- breathless and deep and gruff. It made you want to earn the praise. 
At least it was distracting you. 
He reached up and took the knife from your mouth and you felt yourself slump a little-- the horses weren’t back yet and you reached up a hand, half-not paying attention to what you were doing, and tugged on his cloak. He seemed to understand. You maneuvered your pants back up, completely missing how he stared at the curve of your ass hanging out of your underwear, and deciding you didn’t need to button them right now. While you were standing he swept back into his position from before and helped you settle back between his legs, he propped his knees up and balanced the sabre between them, gently pulling you against his chest.
“Rest until the horses come back sabia.”
You were out before you could feel him press the tip of his nose into your hair, as restrained as he could keep himself from kissing your face. 
William, helpfully, pretended he wasn’t looking at any of it.
__________________________________________________
A/N: Honestly it was supposed to have one more scene but like this was enough. 
More soon!
Usual warnings: Not beta read, I edit, legit 4-6 times after each post. 
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randomoutsiders · a month ago
Hi I love your writing I was wondering if you could do a Remus Lupin fic where he likes this girl (different house than him) and they always pass each other notes in the library it’s their way of talking because they don’t really talk outside of the library i guess until he finaly decides to ask her out or something like that outside of the library. Not sure if it would count as a fic or a blurb actually and I hope that was enough detail. Thank you
warnings/content: remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff
The first time Remus had found the slip of paper, he thought he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to; a message for a recipient that clearly wasn’t him. But when he thought deeply upon the matter, like the fact that it was wedged precisely between the two books he was looking for, it could have possibly been for him. 
There was no harm in looking at it. 
But when the message started with the messy scrawl of ‘Remus,’ and his suspicions had been confirmed, he detested the way his heart had been pulled up into his throat, for it was a letter; it wasn’t as though he was actually talking to this person. 
He had blinked away the haze that had settled over his line of vision before reading:
 “Remus, 
I hate to come to you in the way that I am, but I hope you can understand that I’m relatively... shy when it comes to this sort of thing. And I know your favorite book is Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, so I could only hope that you’d find it rather than anyone else. I mean, in all honesty, someone else could be reading this, but in all hopes, they’ll put the letter back. And yes, sorry, I’m rambling. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. Anyways, I was hoping I’d be able to recommend a book, knowing your love for them. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. Let me know if you ever read it.
                                                                Sincerely yours, 
                                                                                           y/n
The second time had been a bit more pleasant, having read the book in a mere day out of sheer excitement to write back. He had slipped his note where he had found Pride and Prejudice and found your next one right in that exact spot the next day. He had to compose himself before opening the letter, knowing that it would take him hours to quell the palpitations of his heart. 
Yes, he knew your name but he barely knew who you were. The books you read were but a mere window into the life that you lead, the development of you were as a character. But he wanted to know more. The passing glances of you walking through the hallway, adorned in the soft hues of your house colors weren’t enough. 
Again, he wanted more. 
So he had glanced down, pulling his lip between his teeth and reading the note for the first time. 
Hello Remus, 
It delights me so, knowing you’ve enjoyed the book in the way that you did. I love the complexity that stems from her innocence; the way Elizabeth can be so oblivious but so... aware at the same time. I feel as though I relate to her in ways that I shouldn’t. If you’re willing, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee will be another book I hope you’d enjoy. Let me know what you think.
                                                                                         Always, 
                                                                                                      y/n
This book he had spaced out a bit more, hoping that he wouldn’t seem as desperate with the quick way he had read the previous text. He spanned it out over three days this time, unable to rip his eyes from the script. He’d often run into different objects, such as his bed frame, or the door frame, often stepping over James’ toes when the boy sat there incredulously.
Sirius had to grab the text during meal times and sit on it to prevent the male from eating and reading at the same time. You see, the boys did enjoy holding conversations with their third companion, although they would hate to come out and admit it. 
Your dilemma, however, was finding the power within to stop staring at him while he read. Although you downright refused to admit such a truth, one of the main reasons you had told the boy of the books was to watch his face contort at your favorite scenes, to see how he reacted to the introduction of your favorite characters. 
This went on for a bit, for the constant passing back and forth of notes, and despite your growing relationship over paper, it was extremely difficult to hide your bashful natures in person. 
Every time you attempted to speak to him, every time you attempted to get over yourself, your lips would merely part, and no sound would come out. A warmth almost immediately finds the apples of your cheeks, eyebrows furrowing together with such fortitude that it seems as though you’re confused. 
“Y-You alright?” Remus would commonly stutter, reaching out a tentative hand when he would see that you were about to drop your textbooks with the tremors of your fingers. 
And you would clamp your jaw shut and just move along, unable to overcome the immense feelings of ineptitude that overcame you. 
It was most definitely a common occurrence for you to not be able to communicate with the poor boy and vice versa, and for that very reason, the two of you stuck to your written scripts. He shouldn’t be this nervous when they were merely letters, about books at that.
But now, oh Merlin, it’s been months and the ever-growing pile of books beside Remus’ bedside table is about to topple over with the added weight of Emma by Jane Austen. 
Both James and Sirius had been forced to grab the lanky boy by the shoulders and give him a good shaking in order for him to open his eyes and see that the feelings that he harbored were most-definitely reciprocated. 
But now, Remus can’t stop fidgeting with the hem of his navy sweater, a color that compliments the smooth ivory of his skin and somewhat blots out the sharp hues of the scars crawling up his jugular. 
At least that’s what Sirius told him. 
He’s worried that the bottom of his white button-up underneath has too large an appearance and that you’ll mock him for such. But deep down, he knows the possibilities of such cruel words spilling from your lips are slim-to-none. 
“Alright then, chap, get on then.” Sirius swats impishly at Remus’ backside, lulling him to actually start walking out the portrait hole. 
That one has the boy receiving a disgruntled glare. 
“Listen, there’s nothing for you to worry about. She’s the one that started this entire thing in the first place, so I’d be bloody surprised if she didn’t feel the same way as you. And there’s only one way to find out, so you better get a move on!” 
Although his bashful nature and inability to speak to you in the way that he wished are, indeed, getting to be annoying, he’s grateful that his lack of skills in that area has allowed his skills in observation to prosper. 
He has spent many-a-days sitting upon one of the stray benches littering the great halls at Hogwarts, simply observing the way you interact with your friends, subconsciously memorizing your schedule so he always knows where to sit when he wants to see you. 
He knows when you’re alone, as you dread Potions the most, for there are no friends besides Remus in that class. And thus, when there but a few stragglers hanging around the wide halls, he dips out of the Gryffindor common room, sprinting down the steps as fast as the alternating staircases with allow and darts to where he knows he can find you. 
He has a whole script planned out, a whole monologue where he’s going to apologize and blabber on about how he cannot manage to stay separated from you any longer. 
But when he finds you in the fairly wide walkway, floor-to-ceiling windows caging you in, he can’t help but stop. 
Hazed sunlight is filtering through the colored panes, coloring your smiling cheeks with hues of every color, catching onto the e/c tints of your irises, and eliciting a visible joy that only the sight of him can bring. 
Remus can see the way you slump to one side with the added weight of your book back as your fingers fiddle idly with the worn leather of the strap, the way your house tie is slightly askew from your four earlier classes. 
But what really catches his eye is the top of the novel peeking out from your satchel, weathered from the multitude of times you’d read it over and over, and the mere sight of it has the poor boy’s words dying on his tongue. 
Fuck. 
But one last glance at that novel, the very first one you recommended to him all those months ago has words springing back to the tip of his tongue, and they’re rolling from his lips before he can even fathom to seal his lips shut and halt the process. 
“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 
The words have you halting in your spot, turning around as your eyebrows pulling together in both confusion and admiration for such commitment to the script.
Although Remus has chosen a section of the script where Elizabeth ardently rejects him, your lips upturn into a bashful smile. Alas, you skip a few chapters and recite the next line: “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”
“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.” Remus recounts, taking a step closer in your direction, and without realization, your feet do the same, moving with their own accord. 
“Is that so?” You breathe out, suddenly breaking script until Remus is looming over you in not a daunting, but rather endearing manner. 
“Not quite,” Remus responds, his chuckle a dry one as his hand moves, gently pulling a stray strand of hair away from your visage. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.” 
You swallow the brick that lays heavy on your tongue and speak again. “Right, then Mr. Darcy, I guess I will have to express my gratitude and accept your proposal.” 
“Proposal?” 
“To go on a date with you, of course.” 
“R-Right.” Remus coughs out, his cheeks vermillion with how horridly wrong this is going. “Hogsmeade, this weekend?” 
“As you wish, Mr. Darcy.” Your tongue peeks out to smooth over your lips as you nod, before pivoting on your heel to dart to Potions. 
Remus stays rooted in his spot, lips parted in a show of how utterly incredulous this is, but then he speaks once more, although to no one in particular. 
“Of course, Elizabeth.” 
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mzmezzler · 2 months ago
Text
Darling Boy - Jinyoung x Fem!Reader
Tumblr media
shortlist: crossdressing, humiliation, sub!Jinyoung, dom!reader, Jinyoung in a maid outfit, role play, degradation, mistress kink, minor food kink (it’s just passing a drink before and during a kiss)minor cock stepping, strap sucking.
word count: 2k
summary: I can’t fake out a summary, this is just late Valentine’s porn with a semblance of plot.
a/n: Let’s give it up to the only fic I wrote in its entirety not at work! No,but why tf did this take so long. I was at it all day writing and rewriting and i barely like it.... Anyway @foenixs really helped me pick some integral parts of this fic, hope you like it!
Any and all feedback is appreciated :)
Turning to you from his side in the bed, Jinyoung looks at you expectantly, “Y/N” Humming in response, you turn your head slightly from where it’s trained to the book in your hands to show you’re listening. “What do you want for Valentine’s day?” He asks. 
Turning a page you sigh, “I’d love to see your perky ass in a skirt maybe.” You pause to settle on the idea. “Yeah, and maybe you could go about being completely oblivious, instead of your usual act cause I need a break having to deal with your-” Jinyoung cuts you off with a scoff. “Sounds like you don’t want me at all, I have to be my authentic self for you.” He replies, finishing his words with a sarcastic drawl. Setting your book down on the nightstand, and shifting your front towards him, you offer him an unamused look. “You know what I mean.” 
Smirking to himself, Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “What if I don’t?” His smugness was just one thing he knew he had over you, it was an integral part of the push and pull of your relationship in and out of bed. It took long enough for you to realize that the relationship between the two of you was even evolving since neither of you noticed the consistent bickering more times than not laced with an odd sense of longing.
However, for once, you’d like something easy. Just the version of Jinyoung that would slide easily into things without a fight, you both knew he could, but in his words “it wasn’t as fun”. 
“What’s the point of asking me what I want then?” You ask. Stumped he pouts to himself, “You know I was just teasing.” 
Still maintaining your blank stare, Jinyoung rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Knowing that’s the sign he was finally done you leaned onto him, snuggling into his die.
 “So do you want to hear what I really want?” 
“Fine”
By the night of Valentine’s the scene was set.
Lounging on the sofa of your living room in a robe, you enjoy a glass of wine and a novel while snuggled in your favorite cover. Sipping from your glass, the drink swirls in the amber glow of the low lights. Settling around the basen, and reflecting the glow of nearby candles. The living room seemed to be ripped out of a Hallmark movie, if it weren’t for the insistent sound of wet bristles scrubbing against the kitchen tile.
Swinging an arm around the back of the sofa and craning your neck towards the sound, you see a bundle of white tulle bobbing with every stroke. At the center of the mess of fabric was Jinyoung's bum wiggling in his haste. It was a glorious sight, drinking in the man in his costume, working like your little maid. Faced away from you, you drink in the sight of his skirt and the white panties stretched across his ass. Lined with white and black fabrics down to the garters holding up his stockings, you can only take another long sip of your wine. 
You hear small grunts and a sigh as Jinyoung sits back on his knees. Suddenly turning towards you with a small smile, he wipes the sweat from his brow. With the full outfit on display, you take notice of how the dress hugs his waist and is subtly cinched by the ties of the apron that lies along his front. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, but still, he kneels across the room from you to be ogled under your hungry gaze. Squirming in his place he stutters “Mistress, I’ve finished cleaning”
 “Come here darling” You reply, motioning towards the spot in front of the sofa. 
Getting onto his hands and knees, Jinyoung never breaks the heated stare between the two of you as he crawls across the floor. You could now see the pink flush painting his face, an adorable touch to the obscene picture the man put on. Untying your robe, you reveal a lingerie set of your own. Almost contrasting the frills of Jinyoung's costume you opted for a crisp red, matching the strap nestled tight onto your groin. Jinyoung's pace falters at your unveiling, seemingly taking you in as you did before.
Now kneeling between your legs, you caress Jinyoung’s face and smile as his eyes flutter shut at the affection. Moving your hand to tilt his chin up you press your thumb into the man’s mouth. Jinyoung drops his mouth open at your intrusion, licking at the finger. Swirling your thumb over his tongue, you both stare at each other with heavy eyes. 
Removing the finger from the man’s mouth,  a trail of spit follows. Jinyoung whines out at the emptiness, and before he could pout for more you slip your foot underneath his skirt. The hitch in his breath quickly becomes a deep groan as you press the ball of your foot onto his half hard bulge. Snickering at his reaction you grip his chin and dig your heel in harder, “You know what I won’t take any brattiness today. You’re supposed to be my darling boy for once.” You take a long drag from the wine glass and set it down on the coffee table. 
Swallowing most of what's in your mouth you tip back Jinyoung's head, "And you're supposed to obey and take what I give." Ghosting your mouth over his, you trace his lips with yours before opening your mouth to drip wine into the Jinyoung’s mouth. Gasping at the sudden flow of the drink into his mouth, Jinyoung gulps the wine heavily. With a hand on his chin, and the other running over his styled hair.
As the flow stops, you both pant into each other’s mouths before meeting in a wet kiss.
The facade almost fades as the kiss turns suffocating, gripping Jinyoung’s hair and pulling away a string of spit still binds you too together. 
With a dazed look on his face, Jinyoung looks up at you with slightly parted lips, whether they were reddened more by the wine or your assault didn’t matter. Cooing at the sight, you loosen your grip, only to clench your fist in his hair making him groan out. “Are we going to be good then love” Blinking the moisture from his eyes Jinyoung nods, “Yes mistress, I’ll be good.”
You widen your legs and move to fully take off your robe, "Then make yourself useful."  
Jinyoung parts his mouth and lays his tongue flat against your inner thigh, tracing up to your groin he goes nose around the base of the strap. Opening his mouth to lick at the head he opts to put on a show for you, knowing that you can’t feel his motions. 
“You always looked so pretty while sucking my cock” You were smirking, head tilted while the man writhed under his maid outfit. You could see it in the way his thighs clench and twitch while he moves to wrap his lips around the tip. “You look like a doll, pretty lips, wide eyes, and all” Running a hand through his hair you grip at the strands and push the man further down your shaft, successfully making him gag. Moving him to slowly fuck his mouth, Jinyoung moans at the intrusion. The vibrations shake your skin while Jinyoung drinks in the burn now nestled in his throat.
“It feels good to be used like a whore doesn’t it?” You smirk.
Popping off of your member with a gasp Jinyoung looks up at you with wide eyes , “More Mistress...please" Narrowing your eyes, you chuckle at his desperation, “I need to prep you love” 
Jinyoung wipes the spit from his chin and pipes up again,  “I-i did that myself, Mistress." The needy look in his wide eyes is enrapturing as he stutters out his reply, " I did it in the shower before I got ready, thinking about you." 
Imagining Jinyoung under the steaming water of a shower working his fingers into himself, panting out to deaf ears is enough to make you freeze and stare at him with a heavy gaze. He's half defiled in his dress with garters askew and his apron slightly wrinkled with a few drops of wine staining the previously pristine white. You can see his bugle warping the fabric with every heavy breath, it's obscene.
"You don't know what you do to me." You say. Moving onto the floor, you press your lips against Jinyoung's while pushing him onto the ground. Sliding on top of him you cage your arms around his face and look down the man. 
Lying flat against the floor, Jinyoung’s hair is completely undone and spread out in wild tufts.
“You’re so beautiful like this Jinyoung, spread out for me and hard under your panties like my little whore.” You pause to move your hand under his skirt to prove your point. He was hard and leaking through the lace, gripping onto his erection you smile softly at the hard jerk he gives at your touch. 
Leaning down to bite at his ear you chuckle, “Do you want me to make it hurt baby?” 
Jinyoung nods slowly.
Pulling at the lace panties you unfasten the garters and slip the fabric down to the man’s thighs, “Can you hold your legs up for me baby.” 
Wrapping his arms around his thighs, Jinyoung’s legs hang above him as you toy with his wet hole. Plunging in one of your fingers, it slides in with no resistance and only results in a whine from the man below you. 
Giving a sharp spank to the side of his ass, “Don’t get cute now. I’ll leave you right here leaking all over the carpet so you can clean it up after you finish rutting against my leg.”
“I’m sorry mistress” Jinyoung moaned out.
 “I don’t have to fuck you, but this is for me.” You press. 
Lining up your cock with Jinyoung’s entrance, you slap your strap against his hole.
Pushing into the man, you groan at how easy the slide was as you bottom out in him. Wrapping your arms around Jinyoung’s legs you start to thrust into him slowly, building up a grueling pace that would punch out the filthiest moans from your lover. 
Pulling the panties past his knees you part the man’s legs to wrap them around your waist. You change the angle of your thrusts, groaning at the twisted look on his face, “How does it feel Jinyoungie, to be used like my darling whore on the floor of our living room, does it get you off knowing this is how you really are?”
Deepening your thrusts, you move a hand between you to fist Jinyoung’s own dick. He hisses at the sudden attention, crying out as you start to pump his cock in time with your thrusts. 
Jinyoung is a mess under you, drool once again running down his chin while faint whimpers are punched out of him. His eyes are heavy with tears as he holds his skirt up for you.
Suddenly squeezing his eyes shut he stills and cums with a shout, spilling onto the frills of his skirt. 
Sitting back against the sofa, you let your head rest on the edge as you catch your breath. “Thank you for this love.” You pant. Looking over at Jinyoung, he seems to be in the same state having shifted to lie his whole body flat on the floor. Running a hand through his sweaty hair he chuckles, “Happy Valentines Y/N”
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latetaektalk · 2 months ago
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tag games
tagging : @cosmoguk ​ @jtrbluv @yeojaa @opaljm @sleepyjhs @gyukult @jentwt @cafemiya​ @masterninjacow ​​ @gamerkooks ​ and everyone else that has tagged me
tag game one : fic writers ask game
tagged by : @luvdsc​ thanks cat! this is super fun ✨
Which new trope would you like to try writing?
ex-friends-to-lovers!! in general i love any ex type of tropes!! a heist! au would be fun too
Which trope do you want to write again?
exes! like, i genuinely love that trope so much and feel like theres not enough out there!
Which draft are you most excited to post?
i dont write multiple stories at the same time, so the newest chapter of love to hate you
Is there any new genre you want to explore?
hm i guess fluff? i kinda write angst by default because i think fluff is kinda... boring and not dramatic enough, so i guess i wanna try out fluff!
Do you have a favorite line in any of your drafts up to now?
“Can’t you at least pretend like you think I’m funny?”
“Yeah, that costs extra.”
“And you scolded Jisoo for exploiting me,” Jungkook bit back.
“Well, you said you’re all mine to exploit, didn’t you?” you hummed, scrunching your nose. “You are my boyfriend after all, right?”
Jungkook stared at you, blinked three times before tilted his head to the side and tongued his cheek, defeat.
“Touché.”
Have you decided on any creative goals for 2021?
not really! i just try to write, have fun and improve honestly!
Describe your journey on this blog last year in three words! And three more words for what you hope for 2021!
2020: growth, friendships, fun
2021: growth, friendships, fun (dont really wanna change anything! im having fun!)
tag game two : 10 songs, 10 people
rules : you can tell a lot about a person from the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs. then tag ten people. no skipping!
playlist chosen : love to hate you
kiss me - sixpence none the richer
anything you want - jawny
can i call you tonight? - dayglow
heartbreak in a box - juice
daydreaming - marc wavy
lover boy - phum viphurit
let’s fall in love for tonight - finneas
dontmakemefallinlove - cuco
strangers in a dream - phum viphurit
afterglow - taylor swift
tag game three : interview
rules : answer questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!
tagged by : @lcksndkys thank you so much! these are a ton of fun ✨
name/nickname : linh 
pronouns : she/her
star sign :  scorpio 
height : around 170 cm or 5′7 
time currently : 10:30 pm
when is your birthday : nov 9th
favorite band/groups : exo, red velvet, bts, nct, superm, blackpink, twice
favorite solo artist : taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, harry styles, finneas
song stuck in your head : gone by rose
last movie you watched : get smart, i think
last show you binged : taskmaster
when you created your (main) blog : like april 2019 maybe?  
last thing you googled : how many seconds in a year
other blogs : this and my recs blog
why i chose my url : like late night talk, so i turned the night into taek because of taehyung, baekhyun and taeyong afdfsa
how many people are you following : 305
how many followers do you have : around 1.7k
average hours of sleep : uh not much? idk online class is kinda killing my sleep schedule
lucky number : 7
instruments : piano
dream job : dont know, but something that i enjoy and make good money at?
dream trip : vietnam, china, south korea, japan, england, france, netherlands
favorite food : potatoes, salmon, dim sum 
nationality : chinese 
favorite song : cruel summer by taylor swift,, its literally my most played song of 2020
top three fictional universes you’d like to live in : marvel, atla, we bare bears
tag game four : this or that 
indoor plants or gardens // cloud-watching or star-gazing // water or fire // paperback or hardcover // running or hiking // sleeping with socks or without socks // fruit or vegetables // hanging plants or succulents // dark wood or light wood // handwritten or typed // instagram or pinterest // braids or pigtails // dc or marvel // books or movies // oceans or meadows // forests or fields // sweet or salty // ice cream or chocolate // hoodies or sweaters // long hair or short hair // piercings or tattoos // summer or winter // boots or sneakers // cars or motorcycles // curls or straight hair // castles or cottages // sunny days or storms // reptiles or birds // disney or nickelodeon // strawberries or watermelon // essays or posters // phones or laptops // glass or stone // dark or light // photos or paintings // circuses or theatres // reading or writing // dogs or cats // poetry or novels // monsters or ghosts // thrift shops or libraries // fiction or non-fiction
tag game five : ten biases tag
rules : write down your top 10 biases and answer the following questions
seulgi
baekhyun
taehyung
joohyun
jungkook
jennie
chaeyoung
nayeon
mark
jongin
1. between 1 and 4 who would you rather kiss?
uhm cant i just kiss both? i could never choose between the two sadfsd
2. between 2 and 7 who would be your best friend?
chaeyoung because she speaks english but also because i feel like she and i would hit it off better
3. between 5 and 10 who has the better voice?
love jongin and his voice, but yeah jungkook 
4. between 1 and 8 who is the funniest?
ohh thats hard, but i think its nayeon adsfas 
5. between 6 and 9 who would you date?
jennie. if i have the chance to date kim fucking jennie, im dating kim fucking jennie. bye mark im not even sorry
6. between 9 and 10, who would you do a collaboration with?
mark! i feel like working with him would be so funny because he just talks and talks and talks asdfdas
7. between 4 and 8 who is the best dancer?
joohyun! 
8. between 3 and 5 who would you most likely marry?
uhm uhm uhm- i think im gonna go with taehyung? mainly because of yeontan asdadsf
9. between 1 and 7 who would you nurse when they are sick?
seulgi no fucking question asdfsd like sorry, bestie chaeyoung, but seulgi just owns my heart :((
10. between 2 and 3 who has the better smile?
i dont think this is fair at all?? because both have such gorgeous smiles?? im not choosing asdfs
11. between 6 and 8 who would you vacation with?
jennie! feel llike she would pay for everything and kinda spoil me,, also feel like she would want to do the craziest shit
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mynameisanakin · 2 months ago
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Anyway. I think we need to talk about constructive criticism, tumblr rpc.
You know how often I see the memes asking for it on my dash? You want to know how often I see it not being given in submissions and asks, even anonymously? Hmm...would you believe the former number is astronomical while the latter is microscopic?
I bet you would, because you’ve either seen it, or you’re factoring in on this issue somehow.
Neither those memes nor RPers asking the dash for concrit should mean, “I want messages telling me how perfect my writing and portrayal are.” That’s exactly what happens though, and it’s frustrating to the people who legitimately do not mean it that way. Believe it or not, understand it or not, there are writers out there who do actually want to know how they could improve on something. Writers tend to be hyper-aware of the one or two things we do very badly, but not so much the things we may just need a little advice on.
Now...that doesn’t mean you need to be giving concrit when someone hasn’t asked for it. Period. Don’t do it. If someone hasn’t asked you directly, posted a meme, or posted something asking for help in this way? Let me repeat what you should do: not that.
I’m extremely against the plague of ass patting going on, but I’m also extremely against increasing people’s anxiety, negative feelings about their creativity, and negative feelings about their space out of nowhere. It’s inappropriate, and you’re not helping them. That’s how we get people to not change, that’s how we get people deciding that it’s either not safe to share writing, or that they give no fucks. Or the proliferation of people who have realized that they can ask for concrit as a way to be validated, as no one is going to tell them the truth; unsolicited commentary has made it a purely negative thing to give and receive within an environment where false positivity reigns as it is.
If you’re writing with someone and their writing is just so terrible you cannot respond to it, yeah, that’s...A Situation, alright. There’s still a good way to handle it that isn’t going to feel out of nowhere and vicious. You can politely, nicely, point out that it’s difficult for you to read and respond to that reply because -insert reasons here-.
Honesty and cruelty are different things, we drastically lost that concept sometime in the mid-2000′s in RP {and elsewhere}, and I honestly blame reality tv. No, really, I do. The whole foundation of its initial popularity and reach was the entertainment of watching relatable suffering and embarrassment while remaining so removed from it as to feel like it wasn’t relatable. You were better than those people who thought they could sing, cook, talk to a celebrity, and so on. It was okay to tear those people apart and feel better about your own talents, intelligence, and general superiority.
Honesty because this idea of realness through cruelty. If you’re giving concrit like that, be it out of a necessity to interact with someone better or because you’ve been asked to give it, you’re not doing it right. You need to pack up your experience, education, and worldview, and keep it to yourself in that case. Because that sort of criticism is just criticism, there isn’t anything constructive about it.
Nicely giving concrit is hard. If you don’t think that you can do so without dancing all over the line between vicious superiority and lying decency, don’t give it! Be honest, but be decent, for shit’s sake, people.
Giving concrit at all is hard. If you don’t think you can do it without saying that the person cannot improve on anything, don’t give it! Say that you don’t think you’re the right person, that maybe x person could do this better, or that you’re just not comfortable doing it. It’s entirely possible that you really can’t think of anything that person can improve on. In RP, we’re creating stories together, that means that you are going to work out with some people perfectly. They’re perfect for you, for your muses, and there isn’t anything at all you can see they should improve on. That may not be the answer they’re looking for, but again, it’s honest.
If it’s actually honest. If it isn’t coming from a place of fear, as it often seems to be. Fear of making that person upset, depressed, or making them quit RP. Fear of an argument, receiving criticisms you did not ask for and were not prepared to receive, or outright callout style attacks. Because you did what you were asked to do.
If you feel like that in such a situation, refer to the above. Just say you’re not comfortable doing it...and reassess why you’re interacting with this person, seriously. Because, either way, this isn’t a good situation. If someone that fragile is asking for concrit when they actually mean that they desperately need validation, even if it’s unconsciously happening, that’s manipulative and shitty. If that person is asking for it when they know their reaction is going to be defensive and hostile {and you have put the answer in a fair, appropriate, and kind way}, they’re asking for permission to be hostile.
Not everyone wants concrit. I know I said it before, I’m saying it again. If it is not necessary to give it in order to keep writing with someone, fucking don’t do it. If someone did not ask for it, don’t give it. And if you are forced to give it in order to continue interactions with them due to the quality of their writing, do it privately. This is not something that needs to be on the dash, as again, they didn’t ask for it. This is not something they logged in prepared to receive, no matter how nicely you put it or necessary it is to give to keep interacting; it belongs in a private conversation so that it doesn’t come off as an attack that it isn’t, and one for the world to see.
When giving that concrit, seriously, be nice about it. Tell the person what you feel their strengths are and use them as a comparison. Be specific about it, tell them that you feel like they may rush through dialogue because they are uncomfortable with it, since their action scenes are written so well that they come off as comfortable with those. If you write with someone who tends to project their muse more than demonstrate those facets, emotions, and actions, tell them that you’d like to see their muse being those qualities because you’re here for their muse and want to know them. Just. Louder for the people in the back; you don’t need to be an ass about it, it isn’t constructive.
You should also keep in mind that RP is creative writing, adhering too strictly to The Rules as per that BA in English you have is boring. It sucks the creativity out of it with expedience.
I’m not talking about cases of horrific grammar and spelling, not talking about people who are native English speakers who seem to have no grasp on their own language. I am speaking of writing that is meant to possess emotion, rhythm, and creativity more than it is intended to express ideals of correctness. If you wish to write thesis papers for RP, that is very much your right, and I hope you enjoy yourself doing it! However, most people want to interact with that about as much as they wish to interact with fiction novels written that way. The spoiler alert here is that they don’t.
I do not believe that because RP is a hobby, the writing is, or should be, less serious. However, I believe that the need to validate oneself through getting their money’s worth out of their education within a creativity-based pursuit easily gets out of hand. Every bit as out of hand as the need to tell people that their deplorable writing is excellent simply because it exists. Neither of these are good things, please stop with them both.
One feeds into the other terribly.
The more people who go at giving concrit like they’re English and Literature professors their partners are stuck in class with, the more people are afraid to ask for it...the more people who are afraid to ask, the more people will be afraid to give it. You see where I’m going with this? Excellent, if I must thematically type the word “more” again, I might die.
As a final note on how giving concrit for RP writing is inherently different; remember that the writing is meant to be interacted with differently. It is a living thing that two, or more, people are feeding. While there are across the board areas of concrit to give in all writing, if you’re giving it relating to RP, you need to be assessing it thus. It isn’t a fic, an official paper for work or school, a novel, a screenplay, or any other manner of standalone writing. Context of medium matters.
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scrunchyharry · 3 months ago
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ask for writers (5/5)
This tag was created by @soldouthaz, I’m really excited about this one. I’ll split it in several parts because it’s just way too long to expect y’all to read it at once.
boost yourself + tags!
1a. share the last sentence you wrote:
Harry moved in to kiss Louis again, softly. It truly was a good life.
2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about: if I can pull it off, my big bang will be pretty cool. it’s an action story, with terrible spies, a fake marriage, enemies to lovers and hurt comfort all in one bundle.
3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of: christ. that’s asking a lot of my memory. my first fic for this fandom was in 2013... I couldn’t say. maybe this fight from fondre ton absence:
"Don't be silly," Harry snapped, closing the book sharply. He coughed when a cloud of dust - and mold - rose from the book. "You can live without me."
"You're my memory. Everything I once was lies within you. You're the one who knew me best."
"And because of that, I ought to take care of you for the rest of our lives?"
Louis let out a groan that surprised Harry. "Look, we've had this talk before, some version of it anyway. I don't know if I had more patience before, but I do know that I don't have much of it now. It's been months since I came back, so I think it's fair that I ask for a clear answer: is there any chance that anything might be rekindled between us, or is it a lost cause? Because if it is, I'll let you go and we can both move on with our lives."
Harry narrowed his eyes, Louis' change of tone prickling his temper. "And why exactly do I owe you an answer to that?"
"Because it's my fucking life that you're holding hostage, Harry. If you're over me, over what we had, I'll do something with myself instead of being stuck in this… this purgatory with no end in sight. You think I enjoy merely existing? I do nothing with my life except follow you around and garden. I would be glad to follow you around if I knew it had a purpose. I just need to know if I'm holding out for something worth fighting for, otherwise I'll get started on finding a wife and making new memories."
"Is that an ultimatum? 'Love me or I'll intentionally make myself miserable'?"
4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s): 
I couldn’t choose, so here’s two opening lines.
first, lead me out on the moonlit floor, a christmac fic I wrote back in 2014:
Snow swirled outside the window, carried by great gusts of cold wind, and glistened in the orange glow of the streetlamps as Harry rearranged the shop front, moving toys around in order to create what he hoped would look like a whimsical, festive display. He moved a puppet from where it sat on top of a jack-in-a-box and instead placed it next to a wooden toy train, frowning in discontent. It was not right and he couldn’t find what was wrong with the scene. He had tried placing the dolls, both the rag ones and the porcelain ones, around a table to mimic teatime, but that had looked absurd, the ragdolls slumping to the side and looking quite improper. On the other hand, the stuffed animals could not take their place; who had ever heard of two different ranks of society having tea together? Absurd. Completely absurd.
and now scintillating, my gigantic famous/not-famous fic:
The airport was crowded, like you’d expect Heathrow to be around the international departures terminal, and, if Harry was honest, as a first airport experience, it really didn’t live up to what movies had led him to believe about airborne travel. He figured it was his own fault for expecting Love Actually to paint a realistic picture of airports, and yet he couldn’t quite shake off his disappointment.
5a. link the last fic you read: The fic where Harry calls Louis an idiot for ten days straight because he is one by the lovely @mercurial-madhouse​
6a. link the last work you published: i can't hurt you anymore for the trick or treat fest.
7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): scrunchyharry
8a. someone that inspires you: I wish I could write as well as Sarah Waters or Donna Tartt.
9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: I’m currently reading a graphic novel about depression called C’est comme ça que je disparais by Mirion Malle and it sounds far from comforting, but it’s very soft.
10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! I feel like everyone has done this already, but I’ll tag a few people off the top of my head @mercurial-madhouse​, @vintageumbroshirt​, @vintagezouis​, @cyantific​, @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed​, @absoloutenonsense​, @londonfoginacup​ and @allwaswell16​!
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thisbrokenmask · 4 months ago
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Matching Pair
pairing: female reader x Kim Namjoon
genre: fluff, very light angst
word count: 2,266
warnings: brief mentions of struggling to conceive, hella fluff
summary: you return from a day of shopping with a surprise for your husband.
a/n: so, this fic is unbeta’d and was written on my phone, but I was too excited to write it after getting some very wonderful news today - I found out I’m going to become an auntie for the very first time next summer! I’m beyond excited, and it ended up giving me inspiration for how to finally use the ‘Fuzzy Boots’ prompt on my @btsholidaybingo​ card!
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“Joonie?” you call out for your husband as you close the front door of your home, already feeling the heat of the house warming you from the growing winter chill outside. Gently putting the shopping bags containing your few new purchases down to the side, you take off your shoes and your coat and put them in the closet by the front door. You don’t hear an answering call from Namjoon, but you do find his house keys still in the little cubby in the closet when you hang yours back up, so you know he’s home.  
Heart fluttering and excitement rolling in your tummy, you grab the handles of your shopping bags and head upstairs, your bare feet sinking into the carpet of the stairs with quiet relief. Even though you decided against heels today, the several hours you spent searching for the perfect items has still left them aching and you once again pat yourself on the back for choosing a thick pile when you decorated the house.
You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back your grin as you head to your bedroom to deposit all but one of your shopping bags, although you can’t help the slight skip in your walk as you once again go over what’s about to happen. Leaving your discarded purchases at the foot of the bed to sort out later, you clutch the most important one tightly as you seek out your spouse. 
Surprisingly, he’s not in his home studio, the small soundproof room normally your first port of call on the rare days Namjoon doesn’t head into the BigHit buildings to work. No, instead you find him in the little snug-come-library at the end of the hall, a slight dip in his brow from how concentrated he is on the words in front of him.
The library was a room you both insisted on having when you found this house, as you both needed somewhere to store your vast collections of books you had amassed over your lives. The custom floor-to-ceiling shelving had been fitted perfectly for the room, with a few open spaces left for artwork to break up the visual of hundreds of book spines. 
While your respective hoards of literature had combined, there were still traces of your individual hobbies nestled among them. Several small houseplants contributed pockets of green and, as Namjoon pointed out, a sort of poetic contradiction to the many books you owned; the living among the dead, as it were. He tended to them daily, whereas your offerings required much less attention. 
In your many years of travelling before and after meeting Namjoon, you’d developed the habit of collecting one small trinket from each country or city you visited. Whether they represented particular landmarks, native animals or cultural figures, you always brought home something to remember each place by, and now many of those trinkets filled the spaces left behind by oddly-shaped books or accompanied a bonsai as it grew between the shelves. 
In the centre of the room, on top of the plush mauve rug you’d fallen in love with at first sight, sat two armchairs. They didn’t match each other, but matched you and your husband instead. You’d gotten the idea from UP!, knowing when you’d first seen Carl and Ellie’s individual chairs that you wanted to do that with your future partner. And the library became the perfect place for these perfectly mismatched chairs, another way to show how the two of you had come together in this room that housed so many of your joint passions. 
Your chair, currently empty, was the plushest wingback chair you’d ever seen; a beautiful, royal blue velvet chair that made you feel like you were in a house that could be found in a Jane Austen novel. Your husband’s chair, in which he was now sat, was burnt orange in colour, square and simple in shape, with arms curled over to remove any harsh lines. You’d hated it, initially, but the more you’d seen it on the shop floor and then saw your husband lean back into its cushions, the more you decided that it suited him, and that was what mattered. Despite its simplicity, it was a bit too big for you to sit in comfortably, although you would often climb into it and burrow under several blankets when he was away.  
You’d now grown accustomed to the barrage of colours and styles in your little library, a fondness for the apparent chaos that still shocked newcomers, making you giggle every time. 
As you so often find yourself doing, you take a second to admire Namjoon in his studious reading pose: one leg resting across the knee of the other, his right elbow propped up on the armchair and his hand cradling his chin, index finger extended across his lips in contemplation. His left hand cradles his book seemingly effortlessly, his simple gold wedding band glinting in the warm orange of the afternoon winter sun that pours in through the window across the room. It’s still the only golden piece of jewellery he wears, and it still makes your heart bloom every time you catch sight of it. 
In the split second you’ve taken in his appearance, he’s become aware of your presence. Only his eyes move at first, flicking up from the page to the door to see who’s walked in. When he sees you standing in the doorway, however, he immediately slips his bookmark into place and puts the volume down on the little table between the chairs. The ease and immediacy with which he gives you his whole attention never fails to make you feel a little giddy. 
“Hey,” Namjoon’s expression melts into his warmest smile, all traces of his previous concentration vanished at the sight of his wife. His eyes briefly drop to the bag in your hand before returning to you. “Have fun shopping?”
You nod as he extends his hand towards you, slipping your palm into his and letting him gently pull you close. He sits you in his lap, one arm curled around the back of your waist and the other gently resting across your thighs, his hand melding to match the curve of your flesh. The warmth of his palm is noticeable even through your jeans, rippling throughout your body like a breeze kissing the surface of a lake. 
“Is that for me?” he nods towards the bag by his feet, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple. 
“Nope,” you smile, then pause. “Well, I guess it kinda is. Wanna see?”
If Namjoon is confused, he doesn’t show it. He loves the way you think, loves how you can see something completely different from him when you both look at the same art pieces on your gallery trips, loves how you can find even the loosest connections between two ideas in a way he’d never thought of. He doesn’t always understand you at first, but he loves that about you, so he waits patiently for you to explain. 
You lift the bag into your lap, the hand across your thighs moving to secure it in place while you open it. You turn it away from him as you pull out the contents, but he’s not even trying to peep inside; his eyes are focused on you, on the little ways your expression changes when you get thoughtful, or excited, or anxious, and right now you’re a bit of all three. 
“Ta-dah!” you singsong proudly, presenting him with a pair of fuzzy, light brown slipper boots. You try not to giggle as his expression falters slightly, although he quickly covers up his obvious confusion with bemused intrigue, gaze jumping between you and the boots as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. 
“These… are for me?” he can tell just by looking at them that the boots are way too small for him, they’re definitely your size, and he’s struggling to figure out how they could be ‘kinda’ for him. 
“No, these ones are mine, silly!” you laugh, gently bopping the tip of his nose with your finger. The relieved sigh that falls past his lips only keeps your laughter rolling and he loves the sound, cheeks dumpling as he grins up at you. 
“Of course,” he agrees easily, smirking down at the boots as you gently run your fingers through the fluffy material, then cocks his eyebrow. “So how am I involved in this?” he pauses, then tilts his head to one side. “You’re not going to wear them to bed, are you? I know I said your feet are cold but I actually don’t mind it so much anymore-”
“These ones are mine,” you say, cutting him off, holding up your boots for emphasis before twisting in his lap to put them on the floor. His hand on your waist reflexively holds you tighter to keep you from toppling. 
When you then look at him with a smile he can only describe as mischievous, he knows he’s fucked: he’s a sucker for your playfulness, willingly walking into even your silliest pranks just to see your face light up and hear the melody of your laughter when you celebrate your victory.
His mind whirs through every option he can think of that could somehow relate those fluffy little boots to himself. Maybe you’ve bought him new slippers too, but like your mismatched chairs they’ll be different styles, perfectly suiting each of you in a way that makes them work together. Maybe you’ve actually bought him matching ones and he can’t decide what will be worse: having to wear them to please you or refuse to wear them to please himself. He feels the smallest flicker of heat in his cheeks when he considers fluffy handcuffs, but he dismisses that though when he remembers how your gaze darkens whenever you get out the pairs you already own rather than brightens, like it has done right now. 
He’s at a loss, but you don’t make him wait much longer before you grant him an explanation. 
“They didn’t have matching daddy boots, unfortunately, but-” he doesn’t have time to register the term when you pull out the remaining items in the bag with a flourish. “They did have these matching baby boots, and I just couldn’t resist!”
He stares down at the little pair of fuzzy boots, the same light brown colour as yours. They’re barely bigger than your palm as they sit side by side and he doesn’t know how something so small can knock all of the air from his body. 
He can’t speak, can’t swallow, almost can’t breathe. He can only stare. 
You watch as Namjoon’s features drop and give him a few moments to process the sight in front of him. You’re sure your lip is about to bleed with how hard you’re biting into it, desperate to cry and cheer and celebrate with him but wanting to give him his processing time. 
When he doesn’t say anything after a longer time than you were expecting, you begin to worry he’s upset rather than shocked. When he finally speaks, though, his tone is so level you genuinely think he’s angry. 
“Y/n,” he says, gaze lifting to meet your eyes and locking onto them. You feel his body grow tense beneath you, the grip on your waist tightening and releasing as he battles with the emotions building in his chest. “Who are these for?” His throat bobs with a dry swallow and you feel your stomach drop a little bit, suddenly realising how this may have come across to him. 
You and Namjoon got married nearly two years ago now, and you’ve been trying for a baby for just over a year. During that time, Namjoon has found more than one or two bags of baby clothes tucked away in your side of the closet, onesies and booties in varying designs and colours despite the fact that none of your attempts had been successful. His heart had broken for you every time, knowing how desperate you were to become a mother, but, despite his own deep-seated desire to be a father, he’d insisted you return the items each time and forbade you from bringing home anymore baby items that weren’t gifts for expecting friends or relatives. It was painful for him, too, to keep seeing the negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash, but he knew that it would only hurt more if you kept the clothes with no baby to fill them. 
It had been months since you’d last even looked at the baby aisles in any stores, but today was the day things changed. 
“They’re for us,” you told him gently, the words barely above a whisper yet filling the space between you. You see the tears begin to well in his eyes at the same time his grip on you tightens one last time. He stares up at you, eyes wide and watery and full of hope, and you let the widest grin loose on your lips. 
Leaning forward to touch your forehead to his, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes fall closed. Shuddering breaths push at the air between you, your hand pressing to his chest to feel the way his heartbeat gallops under your palm. Your own tears start to glide over the apples of your cheeks as you finally let the weight of your news overwhelm you, knowing that you’re both finally going to see your dreams come to life. 
“They’re for our baby.”
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If you would like to read any of my other works, please follow me and head on over to my masterlist ♡
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carpenter-synth · 4 months ago
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Otherworldly fic jam, courtesy of @stay-outta-my-blood-circle​ (theme: exploring the liminal/supernatural aspects of the character)
Slasher: New Nightmare!Fred
Entry title: Endings
content: nothing explicit, kinda dark, mentions world events, probably bad end
Notes: Did not end up being cathartic at all for me, as a writer; but it’s a satisfying reminder of why dreams are best to be kept from messing with your actual choices--and in that vein it’s really quite perfect for NN!Fred’s vibe.
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“You're sure you'll be okay?”
“Yes, mother,” you say. “Everything will be fine.”
“All right. I love you.” You can hear her concern, but she doesn't voice it in words.
“Love you,” you say.
You hang up the phone, wondering for the umpteenth time what you're going to do. This week, your sister's never existed. The week before, you had an extra nephew-and he was having terrible nightmares.
Things just keep changing.
If you visit your mother in person, there's maybe half a chance that she'll believe the conversation took place at all, and it's not some form of early dementia. Your whole family acts like the new reality has always been, every time. And you? You're acting “off” to them. You're the one being careless. Or making up stories.
Your world is twisting. You know you're awake; but you don't know how to stop it.
So many things are different now. You know that what's on your DVD shelf keeps changing; that's easy to notice. You aren't sure if the pandemic is part of real-life, or the changing-life. Every time you check the news, you wonder what else is real, or what would never have happened.
This is all Fred's fault.
You finger the stainless-steel mobius ring pendant. It chimes softly. It's not your usual style, but it's all you really have anymore in the way of talismans. You just made it today. After you understood the danger you were in, you tried other options; people of faith, places of worship, charms, magicks. You'd never been that religious, but-well, why not? Atheists and foxholes, and all that. But none of those things had done you any good, so you're back at square one, with a homemade talisman.
Maybe it makes sense. You need faith in something like that, for it to work, right? And unlike someone else's gods, your changing reality is an objective fact for you. You need something you've made yourself, something to remind yourself that you're a whole person, that you can say no, that you don't need to give up.
Fred's the one causing all this. Fred's the one who makes demands, who tells you that your life will twist all out of proportion if you don't write his stories for him. Fred Krueger.
He's real.
Perhaps it's your faith in his being which keeps him coming back to you.
He came in dreams, of course. He chased you. You ran from him; but the longer you ran, the more he chased-and demanded things from you. You aren't sure you believe it yourself; but he wants you to write.
You've never been published. You have three novels, in various stages of unfinishing; he's promised you you'll have many. If you write for him, you'll have collections on people's bookshelves.
But only if. And if not, then you'll have nothing. No life, no family who trust you, no future. You were baffled at first; you didn't believe. Then you woke up with the marks of his teeth on your skin, and things started changing, and you understood the danger you were in.
If you write for him, his stories will be real. He wants stories of dreams, and deaths, and unhallowed appearances, and horror. You really, really don't.
You're aware that the stories that resonate with you are the ones giving him strength. You do have faith; faith in dreadful encounters. Faith in relationships that die in wax houses or British manors. Faith in the idea that something magical lurks in the dark. Faith in the empirical understanding that people will leave you alone, or to die. That Final Girls are the sort of normative person who adheres unwittingly to norms even while breaking them-- not someone like you.
You've never believed you could be a Final Girl (person). Is that it? Is that why he comes to you? If it is, you have no appreciation for the idea that he's basically a test of your own inner troubles. Why does he have to do that? You wonder. Who died and made him God?
People have started noticing your stress, too. It's bad enough that your family's concerned for all the wrong reasons. But when it's your boss and nurses and police who notice you, it's worse. All the minutiae of your life are out of place. Slowly, Fred is changing things, and he promises to relent- but only if.
You can't trust the authorities to believe you. Of course you can't. That 's how the stories go, and you've always been nervous enough about the empirically dangerous authority figures in your real world that that part of Fred's story works.
For weeks, after you make your little mobius loop, you don't dream of him at all. No strange things happen in your day. The ground does not shake. And, for a while, you accept the theory that you were lucky. Fred's basically a supernatural fuckboy, you decide. He gave up. Why would he even bother with an unwilling tool?
For a while, you think you've won.
It stops. It all stops, and your family doesn't have mysteriously added and subtracted members, and your DVDs are all in the right places, and the novelization of New Nightmare is actually on your shelf where it hadn't been for a while.
You start writing again. It's a raw story, set in a fantasy-future, with a student of magic who's only just beginning to realize how all his magic is forbidden magic, and no one else really understands why. He finds love, even where it might little be expected. It's not literally about you, but it's a wonderful way to vent. You pour your feelings into it; your alienation, your desires, your frustration at wanting someone to find you special-
You wake up one night in the boiler ruins and realize you've fallen asleep at your work. Were you wearing your necklace? You aren't sure.
Fred must not have given up after all. You hate the idea that you prefer his attention to his absence.
It's a weird combination of ideas, this place; part ruined temple, part boiler room, and you aren't sure how much of it is due to you and how much him. You can hear clanks and hisses and rustlings; but you don't bother wandering this time. This is his doing, after all; if he wants to invite you here, he can be hospitable.
“Aww; you really missed me. How sweet.”
He looks like a cat, somehow, stalking towards you out of a swirl of steam. The coat and hat don't even match, but somehow you're still intimidated. Are his claws bloody? You can't be sure from here. You don't want to know.
He paces, circling you. “You have to wear down eventually,” he says, almost introspectively-but not quite. There's an edge of cruel glee there, as always-but a certain frustration. “You can't keep up this charade forever. Pretending you're all right. It's cute.”
You find a nice spot of stone and lean back against it, crossing your arms. You pretend it's not just to keep Fred where you can see him.
“But the more I chase you, the more I twist and destroy, the stronger you get,” he growls. “Why, storyteller?”
He has to wear you down. He needs you to be weak, afraid, and the more afraid you are the stronger he gets. You know how it works.
Suddenly, you don't care if he knows. “I think it's because I want to write something else.”
“You could wait and see how things change; I bet next week you'll be an only child,” he gravels.
You think, not for the first time, that he can't actually see into your mind. He acts like he can, but he seems to fall short time and time again. Using people as leverage, trying to destroy what foundation you have? It just makes you angry at him.
If he'd known you from the start, he could have had you. You've spent your life doggedly insisting on your own agency, your own validity, but always wishing that just one other person would let you give up your fight for a moment. Be strong for you. Let you surrender. You want to give in to someone, one day, when you find someone you can trust.
But there's zero chance you can ethically accept Fred. Not because you wouldn't find the idea intriguing; but because if you write him into reality like he wants, people will die. Your life might be normal again; but no one else's will.
“No,” you say. “Just leave me alone. If you don't-” Something loosens inside you, and you're well aware that if you explain it, you're only giving him more ammunition, a way to work with you, but you say it anyway. “If you just want to fuck with me, and use me, and threaten people, the answer has to be no. There's nothing that can get me to do what you want.”
You feel numb, saying it. Or, not numb, but so hedged about in disappointment and distance that you aren't afraid at all. Not in that moment. Maybe you think he needs you to get what he wants, so he won't kill you. Maybe you don't care if he does—you certainly can't stop him.
And maybe that numbness is what works; because he frowns more deeply, flicks his glove, and suddenly he's gone.
You can't find the pendant when you wake up. You think about making coffee, late the next night; but it won't keep him away forever.
It takes him another week to haunt you again-but you expect it. Things are slowly disappearing off your DVD shelf again; they're all his stories.
One night, you're back where you started. This time, you wander the dreamscape. It's not long before you hear Fred, scraping his claws across rusty walls. Instead of turning to face the sound, you turn your back.
It's a tactical mistake. In a moment, a hand grabs your side; you're pulled back against him, sharpness laying casually against your right shoulder, your neck.
“You really are frustrating,” he growls.
“I'm writing my own story,” you tell him. “Stay in yours.” You're tired of everything.
“Make me,” he says, huffing. You feel the breath of it on your neck.
Between that and the way you can feel the warmth of his chest, it's hard to think. He's dangerous, but all you ever see of it is him focused wholly on you. Purring in your ear as he is now? Holding you close, as he is, now? The intensity makes you glimmer somewhere inside.
You sigh. “Make me make you.”
Neither of you move.
You hate feeling his body so close. You do. You're reminded, with a terrible pang of loneliness, of the myth of Eros and Psyche. Of the person who had a husband, loving and true, but always unseen in the dark, whom everyone said must be a monster.
But this monster does not love you. And you have to save yourself. Somehow. Oh, and everyone else, too.
And they think you're going crazy.
And you don't know how to save them.
And you wish he wasn't like this.
Finally, you break the silence. “If you'd asked me to write you something where no one had to die, I'd have said yes.”
“What sort of future is that?” He says with wry disgust.
A half-remembered interview, one that no longer exists in your reality, surfaces. “Any future. Isn't that supposed to be why you go on? You kill people with youth, or beauty, and a future. You wanted me to give you one so you can use it to hurt more people.”
He says nothing. You wonder if he has any idea what you're getting at.
“The only future I have to give you is mine,” you say. You don't care if he's a nonstarter. You're just tired of things being the way they are. “And if you're going to threaten me with people's lives, I can't do that.” His posture becomes visibly tense against you. Can it be? Is there really a story in your grasp, one strong enough to hold him?
“I've only got one life,” you say. “And it's just me, and I'm not that young, and I don't know why you want my story,” you continue. “But the only story I have for you is one we share. As people.” It's a dangerous, fairy-tale-like idea. Even if it worked, if you didn't end up miserable or dead, it would only be for a lifetime. Afterwards, he'd be free.
It's all you have.
You don't think he'll take you up on it. But you wake up suddenly, disoriented by finding yourself in your bedroom.
You never do find your necklace. Your DVDs and books never come back.
The next morning, a man (he's exactly your age, but you don't know that yet) knocks on the front door. He's wearing a tan leather jacket and it looks like he rode a motorcycle into your driveway. “Hello?” He asks. “I'm sorry, this is going to sound very weird, but- I was hoping someone lived here.” He asks for you by name.
You look at the way his nose is built. At his brow. The color of his eyes. The age is all wrong; but, you could almost swear-
“What's your name?” You ask.
“Fred,” he says. “So it is you! It's just, it's really crazy, but- I've been having these dreams-”
You think of Psyche, and changing futures, and your family who don't deserve to deal with this bullshit but don't want to listen to your problems, and you invite him in.
Your mother hasn't called for a while. Things are fine in the family-nephew included. But you still have nightmares. They're nearly unbearable, but every time, you wake.
He is there when you wake; your warm, impishly amusing, sometimes-too-serious fiance. Fred. The man exactly your age, with a sadistic streak, who's willing to find ways to enjoy himself with you—consensually, with safewords, and surprisingly apt aftercare.
The man who you scarcely believed wouldn't turn out to be a nightmare in the day, but-he isn't.
The man who, you are certain, did not exist until the day you offered yourself to your dream demon, and who knows too much about claws and revenge. His nightmares are of gleeful, terrible massacre. He admits that sometimes they're not nightmares at all, not to him. But he's devoted to you. He reads your writing and he smiles and he helps you cut parts of it when you edit. You're getting published soon.
Your future looks bright.
(If your dreams are of loneliness, of disease and corruption, of grieving parents and overworked hospitals, of a life where you subsist on horror shorts and thin meals--
Perhaps it's a small price to pay. Fred comforts you from them, after all.
And they're only dreams.
They can't be real.)
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formulatrash · 4 months ago
What are your thoughts on fanfic writing in the f1 fandom? I am pretty sure I saw you tweet about it at some point something small but I was too scared to interact with you on it over at twitter :D
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So, this is a hotter topic than I’d really like it to be on my Tumblr and it’s my own fault but. Here we go.
RPF has some questionable ethics and some even more questionable origins. I’m ancient enough that it just used to get straight-up published as a ‘5 minute fantasy’ in young women and girls’ magazines where you’d get like, some 15 year old’s daydream about meeting a boyband member on holiday and falling in love and this was for some reason just treated as an absolutely normal bit of publishing not like ‘what the hell, that would be illegal’ and ‘why is this the fantasy we are encouraging girls to have as an ambition when it comes to sports or even pop success’ and y’know. 
Anyway, the 90s: really can’t emphasise enough how fucking weird having only a few sources to get your media from makes them.
Back to RPF; its roots are in political obscenity, if you want to talk about the bawdy stuff. The French Revolution, in particularly, wrote lots of erotica (the kinkier the better) about the royal family as part of refusing to acknowledge their divine rights under the church. It was an anarchical refusal to accept the situation as it was and to undermine it. 
Beyond that you’ve got historical fiction - Thucydides was all about working up a really good narrative take* on the Peloponnesian war back in the fifth century BC. Extra scenes, big dialogue, you know. If he’d known about self-lubricating buttholes then you BET Herodotus would have put them in the Histories.
Point is: writing fiction about real people isn’t really that weird, Shakespeare did a load of it. But we tend to problematise RPF and consider it strange, even amongst fanfiction.
Now, to 21st century sports and specifically F1. We speak here on Tumblr dot com, the audience where F1 fans skew most largely LGBT, non-cis and female or non binary rather than every other platform which is full of cis het men. Here is where we talk about fanfic. Because they don’t know we’re here, I assume, is the logic.
(they kinda don’t, to be fair)
Most of us do not see ourselves in sports. Most sports media is not aimed at the way that a lot of us were socialised to engage with stuff and most of us - lucky buggers like me aside - do not get to write the narratives of the way sport is engaged with or talked about or who does it. 
A lot of us who live here on god’s abandoned internet have drifted in and out of fandoms and a lot of that will have involved engaging with fanfiction. Fanfiction is a really fun sandbox to play in, as an adult - we get told to stop playing, as we grow up and it’s no surprise that we still want to. 
There’s a six monthly cycle of some AAA game that asks the question “is shooting people bad?” that prompts 10 broadsheet newspaper pieces on Videogames: Not Just For Kids Anymore (and sub in comics/superheroes/etc for games there) that makes everyone who knows that roll their eyes. Games and comics and superheroes are big, legitimised industries now that turnover hundreds of billions of dollars.
Fanfiction is an outlier, as the purest form of play in a lot of senses. Unfettered, it’s the democratic media platform; there’s no minimum standard for publishing, there’s no real limits beyond your own ethics on what you can publish. it doesn’t turn a profit, by its very definition and it allows lots of games and versions of itself within that. 
For something with a ludicrously broad definition that encapsulates hugely different types of works, it has defined forms; from drabbles to wingfic, as structural formats, we also recognise fluff or hurt/comfort as genre. Fanfiction isn’t really the thing itself, it’s the bookshop and what you find in it will vary on where you look and often, the advice of the bookseller or friends you speak to.
If you’ve enjoyed wandering that bookstore and adding to its shelves as part of the way you engage with media and then you come to a sports fandom? Well, you’re gonna look for the fic. If you don’t see yourself in the sport, as a woman or a queer person then you can write yourself in. It’s sad that we sideline the fantasies where we exist - given they’re entirely normal to have - into places where we jealously guard them away from the reality we daren’t intrude on but that is how it is.
And fuck: if your whole reason for liking F1 is cus you wanna marry a driver and you’re writing those 15 minute fantasies about them like you’re 15 and they’re a poster then it’s not doing any harm - it’s a lot healthier than stalking them. You might even work out what you really want or more things about yourself, in the process.
(if it’s ‘to marry an F1 driver’ then I suggest you take some boring swimwear snaps somewhere that looks expensive, stick ‘em on Insta and wait for the DM slide)
One of the things I like best in fanfic is the possibility of a queer narrative without complications, of telling queer stories without having to justify them as Issues, of letting us see ourselves and our own awakenings because fuck, you know the big book shop (if such things still exist) has one shelf of expensive, niche published novels you find difficult to related to and three sex ed books.
F1 fanfic was one of the ways I wandered back to the F1 fandom and one of the reasons I work in the industry now. It was enough of an in to make me want to really think, to have that new crush energy of obsession and enjoyment, about motorsport in a way I’d drifted away from as I felt sidelined from the sport through my early-to-mid 20s. I found brocedes much more compelling, as an interpretation and a way of processing the intense rivalry between Lewis and Nico - even knowing it was fictional conjecture - than I did the equally fictional conjecture about their psychological states and potential weaknesses published in the sports papers.
So, yes, I have read some excellent Formula 1 RPF. I have written some frankly mediocre and in retrospect very poorly edited F1 RPF that I posted to Twitter in a drunken moment of excitement because I was happy I’d finished it and forgot, idk. I have a tricky relationship to being a Notable Person I guess, I hadn’t intended any harm and was mostly worried I’d get flack from the industry. Lol. Anyway, only saying it cus like; this isn’t just me talking about things theoretically.
There’s a lot of F1 RPF that is more insightful than a lot of columns about ‘inside the drivers’ minds’ working off very little more than the RPF is.
Some of it, I won’t lie, I find really fucking weird but I guess like, that ain’t for me. There are a lot of problems with RPF - it’s too male, too frequently misogynist, too keen to reinforce homophobic ideas, too often white and blonde, not radical enough but those issues are for the advanced class rather than the 101 overview I was aiming for here and go well beyond F1 or RPF.
Shit I should be writing the weather report. Fuck. I’m the worst. Err, there you go, that’s a whole thing.
(I don’t read very much - I am busy af - but occasionally and especially on long haul flights when the idea of anything other than soothing is impossible)
*Actually tbh Thucydides couldn’t write for fuck but it was early and you know how when a tag’s young you’ll read a lot of mediocre stuff?
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peeterparkr · 4 months ago
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The Holiday.|Tom Holland
chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (Pauper.)
↳ read Sophia’s version here and a little bit of Tom. (Tim fic)
So, the christmas series is finally here! This is a 2 fics in one, meaning I’ll write Tom’s fic and @jambrosemc will write a Tim Chalamet fic, if you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s based on the movie The Holiday, where two women after being heartbroken switch their homes and lives for a bit. Both fics are reader insert, however Emma’s character will be named Sophia in this fic and my character will be named Iris in her fic. Remember the fics are connected and that Tom’s introduction is held in @jambrosemc​ ‘s fic. And so Tim’s introduction is here. Hope it’s not complicated and we hope you love it. 
STORY SUMMARY:  Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny. 
chapter summary: The heartbreak of an unrequited lover. pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad, mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating.  word count: 7.2k
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There is something unequivocally  known about love, everything that’s been said about it, is almost true. We’ve been bombarded with love songs, romantic comedies, romance novels, poetry, it’s everywhere. There can never be enough love songs, because no matter how incredible it never seems to be the same, you’ll never see two pieces that are identical, some of them are similar, of course, but they all speak from a very deep side of Love.  Love isn’t one thing that is written down, not an exact science. There’s no right formula to whatever love is. But every single thing written about love might be true, at least to someone. Love is something so personal and yet we can all relate to it, but then again there’s never two loves that will feel the same. There can be two love stories starting at the same time but you’ll never feel like it’s the same. But everytime someone dares to write or speak or sing about love, it’s most likely to be true. Or so you’ve learned throughout the years.
In Romeo and Juliet,  Romeo asked himself ‘Did my heart love till now?’, and there's common sense to it, we’ve all felt that…We’ve all wondered if you’ve known love before you met the one.  You believed you had, you thought you had it all figured out. How much can one learn about love? We’ve all felt it. At some point, or another. You had. It’s incredibly easy to understand that though love is unique in its own sense, love is universal.
You did believe that everything concerning love was true. Shakespeare also said, "Journeys end when lovers meet."
Was it true? You loved to rely on that thought, that we were meant to travel until we found the one. That two people are destined to meet in the middle and start a new one together.
You loved to think about love more than anyone did, you were hopeless. It’s incredibly complex, and subtle and it’s got the power to change someone, and a story, completely. Love is not easy.
Love is also blind, you, perfectly,  knew about that. It was smart to know that you’d been blinded yourself.
Love fades. Love is lost. Love is complicated. Love can be something eternal, or love can only last for a night.
Then, there was the one love you knew, the one you’d been living for a while. Unrequited love. No one really talks about that one. All love stories rely on the fact that the two lovers will end up together. But the unrequited love? No, no one dares to write about it. Maybe because they’re too sad in their sorrow to even think of that. You always wondered what would be of that story if someone ever dared to write it. And what’s the destiny awaiting for them?
Always the bad luck, the ones with the blinded reason, but always foreign to that one feeling of joy. Always wounded, and always left when the sun is out. The handicapped of hearts.
You were one, you were one of them, the one who is in love with that one guy who never dares to love back.
It gets even worse around the Holidays, everyone speaks of it. It’s everywhere. You go to the mall and see people buying gifts for their significant others, you turn the TV on and there’s the usual bad romantic films that you ended up watching, always the same, the girl goes from the big city back to her old town and her high school sweetheart is in love with her still, all while there’s an angel or Santa Claus, or whatever they come up this time, and she finds herself falling back in love with her old town, and she’s a painter or whatever and she lets go her dream of the big city to go back to her pathetic love interest.
Yet you always watched them, curled up in front of your TV with the candy that you were supposed to give out on Halloween but instead kept them for Christmas.
That was you, a hopeless romantic who was desperate for love.
You were there, wrapping a delicate christmas present that probably was not wanted but that you were too blinded and too stupid to see that. Also trying to wrap your own mind whether you’d give this out or not.
You were pathetic, and there he was in all his splendor. Chad.
Of course, maybe that’s what you get for being in love with a man named Chad, but he didn’t live up to his name. He was handsome, and incredibly perfect, and you were always so mesmerized by him. You had been in love with him for three years now, three miserable years. And honestly it’s been the worst years of your life, worst birthday, christmases, Halloween, New Years Eve’s that needed wine and Xanax. The biggest curse. All because you’re in love with a man who’s never and will never ever love you back.
He probably wasn’t conventionally good looking, not for most girls around anyway, but he had a confidence and a sly sexuality that could get you to your knees in the blink of an eye.
“Y/N, dear, please tell me you’re not deeply lost looking at Chad?” Angela, your coworker and probably closest thing to a friend asked.
“What?” You were snapped out of your trance. “No, no!” Though you had been.
The holidays party at the newspaper you worked at. You wrote the only good news, you’d say, the column of UNIONS, when you described marriages and gave the couples a little bit of spotlight to their recent and new found joy. You wanted to write way more than that, honestly, but you didn’t mind. Though you knew you were probably wasted potential. Potential, everyone said you had it.
“I thought that was over,” Angela pointed out.
“It is! It is—“You tried to say. “It—is, mostly.”
Angela rolled her eyes, “thought so,” she snapped. “What even was the deal with you two? You used to fuck him right?”
“I—“you coughed. “Yeah, I used to sleep with him, but more importantly I was in love with him.”
Still were, for that matter.
“Oh, great, and then—you discovered he was fucking that other girl in accounting, Denise.”
“Yes, I did find out and hence why I stopped… sleeping with him,” you whispered, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to talk about this at the party.”
“But like I always see you two together, so he cheats on you and you keep being friends with him?” Angela pushed to your own disarray. “Plus, I’m like 300% sure you’re the one who writes the articles for him, he hasn’t one ounce of talent and you do.”
You did write his stuff. But couldn’t get anywhere yourself.
“I well-”
“And he cheated, y/n.”
“Yes but he didn’t cheat, you see in his mind we weren’t in a relationship and we were in mine… but like—“
“So if you’re not in a relationship that means you have to expect he’s going to fuck other women?” She pointed out.
“I—“ you didn’t know what to say. “No, no, I mean—but I was so in love with him, but—“Somehow this had opened a gate that you hadn’t opened in a while. “Wait—No, no I can’t cry,” you said to yourself feeling like there was going to be a cascade pooling your eyes. “Does it look like I’m crying?”
“Y/n, maybe—Look,” she wiped off a tear, I—“She coughed. “Did he ever say he loved you?”
“I—yes, three times.” You had counted them. “When I reminded him of that he said it must've been a  question and it most certainly was not.”
“You see y/n, when you catch a man fucking another woman you’re not supposed to remain friends with him, you’re supposed to make a scene, threaten to chop off his dick, throw things at him, like I did with your brother.”
You rolled your eyes, “Tim didn’t cheat on you,” you said. “You slept with him once, didn’t talk to each other for like a month and he found someone else and you made a scene.”
You knew your brother was many things but he wasn’t a cheater, he was not a bad person. Tim was someone with enough confidence to know what he wanted and sure, he did find a one night love with strangers every now and then, but he wasn’t a bad person. He probably was too confused. He’s the typical man who is afraid of commitment and has no follow through.
He never fell in love, that wasn’t his thing. The opposite of you, who fell in love deeply. Tim never—wanted any commitment. He could have a one night stand and never follow through.
“But—you see that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Angela continued.
“But I’m not doing anything, we just—text,” you admitted with pity, “and sometimes we FaceTime but like that’s it, and we’ve gone out for lunch and look, he says we’d be idiots to give up our friendship but—“You couldn’t continue.
“Fucking men, they’re trash, all of them, he’s got you right where he wants you, who wouldn't want a fantastic girl like you in love with him ... hanging on his every word …?” She asked. “Chad knows anytime he wants to crawl back …”
“And he is… Look, today he—he said we should go out and he gave me a Christmas present.”
“Which was?”
“A set of lingerie but—“
“Oh my god y/n,” she snapped. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are.”
“Is it pathetic really? To think the world is near perfection every time I’m with him?”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Very. It’s...Chad.”
“I… is it wrong, really? I just want to be loved.”
“And you chose Chad?”
Before you could say anything, your boss called out. “Everybody gather around. I have an important announcement to make,” your boss said. “First of all you, I want to wish each and every one of you a Merry  Christmas. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished,”he kept rambling on their achievements or whatsoever they had done throughout the year, you couldn’t care less. “Given that, we may be able to get by with a smaller announcement—Which involves y/n—y/n? Are you there?”
Angela raised your hand.
“Well y/n your column on weddings has been lovely,” he said.
Was it though?
“And—Well, a wedding was privately announced earlier, and I don’t think any other paper in town knows about it and I want you to be the first to report on this particular union,   as it is between two of our most esteemed colleagues got hitched! Bring a loud cheer for Chad Bloom and Denise Higgins!”
Boom.
It all felt...no.
You tried desperately not to cry. Everyone could see you there. Were you dreaming? This was a nightmare.
You didn’t know how you got the guts to get out of that office without crying. You’ve never felt braver before, but you had to give the politest of smiles to Chad and everyone around to then proceed to get your coat and head home. How pathetic did you look in your car crying to a guy who definitely was going to do that.
This felt like a nightmare. The love of your life was engaged.  And you couldn’t do anything about it. Because you didn’t believe in multiple loves, only one, love wouldn’t come again and knock on your door. This was it, you were destined to be lonely and stay lonely. This was your very worst nightmare, all that time wasted upon and there was nothing you could do about it.
It hurt, your heart was wrenched. You’d open the Halloween candy sooner, and you’d bought ice cream, three pints of ice cream.
Just a week before he had given you the set of lingerie and said he was eager to see you wearing it. Honestly, you had lied to Angela. You had seen him a couple of times, and sooner or later you’d end up in between the sheets because you had absolutely no self control when it came to him. He knew how to press your buttons and where to touch you and he’d try to charm you each time and you’d end up falling for it. He’d say that he’d changed and that he always believed in you.
Honestly, you always fell for it because you thought you were both destined to be in love.
But now it was all gone, you’d lost him. He was going to marry someone else.
This probably was the lowest point in your life, it really was. Because it was so stupid to fall in love with someone who was just going to step on you, and you needed someone. Time was passing by, it was getting darker and night was only drowning you more. You needed someone to talk to, who’d listen. But someone who wouldn’t judge you just as bad or who couldn’t judge you as bad.
You were getting tired of crying but you couldn’t help it. You felt insignificant and as small as humanly possible. So very crushed.
You called your brother, because though he probably would judge you, and he’d probably not care, he was kind of forced to listen because you were relatives and you did help him from time to time. Lately more than you wanted to.
“Y/N—?” Tim answered, and you could hear there was music playing behind him. Of course he’d be awake in the middle of the night. He probably was out clubbing.
“Tim—I need—I’m not okay,” you admitted.
“Y/N I can’t really—“he laughed in between. “Hear you.”
“Chad is engaged!” You said louder.
He laughed. “Chad, what a stupid name.”
“Tim I’m serious!” She stated.
“How serious can this be his name is Chad!” Tim giggled. He was clearly drunk.
“Tim! I—He’s engaged I—I can’t believe it just a week ago he said he—“
“We’ve both known Chad is an asshole y/n, his name is Chad for fuck’s sake,” Tim pushed. “We both—I thought you were over him.”
“I… well.”
“Fuckin’ hell, y/n.”
“I’m never gonna love again,” you stated.
He scoffed. “Love doesn’t exist, y/n,” he stated. “Not for someone named Chad.”
“Stop.”
“He—“Tim sighed. “Look, we both knew he was an idiot, and we both knew he was going to break your heart and—He already had! May I remind you of that? He cheated on you!” He stated. “He is an asshole who doesn’t deserve any of your tears and I’m a hundred percent sure you are crying.”
You were, for that matter. Love for you was also always shedding tears.Sad tears. Love hurts. “I love him.”
“And I love this vodka on my hand,” he stated. “That—means nothing, okay?”
“You’ve never been in love,” she snapped. “You don’t know how it feels to have your love taken away—“
“Don’t go there, y/n.”
“I—I just—I can’t—“
“Y/N you need a break,” Tim said without really caring. “I’ll call you back later alright? I’m busy.”
A break.
Yes, that’s exactly what you needed. A break from your stupid and pathetic life, a break from your little fantasy. A break from Chad. Honestly, you were tired of it. Always having the worst of luck. You needed a break from men, though you barely had… Being completely honest, it only takes one man to lose faith in humanity. They hold that power.
You knew what love was and well, you’d never have it. You were destined to be the side character, the best friend and the one plot device. Not relevant.
Because honestly how stupid were you.
But was it really so bad to feel that way? To long for love, for someone who would run to you, and whom you could fall so deeply with. Guess now you had to build up walls. Because now you couldn’t get nobody else to hurt you again, nobody was worth this pain. Nobody should ever feel this way. You never wanted to let anyone hurt you again.
Honestly, you so needed a break.  But where and how?
You couldn’t stay in your place, it held too many memories, lots of them of you being stupid with Chad because you were such an idiot for letting him in your house and corrupt your place. You needed a break because everything would remind you of him, your car, his car, his house, this town, everything. Also your place was too sad.
You could go away. You had to, because you couldn’t let yourself drown in more sorrow. You were so unbelievably tired of it.
You had to go. Away from him, away from this place and your stupid house. Hell, if you could, you’d go to another country.
You rang Timmy again.
“What- y/n?”
“Where should I go?”
“What?”
“Yes on vacation,” you added.
“How do I-I don’t know, fuck it eh, oh wherever they speak English, bye.” He hung up on you again.
Where did they speak English?
England, of course.
Hell, maybe that’s why Chad didn’t love you, you were stupid, probably. England. London. You’d always wanted to go there. Anywhere really, but you never went anywhere because you were still waiting on Chad. Jesus, how much time did you spend wasting on that man?
England.
You opened up your laptop, ready for it. You needed to get away and not waste the holidays watching old and bad Hallmark movies eating ice cream by yourself. Or maybe yes, just far away from your own house.
Airbnb.
You went straight to London, it always seemed like a dream, besides it could work. And you scrolled through houses, big ones, small ones.
Then you found one. ‘Cozy, lovely place above a bookshop’. It did call your mind, it gave the idea of a perfect fantasy, it seemed nice enough.
And far, very far. And so different from whatever her fantasy with Chad had been, what was his thing? Island in the Caribbean.
You kept reading.
“In the other direction, the Bayswater Road will take you to Notting Hill (location of the Julia Roberts/ Hugh Grant film of the same name) and its fantastic local restaurants and bars, boutique shops, and the famous Portobello Road Market.”
That caught your mind. It seemed… perfect but to live with that fantasy of yours to live in a stupid romcom. Could it be?
No, no. You had to go in with the idea that no matter how romantic, you had bad luck and not even such a romantic place would make you have someone to love. You were really supposed to be always lonely. But the idea… of leaving did thrill you.
You didn’t think much of it, but the next morning, you still had that thought roaming in your mind, and eventually… you tried to reach out. It had closed, however. But you had saved the ad.
Sophia.
That was her name.
Hey! I’m interested in your house! That seemed too weird. Besides she had closed it.
You decided to reach out anyway.
“Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!” You sent it in. Wondering if you’d apologized just enough times.
You knew she’d probably not respond.
“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore,” she answered.  That had been quick. Lucky she was online but the place was no longer available.
This was your bad luck only. Of course she wasn’t going to rent it. The dream seemed too far away. But… she had just broken up, she probably was feeling awful.
“Oh, I’m sorry!  why did you break up with him?” You asked.
Then read again what you’d just asked. What was wrong with you? This was a stranger. They didn’t need to give any explanation.
“I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.” You added.
She was typing. “No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.”
Been there, you thought to yourself. But probably at least most likely she was dating him and they were in a relationship not like you with your stupid “whatsoevership” with Chad.
“Men are trash,” you texted her.
“To say the least,” she answered.
You bit your lip. You knew you had to open up to. Well you didn’t have to, but you… felt the need to.
“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.”
As soon as you sent it you saw how stupid you looked. You were absolutely pathetic.
“Chad?” Sophia asked.
You chuckled. You could see the smirk from the other side.
“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Was your response.
It honestly was. But thought it seemed fun to poke on his name, it really didn’t occur to you that it was because of his name that he was an asshole, don’t blame it on a name.
“Well, I’m sorry that “Chad” had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.” Sophia sent.
Yes, you too were sorry.
“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.”
You really were going to keep looking, maybe not as perfect as the place Sophia had but at least go away.
“Maybe we could work something out?” Sophia asked.
Huh.
You grinned before chuckling. “Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.”
That would be a fun idea, impossible of course but you secretly hoped it could be done.
“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” She asked.
Was she really up for it or was she just like you? Bored and alone enough to be talking to a stranger you’d met over Airbnb. Some people do tinder, but guessed you did Airbnb to make friends with other women who’d fallen under the sorrow that is falling in love with men.
“Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.” Was your answer. Of course if she was remotely interested on switching before, all hopes would flush now.
“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” Sophia answered.
Was… it for real?
“Me too.”
You answered in hopes, but not really she’d back away.
“So, should we switch?” She asked.
You stared at the screen, not believing it. You had to make sure. “You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.”
“Surely it’s not too horrible.”
It wasn’t, honestly. It was pretty. But not exciting, it was only normal. It was clean, it was full of books.
“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.”
You didn’t know why you were sabotaging yourself. Matter of habits, maybe.
She didn’t.. Back away. “That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.”
So weird, you wanted to go near something romantic to be reminded love exists, or whatever. You didn’t understand why. Honestly, it probably was only a way to cope with this.
“Well, this is your chance.”
Honestly, this place was everything but romantic.
“Can I ask you one thing?” She asked.
She was going to back away. “Sure.”
“Are there any men in your town?” She asked.
Well, there goes your chance. You had to be honest about it. “Honestly? Zero.”
You waited for the ‘not interested' answer, instead she gave you: “When can I come?”
You scoffed with delight, not believing it. “Tomorrow too soon?” You asked, half-joking only. Honestly, you had to get away now.
“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.”
You couldn’t believe it. “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”
“Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”
It ws for that matter, but when you’re brokenhearted you have no common sense. You didn’t have one of your own, that is. But this was exciting and this seemed like an adventure. A great idea for the one book you’d promised yourself you’d end up writing one day, instead of writing every other article for Chad.
You thought about it, you really wanted to go through with it. “It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?”
And that would bring less of suspicion, god, why were you like this?
“Umm, yes actually :) that would be great.”
Yeah, she’d say that.
“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?”
“Yes, I feel like that might be better.”
What was going on? Why were you exchanging numbers with a girl who you had never met and who lived in a completely different country. Besides, it was even crazier to think you btoh were thinking about switching places. You were crazy, completely off reason. Yet you didn’t know how or why you ended up both texting more, and talking. Showing each other’s places and ranting about men.
You couldn’t blame her for not believing in love, of course she wouldn’t. The ne guy she gives her heart to cheated on her. You wouldn’t blame her, at all. Besides, it was just…
You both had a very different version of it, but it was… Different. Yes, different, you guessed there was no other way to put it into it.
The texting didn’t cease, it continued more than you ever thought it would. Because sometimes it’s easier to rant to a stranger about life and love’s misfortunes. It seemed incredibly stupid how you both were talking about men who decided to ruin your lives. How in this world had you ended up venting to a stranger?
Danny blamed it on her. Danny seemed like the typical male who wanted to have a girlfriend and well, there was Sophia. It seemed sad, seemed like they both settled for it. Not even Sophia seemed to talk about him with love. She was just so… Not into it. Just talking about someone who she used to share time with.
She had given up on it. You couldn’t understand that. If the one who wasn’t the one could make her happy at some point, how happy would she be with the one?
However, you both seemed very alike, and both of you probably were in the same situation. Well, of course, the cheating part was different. But you’d gone through it as well. But Sophia explained that Danny, her ex, hadn’t even felt sorry for cheating.
You knew that story like the palm of your hand. Chad well… He blamed it on you, too. And he had said it, he didn’t cheat.
And though the stories were so different, the feeling was the same, of wanting to take a break from your pain, from a heartache and being so damn unreasonable to think of this. Honestly, though the idea of London seemed romantic, you knew you’d end up curled up crying on the other side of the world.
Sophia seemed to be very well put together, she had her bookshop, which added to her life. And sure, she seemed like a workaholic but she seemed to be kind. Someone who had the guts to follow her dreams and someone who barely had time to think about love.
You wished you were a bit more like her. She seemed like a main character. Even her name was a main character one.
The texting, not sure how or when, turned into a facetime call, and there you were, facetiming with a stranger about the lack of love you’d been involved with.  You pitied her, though. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could completely understand what she was going through. She seemed tough enough. But for her, love had rules. It had to be a certain way, and life had to have a certain balance and everything had to be merely perfect. But love for her was simple, the only rule was not to cheat.
Danny, her ex, had broken that rule. Which honestly, from what you’d gathered she was someone who actually tried. But… No, Sophia had seen him fade out. It always scared you to see that, to see how someone falls out of love. Sophia had seen it. But maybe Sophia’s belief, or lack of, of love was just… Surreal. But you understood it, not completely. But you did.
How could she believe in love when she’d never had it? Truly had it.
And she spoke of love as if it was a disease. Maybe it was, a disease. But was love really the disease or the aftermath the true one?
She didn’t believe in love. And not in a way that everyone has gone through, not in the way when you’re so brokenhearted that you don’t believe in it for a while. No, she didn’t want to give it a chance. For her, life was supposed to be about her success and her job, and the thrill of owning a bookshop.
Maybe she was the one who was right, after all you'd proved that love only could hurt. And how could you, after all of this, believe in it?
“So how long were you with him?” You asked her, as you were pacing around your kitchen, honestly you didn’t care if a complete stranger was seeing you in your ‘Chad reaction’, the bottle of wine, the chips, the cookies, your pj’s. Your pug dog, Tommy following you around.
Yet she was there, so elegantly, with her glass of wine. How was she handling it so well?
She gave it a thought. “About four years. What about you? How long have you loved Chad?” She smirked at the thought.
Four years. It seemed… enough. You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name. “Oh god it does sound super stupid,” you groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point,” you said before finally opening up the wine and pouring a glass.
“No, it’s not stupid,” she answered. But it was, his name was Chad. “But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”
Very, very low point. “But like you told me—He blamed it on you?” You couldn’t put your mind to it, at least Chad had accepted he’d slept with Denise. Of course, he didn’t say he cheated but he hadn’t… blamed it on you.
“He did,” she admitted. “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”
You clenched your jaw, incredulous of how stupid he was. If you met the guy you’d probably slap him. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.” Because that’s how men work.
Sophia sighed. “Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… “ She paused. “bored of me.” You could see she was hurt. “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”
“No. it doesn’t,” you agreed as you plopped on your couch, your dog jumping to your lap .” Why—Why are men—Like—”You didn’t know what you wanted to ask. “No, never mind that’s my question,” and it was. “Why are men?”
She let out a soft laugh. “Why are men indeed. More specifically, why is Chad?” She joked.
You laughed, too, with distress, running a hand through your face. “Ugh, don’t even mention him,” you whined. “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?” You snaked with disbelief.
She groaned. “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him.” You had the question backwards, why had he ever looked at you? “Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”
You didn’t know how to answer the question. Then again, you had the same question for her. Why Danny? Why, being such an incredible woman, had she chosen Danny? Love is blind. You’d learned that over the years.
Maybe because ‘Danny and Sophia’ sounded like something with balance. But did it really? How could she see it so simply?
“Look—I—” You took a deep breath. “I believe in love at first sight,” and you did, in your own way. “and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” You explained. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming,” because he had been, at very first, he had been charming and he’d learned how to make you fall in love with him. “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story,” you sounded so childish and stupid but how could anyone ever apologize for being in love. “And he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—”You had to face the truth. “He only wanted sex and I fell in love,” it all ended so simply. Maybe Sophia was right all along. “Pathetic right?”
She watched you, and you saw it, the pity in her eyes. Yet someone else feeling sad for you.  She probably did think you were pathetic. “No, I don’t think it’s pathetic… I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost,” she answered. “Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” You wondered again, how come she’d never felt it. “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like,” she explained. Yes you were probably a mental woman to her. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”
How bad is it to want a fairytale? “Love is worth it, though,” you said, because how come a beautiful feeling could carry so much pain. “It’s men who are the problem.”
She grinned, defeatedly. “Suppose you got me there…”
You had to ask though. “But you... like really don’t believe in love?” You asked. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”
She grimaced and took a sip of her wine. “You know,” she paused to think a bit. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You understood that part, believing someone loves you back and then it turns out they didn’t… Well, it hurt. “But, I guess he just…”She probably didn’t understand it herself. “And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” That you could understand, though you were so enthusiastic about the feeling, you knew you weren’t meant to find it. “I just don’t think most people do.” She watched you, curiously. “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”
It was an escape, really. Love seemed to make people happy and you wanted to be happy. She reminded you so much of Tim, talking trash about love and not understanding the thrill for it. Being so done with the feeling.
“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing,” you started with that, because it was true. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances,” you said. “Not me though,” you scoffed. “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it,” you said, because love could come in so many ways. “I don’t think you can easily-“You shook your head. “I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone,” seemed like believed in second chances for Chad. “ I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… “ you took a deep breath. “super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.” Or love.
Sophia probably believed you were helpless. You were. “Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true,” it was easy for her to say. She was the main character. “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling…” Why wouldn’t they. “I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though… “ She admitted truthfully. She gave it a thought. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”
Your dog raised its head as soon as he heard his name. Tom. You smiled and petted him. “It is thrilling I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you were excited. “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…”You knew it wouldn’t come. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”
He really did. Tim was even worse than her. Tim never, ever had believed in love. He said he didn’t want to bother about it, no commitment, not ever seeing someone twice because why would he? He said it was a waste of time. Shades of gray on love. And he said he didn’t want to risk just to get hurt. He said love was… a mystery he didn’t want to explore. He liked simple things.
“Really? He sounds better than most men already,” she commented.
You laughed. “He’s not.”
If you ever bumped into someone like your brother you’d end up running the other way.
She chuckled. “Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?”
You scoffed. “You’d think that,” you pointed out. “But no, he’s a man,” you stated clearly. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love,” you snaked. Probably the second one. “Your friend is probably the second one.”
Men who don’t believe in love at least are direct about it, and the second type they know and try to hurt you.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you. He’s really sweet, typically… “She said. “I mean, he is a man so he has his days”
You heard her…. And then you clicked it. Tom, that friend of hers, he probably was in love with her. “Oh,” you closed your eyes. “Of course…. so… Right, right,” she chuckled. “But you don’t believe in love and...Right, right,” you thought it was ironic. You hadn’t even met the guy but you could tell that he probably was so smitten with her and she didn’t see it. A perfect love story.  Why couldn’t she see it? “Perfect setup, see?” You said. “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”
She seemed confused, because of course, she didn’t see it, she couldn’t, for that matter. But god, how did she not see it?
“Then I can’t wait to go, really,” she went along. “I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself in things to remember the “fantasy” of love again,” she offered. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”
You couldn’t quite put your mind to it. It had been hours of you speaking with this stranger. And all because you wanted to change lives with a stranger. Were you actually going to go through with it? You wanted to.
“You think there are any flights?” You asked, half joking.
“I’m sure there have to be some. Should we check?” She offered.
You smirked and reached for your laptop, conveniently in front of you. “Definitely.”
You expected her to back up.
“Wonderful.” She hadn't. “How long are we doing this for?”
Forever? You wanted to say. “Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon… “ You pointed you. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”
Because you didn’t want to spend Christmas with your family and hear that question, because you’d promised you’d bring Chad for Christmas. Why? You didn’t know. Because you were an idiot.
Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly.”
“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” You asked as you pointed the camera at your puppy, honestly you had lied, Tommy was the love of your life. A young pug who loved to follow you around. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”
She smiled at him. “I’d love to take care of… did you say…”She tried not to laugh. “l-little Tommy?”
You grinned as you hugged the dog close. “Yeah, his name is Tom. He’s the only male that matters.”
“Oh, I love that. I would love to trade Tom’s with you,” she chuckled.
Oh god, why didn’t she see it?
“As long as I don’t have to feed that one,” you chuckled.
“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” she grinned. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”
Of course he was, he was in love with her. You chuckled and then started to actually look for flights. “I probably won’t notice, honestly…” You scrolled through the flights and there was one. “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”
She probably was looking for flights. “I found one too, shockingly enough… Are we really going through with this?”
Were you?
You were excited, scared but excited. “I think we are.”
“Well, alright then… “ She seemed to be rational yet.
“On three then….?” You asked, knowing this decision would probably change your entire life, not sure why. BUt you had a feeling that this was either the worst decision you’d ever made or the best one. This was the so-needed break you needed, you needed to breathe, and this was the perfect way to do so. Yes, this was unplanned and this was mysterious but this was what you needed an irrational decision.
“One…”She started.
“Two…”
“Three!” You said at the same time.
You’d bought the ticket. There was no going back now. You were going to London to a Stranger’s house for the Holidays.
sophia’s version <- REMEMBER TO READ TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH TOM. 
story masterlist.
next chapter
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10k follower Milestone
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Sorry I’m late on this but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do X_X
I still can’t believe it! Thanks so much to all of you for your support since I joined Tumblr in late February, and to all of you who followed me here from Wattpad and Ao3. I didn’t have a clue back then how many people would be interested in healthy BDSM scenarios and just... my writing in general. Every day I’m grateful for the amazing people I’ve met here and all the wonderful readers I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with. 
For my 10k Milestone I will be releasing the Shinsou x Reader x Aizawa fic “The Teacher’s Pet” from Patreon and posting it here after I’ve given it a shiny new edit. It’s a fic that, hopefully, encapsulates how I feel about the D/s dynamics I enjoy. It’s a long boi at about 10k, which is why I felt it appropriate to release right now :)
I promise to continue working on my writing, and I’m already excited by what I’ve learned in my creative writing class so far. I’d like to especially thank you guys for keeping the blog afloat during the shadowban I didn’t know I had until recently. Hopefully it gets resolved soon but your reblogs and shares have been incredibly helpful
Special mentions:
@cherrycolabomb thank you for being a constant source of support for me. Whenever I feel overwhelmed I know you’re ready to be a sanctuary for me the second I need it. You’ve been nothing but encouraging and no amount of words could do my love for you any justice.
@practisewhatyoupeach I can attribute much of my growth as a writer to you. You’ve done so much for me in terms of editing, telling me what you feel/think when you read my work, and assuring me that I’m not a robot and there is value and comfort in the way I think/interact with people. I’m particularly grateful for all the horny edits you’ve saved my readers from.
@the-angriestpineapple Another person who has stuck with me since I firsts started as a writer. Thank you for all the support, comfort items, and encouragement you’ve given me over the past year. You’re a wonderful person to talk to when I need a Domme’s perspective, and I value everything I’ve learned from you <3. Also, I use my sloth blanket every day and think about you every time I cook a recipe from my book.
@saint-eridell When I say I couldn’t do any of this without you, I mean that with absolute sincerity. You run my Discord like a well-oiled machine. So well, in fact, that if you left I’d be thoroughly fucked. Thank you for spending so much time and effort keeping the Discord organized, peaceful, and a comfortable place for me and everyone else to relax. You know that community is more important to me than anything else. Also, just whispers please don’t ever leave me.
@ichor-and-symbiosis You help me stay grounded on this site pretty often. You’re a constant reminder that there are critical thinkers here and you constantly make me laugh over the silly bullshit we both encounter on the reg. You’ve been wonderful every time I’ve had to vent to you, and I am grateful you reached out to me during the GMD of 2020. XD 
@katsukisprincess I know I’ve said this 8 million times, but it’s true. I can’t thank you enough for all the feedback you gave me on my work early on. You also helped my fics get exposure by gushing over them to your friends. Your writing also inspired me to work harder on my own, because I adored your use of imagery.
@lady-bakuhoe You were incredibly supportive of me from the moment we met. You’re one of the nicest people I know and your ability to stay kind in the face of endless bullshit was really touching to me. Your dedication to your readers is also something I admire. 
@voidsorceress Seeing you teach yourself how to animate has been incredibly inspiring for me. Especially considering we’re the same age. I always enjoy our chats and the mutual support we’ve shown each other as we both work to grow ^^
@brttpaige Another artistic inspiration. I was pretty convinced I couldn’t learn art at 28, but when you told me how long you’d been an artist it really gave me a motivation boost. Thank you for being consistently motivating for me as I’ve worked on my art.
@ramwsstuff My lovely twin in all things precious and pervy (except for pegging.) You were such a hyped little fluff-smut fiend when we first met that you really helped me understand my niche had value. I’m a soft bitch that occasionally gets super kinky... but a soft bitch at my core. A lot of the reason I stuck with what I enjoy is because of how much you told me you loved it in the beginning. I didn’t question what I was doing then, I just let myself write what I loved. I’ve also loved watching you grow as an artist and the chibi you drew for this is so fucking cute. <3
@monst Thanks for encouraging me to be weird
@hisoknen Your help with all things rigging related has been incredibly helpful. I frequently reference you (as you know) if I have to write any kind of bondage material. Your knowledge is so helpful to me and I thank you so much for sharing it.
GAHHH fuck. I just keep thinking of more people and II could write a novel filled with nothing but pretty ways to say “thank you,” but instead I’ll just tag the people who come to mind that have made using Tumblr a positive experience for me. Again, I’m sincerely grateful for all of you. 
@knifeewifee​ @luluartsstuff​ @katsontherun​ @m00ns0ng​ @tomurasprincess​ @present-mel​ @linestrider​ @pleasantanathema​ @kazooli​ @ikinabi​ @burnedbyshoto​ @queensynderella​ @talpup​ @tainted-wine​ @kurinhimenezu​ @vaseshipghost​ @bramblepaw513​ @dee-madwriter​ @secondhand-trash​ @z-a-s-h-i​ @thewheezingwyvern​
if you’re not on here it’s probably because I don’t know your Tumblr name and speak to you primarily through discord. Like, Egg, you little weirdo, if you’re out there. akjd;laj anyway. Thank you and I hope you like the fic
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cbk1000 · 4 months ago
I just read For the Pikes must be Together.
And Jesus fcking Christ.
I was reminded why it’s my all time favourite future fic one shot.
Oh god the way you use just 4K words to build this entire world, pardon this entire PLANET, Mars as a colony, and the way you encompass a whole century of history into this tight little bubble of klaroline style-dystopian rebel smut .
Jesus.
The way you portray klaus in a world where he too can be killed as easily as a newborn vampire, where he is almost just as vulnerable as Caroline, where white oak stake bullets are as common as m&ms, and you’d think he’ll be overcome with paranoia and this entire layer of internal dissonance where his body and mind that has been accustomed to the permanence that is the fact that he is the APEX predator, now has to deal with being hunted prey from all sides instead of just one as it was with Mikael, you’d expect he’d go batshit crazy with his paranoia, but No, he still remains this cocky little bastard only because Caroline is by his side, he remains the lil mongrel who tells Caroline his name is Klaus, not God, but if you insist who is he to deny you Sweetheart, as she moans, who smiles like he just got good dick (which he does) every time he comes face to face with these soldiers of unmarkable skin and unbreakable bones and fucking tears them like they’re a page from his sketch pad , who is so damn proud to be Mr.Klaus Forbes and goes around proclaiming it to every living and dead and is going to die soul, who loves being manhandled by Caroline and loves it even more when she makes him bleed, who bloody proposed to her half a century ago and still can’t fucking get over it, who is so in love and just gahhhh so trashily in love, and perfect—and damnit I’m not being coherent right now but Jesus this fic does thingggggs to me—Klaus so helplessly hopelessly nervous as he silently proposes to her. And Caroline literally jumping into his arms and Klaus reliving that moment everyday and smiling like a lil sunshine shit.
*Tries to scrape blasted clumps of heart muscle from the ceiling*
God this book gives me the feels, and damn the SMUT girl, the SMUT, TWICE, two separate doses of filthy bloody smut within a 4K fic, the way Klaus always comes before Caroline because he can’t bloody control himself around her is a fucking fantasy world I will create a dragon dildo for, Caroline’s dominant role where she takes what she wants WHEN SHE WANTS IT, and she’s like you just sit there all pretty doll and moan for her, she’ll take good care of you. God, you know how much I love Domme Caroline and this is GORGEOUS,
I love how you portray an entire fantasy future sci-fi historical event in this one fic, like so many elements neatly packed and arranged it doesn’t seem like there are too many things, it’s like this one HUGE LEGEND immense as this moon being told with a gratituous helping of PORN.
Your narration as usual is FLAWLESS, the transitions seamless, the narration of an entire week of major incidents capsulated by one neatly and wittily constructed poetic sentence, LOVE LOVE LOVE.
Now I’ll go on, but I’ve harassed you enough so in the end I close with Tim’s words,
JAYSUS FECKING CHRIST, YOU MARVELLOUS BLEEDIN EEJIT, let me kiss you.
Also *tweedles fingers* I made this for you.
An edit for
The Pikes must be Together
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Kay, if I ever decide to write novels for a living, you’re in charge of advertising. 
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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 months ago
How did I find your blog? I was looking for soft Kuroo content on google. And your soft birthday hc’s for him came up. And that’s also how I found tumblr
What was the first story of yours that I read? That Kuroo piece ^
Roughly, how long have I been following this blog? Well I found that piece shortly after it was posted so…. Around the beginning of December 2019 I think. Got a tumblr a few months later and you were the first person I followed (had you in my bookmarks bar before that! (still have you in my bookmarks bar and when I share my screen in classes there are occasionally questions. I ignore them))
What’s something I’ve noticed about you personality wise? You’re really clever and funny. But you’re also sweet. But because you’re clever you have no hesitation in setting up and enforcing your boundaries, and I really admire that strength and confidence.
Have we ever interacted, either by PM, ask, or in the comments? What was my perception of you? YES!!! PM, SOOOOO many asks, comments, and you sent me an ask. And reblogged it. And I cried. A lot. My perception: you’re lovely and I want to h*ld your h*nd ….please.
What’s my favorite story of yours? Oh how to choose. Firstly, I’m a nb, biracial, bisexual. Honey, I’ve never made a choice in my life. But let’s try here. Anything you’ve written for Tsukki. Literally all of it is gold. Fight me. I was going to write “especially [piece title]” but I LITERALLY CANNOT CHOOSE ONE. Your Bokuto nightmare piece. Your Kuroo angsty fight. Your Tendou dealing with S/O with parents who yell piece. Your Kinktobers. Your Futakuchi and Mattsun pieces. And your Terushima pieces. Ugh. I CANNOT CHOOSE. OH AND YOUR STREAMER KENMA!!!!!! OKay just… all of it. I can’t choose. I tried, and I failed, and I’m willing to admit failure.
What’s a story I’d love to see you write? I don’t want to say this… because it hurts me… but I just KNOW you’d write brilliant angst. Some of my fav pieces of yours are pained beginnings with happy endings. That fight with Tsukki after a bad day at work. The pieces I mentioned above (nightmare pieces and fighting pieces and angsty home life ha.. ha.ha.ha.). That Oikawa one where the reader wakes up in bed without him and thinks he left. You write these gorgeous atmospheres and descriptive, visceral feelings, and if you chose to use it for evil…. You could get evil shit done. You’re SO powerful. So I want to read it… but also…. I don’t. I’d love to see you write ABO like you mentioned a while back or just see you explore a cutesy soulmate AU or something. I think you’d be really good at writing an AU where you hear what the other person’s listening too. I feel like you’d be so good at making me feel something for someone who was in another city. (think this would be cute with Tsukki cos he’s headphones boy, OR terushima because I like the dynamic of someone flirty, who clearly cares about looks, falling for someone he can’t see) ANYWAY….
Favorite pairing you write for?/fav reader insert? Tsukishima x reader. It’s my fav self-ship. (but also Mattsun, Bokuto, Oikawa, Tanaka, and Akaashi because you write them SO WELL!!!!)
Have any of your stories helped me through a hard time? Of course. Your self-harm piece came at a time I needed it. Iwaizumi’s in particular saved my life. But also your Tendou dealing with S/O parents who fight… came right when I needed it. Also starting college… was hard.. And reading and rereading your fluff really pulled me through it.
Have any of your stories hit closer to home? YES (see above).
Do I genuinely like your blog, it’s aesthetic or posts? It’s overall feel? It’s content? Yes. The aesthetic is, ngl, a wee bit basic. But I kinda love that. And the feel? It feels like home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your blog is my safe space. So, yes, I love. It’s content? YES. OF COURSE. Your personality probably could have kept me here even if your content was kinda shit, but I follow you RELIGIOUSLY because of your content. So yes. I adore.
Is English my first language? Kinda??? I grew up in a trilingual household so I kinda learned three languages at the same time while growing up. But no, I don’t need to translate it in my head. Because English was one of the three.
Anything I want to share? Yes. Please keep being kind to yourself, caring for your mental health, enforcing your boundaries, loving Akaashi, and just generally being you. You’re so lovely as you are, and I hope you continue grow, but never change. Also I’m sorry about all your work stuff…. It literally makes me feel sick. And I hope you find a job where that’s not tolerated, or that your work finds a better way of protecting it’s employees. I know you know this, but none of it is your fault. I just hope things improve. AND I love you… a lot. And I’m so proud of you hitting 9K and you deserve so many more followers because your pieces are just... GORGEOUS. I can’t wait until I’m at Barnes and Noble in a few years and I can pick up a hardback copy of your debut novel. I’m so excited to say “I knew Em Akaashi (which is your legal name as far as I’m concerned) before she was so popular among the masses.”
so ive been trying to figure out the correct and worthy way to reply to this ask since the moment i got it......because its so fucking sweet and kind and amazing and pure and perfect and i just dont know how to use WORDS to explain the way it makes me feel so.......i will just reply in bullet points in regards to every question u answered to make it a lil easier :D
- the fact that u found my blog on google ....... like this may be odd and a very specific thing but before i made this blog i always hoped that 1 day my fanfic would pop up in google searches bc thats ALWAYS how i found fics when i was reading them religiously and i felt so much ENVY!!!!! LIKE I WANTED TO BE THERE I WANTED MY FICS TO B POPULAR ENOUGH TO POP UP ON GOOGLE.....that may sound very selfish but its true......so thats just very cool to me... :]
- u’ve been here for so long omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺 if anyone in ur classes ever asks jus promo my blog like its nbd 
- thats so sweet what 🥺🥺🥺 i try my best to advocate for myself and be confident for myself.....ive spent far too much of my time being silently uncomfortable because i was afraid of pushing someone’s buttons seeming rude.....but NO MORE!!!! i know what upsets me, i know my triggers, i know what i dislike experiencing, and im never gonna let myself be anxious or uncomfortable for someone else’s sake, esp if theyre being rude 2 me. i would say its less strength and confidence and moreso me attempting to take control of my anxiety in the places i can (aka on the Internet) bc i am SICK OF ANXIETY ATTACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
- BBY no dont CRY!!!! im racking my brain trying to think of who u are i wanna know so bad so i can thank u personally for being the kindest person in the world n so i can send u more asks >:(........MY HAND IS URS TO HOLD!!!!! dont tell akaashi tho 
- OMG my TSUKKI pieces.....hes so hard to write why ;-; thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my works<3333
- NOT ANGST NOT LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!! pained beginnings to happy endings are my specialty.....IMAGINE me writing a sad ending like i CANT!!!!!!!!! ive only done it a few times and it is so Difficult.....YALL ARE SO LUCKY IM NOT EVIL!!!!!! ive had this idea for an angsty akaashi fic that i think about and write in my head every night before falling asleep and it Hurts and i wanna write it but i also can’t make myself :D ABO would be very fun but i genuinely do not know how to explore the concept while making it feel like it’s Written By Me.....u know what i mean? same with soulmate aus, i really dislike writing them because theyre just boring to me like they all feel the same everything’s been done for them.....which is FINE!!! but i write enough cliche stuff as it is HAHA, a long distance type soulmate au could be fun and interesting but ldr’s trigger me bc of a past relationship so </3 but hey maybe someone else could use the idea!!!!!
- gotta love tsukishima <3
- im rlly glad my writing could be there for you friend, one of the biggest reasons i write fanfic (and write the kind of fics i write) is bc i know firsthand how much reading sweet stories abt ur comfort characters can help u through the shittiest times - i just wanna offer ppl some support and happy feelings and love cuz sometimes fanfic is the only time we can find those things (and theres nothing shameful abt that either if anyone bullies u for reading fanfic i will fight them)
- I KNOW MY LAYOUT IS LAZY AND BASIC AS FUCK AND THAT IS BECAUSE I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT LMAOOOO so im glad u think its ok...... like i dont have the patience to create a fancy ass layout that actually works are u KIDDING ME??????? I COULD LITERALLY NEVER plus i kinda like that its just the basic kinda ugly boring default layout like it makes it simple and easy and i feel like it brings focus to the only thing on this blog that i care about which is my writing, i rlly only care about the content here and not aesthetics jdbljdabsdk that blue background will be there til i Die......i adore u more btw 
- WHOA trilingual what the hell ur so cool tell me more 
- you have my word, friend, that i will continue to do all of that so long as you do the same. take care of yourself, be kind to yourself - i know u can do it, ur so kind to others and u deserve to be kind to urself, too so this is the part that genuinely brought me to tears because *sappy dumb shit ahead* ok look ever since i can remember the one and only thing ive wanted to do with my life is become an author ...... dreams of book covers with my name written on them and words in pages written by me and fanart of my characters and going into my local bookstore n seeing my book there....these thoughts all haunt my fucking brain because i want it SO BAD!!!!!!!! so bad that it makes me CRY!!!!!!!! ive never wanted something more and just!!!!!!!!!!!! idk how much u meant that part but holy fuck!!!!!! i hope so bad that one day i can send u a free copy of my book as a thank u for being the person u are. u have all my love friend, every last bit of it <333333333
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ozarkthedog · 5 months ago
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Hidden Solace
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Summary: Andy finds comfort in the most unsuspecting place.
Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Sex Worker!Reader
Word Count: 1,929
Warnings: SMUT. Oral Sex (Male Receiving). Glory Hole Virgin. Swearing. Slight Angst?. It’s up to you to decide if he is with Laurie or not while you read this.
Author Notes: This fic is full of smut and feelings! I hope you all love this little fic as much as I loved writing it. 💙 *Credit goes to gif owner.
📖 Master list  
Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and Comments are encouraged!
This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.
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Andy’s palms were sweaty as he sat in his Audi psyching himself up.
He stared out the wind shield taking in the shady looking building with its neon sign blaring into the dark night. He was taking a chance showing up at a place like this, but he was desperate.
Andy sucked in a deep breath and pulled the trigger.
He pulled his Red Sox cap low and covered his eyes with his shades as he crossed the threshold into the XXX Store.
He heard this place was running tricks. A Glory Hole out back for paying customers who could keep their mouths shut. Andy had no problem with that.
Soft Core Pornos played on small TVs embedded into the walls with copious amounts of toys, lubes and bondage gear stocking the shelves.
Andy casually strolled down the last isle pretending to look at some magazines before sauntering over to a grimy countertop placed at the back of the building.
An older woman sat at the oversized counter engrossed in an erotic novel as Andy shifted on his feet, clearing his throat.  
The woman’s eyes flicked up to Andy before she begrudgingly put her book down.
“It’ll be $50. Cash.” She said, sounding disinterested.
He ruffled through his wallet and deposited the money in her hand trying to not raise his head.
“Down the hall. Last door on the left.” She said, pointing with her thumb to the black curtain to her left.
“Have fun.” She feigned a smile and picked her book back up.
Andy passed through the curtain and walked down the hall intent with getting to his location. Various groans, creaky wood and the smell of sex filled the air as he strode by a handful of doors before arriving to his destination.
He stood in front of the door for a moment, unsure if he could actually go through with this. Maybe he could get his money back?
He heard a set of footsteps sound at the end of the hall and without thinking he grabbed the doorknob and dove into the room.
His heart pounded heavily against his chest as he leaned against the door feeling as though he almost got caught. He laughed to himself thinking how stupid he just looked to some guy who was headed to get his rocks off.
Andy peered around the tiny room as he took his hat off and stuck the brim in the back pocket of his jeans along with his sunglasses. A small bulb hung from the ceiling producing a dim yellow hue, a bench with a box of tissues and a small cut out in what looked like a wall covered in wood paneling.
He rubbed his face with dismay. How he ever talked himself into doing this…
Andy heard shuffling beyond the wall and then a faint, female voice.
“Hello?” You ponder with a quiet tone, unsure if anyone was in the opposite room.
You learned to not look through the hole. You made that mistake once and you never wanted to repeat it. Plus, the boss man didn’t want you to know who you’d be “servicing”. Something about privacy.
Andy cleared his throat nervously, his voice sounding just as timid. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Hi.”
You smile at his apprehensiveness. It was rare that you got a Glory Hole Virgin.
“First time, huh?” Your smile coming across in your tone.
“That obvious?” Andy smirked as you let out a warm laugh.
“Yeah, but it’s ok. There’s nothing to be afraid off.” You scoot closer to the wall, the padded plastic bench you sat on crinkled under your weight.
“Why don’t you get relaxed. If you’re wearing a jacket you can hang it on the hook to the left.” You hear him shucking off his jacket in the tiny space. His movements cause the small bit of light pouring through the hole to flicker.
You motion for him to come forward when you slipped your hand through the hole, reaching out into the empty space until his hand found yours.
It caught you off guard, your hand jolting in his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to do that?” He sounded genuinely concerned.
“It’s alright. I was just expecting a hard cock is all.” You laughed again, overcome with how sweet the man on the other side of the wall was. His larger hand encased yours until you maneuver his grip and lock hands with him.
“Oh…” He’s grateful you can’t see his face as it turns beat red. “That makes sense.”
“You’ve got soft skin.” You say, running your hands over his palm and up his wrist.
“Uh, thanks.” He responds with a dazed tone, enraptured with the way your hands feel tracing over his palm.
Andy bit his lip from the tender sensation. If your hands felt this nice on just his palm, he could only imagine how they would feel on his dick.
Blood began to pool in his cock, straining against his jeans with every trace you made from fingertip to wrist.
Boldly, you made a fist with your hand and grasped two of his fingers. Andy gasped at the lewd motion as you slowly jerked his fingers. You knew what was happening when the man went quiet.
“Are you hard?” Your lust filled voice cut through the spell Andy was under as he watched your tiny hand pull at his digits.
“Yes.” He declared, no longer ashamed of where he was.
“Good. Now, why don’t you take your cock out and let me feel all of you.”
You hear him shuffling his clothes around and a zipper sound before he speaks with unease, “Do you want me to just place it in your hands or…?”
“Yes, come here. I want to see how big you are.”
Andy stepped closer to the wall as your tiny hand wrapped around his impressive girth. You both gasp when your hand circles his rock hard length and slides down ever so slowly.
“Fuck.” Andy groaned, leaning his head back on his shoulders. Your tender touches make his blood boil.
“Does that feel good?” You ask, jerking your fist around his cock before grazing the crown with gentle caresses.
“You have no idea.”
His hips shake when you jerk his cock with a steady grip, traveling down his shaft and back up to swirl your palm around the head. Precum smears your hand prompting you to want more.
“Let me have a taste?” Your voice sounds innocent but it’s laced with a hint of yearning.
You carefully pull his cock through the cut-out in the wood paneling. His package takes up the entire hole, making him press his body against the wall when you bring his balls through to your side.
You stare at the straining appendage for a minute, overwhelmed with how thick he was. Your mouth watered and your thighs clenched together instinctively as a drop of precum leaked from the tip.
“Uh… everything ok?” Andy questions worriedly until he feels a hot swipe travel from the hairy base to the reddened tip.
His eyes slammed shut with a hearty growl when you dragged your tongue up the expanse of his girth before swirling around the head. You lick at the precum and relish it’s salty tang.
“You’ve got a magnificent cock, Sir.” You declared before stretching your mouth wide and swallowing him down.
Andy’s hips jolt forward not expecting you to take him completely in your mouth so suddenly. Your jaw stretched to accommodate his thickness as your hand fondles his sack with light caresses.
His deep, sinful moans are somewhat muffled but they hit your ears like a choir of angels.
Your bob your head on his length and jerk what you cannot fit, saliva slicking your grip as he thrusts a little in your hand. Your lips suckle at his frenulum, causing him to growl.
“God Damn. Your mouth feels amazing.”
You smile with glee around his throbbing cock, determined on getting him to fill your mouth.
Hard tugs jerk his thickness with prowess as your left hand pulls tenderly at his sack. You can’t help but vibrate his length with your joyful moans as you feel him swell over your tongue. Rarely did you get to service a cock like this.
Your core wept wantonly as you sucked on his cock. It pooled between your thighs and screamed at you to ease the tremendous ache caused by this stranger.
Andy out right whimpered when you poked at his urethra, gingerly nudging your tongue into the tiny hole.
He rested his head on the wood paneling, overcome with the intense sensations. He never had a woman use her tongue on him this way, it was devastatingly profound.
It’d been too long; he wasn’t going to last. He brought his fist up and banged on the wall with pleasant irritation.
You halted nervously, pulling off with a slurp, “Are you ok?”
“Shit- Yes. Sorry. It’s just been... it’s been a long time.” Andy sputtered. “Please, keep going.”
You heard the sadness in his voice and it tugged at your heart strings.
“A cock like this should never go a day without getting wet.” You crudely professed before taking his cock back into your mouth and sucking greedily at the bulging head, desperately needing to taste his seed
Andy felt his belly go taunt when you flicked your tongue around his cock head before swallowing him down. Your gag reflex kicked in as he met the back of your throat with a heavy punch.
He growled a low, “Fuck” as his body shook. His sack shrunk signaling his oncoming orgasm.
“Fill my mouth, Sir.” You command quickly before swallowing him down and gagging heavily around his length.
Andy’s muscles lock tight as his brain floods with endorphins. The rapture of finally hitting his peak via another person causes a full body shudder to pass through him and he cums with a strong howl.
He released his hearty load into your awaiting mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down. You slowly jerk his cock adding to the overstimulation of sucking at the tip making sure you got every last drop.
Sadly, you let his cock slip from your mouth and he pulls his dick through the hole.
You hear him panting from the powerful orgasm when he rests his body against the wall. He sluggishly stuffs his throbbing cock back in his jeans overwhelmed with the pleasure he so desperately needed.
“Um… I hope that was good for you.” Your usual meekness back in play.
Andy huffs out a laugh. “Oh, Darlin. If you only knew what you just did for me…” He trails off, not wanting to divulge too much.
You beam upon hearing how satisfied he was. Something about him made you feel different but you tried not to think about it. That wasn’t good for this line of work.
“Well, I’ll be here the same time next week… you know, if you want to stop by. Just ask for Room 6.” You hated the way you sounded, smacking your hand against your forehead. This wasn’t a restaurant.
He waited a minute before he speaking, twisting his ballcap in his hands.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect coming here… so thank you. Honestly.” His voice was full of sincerity and longing. You wished you could see his face; rules be damned.
He gathers his jacket, throws his hat on and shades his eyes before stepping out of the door with a smirk.
“I’ll see you next week.”
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madeleinepryor · 5 months ago
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the jacket exchange
alternative title: “wait, you ship dallas and ponyboy?” 
yes, i absofuckinglutely do! this is a small ship, as of this writing most of the fic in the ao3 tag is by me  ¯\_(ツ)_/ ¯ which is something i’m not gonna apologize for cause like, fuck you someone needs to make content. i think a lot of people don’t, however, understand how i came to ship it or what the appeal is! so here’s a post. if we were back on livejournal circa 2005 this would belong in the ship manifesto community. maybe, this is tumblr and there are no rules.
this is a long post and sorry there isn’t a good way to indent this/break it up to be more readable.
personal history with the ship aka how i got into it
i think a jumping off point that works for me is my relationship to the ship first. i got into the outsiders fairly young (like thirteen? fourteen?) and when i read the book it was hella gay to me. except i didn’t ship dallas/johnny. i didn’t even like dallas at first, actually. i drifted to johnny/ponyboy as a ship because to me it felt very obvious that every interaction they had was loaded together. i thought they were tender and sweet, and kind of resented fandom for wanting johnny with dallas who i thought was kind of a dick.
which. lmfao. 
eventually, i exhausted the fics available on fanfiction.net. ponyboy was my favorite of the two, and i got bored, started poking around at other fics. i got a little older. my tastes changed, and i found a fic writer i really enjoyed so i wanted to read all of her fics. and... she had a dallas/ponyboy ship. while i never liked dallas/johnny, ponyboy is my favorite even if dallas wasn’t. so i clicked on it, expecting to mostly be bored with the non-pony parts.
bitch. the drama. the intrigue. the fun of having a “bad” dude as your boyfriend. the sort of reminder that dallas is messy and fun in his own way and what was brought to the table with him and ponyboy was actually... really... interesting!
was it the most IC thing ever? no. did it satisfy an itch i didn’t know i had? absolutely. thus began me trying to find as many fics for dallas/ponyboy on ff.net and it’s old ass system. it felt like something i went back to every few years. i even gathered as much as i had and it put all the remained on my kindle. 
it’s less than twenty fics. so barely anything at all. this year, getting back into the outsiders due to the pandemic, i was able to go to ao3. similar results of varying quality but i didn’t much care. when i ship something, i tend to like how specific it appears to myself and others. and frankly, whether i think a fic is perfectly ic or not, if it’s a very small ship, particularly one that doesn’t seem popular, i like encouraging any and everyone. 
so basically: a ship i didn’t know existed, clicked for due to one writer, and have been seeking more and more for but there’s barely anything out there. obviously, i’ve been trying to make up for loss time recently but this is like the personal story before the recipe so let’s fucking dive into it.
what’s the jacket exchange and what does that have to do with dallas/ponyboy?
one thing that i’ve noticed across fanfics that really sets the tone for this: everyone who’s read the book remembers a specific exchange in the book. i’m going to quote it here:
“Here!” Dally handed me a shirt about sixty-million sizes too big. “It’s Buck’s—you an’ him ain’t exactly the same size, but it’s dry.” He handed me his worn brown leather jacket with the yellow sheep’s-wool lining. “It’ll get cold where you’re going, but you can’t risk being loaded down with blankets.”
Excerpt From: S.E. Hinton. “The Outsiders.” Apple Books.
there’s more going on here. it’s from the scene where, after bob’s murder, johnny and pony frantically go to buck’s to get help from dallas. it seems that almost everyone who ships this and read the book, we all seem to circle from here. we all seem to remember this portion of the book, where dallas just lends his help to johnny and pony -- and the jacket he just gives to ponyboy without a second thought. he helps ponyboy, and does it without consideration of more than simply helping him.
while i started shipping it through a fic, the more i reread the book over the years, the more i always circled back to this in the novel, this entire scene. johnny and ponyboy begging for help; dallas actually barking at pony much like darry; and the jacket that ends up on ponyboy and that he keeps for the rest of the novel. it’s emblematic, i think of their entire relationship. 
in the book, we're in pony's head a lot. he talks a lot about dallas in the novel. when you read the book, you realize that word count for word count in their introductions, dallas has almost three times the amount written about him when he's first introduced. we get the most backstory about him, we get the most of pony as he elevates him about everyone else. he talks often of how he respects dallas yet doesn't like him — and still can't refrain from focusing on him in scene to scene. he tells us so much intimate information about dallas that isn't quite the same as everyone else through the book. i think a lot about how dallas goes through a lot of effort to protect ponyboy, how he does it without thinking. we’re told in the book often that dallas takes the fall for others, even at first for bob’s killing. 
can you argue it's s. e. setting up his death, with how much ponyboy talks about him? sure. you can also argue that there's a push and pull between pony, dallas, and johnny and while most people pick up on the dynamic between pony and johnny or johnny and dallas, little is spoken about pony and dallas' tenuous connection. they seem to orbit each other with ponyboy expressing near resentment that he and dallas aren't close, the dallas doesn't treat him the same was as johnny — while being elated in those moments he shares with dallas, when they actually feel like, in his words, "buddies." his words around dallas' moods, how he wanted to draw him quickly when he was in a mood, they're all very tantalizing.
it also, i think, colors people's perception of them. i'm not here to kick a ship; i will say that i think while dallas and johnny have a connection, i've always viewed them as opposing viewpoints that struggle to make themselves the right one for ponyboy and one he can't fully embrace in whole. he can't necessarily stay completely gold, but he can't make himself completely hardened like dallas.
which brings me to the scene that when i revisited this year struck me the most about them.
“With the siren ahead of us, we made record time getting to the hospital. All the way there Dally kept talking and talking about something, but I was too dizzy to make most of it out.
“I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin’ Johnny to stay outa trouble, for not wantin’ him to get hard. If he’d been like me he’d never have been in this mess. If he’d got smart like me he’d never have run into that church. That’s what you get for helpin’ people. Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble. . . . You’d better wise up, Pony . . . you get tough like me and you don’t get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin’ can touch you . . .”
He said a lot more stuff, but I didn’t get it all. I had a stupid feeling that Dally was out of his mind, the way he kept raving on and on, because Dallas never talked like that, but I think now I would have understood if I hadn’t been sick at the time.”
Excerpt From: S.E. Hinton. “The Outsiders.” Apple Books.
this scene was always frantic and sad to me here when i was younger. reading it now, well. it inspired a fanfic but it also made me reconsider everything they'd been doing with each other in the book. the way they orbit each other, the way they do (and don't — silence is just as important as anything else) communicate with each other made all the world of a difference in them. ponyboy's resentment that they weren't closer felt different, the way he spent the book talking about dallas' many crimes and attitudes changed for me. this last conversation between them is the most intimate dallas had ever been with ponyboy in the book, during a complete moment of crisis and this moment stood out to me as something important.
dallas was never shown to be like this with anyone else. even with johnny dying, he's not like this. he reaches out to pony, says this piece of intimate, pleading moment. ponyboy knows it's intimate, it's desperate and he's too traumatized to parse it. that feels so interesting to me in the way that he recounts this to the reader, because even at this point, pony is struggling with unreality of the situation yet knows that this is important to him and dallas both. he remembers this during the much praised glass scene — he remembers dallas' last words.
it's not just that, though. the book and movie are i think, something that feeds into each other. i think that while nitpicking over the way they casted hair color is kind of petty when the way they breathe life into each other is much more interesting. the movie to my deep frustration skips over the nuts and bolts of The Jacket Exchange — however it redeems itself in the best revision that s. e. and francis ford coppola ever made: the death scene.
the movie is faithful almost to a fault except the death scene. changing the death scene from one where dallas dies without a word on the page, we're removed from ponyboy's thoughts something that i think greatly changes things. you aren't hearing him recount dallas' sins as if he's trying to tell himself that dallas deserved his death, trying to reassure himself. you aren't hearing ponyboy talk about the sketchbook he has with dallas' face etched into it. instead you're seeing dallas and ponyboy enjoying each other's company, you're seeing dallas tease him in a much more casual way and pony peeking out, wanting that bits of approval and fun.
the death scene is most impactful for me here. dallas goes from being silent and gunned down to someone who ends up on his hands and knees, crawling to ponyboy. he gasps and sputters ponyboy's name out, he reaches out to him. it makes a world of difference, this revision and it makes their relationship that much more interesting to read. it's probably the best thing s. e. has every done or will done (unless she recants her dumbass opinions and deletes her twitter but let's not hope for a miracle here). by changing it from a wordless suicide cop to an outright appeal from dallas to ponyboy, it radically changes their relationship.
it's a lot different from a fic that pushes the bad boy qualities. instead it offers something else: a tenuous web between people, where they have a connection that both of them don't quite know how to acknowledge unless it's a moment of intense emotion on dallas' part and a sort of quiet jealousy and pain on ponyboy's part. even with his perspective moved, with a camera viewing them instead, there's still something there.
and yes some of this is also that the film dallas is rendered a shade differently and so is the film ponyboy. they're still true enough to the text and they still end up making something interesting between them, with moments of intense intimacy between them, of huge emotion and in my view, i think that's something that could be pulled apart more. pony says he's a bit afraid of dallas, yet he spends time with dallas. he knows so many details, so many threads and for dallas' part, i always read that his hesitance to be gentle with ponyboy as an indication of his own respect and viewpoint of pony. what seems to get lost over the years is that ponyboy is outwardly tougher than johnny. he burned his hand in chicken with curly shepard, he spat at the socs first, he lept into the fire first. i think ponyboy is more active than johnny, he speaks up for him, he takes up for dallas even when dallas isn't there. he is proud, even to take up for dallas in situations and i think dallas recognizes that difference in johnny and ponyboy.
dallas treats johnny and ponyboy differently because he's aware that he can. he can't expect the same behavior from a boy he's been outwardly so traumatized and nervous. he can treat ponyboy so much rougher because ponyboy, in his view can take it. ponyboy, i think, doesn't understand that which is fascinating to me.
i think had they the time, the place, the means they could have. that sheen of jealousy and misunderstanding could have been cleared up, and i think that they have something that could go a lot farther together.
there are some other small things about them i also consider a lot:
that technically,  dallas and ponyboy seem to share a scar from where dallas put out the fire on ponyboy's shoulder.
how dallas reacted when he thought he killed ponyboy and he hadn't. how that had been a moment together, where ponyboy said they finally felt like buddies.
dallas' comment about ponyboy and soda's hair. how in the movie he pats ponyboy's face and calls him sleeping beauty and that wink and tongue click he gives ponyboy
also from the movie when steve says "little kids aren't allowed" and dallas instantly pushes back to include pony
ponyboy and dallas talking all through the rumble together, in the film and the book and how that must've looked and how they weren't so close, supposedly
getting ponyboy to johnny — who was that really for?
i think some people will def be critical of this so i guess i'll use this spot to address that before i wrap up and/or hit some basic q&a
it's not ic = fam, fanfic by it's very nature isn't in character. i think there are levels of in and out of character and frankly, i think this could be written on any scale of in or out of character.
their age difference is too big / maturity is an issue = it's three years. 14 / 17 is truly not that big of a deal, particularly as they both get older. i think you can age them both up to whatever you feel is appropriate and do fine. also maturity is… lmfao. dallas has been in and out of jail since he was ten. ponyboy is very traumatized by the end of the book. i think that's a ymmv situation, particularly for the time period. also they’re fictional!
i ship x with y, this can't be a ship = i'm not telling you that you have to ship it. this is why i, personally, ship it and things i've seen shipping it. i'll be happy enough that you even considered reading this post! it's very long!
i don't think this would end happily = it doesn't have to, also show me the fic, a bitch loves angst
do you have any fic recommendations not your own? = my strongest recommendation is pyrchance and their fics here.
what about your own fics? = dude i have like twenty of those. 🥴  some are one shots, one is an omegaverse fic, and one is a post canon possession fic. they're all here.
i think i want to end on this note: i think whether you ship it or not, it's a really underrated dynamic. i don't want it to be like, popular because if i'm being honest i like it being a tiny underdog. i think the ship has a really specific taste to it and the instant something gets popular it loses a bit of what makes it pretty special. and trust me, i'd love more fic and such for it. i suppose i think i'm really asking to be understood for this or give something people to think about in their fanworks with them.
if you want to talk on the post or in my askbox, feel free. anon is enabled if you’re not comfortable to be logged in.
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yupitsbambi · 5 months ago
Text
Midsummer
Pairing: Mammon x Fem!Reader
Word count: 4.5k (omg whoops my hand slipped)
Warnings: cursing probably, bad writing, I’m a big believer in Platonic Touching (with romantic undertones), a sonnet fic (???), came to me in a dream and probably reads like it, moron-sexual, 3rd person writing, requited pining, no beta we die like Lilith
Summary: Mammon and MC decide to go for a middle of the night adventure after being stuck inside for a couple days. MC reveals she’s a book nerd, Mammon says 3 little words for the first time, and two best friends are pining for each other but way to dumb to see it.
Okay, this is my first real fic I think I’ve ever posted and boy is it a doozy. I have a weird obsession with Shakespeare that stems from this one summer when I was stuck with nothing but Shakespeare plays to read and now it’s creeping it’s way into my fanfics. Okay wow what an intro no wonder I made it to 4k I can fucking yap. Let’s begin!
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“Mammoney...?” He heard a soft break through the air of his room. They had been hanging out in his room, her hanging out on his bed and scrolling through his DDD while he sat squatted at the end of his bed, filling through a stack of Demon Vouchers he had swindled out of some succubi earlier. Something about pawning off Asmodeus’s favorite underwear to the highest bidder, but she couldn’t remember. She liked to keep it that way- plausible deniability, she had claimed.
“Ohhhh, no ya don’t.” Mammon called back, not bothering to look over his shoulder at the human snuggled up so comfortably in his bed. He knew that, unfortunately, it would probably make him blush, and he had been trying to avoid that as much as possible. He had no idea why looking at his human, his best friend (no more!), made him so damn flustered, but it was starting to get the best of him. “I know that voice.”
“What voice?” She replied innocently. He furrowed his brow.
“That sweet, sing-songy, ‘oh I couldn’t possibly have dark intentions’ voice!” He claimed, exasperated. He had tossed his arms in the air to make his point at one point, and several vouchers had gone flying, tough he didn’t scramble to pick them up like she had expected. He lowered his arms into his lap and continued tossing the money onto the piles he had so meticulously laid out. “And when you call me Mammoney, I know you want something. The last time you called me Mammoney you wanted me to go down a dark alleyway cause you ‘dropped your wallet’ and then had Belphie jump out from behind a dumpster and scare me.” He risked a glance at her before focusing back on his stash. “I could’ve had a heart attack, ya’ know!”
“Demons can’t have heart attacks,” she countered, and he heard sheets shift behind him. Suddenly, she had wrapped both arms across his chest, chin resting on his shoulder. Fuck, he thought, now I’m blushing. She scooted her legs around so they trapped his on the inside. “It was pretty funny though.” He ‘humphed’ at that, and she giggled. He knocked his head up against hers playfully, and flicked her knee for good measure.
“So what is it ya want?”
She hummed thoughtfully. After a moment she answered. “I’ve been stuck in this house for ages,” she lamented. Mammon laughed heartily.
“It’s been two days,” he countered. He could feel her glare at him, but he knew she didn’t mean it. She never glared at him for real.
“Two days is too long!” She poked him in his side, and he squirmed in her grasp before she deflated on his shoulder again. “Every time I wanna go out, one of you is busy. Beel had the German Cuisine Tasting festival, so he was busy, and I haven’t even seen Satan since that new mystery novel by Amelia Crawford came in. Asmo had 3 back to back orgies, Belphegor let his phone die and hasn’t bothered to charge it, Levi’s had a raid mission he’s been on for like 76 hours, and don’t even get me started on Lucifer- if I asked him to escort me to the mall so I didn’t get devoured, he’d probably hang me up by my toes for wasting his time with a pathetic request.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder now and sighed into the space between her chest and his back. “So while you’ve been scheming, I’ve been suffering. Don’t you know it’s rude to torture your human so?”
“O’ please,” Mammon replied, “You’re about as tortured here as Marie Antoinette was in Versailles.” He chortled, “Ya’ poor thing! Did someone not put pearls in your champagne?” She smacked him lightly in the chest, but giggled nonetheless.
“Hey!” She pretended to be offended. “Well you’d at least think that with 7 chaperones one of you would be available. I could always go out on my own...” she dramatically raised one finger up in the air as if the thought has just occurred to her. “Oh wait! No I can’t, cause I apparently am about as tempting as a sirloin steak is to a stray dog.”
“Ya’ got that right,” he had resumed sorting his money into different piles. She wasn’t sure what each stack was for, but he was obviously pretty diligent about getting it done properly. She closed her eyes and waited patiently for him to finish. When the last voucher was sorted, he streatched his arms above him, rotating his neck to relieve some of the tension he hadn’t realized he was storing, and then pushed up onto his feet.
He turned toward her, hand outstretched, facing away. She blinked at him.
He shook it more insistently at her, then ran his hand through his fluffy white locks, exasperated. “Come on, ya’ dork. I don’t have all night to take measly humans on fantastical adventures.” He focused his gaze back on her, face breaking out in to a pearly white, shit-eating grin. “I am the GREAT Mammon, after all.”
She took it, grinning widely herself. For all the things he was (crazy, greedy, needy, annoying... she could list for probably hours, if prompted or bribed) Mammon never disappointed her.
————————
Mammon suggested the take one of the Houses cars instead of flying. They piled in through the Cadillac’s shiny black doors- him driving, of course. As they pulled out and onto the pitch black street, she reached over and cranked up the radio, smiling at each other as he began to tear ass down the highway.
“So, I suppose in all the excitement of getting to leave the house, I forgot to ask where exactly it is we’re going,” she called over the music. He waved her off flippantly.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Not at all!” She replied giddily. He frowned at her.
“Fine, then.” He turned his attention back to the road. “It’s a suprise then.”
“Not the gambling den again,” the girl groaned, remembering the last time Mammon had taken her to a ‘suprise’ location and then proceeded to almost let her get kidnapped in the back of a back alley gambling operation due to his fixation on the game of poker they had laid out in front of him. She knew he was mortified about that night (she was his responsibility after all) but she wanted to prepare herself in case she had to dodge and weave from groping hands like the last time.
“Ya’ gotta be kidding me!” The demon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like I’d take you back there. We’re almost there, so stop yer pestering and get your coat on, ‘Kay?”
Attention drawing back to the outside, she noticed that the normal city lights that filled the Devildom were now replaced with tall, spiraling trees. She supposed she should follow his direction and shrugged on the light jacket she had decided to bring, though it was a warm summer night, and she didn’t figure she needed it.
The Cadillac pulled off onto the side of the road and stopped next to an indistinguishable part of forest. Just when she was about to chew Mammon out about this not being a parking spot, he threw open his door and came around the front to open hers and offer a hand. Her arguement got stuck in her throat and she gratefully accepted.
All the brothers were extraordinarily gentlemanly, frequently pulling out her chairs, opening doors for her, carrying her school bags or offering to walk arm and arm with her during a strut through a particularly dangerous area, and every time it would fluster her. Even after such a long time in the underworld, she still wasn’t used to how devilishly handsome and polite her demons were.
“This is the suprise?” She taunted.
“Shut up,” he replied.
They began to make their way through the dark, towering pines.
——————————————————————————
It only took about 5 minutes before Mammon decided that she was too slow and began to forage on ahead of her. He wasn’t going to leave her too far behind, but he wasn’t gonna let them take all goddamn night either, that’s for sure.
She could see his frosty white hair glinting in the occasional burst of light that shone through the trees, which served as her beacon to ensure that 1) she was going the right way and 2) that she hadn’t evidently lost her guide in the darkness and was stuck alone and defenseless in the depths of one of the Devildom’s largest, densest forests. The thought made her speed up a little.
It felt like ages of hiking (although it was hard to tell in the infinite darkness around her) Mammon stopped in his tracks. Due to the fact that she was in grossed in her thoughts, mostly about what was possibly surrounding them in the creepy woods, she nearly ran face first into his back.
“What is it, Mam?” Her wide eyes peered at him.
“We’re here!”
He was right. Without realizing it, they had stumbled into a small grassy meadow hidden right in the middle of the ominous forest. Scattered around it are mushrooms that emit a soft glow, and creatures like fireflys float around softly. The sound of frog bats croaking around her is a soft melody to her wonder at where in hell he had taken her to. Creatures that glow yellow and reminded her of an old Celtic myth drift like small lanterns around the clearing and through the trees- were they Will o’ the Whisps?
Mammon looked at her expectantly, ready to be showered in praise for his amazing sense of surprises, and was disappointed to realize she was too caught up in the beauty of the meadow to get around to thanking him yet. He crossed his arms, but supposed he would let her have a moment to take it all in so she could thank him properly in a moment.
The human was absolutely entranced by the area. In all her time being in the underworld, she had yet to see a place so jaw droppingly beautiful. It reminded her of something from a fantasy novel... or from an old play she had read long ago, about fairies and forests and other magical worlds. She whispered to herself, almost in a daze-
“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
“Hey, what the fuck are you spoutin’ over there?!” She snapped out of her trance almost immediately. Turning to face Mammon, she noticed his eyebrows were cinched in concern. First, she didn’t immediately fall to her knees with gratitude over him taking her to such a nice suprise. Second, his human had started to spout weird rhymes, and he was beginning to become concerned that her psyche had finally snapped from all the stress that came from living in the Devildom, or, in all actuality, the sprees of living with 7 boys.
“This place reminds me of a Midsummer Nights Dream. You know, by Shakespeare?” She tried to explain, embarrassed. She didn’t mean to start spouting old ass poetry, but she was sure she sounded absolutely batshit crazy now. Mammon shrugged as if to say “Humans, what are you gonna do?” And then proceeded to walk past her, guiding her toward the middle of the circle.
“I’m familiar,” he replied, smiling at her again. A glimmer in his blue eyes caused a knot to form in her stomach. “Don’t know why you bother reading that dusty old bags work. Will you come sit down and enjoy your damn outing though? I don’t have all night to cater to your cabin fever, ya know.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Shakespeare is pretty dusty.” She laughed, taking his arm in hers. A small brush creeped into her demons face, but she pretended not to notice. She liked it when he was blushing, anyway. “Thank you for bringing me here, Mammon. I feel like fairy’s and sprites are about to emerge from the tree and whisk me away to their mystical palace. It’s magical.”
“That’s a little proposterous, dontcha’ think?” Mammon snorted. She shot him an amused glare and smirked.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been abducted from my home by creatures I’d read about only in fairy tales to live in a luxurious palace in a mystical land.”
He felt like he had just choked on his tongue. Indignation began to rise in his cheeks as he realized she was correct- were fairies anymore preposterous than demons and witches to her?
“I am not a creature!” He demanded, now red in the face. Amusement glinted in her face- now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “I used to be an angel you know. Do you call Luke a creature?!”
She laughed, elated at her victory and managing to get Mammon so riled up. He was always so adorable when he got flustered like that, she thought. “Whatever you say. Creature or not, you’ll still always be my Mammoney.” He could feel his face flush a shade redder. Why did she always make his brain feel like it was buffering? Who did she think she was?
“Now, would you lay down in this beautiful meadow with me and enjoy some damn peace and quiet with me for once?” She took the arm she was holding and pulled him down onto the soft grass, giggling as he tried desperately not to crush her with his weight and tried to fling himself past her. He had good reflexes, thankfully.
They ended up laying face to face in the grass, bodies facing in opposite directions. He laid his hands gently on his lap, and he could see her playing with something in his periphial vision. The demon leaned his head back and saw she had plucked an indigo flower from the ground and was twirling it thoughtfully in her fingers above her.
“That’s deadly nightshade, ya know.” Mammon whispered, and she hummed softly. “Be careful, Lucifer would kill me if it was finally a fucking flower that took you out.”
“Belladonna.” She echoed, ignoring his last comment. “It’s beautiful.”
Like you. He wasn’t entirely sure where the though had come from, but it had jumped to the forefront of his mine like it was attached to a spring. He coughed to try and clear his throat, completely flustered by a two word thought.
“Maybe some of those fairy’s will come out of the woods when you drift off and smear some on your eyelids.” He said instead, still salty about being compared to the sprites. “Real fairies are fucking assholes that way.”
Nice save.
Yet, there it was again- that damn laugh. Every single time he heard it, it made I’m dizzy like he had just pounded half a bottle of demonous. He couldn’t help the dumb grin that broke out over his face. Maybe it was the sweet breeze drifting through the air- much sweeter than it was in the city- or maybe it was the sweet floral perfume you wore, but he felt like he was a little bit high on her.
She placed her hands over her face, trying to calm the laughing fit she had entered. After a minute she took a deep breath and breathed it out again, before beginning. “Okay, first, I’m not even going to ASK about whatever beef you have with fairies-“
“They’re little perverts.” He interjected, and she cracked up again. Man did he love being able to do that to her. She never laughed with any of his brothers like she did with him. He knew just how to push all her buttons.
“You’re impossible!” She reached up and slapped him teasingly. He had the good mind to look hurt, even though she had hurt him about as much as a gust of wind hurts a mountain
“Secondly,” she said, drawing out the -ly for emphasis. She sat up on her side to better look at him. “Was that a Midsummer Nights Dream reference I heard earlier?! Cause where in the hell were you hiding that?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I told you I was familiar. What, you think the Great Mammon isn’t familiar with great art when he sees it?”
“I didn’t realize that meant you actually knew the plot.” She sighed, laying back down. He could feel the flush of her cheek against his.
Mammon smiled to himself, rotating so now he was leaning up on his arm as he looked down on her. The idiotic grin she gave him mirrored his own, and his heart fluttered annoyingly in his chest. He pushed it down and continued. “O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!” He poked her gently in the side, and she swatted him away playfully. “She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.”
The girl gaped at him. The feeling was priceless, and a sudden rush a greed washed over him. The way she made him feel really was intoxicating, and he didn’t want to come down. With force, Mammon managed to push away the urge to hoard her here forever, away from everyone, like a maiden and the dragon in medieval legends. He shivered at the thought. “I used to scalp tickets for Shakespeare out in front of the Globe Theater and then I’d hide in the crowd. I’ve seen the play more times than I can count.” Mammon conceded, running his hand through his hair again. “It’s basically part of my psyche at this point.”
The pale haired boy flopped down next to her again. They sat in silence for a moment, before she began, “Sometimes I forget your thousands of years old.”
“Sometimes I forget you’re a flash in the pan that is my timeline.” Was his reply. He turned his head to look at her, and she did the same. “Feels like you’ve been here forever.” He looked away again, gazing up at the sky. Had her eyes always had all those different shades? He was sure she could see the pink tinge on his tan skin, as it so often did, though he didn’t really mind when he was with her. She made him feel ok to be a little weak.
She didn’t reply to that. He didn’t need her to. “It looks like there’s stars out tonight.”
It was true. The fog that almost constantly encapsulated the Devildom had broken for a moment and swirled like clouds beneath a sparkling dome. The Devildom’s realm lied hundreds of miles beneath the earth realms surface, and thus had a roof that was littered in stalactites and minerals. Some of the rocks even shone like diamonds, and on a rare, clear night like this, the lights from the city lit up those stones and gave an eerily similar effect to the stars of her home world.
They sat inside for a while, enjoying the silence. At some point, after mentioning that there was a slight chill in the air (it was the warmest time of flux, so Mammon wasn’t sure how honest her claim was, but he wasn’t about to argue) she had nestled snugly into his side. They listened to the sound of bat-frogs in the trees and the occasional wailing on banshees in the distance. It was so peaceful that when she spoke again, he startled, half asleep from the combination of the ambiance and her heat against his side.
“Have you ever thought about running away?”
“Whadda’ you sayin to me?” He groaned, rubbing the temptation of sleep from his eyes. He really hadn’t heard what she’d said, or at least couldn’t comprehend it.
“You know, have you ever thought about getting out of the Devildom, at least for a little while?” She paused, thinking. “You could start a life in the human world. We could get hitched while drunk in Vegas, have a couple of kids. Fight with the neighbors over the garbage cans and tree branches that hang into our yard.” He could hear her smile in her voice, amused by her own absurd fantasy.
Now it was Mammons turn to break up laughing. The idea of trying to live a normal life was hilariously absurd to him. Even just the thought of them getting married, having kids, arguing with the neighbors- there was no way that would ever work out for someone like him. He was a demon, after all- he had fought angels in heaven, torn lesser demons apart with his own two hands, tempted mortals with sin- the image of him paying a water bill cracked him up.
“Ya wanna live out in the desert?” She nodded happily, remembering thinking about living there when she drove through it on a family vacation a few years ago. He considered it.
She turned to face him, curious at what had suddenly occupied his mind. She had not been expecting him to take it seriously, and was suddenly curious as to where this was going. “On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“We live a life on the side like Bonnie and Clyde.” He held his hand up like a pistol, one eye shut and pretending to aim and fire at something above them. She giggled. “We’ll drive through the sands and rob banks, get drunk in shitty motels, live lavish on the side.” She watched him pensively. Of course the Avatar of Greed wouldn’t want to live in a shack in the desert- also, Vegas might not be the best idea with his gambling addiction. But the thought of riding through the long, hot highways, drinking hard liquor, and making love in shady motels suddenly became very appealing to her.
Making love? She caught herself. Where the hell had the come from?!
“We could get famous, we could get rich. Sure, we’ll die in a shootout with the cops, but when we do, our names will be splattered across every headline. They’ll tell our story for years. Decades!” His arm flopped lose by his side, game over. “I can see it already.”
“I like it.” She beamed at him. He grinned right back, his white hair catching the light from the whisps.
“Love's stories written in love's richest books, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” He whispered, just to watch her eyes light up with recognition again.
“Damn straight you like it. It’s genius.” He segued back to the original conversation, making sure to give himself the obligatory pat on the back. Mammon decided to rotate himself so he was laying in her lap now, and damn, was it a good idea. She had automatically tucked her hands into his white fluff, and he almost groaned at the sensation. He loved it when she did that.
“We can vacation first class.” He managed to mumble out, focusing on enjoying her head scratchesz “I’ll keep us afloat, obviously-“ she nudged him slightly with her knuckle, telling him to knock it off. “- and you’ll keep kicking my ass. I’d expect nothing less.”
Her giggle made something twist in his stomach. Something had changed in how he thought about her these past couple months. When did he go from hating her and everything she stood for, to not being able to sleep without her in his bed? To catch himself thinking about her smile when he wasn’t paying attention in class? To nearly tearing apart that kid who checked out her ass on campus for no other reason than “only I get to look at her ass like that?” It was perplexing to him. He had blocked out everyone for so long, he wasn’t sure when you had had the time to sneak in past his walls and become so damn special to him. It was a little annoying, of course, but he didn’t blame you.
And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
Great, when did he start thinking in Shakespeare?
“I love you, you know that?” He said. He didn’t even realize he was speaking before it rolled off his tongue. It was the first time he had ever said it out loud, though she had said it to him frequently. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard her say it for a little while. Could that be where his outburst came from?
She stopped rolling the flower around in her fingers again- he wasn’t sure when she had resumed that- and turned to look at him like he had grown a third eye.
“Ya don’t have to look at me like I gotta second head, ‘ya know.” He glared off to the side, crossing his arms over his chest like a pissed off child. “I just hadnt gotten the chance to tell ya yet, ya know? I figured I should let you know before you get swollowed up by some street demon and are gone forev-“
“I love you too, Stupid Mammon.” She grinned at him, expression softening. “I know I haven’t told you that in a while. I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever, I didn’t even notice.” He had noticed.
“To be fair, the main reason I stopped the last couple weeks was cause I heard from Levi that everytime I told you ‘I love you’, you would immediately text him and go “She just said she loooooooves me, suck it, Leviathan.” And I would have to go try and stop him from drowning himself in his bathtub.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that!” Mammon said dramatically, slapping his palm against his forehead. “For completely unrelated reasons, have you seen my DDD? I have a text I have to send.” She elbowed him in the chest jokingly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that creeped across his lips.
“Don’t make me regret loving you, dingus.” She yawned. They made eye contact in the soft evening light, and he felt his stomach twist again. I’ll figure that out some other time.
“I would never. Promise.” He took her pinky in his, sealing it in an unbreakable Pinky Promise. She seemed satisfied with that, and laid back down on the grass.
After a few more croaks of the bat-frogs, Mammon heard her soft snores join in the nightly chorus. Gently wiggling out of her grasp, he stood up, stretched his back, and scooped her delicately into his arms. He begun the trek home, trying keeping her cozy in his arms as he stumbled back through the trees and down the hill. At one point, she reached up and grabbed at his jacket, trying to pull him closer. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead, and she settled back into his chest again.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.
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occamshipper · 6 months ago
I think the issue with death as a happy ending (to a story, I should point out - death can be many things in many places, but I’m specifically talking about it in fiction) is that it’s usually written so badly that it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and it just feels like shit. There’s a very limited number of fictional works that I’ve seen actually manage it well - though in saying that, I have a very limited range, and I don’t really enjoy new things because (reasons). The ones I do recall, it’s because they were just that good and bittersweet is exactly the way I would describe them as a happy ending.
Firebringer was a novel I read when I was 12 or 13, and I still recall it. It was about a deer and it was his entire life - birth to death - and it was a happy ending. I cried through the last few chapters. Then I reread it and cried some more. It was good.
There’s also a fic I want to mention, because it’s on the topic. It’s called The white whale. and it’s by an author named orange_crushed. The entire premise of the fic is that Dean (and Sam, but it’s a destiel fic) is already dead. He died years ago. The title itself should say a lot, and the fic itself is about finding peace. It’s brilliant and beautiful, and I love it.
My perspective on death is a bit. Odd, maybe? I grew up somewhere between Christian (mum and dad and church, a mix of Baptist and Anglican) and animist (local indigenous spirituality), and while bit of both inform my interpretation, I’m very nearly atheist.
I don’t really believe in an afterlife, or rebirth, or anything like that. I believe that this is it. We get one shot at being who we want to be and acting as we choose with what we’re given. (“And isn’t it so wonderful, that we were alive at the same time?”)
I first heard the Freedom From vs Freedom To argument when reading the handmaid’s tale in my English class at school. It wasn’t even presented as an argument, everyone just seemed to agree that freedom to is better. I believe that, too. But freedom from has structure. It’s not “peaceful” and it can’t be when it is enforced, but it is informed by rules, and there it has expectations and is reliable (where reliable means we know what the consequences are, even if they’re awful). Freedom to is anarchy (which I have come to appreciate more). But neither freedom is peace.
There’s a quote I really love, and I can never recall it properly and it goes something like this: “War is an ugly thing, but it is not the ugliest. The decayed and degraded state of moral feeling which thinks nothing is worth war is much worse. A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing more important than his own personal fucking safety, is [the worst thing]” clearly I don’t recall it very well. It’s from an old bit of hp fanfic, of all things, a very violent and disgusting version of civil war - as war is. It was the beginning of why I’m not a pacifist.
I dunno. I guess I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death. Peace is knowing you’ve done everything you can, that it was enough, and being able to let it go.
Any way I think I had a point somewhere in this, maybe something about being unable to put down a fight while you’re living, maybe something about how death can be kind, maybe something about how good writing can make sad things happy, maybe that bittersweet is still sweet. Idk.
Feel free to reply to this mess of ideas or not - or pick and choose what you want to reply to, if you’d like to reply to specific parts. I mostly just wanted to share (I can do discussion, but idk if I’m still gunna have any focus later to do so, or if I’ll even see a response) some thoughts and you’re usually the only person I see on my dash with this sort of ~vague philosophy things~.
Woah when did anons get to let someone submit something so long.
Either way, a few points on this.
1. a thoughtful piece, this is a philosophy piece I will gladly entertain. However, if we are entertaining philosophy we must
2. acknowledge this is a nihilistic piece contingent on your personal world views, that while valid, and I will not take any effort to undermine on a personal belief system level
3. do not have much to do with (dependent on fringe atheism or, perhaps, agnosticism) a piece that is far from secular and atheistic while also
4. relying on the idea that “I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death.”, which is itself the very nihilistic idea imparted by Chuck’s matrix but, whether you believe it in the real world, is the active target of subversion within this fantasy world, (eg, a heaven revolution where the doors are opened just like they were in hell.)
5. Finally, presumptuous that it would not be ‘well written’ and predesignating a potential discontent with the delivery that would sour it, especially with the previous points.
That said, while I’m not going to argue directly with your real life belief system -- even if they clearly disagree with my own -- I do remind you--falling back to your point that you do not believe in an afterlife: we know this fictional story does not hold this belief, ergo using that as a judgment for how it would deliver the concept of eternity is itself already wounding oneself to receiving the moral of the canon. One can not suddenly expect SPN to become a secular show just because a viewer has secular and atheistic beliefs. It is inherently asecular, theistic, and gnostic in its bones and the story will thus tell itself within that structure, which then begs if one is willing to suspend a personal belief system for a fictional canon setting they are digesting the story of.
Similarly-and-so, this is contingent on believing that the heroes’ journey will end with them maintaining the current status quo, rather than making a world where--in this fictional world in which an afterlife exists--death does not itself mean loneliness, but rather reunion.
If we can suspend our beliefs in some shows with fighting dragons or farting lightning bolts (after all, nonnie references HP fanfic), I would hope people could suspend them in regards to a moral telling of found family and the sovereignty of man in a divine and moral play.
If one were to demand SPN have entirely atheistic storytelling, the only real way to handle an ending would be to have one of the characters wake up from a 15 year coma where none of it was real and it was all a dream or something to that affect which--lol, we’re not doing, I promise. I’m sorry, but we’re not.  We’re not taking the “none of it mattered because none of it happened” angle. We’re not going to a world where angels and the afterlife don’t exist, we’re not going to collapse it where suddenly death IS the true end and life sucks and then you die, it’s just not going to happen.
So the point then is an active choice on the part of the viewer: is this suddenly the line you draw after watching a theistic show for 15 years, doubling down that this specific theistic point is the one thing we can’t accept (despite it existing in the past already), or do we continue to watch a theistic show and interpret its theistic points as the story is trying to depict? And if it’s the “drawing the sudden line,” that is, quite frankly, a personal choice to have spontaneous discontent with a critical part of a canon story’s telling at a very sudden drawn line in the sand. 
The point to exit would have been pilot 1.01 if we were going to have fundamental problems with spirits and an afterlife as crucial elements of a story. And if not then, 4.01 with angels. And if not then-- you see where this goes on. There were multiple exit ramps if the idea of an afterlife, which became more and more directly explored, was going to be an issue in reception of or enjoyment of a text. So now we’re 15 years later, and we can’t expect the highway to reroute just because we didn’t take the other 100 ramps.
SPN will tell the full spread of its moral and divine play within the full spread of its moral and divine sandbox, which someone has--to reach the ending--accepted for fifteen years at this point. If one has a fundamental problem with the entire premise of the show, it is not an obligation to any writer to cater to someone who intrinsically disagrees with the entire structure of the body of work to fulfill something within a completely different paradigm. It’s not.
Am I lucky in that it matches my beliefs? Maybe. Also cursed. Very very cursed. Because it’s led to being Through The Looking Glass for two years to the point there’s a segment of fandom that treats me as a magic 8 ball--and sometimes rightfully so, not to sound like I’m tooting my own horn or whatever. It just knows I get the structure in play to a fault. But cursed knowledge aside -- and trust me, it’s cursed as FUCK most of the time -- in the end, even when I watch shows that don’t match my personal theology, I don’t sit here and suddenly expect them to do so. There’s plenty of shows I completely suspend my beliefs in to enjoy within the sandbox they were designed in the constraints of so I find it very weird to project a discontent with a body of fictional canon presenting ideas within its own rule set based on personal beliefs in a real life lens. I mean, I don’t believe dragons exist, but if I watch the Dragon Prince for many seasons, I can’t suddenly expect the ending to have nothing to do with Dragons?
I mean, the show is literally called Supernatural. It's right there in the name. There are going to be supernatural elements about the show. My banner image is literally a reborn soul floating down the aisle. This isn't gonna suddenly be irrelevant at the end.
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komahinasecretexchange · 7 months ago
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Fools
Author: @izurusfattiddies/fxckthisfxckthat
For: @hadrian-pendragons
Pairings/Characters: Komaeda/Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Hajime Hinata, and a splash of Izuru Kamukura and a few mentions
Rating/Warnings: Self Doubt, Hurt and Comfort
Prompt:  Hurt/comfort Hinata and Kamakura and trying to figure out Komaeda.
Author’s notes: This is actually my first ever Danganronpa fic! If the characters seem a bit off I apologize.  I had a lot of fun writing this however and I hope you like reading it!
Komaeda was certainly a man of… puzzling standing. While a seemingly normal person, the moment he opened his mouth made anyone jerk to a halt. He was needlessly self deprecating, and his mindset was far too complicated for most people to decipher. Even Kamukura had difficulty understanding him, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Then Komaeda would likely become boring. But Hinata wanted that. So they’d work together to figure him out. It couldn’t be that hard, right?
“I’m surprised you wanted to spend time with me.” Komaeda spoke as Hinata held out a trip ticket for him. Hinata sighs. “Of course I want to. You are one of my classmates.”
   “I’m not sure I’m worth wasting the-”
   “Where do you want to go?”
Komaeda paused then. Hinata could see the gears turning in his head, as if trying to figure out where Hinata wanted to go. A hand under his chin as he debated their options. “I suppose we could go to the beach…” And then they went off, changing into their bathing suits in their rooms. Though for a while, Hinata just stared into the mirror.
You know this won’t help, right?
“I just want to know him better, that’s all.”
You get attached too easily. It would be easier if I did this.
“You’re too cold. He’ll notice. He’s not an idiot.”
The little trip went well, though for the most part Komaeda stayed out of the water. They made a sand castle together, but a coconut fell on top of it as soon as they finished to Komaeda’s displeasure. He apologized for his luck ruining the event with the sweetest smile that almost made Hinata’s heart jump out his throat. Why was that smile so appealing? Hinata couldn’t tell you why but he just returned one of his own and reassured the other that it was fine.
But that smile kept him up that night. He couldn't wrap his head around why he felt the way he did. Hinata seemed to just be missing a piece of the puzzle. Izuru had other ideas however.
You l-
"No, I don't. I'm just curious about him."
...If you insist.
"I do insist."
Izuru seemed to have had their Hinata's feelings in order, much to Hinata's disappointment. The mystery of his own feelings had been solved by someone who couldn't feel in the first place. It was frustrating, to say the least.
The rest of the night is spent trying to figure out his own feelings and Komaeda. Trying to find out how he ticks. It didn't seem to click with him. All of those gentle smiles with such harsh words about himself. Holding everyone on such a pedestal due to their talent. His near obsession with hope. It was all just confusing.
The next day something suprising happened.
"Would you like to spend time with me? I know I'm not worthy of your time, but-"
"Sure, I don't mind." Hinata is quick to nip the self deprocation quickly. He has to admit, he's never liked when Komaeda goes on one of those tangents. "Any place in mind?"
Again, Komaeda seems to put just as much thought into his suggestion like the time before. "How about the library?" The curly haired male spoke up after putting far too much tought into his answer.
It didn't take long for them to arrive at the building due to the nature of the island's set up. Pushing open the large door, the two enter. Komaeda seems to be on auto pilot then, maneuvering over to a certain section, Hinata just seems to mirror his pattern, following behind. "Know what your looking for?"
Komaeda nods with a small hum, crouching in front of the shelve, running his finger along the spines of the books. He seemed so focused, to the point where Hinata didn't want to break his trance. Soon enough, he plucks a book from the shelf, standing and reading the back for a moment before nodding to himself. "I've been looking for this for a while," Komaeda spoke up then. "It just always seemes to disappear when I came to get it. Just my luck really." He let's out a small laugh and that leaping feeling came back, a faint blush threatening to creep up on Hinata.
Komaeda's laugh seemed to have this way of lighting up the room. He wanted to know why.
"Is there anything you want to read?" Green eyes blink curiously at him. To be honest, he wasn't very big on reading. He mainly came just to spend more time with him.
"Not really, but what's your book about?"
Those same green eyes widen slightly, blinking a few times. Was... Was he not expecting to be asked that?
"Ah, I'm not very good at describing things, however-" He hands over the book, attempting to give a rough summary. The book was supposed to be a romance novel, and it seemed intresting enough even though he had no clue of what was happening, since he was jumping into the middle of the series. "If you want to, we could read it together...?" Komaeda offered.  
Well a little reading wouldn't kill him.
Apparently Komaeda read much faster than him, having to wait for Hinata to catch up before turning the page. Though it didn't help that instead of reading he couldn't help but to let his eyes wander over to Komaeda, focused on reading with his head propped up on his hand.
Like the little frown on his face when Komaeda was focused on something. Or his little reactions as he read something, from having his eyes widen a bit to that frown deepening, to a ghost of a smile.
At some point during Hinata's reading. He feels something hit his shoulder. He's quick to glance over and what he saw caught him off guard. Komaeda had fallen asleep and fell against his arm.
Had his eyelashes always been white? Hinata never noticed before now. And he swore he saw faint freckles across his face. A part of him wanted to wake him up but it felt like doing that was a crime. For now, he just draped an arm over him so he wouldn't fall.
You should tell him.
Kamukura spoke up, as Hinata lie awake in bed once again.
"Tell him what?"
That you like him.
"Of course I do. He's my friend." He laid an arm over his head, staring up at the ceiling. At this point he had the pattern memories. He wondered if the other rooms had the same pattern.
Don't lie to yourself. I see how you look at him. You're infatuated with him.
"Whatever."
Days turned to weeks, the two kept spending more and more time together much to their classmates' dismay. Stolen glances had been frequent among each other. It had been a wonder how neither had been caught, though Hinata swore he'd seen a blush creep up on Komaeda more than once.
But now it was the night before the end of their trip. Everyone had been celebrating how close they'd gotten, and they were enjoying their last night together in this strange predicament regardless of the storm outside.
Hinata didn't mind sticking to the wall, occasionally chatting with his fellow classmates. However there was something missing. Well, someone to be more specific.
He hadn't seen Komaeda in the past couple of hours which was strange. Komaeda might not have always spoken up much in the group, but he always lingered near by. Hell even Nanami had been chatting, playing video games with some of the others.
He decided to go find him and drag him back if need be. The rain had picked up significantly since the party had started, Hinata being drenched with minutes of being outside. He looked around the hotel, even going to check Nagito's room and having no luck finding the male. He keeps looking however and it pays off, finding Komaeda sitting on the beach.
He's soaked to the bone, curls clung to his face as he stares out into the ocean. He looked like a wet dog, to put it nicely. Hinata makes his way over, standing next to the other.
"You're going to get sick out here, you know that right?"
Komaeda flinched hearing a voice he hadn't expected, though he looked up with a smile. "I'd get sick regardless Hinata. You of all people should know that."
He sits down next to the other then. "Gonna tell me what's got you out here?"
The response he gets is a shrug as he returns to staring out at sea. "I know I should be happy, that we all get to leave but... I'm not."
"Want to tell me why?"
"It's pointless."
"I'm not so sure about that."
A few moments pass in silence, though it never feels uncomfortable, like when a conversation falls between two close friends, enjoying the silence and each other's company.
"Do you think we'll keep talking?" Komaeda finally spoke, breaking their mutal silence.
"What do you mean? Of course we will. I mean, we did spent time together as a class-"
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?"
"My luck gets people taken from me, Hinata. People die, or abandon me, or worse. I'm a hazard. Being around me is dangerous." Komaeda seems to curl in on himself then, pulling his knees closer.
"Maybe I like danger-"
"Don't say that!" Komaeda snapped, taking Hinata aback. He's not sure he's ever heard him yell before. "This isn't a joke! People have died because of my luck! I don't want to lose more peopl because of it! Not when I care so much for you!"
"Komaeda..."
"I've lost so much because of my luck!I can't lose you too! I've been trying so hard to hold you and every one here at arms length! Yet you just came back over and over!" It was hard to tell, but he knew some of the water on Komaeda's face wasn't just rain.
"Because I care about you Komaeda. I wanted to understand you, fuck I still don't fully.  You're an amazing person,  I just wish you'd see that." He tries to keep his voice calm, reassuring even. Though Komaeda's distraught look made that hard.
"You don't understand! My luck hurts everyone I love! I can't let you get hurt too because I love you too much!" The words blurt out before Komaeda can stop them. He's quick to try and get up and flee before Hinata grabbed his wrist.
"Komaeda I know the risks involved. I know you think you're dangerous but I know better. I know you have barely there freckles. I know your eyebrows furrow when you read. I know you have a soft spot for animals. And I know how I feel about you."
Slowly, Komaeda turns to face Hinata again. "You do?"
For once, Hinata reacted on impulse, pressing his lips against Komaeda's.   He felt him tense at the contact before melting into the kiss. Saying it felt like two puzzle pieces clicking together felt like something from that cheesy romance novel, but it felt right.
Slowly, they pull away staring at each other. "Hinata-"
Suddenly a loud cheering is heard and Hinata's face burns a bright read as he recongized the sound.
"They finally did it!" Mioda cheered loudly. It seemed at some point the class had gone after the two as well. He also sees Souda forking over some money to Kuzuryu. He looks back to Nagito, who had a big smile worn like a medal.
Yeah, he was okay with this.
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pinencurls · 7 months ago
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<’’ August ‘20 Fic Recs // h.styles  ‘’>
Some of the fics I’ve been reading this August :) (I might separate one shots into under 10k and over 10k in the future but for now I’ve just left it as is)
if there are any mistakes (wrong author tagged, link not working etc..) please let me know !
Series 
(I’m aware some of these are just one shots with additional parts added on later but right now I don’t wanna be too specific so this section is going to be any fic with multiple parts.)
Ritorno  part two  part three by @majorharry
Alex returns home from the battle of Dunkirk and stays with the family of his fellow comrade. He had known the war would be hard, but he wasn’t prepared for the love and loss that would follow in the aftermath.
Dunkirk harry is my guilty pleasure literally put anything 1940s based in front of me and I’ll love u.
Lighthouse by @for-fucks-sake-h
Part one up now !!
Filmmaker Y/n by @teslvo​ (7k)
Your relationship with Harry was still very, very new. It also couldn’t have started at a more hectic time in both your lives. But, being together was something you wouldn’t trade for the world. You just hope you don’t fuck it up.
The little wannabe filmmaker in me is screaming omg i love this so so much !! I think the second part is coming soon and I’m honestly so excited I’m already in love with these characters !!
1923 part 1 part 2 by @majorharry​
You’re not quite sure how to feel about Harry, the groundskeeper of your estate.
Cass has been one of my favourite writers for so so long now and this series is just !!! It hits all the spots for me and as I’ve said many a time, I will cry when this series ends. I would happily read a full novel o her writing in this universe (just saying)
Could Be Lethal by @idk-who-she-is​ 
The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.
I read this 5/6 months again and when I found it again I had to reread it immediately it’s just the perfect mix of angst and sweetness!
Bust by @hsogolden
In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.
This has been one of my favourite series since the beginning ! Can’t wait for the last two parts :)
My Shy Little Boy by @all-my-love-for-harry 
I’m not always a dad!harry kinda reader but honestly this is so good it convinced me to binge read the whole masterlist.... 
Collide  and the first part of chapter 2 by @oh-honey-styles 
Harry Styles recently parted ways with his bandmates and is embarking on a whole new adventure - his debut solo album. Uncertainty keeps his heart guarded as he cautiously opens up to the world on his own.
Francesca ‘Franki’ Leto is hopelessly devoted to her career and goes wherever her roller coaster of a life takes her. Far too busy for anything other than the fashion line she runs with her sister, she never could’ve seen him coming.
But when the universe keeps throwing them in each other’s paths, how long will it take to realise some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences. Call it what you want. Kismet. Fate. Dumb luck. Somehow their lives continue to collide.
I’m already so obsessed with this I can’t wait for the second part :)
Little Border Town   part two by @finestoflines (8.5k)
I need to move to france/italy and own a bookstore immediately. (Edit: o m g the second part !!) 
“Harry’s stylist, right?” by @finestoflines
Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump. 
I’ve counted this as a series because I’m fairly sure there’s a second part coming, or at least I’m trying to manifest it into existence ! I love this so much ans as someone who still can’t decide i they want to go into fashion or not, these characters are sO perfect. 
One Shots 
Bad For Me by @bopbopstyles
Harry and Y/N play water polo together, they’re friends, but they also fuck
This!!this!!this!! It’s clear how much effort was put into the writing of it  and it pays of so much it’s so great and soooo enjoyable to read 
NFWMB by @sunflowervolvimp3
Boxer!harry and Nurse!Y/n
THIS ! This is so amazing. From the writing to the characters to the entire plot as a whole it’s brilliantly created in every way and I genuinely cannot recommend it enough !!
Sweet Lies by @hestylesno
woooooo !! Idk what to say just read it 
From The Dining Table by @aquaticstyles​ (5k)
Inspired by From The Dining Table. 
This made me weep no joke !! The writing is incredible and the characters are immaculate !
It’s Not That Important by @finestoflines(15k)
Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation.
Bandmate!Y/n is my guilty pleasure and this was a m a z i  n g !! We always appreciate a little mitchy rowland sprinkled in!
Of Paw Prints And Guitar Strings by @its-julia-in-outer-space
Harry runs a dog rescue centre. You’d really like to be rescued as well.
This is so so perfect I really really hope there’s a part two (or more...) because I would love to see this little universe and its characters grow!
Home To Me by @stylesharrys
Y/N’s a nurse in the army and Harry just wants her back home with him.
The perfect mix of angst and fluff :)
Of the jealous kind by @kiss-inthekitchen
Farmers market vibes will always reign supreme <3
Blurbs 
“This tattoo was inspired by the song you wrote” by @hestylesno
I lost this blurb for the longest time!! So glad I found it again it’s so precious 🥰
Shit Talking by @all-things-fic
I lovvve!! Another masterlist also full of cool stuff
Not Your Groupie by @tbslenthusiast​ 
y/n doesn’t want to give up on her career to follow harry around on tour, and this causes them to re-evaluate their relationship
She also has a load other amazing blurbs in her masterlist :)
This blurb by @teslvo
Based off the prompts  “It was a joke, baby. I swear.” and “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?” 
I Mean, Why Not by @theydontknowaboutusimagines
Friends to lovers 💕
“You drew stars around my scars but now I’m bleeding.” by @heyyyharry
…in which Y/N tells herself this is the last time.
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imagine-that-100 · 8 months ago
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Coffee Boy
Description: Harry Styles x Reader (Female) | Lockdown is hard. Especially when the only person you want to be spending the difficult time with is halfway around the world. But in the time you have alone, you can’t help but reminisce about a little coffee shop and a certain green-eyed boy with curly brown hair. 
Word Count: 22.8k
Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (don’t worry, she’s a lawyer) & Coronavirus. Lots of fluff though!!!
A/N: @the-girl-before​ Here you go! After asking me to write one for 2 years, here it finally is! Really hope you love it! And thank you to @dot-writes​ for editing and proof reading this for me! You’re a lifesaver! Really hope everyone enjoys my first Harry fic. There will be definitely be more Harry coming in the future, but for now please enjoy this oneshot! Thank you for reading x
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| MASTERLIST IN BIO |
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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~*~*~*~ April 2020 ~*~*~*~
Life in lockdown was difficult. Especially when you were living on your own and you have a fragile mental state.
You were also nowhere near your family so you couldn’t even go and see them to socially distance in a garden or a park. You felt utterly alone in the big house you were in.
And the house hadn’t felt like a home since your boyfriend was stuck on the other side of the world.
You’d been going out with Harry for almost a year now and you’d had an amazing start to your relationship as you had seen him all the time. But you were currently stuck in opposite countries and you had been for over 3 months.
Something which both you and Harry weren’t very happy about.
At the end of February, Harry had flown to LA to go over some things with his manager about his upcoming tour. But whilst he was over there the global pandemic had escalated dramatically which ultimately led to Harry having to stay over in America for longer than either of you wanted.
Harry had felt like he had to stay to help rearrange his tour because there was no safe way, he could complete it this year. You of course didn’t mind about this at all.
His job came first over you physically seeing each other again, as did your job, which is why you weren’t over there with him in the first place.
Eventually when that had all been completely rearranged for 2021 though, the UK had been put into official lockdown meaning pretty much everything had stopped. Work had stopped. Life as everyone knew it had stopped.
But the thing that bothered you and Harry most, was that travel had stopped.
There was no way he could get back home because all but crucial flights had been grounded.
But you were both slowly getting through it. You were rarely out of contact with each other as you were both stuck in your separate homes, not allowed outside for safety reasons.
You were lucky and had your shopping delivered so you could avoid crowds in supermarkets, and you didn’t really use your once a day exercise pass either. So, you just stayed inside.
Both you and Harry had your daily FaceTime calls which ended up lasting hours. You mostly just talked about anything that came to mind because there was nothing either of you could even gossip about anymore because you weren’t allowed to see anyone.
You were stuck in London by yourself whilst all your family were still up north, and Harry was stuck in his house in LA with his manager and a few friends.
You missed him like crazy and the fact that you’d not had any human contact for so long was getting to you too. Everything was just getting a bit much for you which you tried to keep to yourself.
That was until Harry called you mid-breakdown the other day and he saw how upset you’d gotten. You had no clue how he managed it, but he calmed you down through the phone within five minutes and had you laughing again in no time.
You were so thankful he was always there for you to take your mind off things. He kept you talking about loads of different positive things.
Like how he couldn’t wait to take you to one of his shows so you could eventually see him on stage. You couldn’t make it to his Fine Line release one in LA because unfortunately couldn’t miss work, so you were meant to be going to a few dates on his UK tour which you couldn’t wait for.
When he released Fine Line in December you were so proud of him. He’d obviously let you listen to his album before the release date as you’d already been together officially since mid-July of the same year.
But you’d met each other 3 months before you’d become official and it was something you’d never forget. Not because it was anything spectacular like a cheesy romance novel, but just because it wasn’t everyday a good-looking guy started chatting to you whilst in the queue of your favourite coffee shop.
~*~*~*~ May 2019 ~*~*~*~
There was a cute little coffee shop that was fairly quiet just down the road from where you worked. The coffee shop had the unfortunate fate that a year ago a Starbucks had opened up on the other side of the road from it.
It had obviously caused the sales to go down in the smaller coffee shop, but you always went in there anyway. You believed the coffee was nicer and, apart from the people waiting for takeout drinks, it was fairly quiet which meant that you would come and read over some of your work.
That and the fact that since you’d moved down to London, you’d become really good friends with the owner, who was a similar age to you. So, you found every excuse you could to get to the little shop.
Today was unfortunately too hectic and you hadn’t had a chance to slip out to get a cup of your favourite coffee. So, after everything was done in court for the day, this was the first place you came.
Being a lawyer was rewarding but also completely exhausting sometimes. Especially when things weren’t going your way.
However, you kept your spirits high as you walked to the shop.
It was nearing 6pm and you were shattered from both a full day’s work and from the knowledge that you still needed to review things for tomorrow. You were in good spirits though, as you thought you got through to the jury today.
But you wouldn’t rest easy until you knew that the arsehole was behind bars. And that wasn’t going to be until next week at the earliest.
You decided to call your best friend who’d just texted you saying she was on her break. She was a nurse and she was doing 12 hour shifts all week but in the opposite hours to what you worked. Meaning that you wouldn’t see her at all.
She was doing 3pm-3am and considering your days were still normal days you’d not seen her at all for the past two days. You would have murdered her if she woke you up when she got in and she would have murdered you if you woke her up when you left for work.
So, you both just found times for a quick phone call now and again and replied to the other's texts when you could.
You were a lawyer which meant that your job was stressful, maybe not in the same sense as a nurse, but still stressful nevertheless. You loved your job so much that you put your all into each case you were assigned and because of that, you usually won the cases.
You liked to make things airtight but sometimes the cases you were given were patchy at best, so you tried extra hard with those ones. Like the case you were currently dealing with, it was really difficult because the prick had an answer for everything and the poor victim you were trying to get justice for didn’t have much evidence of their abuse.
Despite that though you did think you’d got through to the jury today. So, after leaving the court in a good mood, you decided to treat yourself to your favourite coffee.
You walk into the shop, after a five-minute walk, to find it unusually busy for this time of night. You guessed that people had the same idea as you, wanting to get a coffee to go on their way home from work.
Your phone was pressed to your ear as you entered the shop, your best friend still chatting your ear off. You got in the queue to get your much-needed caffeine and looked around the bodies in front of you just to try and see who was working today.
You see the beautiful lady that is Lucy, who’s a similar age to you, and her eyes meet yours when you wave to her. She sends a big smile your way before she gets back to work and you get back to your conversation.
“Wait, so you’ve been up for how many hours?” Y/B/F asks you.
You think about it for a second, not really having kept track, “I’m not even sure… I didn’t really sleep well so I got up at half four and I was in work for eight going over notes for the case”
“You’re a fucking idiot” She tells you and you can’t even deny it.
You nod your head even though she can’t see you and you move forward in the queue as it slowly gets shorter. Your coffee calling to you by the second, and the spell was heavenly.
“Yeah, I know, but I’m glad I did…” You smile to yourself, feeling proud of yourself.
“Think I got through to them today, just need to make sure the momentum stays for it tomorrow. I’m just so glad we made some ground today it was worth only having the six hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours” You say, the relief could be heard in your voice.
She scoffs down the phone and then laughs a little, “Right, please go home and get some sleep”
“I’m going to get some sleep I promise. I just need to go over a few things for tomorrow and hopefully I’ll be in bed for twelve” You tell her
Your best friend knows you too well and calls you out saying, “That doesn’t sound like a few things you’re going over”
“I’ll rest once it’s all over, before I get my next case” You promise her.
You knew you wouldn’t rest easy until you knew which direction the case was going to go. And at this moment in time it was anybody’s game. And that worried you sick.
“Just pace yourself. You’re no good to anyone if you’re sleep deprived” Y/B/F instructs.
You sigh, “I know I know… I’ll try and get more than four hours sleep I promise… I’ll see you on Sunday yeah?”
You were pretty sure her days off this week were Sunday and Monday.
“Yes, you will” She confirms, and you smile.
“Okay amazing, I’ll see you then. Love you” You tell her.
“Love you too”
“Bye, hope the rest of your shift goes well” You really did wish her the best.
You knew sometimes everything got a bit much for her, but she was amazing at her job so you had no doubt she would get through the day.
“Thanks, byeee” She says, and you can practically see her smile in your mind.
You press the end button on the call and put your phone into your blazer pocket. As you do that though, you turn to the side so you can see if the queue has gotten any bigger behind you, which it has.
But as you do that, you catch eyes with the man who’s stood behind you. You give him a warm smile as he seems nice enough, and you weren’t rude to not smile at someone you’d just caught eyes with.  
He smiles back at you and you can see that he has really soft features about it. Like his dimples, green eyes and brown hair with slight curls in them.
The interaction is prolonged when the man with brown hair and the green eyes says, “You sound like you’ve had a long day”
“You can say that again” You chuckle slightly.
“Nothing a coffee can’t fix though?” He asks you curiously, nodding towards the counter that you were getting so close too now.
You nod agreeing, “Honestly the coffee here could save my life.”
“I’ll trust you. Haven’t been here before.” The brunette tells you.
You feel compelled to make it apparent how much you rate this place, “Oh god, it’s great. I come here every chance I get.”
“What would you recommend?” He asks you, seeing how much you truly did like where you were.
“Depends on what you’re feeling. Do you want a normal coffee or an iced one?” You ask him, turning towards him a little more.
A somewhat cheeky grin then formed on his face before he looked towards the window. You follow his gaze and note that the rain has become a little more prominent and the sky is now getting slightly darker.
He turns back to you and points out, with some cheeky sarcasm, “You can see it raining outside, right?”
You chuckle at that, nodding, “Yeah, but it’s just the same as having an ice cream in Winter when you’re wrapped up in a blanket at home”
“That is fair actually…” He tails off running a hand through his hair, you notice a tattoo of a cross on his hand as he does it.
“I’ve definitely done that more than once” The man admits, shrugging his shoulders in defeat a little. His smile remained though.
“See.” You laugh a little.
“But no… I was just after a normal coffee” The nice man tells you.
“Then I would recommend the latte. Two shots of espresso though… Really get the taste of the coffee then.” You tell him your usual order.
“You do also know it’s also almost seven?” He smiles at you with raised eyebrows.
You knew though thoughts running though his mind. Getting later in the day and having a double shot of coffee.
Scandalous.
“Yeah. Believe me I’ve been watching the clock all day. I know what time it is.” You tell him honestly, returning his smile.
“And you can have two shots of coffee and still sleep at night?”
You smile then, “I have a cup of coffee before I go to bed every night. I don’t think caffeine bothers me anymore”
He shakes his head whilst a big smile graces his lips. God, he had a gorgeous smile.
“I can’t even defend that. It’s borderline psychotic.” He chuckles at you and you laugh.
You laugh for a few seconds until he follows up with, “That might be why you’re only getting six hours of sleep in two days if you have a coffee every night.”
You nod grinning and you’re about to reply to the cute emerald eyed man when you hear your name being called.
“Y/N!” Lucy calls.
You turn back around toward the counter and notice Lucy’s smiling at you. You were in here that often that you knew most of the staff by name.
“Hey Lucy.” You smile and move to the counter.
“Hey Y/N/N, if you’re after your usual with the two shots then I’ve already got Jack making it for you.” She tells you.
“I actually adore you.” You say as you hand her a £5 note.
She asks, as she gets your change out of the till, “Long day?”
“Too long.” You grin and move over to grab your takeout cup.
“Y/N, your change.” Lucy calls you back over as the green-eyed brunette moved up to where you just stood.
You smile at her and shake your head. “How many times have I told you I don’t want it? Keep it”
“This is why you get your drink made as soon as I see you” She grins.
You giggle at her before Jack takes up your attention whilst he finds your drink, he made a minute ago. You exchange pleasantries with him as he hands you your drink over and as you say goodbye to him you hear the brunette that was to the side of you order the drink you suggested.
You smile over at him and when he’s used his card to contactless pay you say to him before you leave, “I hope you enjoy your coffee.”
“I’m sure I will.” He smiles, his green eyes bright and you can tell he’s being genuine and not just entertaining you.
“Cya Luce.” You quickly wave to her.
“Cya Y/N/N!” She smiles, and your smile matches hers.
Your eyes then glance back to those green ones and find them still looking at you. You smile at him, again quickly glancing at his long blue and white check coat before saying a polite goodbye.
You smile once more before saying, “Bye.”
“Bye.” He smiles back, and you head off home, desperately wanting to put your feet up and enjoy your warm coffee.
~*~*~*~*~*~
To say that your next week went well would be a complete and utter lie. The defence in your case had thrown some real issues your way which made the case really difficult.
And when the time came for the jury to go and deliberate once the final comments from both you and the defence had been made, you had no idea which way it was going to go.
You knew the truth though, you knew what a scumbag the offender was, so you just prayed that the jury had seen it too. You were good at your job but sometimes the case itself failed you.
You didn’t like seeing people abused in any aspect of life. Certainly not in a personal aspect of it.
Home was meant to be a safe environment for everyone and unfortunately that wasn’t always the case. People liked to abuse their power and turn to abuse, whether that was physical or mental, it was still wrong.

And no one should have to go through it.
So, it was your aim in life to make sure that people who committed these unforgiving acts were put away for it.
Unfortunately, that didn’t always happen though.
And it truly broke your heart.
Which is the reason why you’d just gone out after you heard the verdict and had a little meltdown.
You felt so bad for the victim, you knew that their story was completely true, and you’d seen the scars on their body from previous attacks that their now ex-partner had done to them. It was truly devastating watching them leave the courtroom distraught whilst the smug prick had gotten away with it.
So, you weren’t really with it when you were walking down the street. You’d left all your stuff there as you needed to go back in a few hours anyway to sign some stuff, but you were fuming.
The defence lawyer was also a dickhead who you hated with your life, so his smug face didn’t help you out at all. You expressed your apologies to the victim but understandably they were upset and wanted to go home.
It had been an especially rough two weeks so, you of course understood them wanting to leave as soon as everything was finished.
That however left you needing to clear your head. You needed to calm yourself down.
There were tears in your eyes and as you turned the corner onto the street that housed your favourite coffee shop. You felt the stray tears fall down your face, so you wiped them away.
As you did that though, you obviously weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings which caused you to accidentally run into someone. Thankfully not at a great speed but it was enough for you both to turn towards each other when your shoulders collided, and enough for his drink to fall from his other hand.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” You say looking towards the coffee that had now spilt all over the floor.
“It’s alright, don’t worry” The man that you bumped into tells you.  
You still haven’t looked up at his face yet though, in fear that seeing a face that is angry at you would make you cry more, but you can see that his sleeve of his hoodie is covered in coffee too. And that he’s rolling it up, so it doesn’t burn his tattooed arm.
You feel so guilty about it, “Shit, I am so so sorry”
“It’s okay honestly” You hear him tell you before you look up at his face to see whether he was being genuine or not.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem angry at all and when his eyes met yours. His green eyes didn’t hold any hostility towards you at all which relaxed you a little bit.
“Oh hey…” The man said with a smile, “It’s you.”
You looked at him for a second and realised that he did actually seem familiar. After searching your mind for a split second, you remembered.
You smile back, “Oh hey… You’re my coffee boy, right?”
You were sure that he was the brunette that had stood in the queue at the coffee shop however long ago. This time though, he was wearing a baby pink hoodie and black shorts, compared to him being in jeans and a long, checked coat the last time you'd seen him.
But then you realised what you said, and your eyes widened.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just called you that. That was so rude.” You say feeling so stupid, but your mind was still in pieces.
You put a hand over your mouth not meaning to have said that at all. You were never that rude.  
“It’s alright,” He chuckled, “Least you remembered.”
You saw those green eyes and him softly smiling at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. But then you noticed he adjusted his sleeve again.
“Did it burn you? I’m so sorry.” You ask him, feeling progressively worse about the incident.
He looks back down to his sleeve again, then back up to you, and assures you, “Oh I’m fine… Are you alright though? You look a bit shook up.”
That took you back a little, you weren’t expecting a question about you.
“Oh, I’m just… having a bit of a bad day,” You say offering a bit of a sad smile, but he returns it with a hint of worry in those green eyes.
You continue with, “No excuse for me running into you though, and knocking your drink out of your hand.”
“It’s honestly alright.” He assures you, giving you a genuine smile.
You pause for a second, as you didn’t want to seem weird, but offered, “Can I get you another one, so I don’t feel guilty all day as well?”
The green-eyed man smiles brightly at you nodding, then following up with, “Only if you’ll come have one with me?”
“Sure.” You said, a little shocked that he’d asked you.
You both start walking towards the direction of the coffee shop and you feel the need to apologise again. You were never usually so careless.
“I’m honestly so sorry for running into you.” You tell him again.
He smiles at you brightly, and shakes his head at you, “It’s alright honestly, please don’t apologise.”
You smile up at the kind man that you again and he’s quick to return the gesture.  
“Where were you off to?” He asks you.
“I honestly don’t even know… I just felt a bit suffocated after everything happened and needed to get out.” You badly explain as you walk down the road.
The brunette nods understandingly, “Well if you want, we can chat in the coffee place...? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
You smile at him; it was nice of him to offer. Especially when you’d probably just ruined his day.
“I really wouldn’t want to burden you with my emotions.” You chuckle, appreciating his offer.
He offered a smile before saying, ”Honestly, there’s not much you can’t discuss over a coffee. And I’d be happy to listen”
“Thank you.” You smile back before you both head into the coffee shop.
As you both get to the back of the short queue, you turn to the brunette standing next to you and ask, “What would you like this time? You can splash out if you like because I’m getting it.”
He chuckles at that with a cheeky little smile saying, “How generous.”
“Least I could do really.” You grin.
“Well yeah, my drink did get knocked clean out of my hands.” He reminds you with a cheeky smile.
You scoff a little, with a smile on your face, and shake your head playfully.
“Right, I’ve apologised for that, but you told me I wasn’t allowed to continue doing so. So don’t make me feel bad.” You instruct him.
“I’m just joking, love, you’re fine.” He says, nudging you with his elbow.
You laugh, picking up on his accent, before asking, “Where are you from?”
“Manchester.” He tells you.
You laugh a little and raise your eyebrows, “Yeah, I know you’re from Manchester, so am I… Whereabouts are you from?”
“Holmes Chapel” He smiles.
“Ahh nice”
He asks you curiously, “Where are you from?”
“Originally Wythenshawe, but I moved a lot” You tell him honestly.
He seemed pretty surprised by that one. And you weren’t really.
“You don’t have that Wythenshawe accent” The brunette states.  
He’s perceptive, you’ll give him that.
“No, thankfully not” You smile.
It was a bit of a joke up north that the Wythenshawe accent wasn’t the best sounding. And people always tried their best to copy it, that was primarily the known Manchester accent.
“Why thankfully?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows but a curious smile.
“Because I don’t want people thinking I’m a chav now do I?” You chuckle a little.
The brunette mimics this with a chuckle of his own before politely saying, “Even if you had the accent, I’m definitely not seeing anything chavy about you right now.”
You catch those bright green eyes looking you up and down and you can’t hold a small smile off your face. You liked your suit today, one of your favourites that your superstitious-self wore for luck.
Too bad it didn’t bring you much. Until now anyway.
“Thank you, that is the aim every morning when I get dressed.” You smile soothing down your blazer.
You continue with a joke, “Always hoping to avoid chav.”
The good-looking guy beside you laughs a little. His toothy grin is just so infectious, you feel like you can’t help but your mood being uplifted when in his presence.
“Well, congrats on succeeding.” He assures you.
You laugh a little before saying, “Thanks.”
You say hello to Lucy when you get to the counter and after pleasantries are exchanged, she takes your orders. You both go for your usual coffee and once you tell her that you’re both going to sit in to have your drinks, Lucy puts your order through the till.
As you’re stood there though, the tasty snacks that are being displayed behind the pristine glass just to the side of you, makes your eyes wonder. 
“Do you want a cookie or a cake or anything? Because that chocolate cake looks like it’s calling my name.” You ask him, not being able to resist.
You look up to the tall man beside you and see a grin form on his face. He caught your eye when he said, “I’m never going to turn down chocolate cake, so I’ll be cheeky. Go on then please.”
Lucy nods towards the free booth over in the back corner of the room and says, “If you two wanna take a seat, I’ll bring everything over to you in a minute”
“Thank you Lucy... Can you make the drinks large ones please?” You ask before you start to follow the brunette to the empty booth.
She smiles back, “Sure”
You take your blazer off revealing your white shirt underneath before you sit yourself down opposite him and say, “Okay, last time I’ll say it I promise, but I’m honestly so sorry again about your drink and now disrupting your day by making you come back here for another.”
The green-eyed man smiles brightly at you as he says, “Honestly I’ve got nothing better to be doing, so getting to know you really won’t be a chore.”
You smile at that. He seemed like such a gentleman and you barely knew him, it was nice that he was being so kind.  
“Well I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you again.” You say as you extend your hand over the wooden table, offering a handshake.
He takes your hand and you’re surprised at how warm they were compared to yours. Then again, he had just been holding a hot coffee before you barged it out of his hands.
He shakes your hand and you can feel the cool metal of his rings on his fingers contrasting with the heat of his hands.
He smiles brightly at you and says, “I’m Harry.”
“It’s nice to meet you properly.” He grins at you as he lets go of your hand.
“Yeah, it was a bit rushed last time wasn’t it?” You see if you’re remembering correctly.
But you were sure that you were. It wasn’t every day you met a good-looking guy in line at your favourite coffee shop.
And he was pretty hard to forget.
“Yeah, just a little bit. You looked really busy last time, and you were in a blue suit if I’m remembering correctly.” Harry says, trying to recall the day correctly.
You nod, remembering it well, “Yeah, God, that feels like it was so long ago now.”
“Was only last week, wasn’t it?” Harry asks you, a little concerned that you felt it was longer than what it had been.
“Yeah. Been a long long week.” You say, taking a deep breath.
Harry smiles seeing you relax into your seat. When he’d first seen you today after his coffee hit the floor, he could see you were shaken up, so the fact that he could see you were now at ease made him happy.
He felt like he’d achieved something by making someone’s day just a little better.
“So, if you’re in a suit I’m guessing you have an important job.” Harry asks you.
“Good guess.” You smile.
You can see that Harry was about to ask you something else, but he’s interrupted. Lucy comes over to the both of you with your drinks and cakes on a tray and hands them to you.
She says with a big smile, “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Both you and Harry say to her at the same time.
She gives you both a smile before she says, “Hope you both enjoy.”
“I’m sure we will.” Harry tells her before he immediately goes for his coffee.
As Lucy walks away you smile at Harry, who now looks very happy to have a coffee and a cake in front of him. He is so adorable.
You guessed he was a similar age to you, but like you, he still found enjoyment in the fact that a cake and a good coffee was a treat.
After Harry had taken the first sip of his coffee and swallowed the hot liquid, he asked you curiously, “So what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” You smile and pick up your drink.
“Ah,right, nice. Like in a court or... I don’t know the other terms for it, and I don’t want to offend you by saying like in an office or something” Harry rambled, not really knowing what to say.
You laugh and shake your head, “Don’t worry, you were right the first time anyway... Yeah, I’m a criminal prosecution lawyer”
“Ah, so you put the bad guys away?” Harry asks you.
You nod to the brunette sitting across from you, “I try... Most of the time succeed.”
Harry liked that you were confident about your job and that you knew you were good at it. He did pick up on the slight hint of emphasis on ‘most’ though.
“I’m assuming that one got loose and that’s why you were upset?” He asks you curiously.
You nod with a sad smile, “Yeah. Just angry about it… Like it’s really difficult watching a smug bastard leave the court when you know for a fact, they are guilty.”
“Yeah, I can imagine that’s awful” Harry says as you take a sip of your latte.
“It really is because after they have been acquitted, I can’t really do much. I mean like I can make an appeal, but nothing ever really comes of it usually which is tough.” You tell him.
You carry on saying, “It’s just heart-breaking seeing people go through that stuff.”
“What sort of stuff do you deal with?” Harry asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.
His action causes a few strands of his hair to fall over to the other side of his head, which makes him look all the more adorable.
“I’ve done a lot of different ones actually, like I’ve done attempted murder ones before, I’ve done sexual assault cases too. But I mostly do domestic abuse ones” You tell him.
Harry looks at you with a sad smile as if he wished you didn’t have to go through as he says, “Jesus, you must see so much disturbing stuff”
You nod.
“Yeah, it’s not nice” You tell him truthfully, “Sometimes it takes all my effort to not let it affect me but thankfully I’m pretty good at what I do so most of the time the sick twat’s get put away.”
Harry grins at you when you call them ‘sick twats’ and at the fact that you seemed pretty pleased with yourself that you were good at your job. Something which Harry liked.
He was always supportive of the fact that women had good and powerful jobs. But when a woman knew what they were good at and weren’t shy about it made Harry all the more intrigued to get to know them.
“Well, I’m glad there’s people out there like you putting them away.” Harry tells you.
You smile at that and have to refrain from letting your smile get too big.
“So, what do you do?” You ask him, quite curious.
Harry clears his throat before he tells you, “I’m a musician”
You smile, “Oh, right, that’s cool.”
You look just to the side of him before you meet his eye, saying, “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re a pretty successful one?”
“What makes you say that?” Harry asks you before he presses his lips together.
Smiling, you tell him, “Because there’s a girl sat over by that window that hasn’t stopped looking your way and she might even be taking sly pictures of you.”
“Really?” Harry asks you, looking a bit shy about the information you just told him.
You smile and nod before you take a sip of your coffee. You take another glance and see that she’s heading for the door now, you're glad to see that she’d left Lucy a tip on the table too.
“Well, that’s a little embarrassing, isn’t it?” Harry says before taking a sip of his drink to hide his embarrassment.
You smile and shake your head, “Don’t worry. She’s just gone, so you can eat your cake in peace now.”
He smiles at you whilst you pick up your own. There is nothing better than a hot chocolate fudge cake.
“So, will I have heard anything?” You ask him before you eat the first spoonful of your cake.
Harry smiles at you before picking his cake up as well, “That depends?”
“On what?” You ask.
“If you listen to the radio and on how old you are?” He asks you before he had the first bit of his cake. Not forgetting to scoop up the melted chocolate before he puts it in his mouth.
“I don’t listen to the radio no, and I’m Twenty-Six.” You tell him.
Harry nods at this new information before he says a little skeptical, “Right, okay, I feel like you will have then?”
He sounds a bit unsure of that though.
“Are you going to tell me or make me guess?” You ask with an amused smile.
“I sorta want you to guess now.” Harry chuckled, now looking at you expectantly.  
But you pleaded with him to tell you, “No please don’t make me, I’m not good with guessing. My job’s based on facts… I can’t guess to save my life”
“You must be really good at charades then” Harry jokes with you.
You grin with raised eyebrows, “Thankfully I don’t have to guess a film title in court.”
He laughed at that and the sound was so adorable. You don’t think you’d heard him laugh before, but you certainly wanted to hear it again.  
“Okay okay, so, do you remember One Direction?” He asks you sheepishly.
You nod, “Yeah.”
“Well, I was sorta in that.” Harry tells you as if he didn’t really want to reveal the information.
You sit back in your chair and take a good look at him for a second. You really tried your best to remember One Direction and what they looked like.
He grinned at you, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just trying to place you because I don’t remember you in One Direction” You tell him before biting your lip, thinking back to your youth.
Harry laughs, “Erm, well, I was definitely there”
“Wait, what’s your last name?” You ask, hoping it would re-jog your memory.
“Styles.”
“Harry Styles.” You murmur to yourself and then it’s like a light bulb goes off with his name.
“Oh, your name does ring a bell now I think about it. ” You nod, your memory now coming back to you a little bit more.
“You’re taking this better than I expected.” Harry smiles at you.
Something was amusing him about the situation. He thinks it’s because not everyone was so calm like you were being with him.
“Why? What do people usually do?” You ask curiously.
Harry shrugs, “Cry.”
“Please tell me they don’t.” You plead with him.
No one deserved people crying on them for no apparent reason, especially someone just being themselves.
“Oh no. It’s been known to happen” Harry nods before eating another spoonful of cake.
“Wow, what’s that like?” You ask.
“It depends on the context.” Harry tells you.
“Yeah, that’s fair enough.” You nod understandingly.
You could imagine it would be weird in some cases when people would run up to you in the streets crying because you are who you are. But then you guessed if you were at a concert crying it wouldn’t be as weird.
Even you knew that music meant a lot to people.
God knows if you didn’t have your music, your mental state would have declined years ago. Music was a coping mechanism in a lot of different ways, you were glad you’d had it as support during tough times.
“You look like you want to ask me questions.” Harry grinned at you before he took a sip of his latte.
You let out a little chuckle as you were being so obvious, “I do really want to ask you some questions, I won’t lie to you.”
“You can ask me questions if you want to.” Harry said before holding the cup in his large hands.
The same cup looked huge in your hands compared to his. His hands were so big, you needed to stop looking down at them and his tattoos that disappeared up his sleeve.
“No, I don’t want you to think I’m weird.” You shake your head before picking up your drink to take a sip of it.
You quickly swallow the gorgeous liquid though because you wanted to add on, “And just to clarify, I didn’t want you to think I was weird before I found out that you were sorta famous.”
Oh, how Harry wished he was just ‘sorta famous’.
“And why’s that?” Harry asks with a cheeky smile.
You tell him honestly, “Because you seem like a nice person who I didn’t wanna spill coffee all over and I still feel extremely bad that I did that.”
“You especially don't now because you know I could sue you” Harry playfully smirks with raised eyebrows.
You smile at that but then put him in his place, “I mean you could try but your case wouldn’t make it to court”
“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Intelligent.” Harry says cockily to you, but he couldn’t contain his smile.
“Will be Mister Direction.” You say before sassily taking a sip of your coffee.
You both just share a laugh.
“Can I just ask you two things?” You ask, holding up two fingers.
To an onlooker though it would look like you were throwing the peace sign his way. So, you quickly gripped your coffee cup with both hands again.
“Fire away.” Harry tells you.
“Okay, question one. Did you enjoy it?” You ask him, referring to the band.
“Yeah, I really loved it.” Harry nods at you.
“Good, I’m glad.” You smile which makes it impossible for Harry to not smile back at you.
Harry leads you onto your next question by prompting you with, “And question two?”
“When did you split up?” You ask curiously.
“Back in 2015” He tells you and he watches as you nod as if remembering something.
“Right I thought so, but I could only remember The Wanted splitting ways.” You tell him before you take another sip of your coffee.
Harry raises his eyebrows at you with an amused grin before asking, “Oh right, so you were a Wanted girl then?”
You almost snort in laughter.
Nodding you say, “Oh, yeah, big time… It was embarrassing honestly.”
You end up having a little giggle at yourself being sort of embarrassing when you were younger. Harry just shakes his head at you sharing your giggle.
“As if. I feel betrayed by my new friend.” Harry smiling at you.
His smile was so cute. The dimples just to the side of his mouth showing themselves.
“I’m sorry. If I could go back I would.” You tell him.
Harry just laughs before asking you, “Let me guess… You were a Nathan girl?”
“Ah, no, actually. I was a Siva girl” You admit, again embarrassed.
Harry sniggers at you, his green eyes bright and full of interest. You could see that the topic really amused him.
“Surprising revelations in the coffee shop today.” Harry says before he runs his tongue over his bottom lip before he takes another sip of his coffee.
You couldn’t help but laugh.
Both of you ended up staying in the cafe chatting for another hour before Harry was sort of forced to head off because people had started to recognise him. But you part ways on good terms, hoping to see each other again soon.
And you were really hoping you would. He’d been nothing but lovely to you, definitely made your day better and the little flirting that had happened throughout chatting, more so closer to the end of your chat though, had made you feel so much better.
Thankfully you both did see each other again after that second encounter.
You’d seen each other shopping with your best friend, where Harry had shouted your name and waved to you. You stopped for a brief chat as you had to go find Y/B/F somewhere in the shop, but it was lovely to see him.
Harry had also spotted you once again in the coffee shop, and you’d spotted him walking out of it once. You chatted for about 5 minutes both of those times until Harry had to head off, but it was still great seeing him.  
The next time you saw him, it was three weeks after you’d initially sat down and had coffee with him.
It was a Sunday morning and you’d come into the coffee shop with the intention of spending the day out of your flat, but also wanting to be productive. You wanted to get a head start on your next case so you brought all the information so you could read through it and map it all out.
“Do you ever go home?” You heard a familiar Manchester accent ask.
You look up and smile when those memorable green eyes meet yours. He looked good today.
He was wearing beige dress pants with a plain white crew neck tucked into them. It was quite warm out so you couldn’t fault his appearance.
He looked really comfortable in his attire. Comfortable in a dressy sense anyway, not like you in your hoodie and joggers.
“No. I think I like it here too much.” You grin up at him
“Yeah, to be honest…” Harry says as he walks closer towards your table.
Harry looks around the room for a moment before his eyes meet yours again as he says, “It’s a good place to meet some pretty attractive people.”
“I know, right? Lucy is really pretty.” You grin up at him.
“I think you know I meant you, Y/N.” Harry grins before he nods to the empty seat opposite you, “Can I join you?”
“Of course you can.” You smile a little embarrassed by the compliment he just given you.
You moved some paper away from his side of the table, so he had some room, and Harry placed his coffee cup and cookie down before sitting across from you. You placed your papers where you needed them whilst Harry got himself comfortable opposite you.
“What are you working on?” Harry asks you, not noticing your embarrassment from his flirting.
“I’ve got a case coming up that includes some stuff I haven’t been over for a while so I thought I would read back up on it.” You tell him looking over the books and papers that were spread out around you.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Harry asks you before taking a sip of his coffee, his northern accent really coming out.
You grin at him before raising your eyebrows playfully, as you pick up your coffee asking, “I can’t imagine you wanting to know the ins and outs of criminal law.”
Harry leans forward then, and with an amused grin he sarcastically tells you, “Well Y/N, I’ll have you know, I’ve actually been meaning to read up on it for a while.”
You ask him with a smile and raised eyebrows, “Really?”
You didn’t believe him for a second. You knew he was just being polite, but you’d entertain him anyway
“Yes, really.” He smirks at you, “So, if you would kindly explain the ins and outs of it to me, I would really appreciate it.” Harry tells you before breaking off a bit of his cookie and putting it in his mouth.
“As you wish.” You say as you think about where to start.
But then Harry takes up your attention again.
“Oh, and leave no stone unturned.” He fakes a bit of authority which makes you giggle.
“Yes Sir.” You laugh.
You do actually then go over everything you needed to, with Harry actually seeming interested in what you had to say. He even started asking you questions on the things he didn’t really understand which you thought was very cute of him.
You spend a good hour and a half with him going through all different subjects with him. Harry was really invested in watching you explain your work to him. He could tell it actually interested you and he could see that you truly did love what you did for a living.
This, he found quite endearing. He knew some people loathed their jobs, so seeing that someone truly loved their job that much to be doing it pretty much 7 days a week was something which he liked.  
He felt like he wasn’t alone wanting to work all the time. Harry was currently in the midst of perfecting Fine Line and he’d been in the studio pretty much none stop.
The studio was like a home away from home for him now. It was a place where he could get as creative as he wanted, which allowed for a complete mix of songs to be created.
He truly loved what he did for a living, so it was nice to see that a person in a normal setting did too.
Harry spent another hour with you, and by this point you’d both discarded the papers and books on the table, and you were chatting to each other like old friends. You liked that he was so easy to get along with despite not really knowing him.
More flirty words were exchanged, and the fact that you were both grinning at each other like idiots made Harry a little tempted to ask you out. Something, which after you said a flirty comment about 5 minutes ago, he promised himself that he would actually do.
When he had plucked up enough courage, when your previous conversation about your favourite books died down and you both settled into a short comfortable silence, as you finished off your third coffee of the day.
Harry announced, “I have a question for you.”
“Oh right, is it law related or…” You ask curiously with a little smile as your words trail off.
Harry smiles and shakes his head, “No, it’s actually not this time.”
“Should I be nervous?” You ask sceptically.  
He shakes his head again, “Nah, it’s me who should be nervous.”
“Okay… You aren’t easing my nerves…” You trail off, a nervous smile on your face.
You hated when people asked you questions out of nowhere.
It was like when you got a text from one of your friends saying, ‘Can I ask you something’ and then they don’t respond for an agonising ten minutes.
You don’t know how you could hack it in a courtroom, but you couldn’t do it in real life.
He still hasn’t spoken, so you prompted him with, “Harry.”
“Y/N.” He responded with a grin on his face.
He could tell you were nervous about whatever it was that he was about to ask you. He liked that he wasn’t the only one.
“What were you gunna say?” You ask.
Harry, however, just prolongs his waiting by having another sip of his coffee. A cheeky smile being hidden by the large white coffee cup.
“You’re scaring me.” You laugh a little, anxiety slipping in a little bit.
Harry smiles at your honesty, and after swallowing the delicious coffee, he smiles when he asks, “Don’t you stand in a court all day and put bad guys away? Why am I making you scared and they don’t?”
You tell him with raised eyebrows showing him your seriousness, “Because I put them in prison, and I don’t see them again. But I can see you again.”
“Oh,” Harry smirks a little before joking, “So, I’m scary to look at?”
You shake your head. “No,” You laugh, “Just… What were you gunna say?”
Your smile makes his even brighter and he finally asks, with a cheeky grin, “Would you maybe wanna come and have some dinner with me?”
“I know it’s lovely here, but we ate here last time, and I’d like to take you somewhere with different scenery, if you’re up for it.” Harry continues with a hopeful smile.
“Yeah, I’d love that” You grin, now breathing easy again.
This excites Harry to no extent. He thought you were beautiful the first time he saw you, so the fact that you kept coincidentally running into each other made him extremely happy.
And as he’d slowly gotten to know you, he thought you were so interesting and full of life that he just wanted to know more and more about you.
Harry was so happy that he had done and could hopefully get to know you on an even better level now.
“Amazing.” Harry grinned, “Are you hungry now?”
“Yeah, I’m getting hungry actually.” You nod.  
You ask him though, “Can we just stop by my flat so I can put my work back and maybe throw some jeans on or something?”
Today you were wearing your old Queen hoodie and some grey joggers, so you didn’t really look the best. Certainly not to go out for dinner with Harry when he was in dress pants.
“Yeah, of course” Harry smiles.
As you start packing up your things, you feel the need to tell Harry, “You’ve been away from home for too long by the way.”
He grins at you watching as you put your stuff away, and asks, “What makes you say that?”
“It’s tea, not dinner.” You smile, zipping up your bag.
Up north you would say it was ‘tea time’, not ‘dinner time’ like the southerner’s did. It was different but it was home, and it was one of those northerner traits that you always defended.
“Same difference.” Harry laughs as you both stand up from the table.
You shake your head at him, putting your bag on your shoulder, correcting him, “No, it's Tea… Don’t forget about the Northerner in you.”
“Sorry, Miss Wythenshawe.” Harry says as you both grab your empty cups from the table.
“Don’t out me, Harry.” You playfully shake your head at him, and he laughs as you both make your way to the counter to make Lucy’s job slightly easier for her.
It was quiet in the coffee shop today. There was a fair amount of people coming in for takeout drinks, but only a few actually sitting in. You and Harry had been there the longest and Lucy came over a few times and joined in with your conversation.
She was lovely and you adored her. You had for years, as this coffee shop was one of your first safe havens you’d found when you moved to London.
Harry liked her as well because she never made a big deal about him coming into the shop. She was always polite and pretended to be oblivious despite him knowing she knew who he was.
He liked that there was never any special treatment. If anything, he liked that it was you who seemed to get the special treatment when you came in. Your takeout coffee was always ready to go when she saw you at the back of the queue.
“Thank you, Lucy.” Harry smiles at her when he puts his cup on the counter for her.  
You mimic his actions and also show your gratitude with a “Yeah, thanks Luce.”
“Thanks guys, I’ll see you both soon.” She smiles at the both of you, before looking to you saying, “Good luck with the case, Y/N.”
“Thank you, my love.” You grin at her.
She giggles a little at the friendly pet name, and probably at your Northern accent coming out a bit too. She then asks you, “Are you two off anywhere nice?”
“We’re going out for tea.” You smile looking at Lucy and glance at Harry, seeing that he was grinning at how you’d said what you were about to do.
“You mean dinner?” She grins at you and Harry laughs.
You shake your head, trying to stop yourself from smiling, “No, I mean tea.”
“You’re not eating a cup of tea; you’re going out for your dinner.” Lucy mimics you and shakes her head.
“She has a point.” Harry looks to you and nods in agreement with her.  
Your jaw drops and you scoff at the man stood next to you.
“You’re a traitor to Northerners.” You shake your head at him nudging him with your shoulder.
You continue to shake your head when he chuckles at you. Harry then tries to get on your good side again by placing his hand on the small of your back to keep your attention on him.
Not that it would really be anywhere else when he was around.
“You know I’m joking.” He tells you, maintaining his grin.
You raise your eyebrows and try and hide your playful smile, asking him, “Do I?”
“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret, the phrase ‘tea time’ has been bullied out of me but I know in my heart that’s the correct way to say it. So now I’ve just got some reminders for getting back into the Manchester way.”
You smirked up at him and said, “Lucky I’m coming out with you then, isn’t it?”
“That is why you’re the one I asked.” Harry shot back confidently.
Lucy was just watching you both with a smile. She adored seeing couples in front of her each day and the fact that the two of you were finally going out made her happy.
From observing the both of you the times she’d seen you together she could see that you had good chemistry. And she had no doubt that your dinner would go well.
You just observed him for a second as he did the same to you. Everything about him was flawless.
From his jawline, to those soft plump lips for a moment that were pulled into a smile, showing off his pristine teeth. From being this close to him you could see the light stubble he had above his lip and you could see how bright his green eyes were
You could definitely get lost in those if he let you.
When Harry finished admiring your stunning features his eyes travelled back to Lucy who was grinning at the both of you. He thought it would be best to let you escape his embrace for a moment.
If things went well tonight there would be plenty of time to get lost in each other in the future. But right now, Harry had to play it cool.
The both of you said another goodbye to Lucy, before you both turned to head out of your favourite coffee shop.
Lucy called the both of you before you got to the door, “Be safe you two!”
“We’re going for a meal, not ice skating.” You smile at her, wondering what could be so dangerous about that.
It wasn’t as if it was snowing or a lethal thunderstorm outside that could potentially harm you. It was bright and sunny, the perfect temperature for a walk to wherever the two of you would end up eating.
“Sorry I’ll rephrase” She smirks at the both of you as she continues, “When you two have dessert, be safe and use protection.”
Lucy had been observing you both for weeks. The longing looks, the huge smiles, the hot cheeks, she’d even been present for some of the flirting.
And because Lucy had known you quite a few years now she was happy for you. She hadn’t seen you like this with anyone before, so she wanted it to work out for you.
But you were one of her good friends, so she had to tease you a little.
“Oh God.” You sigh, embarrassed by what she said.
Harry just smirks though before opening the door for you, “Don’t worry, Lucy. That’s the second date, not the first.”
“Oh, this one’s a little confident, isn’t he? Presuming he’s getting a second date.” Lucy grins at you, giving Harry a sarcastic but pointed look.
You nod, carrying on the joke, “I know… Might have to knock him down a peg or two.”
You look at Harry then and he laughs at what you said.  
“Have fun!” Lucy calls again, and you feel the need to carry on the joke a little.
“Oh, the dessert will be very fun, don’t worry.” You tell her playfully before glancing back to Harry.
He’s just looking at you with a knowing look in his eyes, and a smirk on his lips. God, he couldn’t wait to go out with you.
“Bye.” You waved back to Lucy before heading outside.
Harry also waved  back to her saying, “Cya.”
Lucy smiled back at the both of you and waved as you walked out. She watched as you both headed out and turned the corner, sticking side by side to each other as you walked away.
She would be sure to text you tomorrow and see how things went.
“Sorry about that, I was only joking.” You feel the need to confirm with him.
You didn’t want him to think you were being suggestive like that when that wasn’t going to happen for a long while.
You didn’t just sleep with someone. You just weren’t like that.
“No, don’t be sorry, it’s all fun and games.” He smiles at you.
He liked that he could joke with you and it wasn’t overstepping. It seemed that you both had similar humour in that sense.
“Don’t smile at me like that… That’s not happening straight away.” You pre-warn him.
“I’m a complete gentleman, Y/N, I would never even suggest that on the first date.” Harry tells you honestly, which you can see he is being genuine about.  
“Okay then, I’ll believe you.” You say.
You see that his cheeky smile doesn’t disappear off his face though, he’s still grinning from ear to ear as you walk towards your flat.
“Stop smiling like that” You laugh and nudge him a little.
Harry chuckles too, “I’m not smiling at that, I promise”
“What are you smiling about then?” You ask him, his green eyes fixed on you as you walked down the road.
“I’m smiling at the fact that you picked ice skating as a dangerous sport.” Harry smiles at you knowingly.
“Why’s that?” You play dumb, knowing full well that you’re about to be caught out.
Harry smirks at you then. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before asking, “Well, tell me if I’m wrong, but I think that you may have been listening to some of my music… And watching the videos that go with them.”
“Very presumptuous of you.” You smile at him.
You add with raised eyebrows, “How do you know I didn’t ice skate as a child and then had a really bad accident where I broke my arm, and my leg, and suffered a major concussion from it, which means that I’m now petrified of ice?”
“Shit” Harry says, feeling bad now, “Did that happen?”
“No” You giggle.
He nudges your shoulder then, scoffing a little. You just laugh more and nudge him right back.
“You got me worried then… Jesus Y/N/N.” Harry shakes his head.
“Fine, I’ve been caught…” You hold your hands up.
You tell him the truth, “I may have listened to some One Direction songs to see if I remembered any or if any videos jogged my memory”
Harry smiles, “Did they?”
“Yeah, I remembered What Makes You Beautiful and One Thing” You nod your head.
“Not Night Changes though?” He pries.
“No, but that video is the cutest thing ever. I loved your hair in it” You tell him honestly with a smile.
“You liked my long hair?” Harry asks, surprised.  
“Yeah, I think it really suited you… But from the videos all of your hair styles suited you” You smile.
Harry appreciates the compliment and grins, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome” You smile.

A comfortable silence falls upon the both of you. Harry wonders where you live and silently wonders how far away it would be from his home.
If this went somewhere, he really hoped that you weren’t too far away from each other. From your chats, he knew that you didn’t have a car down in London, so he hoped that you could see each other easily.
He’s brought out of his thoughts by you asking him, “Did you have fun making that video then?”
“Which one?” Harry asks.  
“Night Changes.” You confirm.
“Oh, the skating…” Harry smiles at the memories of the endless takes of that evening, “Yeah it was pretty fun actually.”
You smile at him, “It looked it.”
He grinned at you and proposed, with hope clear in his voice, “Maybe that can be date number two?”
“Again, very presumptuous of you Mister Styles.” You grin.  
“I have a good feeling.” Harry tells you and that makes your heart beat a little faster.
“Good to know…” You say with amusement clear on your face, “I’ll agree, if you promise to not try and make me do the head banger.”
Harry laughs loudly at that, something which makes you laugh too. His happiness was definitely infectious.
If this did go anywhere you certainly couldn’t imagine that you would be bored when he was around.
“That’s a date ten sort of idea don’t worry.” Harry tells you, amusement still all over his features.
You just giggled at that.
You certainly hoped that you’d get to date 10.
“Can we do a Sign of the Times for date three?” You purpose knowing there was no chance.
“I’m never doing that again” Harry chuckles, “It was so scary”
“Bet it was, they took you so high up” You say, eyes a little wide, telling him that you didn’t expect it just like he didn’t.
Harry then tells you about the day filming and how he himself didn’t know he was going to be going that high. He said it was such an amazing experience, but he would never do it again, not that high up anyway.  
The conversation moves on when you ask, “Where are we going to eat by the way?”
“I was thinking maybe a Nando’s” Harry suggested, looking at you curiously to see if you were okay with that idea.
“Oh my god, you read my mind” You tell him completely buzzing.
You’d been craving a Nando’s for ages. Nothing could beat a Nando’s.  
“Aha what do you normally get?” Harry chuckles.
You list you order from memory, getting hungry at just the thought, “I always have a lemon and herb grilled chicken burger with chips and spicy rice”
“I can approve of that.” Harry nods with a smile and follows your direction when you point towards the next corner that you have to turn.
You make a quick assumption about him, “I’m guessing that you have the hot spice.”  
“What makes you say that?” Harry grins at you as you both turn towards your building.
You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess you just strike me as the spicy type.”
“Well, you couldn’t have gotten me more wrong actually…” Harry jokes with you.
The brunette tells you, “I’m a medium man myself”
“Oh right… Surprising.” You smile to yourself as you
“Is it?” Harry looks at you.
Those pink lips drawing back to show off his toothy grin. Damn he was so adorable.
“Yeah” You nod, “I thought you were going to be the adventurous type.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong Y/N, I can handle it… But I’d rather it be enjoyable and just spice it up every now and then.” Harry flirts a little, not being able to get the little smirk off his face.
You push the door open to your building, thankful that you can change out of your clothes soon. The walk had made you really warm with the sun beaming down on the both of you.
“Does that count for your dessert too?” You playfully ask with a suggestive look in your eyes.
“Maybe one day you’ll find out.” Harry says with a smile and suggestive eyebrows.
“Maybe one day, I will.” You say back with a cheeky grin as you both head up to your flat.
That day didn’t happen until about six dates down the line, when you’d both just finished at another not so fancy restaurant.
Date two had indeed been ice skating and you had loads of fun whilst you got to know each other even better, but by that point you’d already exchanged numbers and were chatting all the time anyway. Date three had been Harry inviting you to the studio so you could see what he did, and you got to hear Golden for the first time.
Since you spilled your coffee on him almost two months ago, you had started listening to his solo music and put on the occasional One Direction song. His solo stuff was amazing, and you could tell that his new album was going to be just as good as his first, if not better.
You really liked watching him in the studio, you could see that it was there that he came into his own. You could see he felt really comfortable and loved what he was creating.
Date four had been an impromptu night in at your flat. You’d been texting each other all day and when it got to 6pm you’d started scrolling though Netflix trying to find something to watch.
So, because you think you’re funny, and because Harry had been chatting to you about his music today anyway, you decided to send him a message saying:
I’m just searching romantic comedies on Netflix but can’t seem to find anything that grabs my attention. Any recommendations??? xx
Something which you regretted doing after a minute, just thinking you were a complete embarrassment. And even more so when the three dots bubbled up on your screen an extra minute later.
Thankfully his reply was just as playful as you were hoping to be with your initial message.  
Hahaha very good! I have many to recommend x
How about I grab us both a Chinese and we can watch a few? Can be at yours in 20 mins? xx
This was obviously something you agreed to, and after you ate with him you both got comfy on the settee. By the end of the first film you were pretty much cuddled into him, and both of you were loving every second of being this close to each other.
Thankfully Y/B/F was on night shifts, so you didn’t have to worry about her coming in and interrupting you both. And you were especially thankful about that when you both ended up getting off with each other.
It wasn’t like either of you had intended for that to happen, it just started as a sweet and innocent kiss whilst you were talking over a less interesting part of the film. That one kiss turned into two and the two turned into quite a few.
You ended up straddling him, both wanting to be as close to each other as possible. You both really liked each other, meaning that this had been a long time coming from the lone kisses you shared when Harry would either walk you or drive you back to your flat after your other dates.
You both didn’t go beyond the heated kissing that night despite him staying over afterwards. You still wanted to take your time with each other.
The opportunity didn’t really present itself after date 5 either because you’d both gone out with Harry and his bandmates to Thorpe Park as a fun break for them all and to keep their spirits high. You jumped at the chance when Harry asked if you wanted to go with him.
Despite being a year older than him you still felt like a kid at heart. You loved theme parks and hadn’t been to one since you moved down to London for University.
When you’d both got back to Harry’s house that night, you were both knackered from a day filled with adrenaline. So you both pretty much died when you got in his bed.
That didn’t stop the both of you having a bit of PG 13 fun from when you woke up in the morning though.
So, when date 6 rolled around the next Friday night, again after another week of messaging each other all the time, you felt ready to finally try some dessert.
You’d both gone to another not so fancy restaurant, neither of you feeling the need to be high end around each other. That didn’t stop the both of you dressing up for the occasion though.
Harry was wearing a salmon pink suit with a black shirt underneath with the top 3 buttons undone. His outfit had made you giggle when he came to pick you up as he was the one that instructed you what top to wear after seeing it hung up on the back of your door when he stayed over after your movie night.
You’d paired the salmon top, which he’d said he wanted to see you in, with some black straight-legged pants and some black heels. So, when you got in his car and saw he’d basically told you to wear it so he could match you, you couldn’t help but giggle.
When your lovely evening in the restaurant ended and you were walking hand in hand back to the car, you really didn’t want the evening to end. And as you both quietly walked back to the car the same thoughts were going through Harry’s mind.
When you reached his car, Harry spun you around so you were facing him and your back was to his car, and he stated, “I have a question for you.”
“Oh right, and what might that question be?” You asked, a smile making its way onto your lips.
“I was wondering if you fancied maybe coming back to mine, or to yours, I don’t mind, for another drink?” Harry proposed with a hopeful smile.
You just grinned at the brunette before leaning up and pecking his lips. You smiled at him when you pulled away and told him, “I’d love another drink.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked.
You nodded, letting your hands roam inside his blazer when you asked your next question. You maintained eye contact with him when the words left your lips, “But do you know what else I was wondering if you fancied?”
Harry shook his head, not having the faintest clue what you were going to propose. He just liked that you were basically hugging yourself to him and he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close.
Your tongue runs over your lips, wetting them, before you ask him, “I wondered if you fancied some more dessert?”
The one in the restaurant had been great, but you just needed that bit more tonight and you think Harry was keen for some dessert too. You both loved that joke, the few times you’d both managed to escape from work at the same time to grab a coffee together, Lucy always managed to bring it up.
Which left the both of you stumbling on your words and blushing more often than not. She acted like you’d not told her anything about your relationship with Harry.
Nevertheless though, her joke stuck and you both brought it up from time to time to tease the other. Mostly over text, but it was still fun to throw into conversation now and then when unsuspecting people were around.
Upon hearing your proposal Harry was at first confused, wondering why you all of a sudden felt hungry again after you both talking about how full the chocolate brownie had just made the both of you. But then it clicked.
He stumbled on his words for a moment understanding what you were suggesting. You could help but smile as you watched the guy you’d grown to care for have a little weak moment with his cheeks turning as pink as his blazer.
He recovers after a few seconds before he closes his eyes before starting again. His green eyes meet your Y/E/C ones as he asks, now much more confidently, “Yours or mine?”
You just giggled before pressing your lips to his.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Throughout your relationship there had been multiple times where you’d both stunned the other into being lost for words. Sometimes from the others teasing but most of the time it was just from each other’s presence alone.
You got lost in each other a lot.
Sometimes it happened whilst you were out and about when you were meant to be socialising. Either you were lost in Harry’s eyes, or his lingering touches, or the teasing comments he’d whisper into your ear when you were out in public causing you to stumble over your words.
You’d never forget the day he took you out to an important social gathering that he’d asked if you would come with him to. Of course, you’d said yes to it, but you didn’t expect to be teased the whole day.
Then again when he came downstairs in the beautiful mustard suit with a black shirt underneath, you should have known. Because even looking at him in a suit was a form of teasing.
His arse in those tight trousers, his shirt’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, so you got a full view of his delicious forearms and hands that showed off his iconic tattoos and rings. You wished that you could let him have his way with you but unfortunately you both had to leave and attend the prestigious event with him.
You were basically attending a garden party that a lot of different artists from Columbia Records were asked to attend. A lot of other record labels had been asked to attend too, so you saw a lot of famous faces that day. It made you glad that you’d made an effort with what you were wearing.
You’d recently bought yourself a black jumpsuit that was more adventurous than others that you’d worn in the past. It was quite low-cut, showing off a fair amount of cleavage and the sides of the legs were open, meaning that it pretty much looked like you were wearing a dress when your weight was shifted onto one leg and the other peaked out of the material.
Before you left Y/B/F said that you both looked like a power couple which Harry completely agreed with, loving that he’d worn a black shirt, so he claimed that meant that you were matching again. He got even more excited about it when Y/B/F ran back into her room and came out with a mustard coloured clutch.
“You’re so easily impressed.” You shake your head at him, as you transfer the contents of your original bag into the new one.
He wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling himself into your neck, getting lost in your perfume. You can feel him smile against your skin when he says, “Yeah but you love me anyway.”
“Yeah, I do.” You smile, quickly looking round at him before stealing a kiss.
You had a really nice day out with him at that party. The people you were introduced to all seemed lovely and you really found that you liked being introduced as his girlfriend too.
You didn’t have an abundance of friends in London, you primarily had Y/B/F and you obviously thought the world of Lucy too. You did have friends at work, but you tended to keep work and personal life separate, so they hadn’t been introduced to Harry.
You weren’t official with Harry when he met Y/B/F, so you didn’t get to introduce him as your boyfriend to her and obviously Lucy had practically set you both up by having her amazing coffee shop.
Harry also didn’t introduce you to his bandmates as his girlfriend either as you still hadn’t labelled anything back then, so you were really loving it every time someone looked to you at the party and Harry always introduced you as his girlfriend.
Something which he definitely picked up on that you liked because as the afternoon bled into evening, he started to tease you more and more when large amounts of alcohol had already been consumed.
Harry was standing behind you, his chest pressed against your back as you both waited at the bar to get yourselves another drink. You could feel his hot breath on your shoulder and as you both waited, you felt lingering kisses on your skin, slowly making their way up to your neck.
“You like hearing me tell people that you’re mine, Y/N/N?” Harry asks you when he reached just underneath your ear.
“Mhh?” You hum, not really understand where this was coming from.
Harry reiterated, making his point clearer.  
“You liked it that people know that it’s you who I take home and fuck, don’t you?” He asked in a low voice, before kissing just underneath your ear again.
You hated that he knew what you liked and how to get you worked up in the subtlest of ways.
“I don’t kn… I mean… Harry I...” You stumble over your words.
You wanted to deny it and that’s what you initially went to do. Until you quickly remembered he always knew when you were lying, so you tried to change tactics again, but you just couldn’t get your words out.
You weren’t able to focus when his grip was tight on your hips and his hot breath on your neck, and the teasing he’d been covertly doing all day was obviously getting to you. Him saying things like this in such a public setting though was making you ten times worse than you normally were though.
“Tell you what Y/N/N, it’s a good thing I’m not in court with you, isn’t it?… Couldn’t have you stumbling over your words like that in front of a jury, could we?”  Harry smirks down your ear before biting your earlobe.
You were trying to form a reply when the bartender came over and looked to you for your order, but you were so worked up that you couldn’t even get your drinks order out. So, Harry once more took great pleasure in you being lost for words when he had to order both your drinks.
You got him back though.
You couldn’t spend a full day with endless teasing remarks without getting your own back.
But when you got back to Harry’s house later that night and had sex, you made sure you weren’t the only one to be teased today.
As he was lay underneath you, saying the most incoherent things, you mimicked his words from earlier.
“S’lucky I’m not on stage with you, isn’t it Harry? Couldn’t sing properly like this, could you?” You smirked as you rode him.
A growl emitted from his throat at that point though, you could tell he wasn’t in the teasing mood anymore. He needed his release and he wasn’t in the right mindset for you to be using his own words against him.
So, getting your revenge didn’t last long. But you weren’t going to complain.
When Harry got his wits back not long after, he flipped you both over and then proceeded to fuck you until it hurt to walk the next day. Something you wish he could do to you now all these months later.
You’d take whatever reminder of him you could get at this moment in time.
You would do just about anything to have him in the same country as you. Let alone the same vicinity.
You’d been living in Harry’s house since lockdown had started 12 weeks ago due to you sharing your flat with your best friend. Y/B/F was a nurse at one of the local hospitals which meant that the both of you knew the risk that you'd be taking if you stayed at your flat with her.
So, you’d asked Harry if it would be okay if you stayed at his house whilst he was in LA.
When you came to ask him though, you’d gotten yourself really worked up about it. You didn’t want to seem overly pushy about something that you clearly had no right to and you didn’t want him to think less of you or think you were overstepping his boundaries.
You just wanted to ensure both your safety and keep Y/B/F at ease.
“Harry, I’ve got a question that I’m pretty nervous to ask you.” You tell him midway through one of your conversations over the phone.
You’d been putting it off for the hour you’d already been on the phone. And the courage just came from nowhere, so you ran with it.
“Oh right, okay?” Harry said calmly waiting for you to ask.  
But his stomach had dropped completely. He was petrified for what you were about to ask because you hadn’t spoken to each other verbally on the phone for the past few days due to you having Zoom meetings a lot which also meant that your texts had been pretty infrequent.
“Before I ask you though, I just wanna say that there is no pressure at all for you to say yes, and I completely understand if you say no… It’s just me being really cheeky and probably overstepping.” You tell him honestly.
You didn’t want to pressure him at all. Yeah you were his girlfriend, but you didn’t want to impose on his home, even though he wasn’t there.
“Right Y/N/N, you’re scaring me. What is it?” Harry asks you straight up, his nerves getting the better of him.  
Your face fell upon hearing his uneasy voice though, “No, don’t be scared. I’m just rambling because I’m nervous.”
“Please just ask me.” Harry once again pleads.
He was coming up with the worst ideas of what you were going to say in his head. In the few seconds he had to think about what it possibly was that you could ask, he’d thought up the worst.
“Right, okay, well…“ You start off nervously, but then get your bearings. “You know how Y/B/F is a nurse and how she’s currently on the Covid wards at the hospital…?”
“Yeah.” Harry confirms, wanting to know your question right away.
You take a deep breath before asking, “Well, I was just wondering if it would be okay if I could stay at your house whilst lockdown is still being enforced?… Just because our flat is really small and she panics every time she sees me, especially thinking that she could infect me despite her taking all the precautions at work”
It was so upsetting that you couldn’t even give your best friend a hug. There was nothing more that Y/B/F wanted than a hug off her best friend after a shit day at work.
Despite her constantly having a lot of those days currently, she didn’t even feel safe enough in her own home to come anywhere near you. And you knew that she shouldn’t have to deal with the anxiety of her work at the moment, and the anxiety of possibly giving something to you when home was meant to be her safety net.
You carry on telling Harry, “And on her days off she’s knackered, and I feel bad because I’m sometimes screaming over my Zoom meetings because some people I work with are thick and my Wi-Fi is also shit”
“Anyway, it’s perfectly fine if you say no I completely understand. I just-“ You were interrupted though.
“Y/N.” Harry says ripping you out of your thoughts.
You ask, “Yeah?”
“Okay love, it’s Saturday. You need to get out of lawyer mode, I’m not a jury.” He laughs to himself a little.
“I’m sorry, I usually have to defend my points.” You chuckle too.
“It’s alright.” Harry says, and you can hear his smile. He continues with, “And yeah, of course you can stay at mine. That’s completely fine”
“Thank you so much, honestly.” You say gratefully.
It was so kind of him to actually agree to what you were suggesting
“I swear I won’t make a mess or anything, and I’ll even stay in the spare room, so you feel more comfortable about me being there” You tell him, again setting boundaries for him.
But moments later Harry breaks them completely.
“Y/N, you’ve been in my bed enough times to call it your own… You can stay in my room, wear my clothes, eat my food, use my Netflix… Honestly, what’s mine is yours.” He tells you.
“Thank you, Harry.” You say softly as you smile, wishing to see those green eyes again soon.  
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
~*~*~*~ July 1st 2020 ~*~*~*~
You’re sitting in the corner of Harry’s large L shaped settee with a coffee in hand, watching Modern Family on Netflix when you hear the front door rattle. You immediately pause the TV, positive that you’re just hearing things and that your lonely mind is just playing tricks on you.
That was until you heard the rattle again and then you swear you heard it unlock. You get worried then.
No one else that you knew of even had a key, so you were extremely worried when you got up to go and check. You abandoned your coffee to the table behind in front of the settee and threw your blankets to the side to get up.
You peak your head out of the lounge door to look down the hall to the front door. Thankfully a lamp that was on a timer illuminated the front door and you saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway.
“Harry?!” You gasp then shout as you see a tall brunette in grey shorts and a mint green hoodie close the door behind him.
Harry spins himself back around, and he can’t control the smile that makes its way to his face when he sees you wearing his joggers and what must have been one of your vest tops. He’d missed you so much, which meant that seeing you in front of him like this was even more of a relief to him.
“Hey Y/N/N, it’s just me. It’s just me.” He smiles, hoping to ease the shocked look on your face.
He could tell that you clearly weren’t expecting anyone, let alone him, to be in the house. So, he realised that you were probably a bit shocked, maybe even scared when you heard him come in.
Perhaps he should have warned you that he was coming back or made up the excuse that Mitch was popping round to collect something, which wouldn’t have left you rattled by another’s presence.
“Harry?” You question yourself, completely convinced you’re hallucinating as you make your way closer.
Harry just nods at you though saying, “Yeah, baby, it’s me” before opening his arms up to you.
“Oh my god.” You run into his arms and grasp him tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.” You tell him, completely overcome with relief to be back in his arms.
“I’ve missed you too, darling.” Harry says, wrapping his arms around your back just as tightly, and there was no place you would rather be trapped.
You literally just can’t and will not stop hugging him. You haven’t hugged anyone in almost 12 weeks since you’d left Y/B/F in your flat.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” You say, completely overwhelmed and you can feel tears forming in your eyes even though your head is buried into his chest.
Harry smiles hearing the relief in your voice, “I know, I was offered the opportunity to come home and jumped at the chance… I just really wanted to see you; I’ve been away for far too long.”
He really had been away too long. He’d gone over in February and it was July now. It had been the longest five months. Your boyfriend left halfway around the world to sort his tour out and then the world went to complete shit.
You hug him impossibly tighter, breathing in the faint smell of his aftershave. God, you’d missed that.
You’d missed everything about him. You’d missed the way his arms would just wrap you up and you would be completely consumed by him.
You missed that you always had to crane your neck up to look at him because he was taller than you and the way you had to plead with your eyes to lower himself down so you could kiss him.
You’d missed hearing his infectious laugh in person, just like you’d missed his teasing and going out for coffee with him. You just missed spending time with your Harry.
Unable to stop yourself from saying it again, you tell him, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you so much too.” Harry chuckles before kissing the top of your head.
He loved that he could smell his shampoo in your hair. He loved that you were back in his arms too.
For a few moments, he thinks you're chuckling too, at him repeating your words back to you, but he soon realises that he was mistaken. You were crying.
“Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” Harry asks you, as you begin to shake a little more than he remembered you would when you laughed in his arms.
“I’ve just really really missed you.” You croak out, trying not to sob, as you still clutch to him.
You didn’t even care that you were causing his hoodie to collect your tears. You just needed him as close as he was now.
“And I haven’t had a hug in like three months, and I need this right now.” You laugh a little bit, feeling so much relief that there was someone you could be physically close to once more.
“Aw honey… I love you.” Harry said, squeezing your tighter, which you loved.
“I love you too… So much.” You tell him, trying to stop your tears. “God, I’ve missed you” You say one last time, just needing him to know.
“I’m so sorry, I got caught over there.” You hear him mumble against your head, as he keeps his lips there to kiss you as you calmed down in his arms.
You take a deep breath, controlling your emotions again, saying, “It’s alright. It’s not your fault. Trump being an arsehole and all”
“You got that right.” Harry chuckled, and you loved the way his little laugh sounded.
He felt you squeeze him a bit tighter and he smiled loving that you craved the contact as much as he had been.
“Can I give you a kiss or do you need the hug to last longer?” Harry asks you hopefully.
You chuckle at that as you wipe your tear stained face, before looking up at him saying, “I’d love a kiss.”
“Good because I’ve been thinking about this for a good four months.” Harry says as he cups your face and brings his lips to yours.
As his soft lips connect to yours, you feel as if you’ve just been given a new lease of life. You felt like your whole body immediately brightened up from this one act of affection.
You finally break your hold from around his waist and let your hands roam up his chest until one hand cups his neck and the other is holding onto a fistful of his hair. You needed the kiss to satisfy you just as much as the hug did. You didn’t really want it to end.
You felt like it was your first time kissing him again, with a nervous stomach, yet it was like someone had set you on fire. You craved his touch, you craved everything about him right now.
You were just so glad that you could once again connect with him like this.
Neither of you intended the kiss to get as needy as it seemed to. As it started off with a long kiss before pulling away slightly to plant more pecks on your lips. But then when another longer kiss started Harry got a little bit carried away.
When Harry teased his tongue into your mouth, and you released a satisfied moan already feeling like you were exactly in the right situation you would want to be in forever. It felt like it had been so much longer than 5 months since you’d last kissed him.
Your clear enjoyment of the kiss, both the moan and the hair pulling, made Harry chuckle against your lips. He continued it smiling slightly, so glad he was back home and you were in his arms.
Harry was so thrilled that, after a second, he unwrapped his arms from around your waist he crouched down slightly, still keeping your lips on his, to give himself leverage to pick you up. At the point he did that it was your turn to chuckle into the loving kiss.
You wrapped both your arms around his neck, now being the same height and you take that to your full advantage to be as close as possible. You wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles to assure you wouldn’t slip down his body and Harry has also got a nice grip on your arse to also ensure that you don’t move an inch.
You love that you can smell his aftershave again and it’s not the faint smell of it that lingers when you open his wardrobe to steal his clothes now and again. You love that he’s here and that he’s kissing you as if it was the very first time again.
And then the finish the kiss off by kissing you in-between tell you, “I’ve. Missed. You. So. Fucking. Much. You’ll. Never. Understand”
You pull away and grin, loving seeing those beautiful green eyes looking back at you, “Believe me, I understand.”
You give him one last kiss which you both prolong a little, both emitting a satisfied hum. You then expect Harry to let you down at that point, but you were mistaken.
He leaves his abandoned bags by the lamp and carries you down the hall, back where you’d come from. His hands under your arse holding you up with an unnatural ease as he started walking.
As he heads back to the lounge, Harry asks you curiously, “What were you up to before I rudely turned up unannounced?”
“I was just watching Netflix and drinking a coffee. Nothing interesting at all.” You tell him, your fingers now laced into the back of his hair, as his curls had grown out a bit.
You loved how he looked. You even loved the slightly longer stubble that you weren’t used to. You were just so happy he was back home; you had no criticisms.
Harry nods approvingly, but then he looks down you’d body and smirks slightly upon seeing his joggers wrapped around his waist, “I like that you’re wearing these by the way.”
“Yeah, sorry.” You glance at them slightly embarrassed you’d been caught in them. You offered the excuse, “You have comfy clothes.”
“Don’t apologise, I love it. You can have them all, look way better on you than me.” Harry smirks, looking down at the grey joggers you’d stolen.
You shake your head and laugh, “I don’t think so.”
“I do.” He grins at you as he carries you into the lounge and sees that you were more than likely cuddled into the corner of his sofa from where the blanket was turned back from.
However, he now very much intended for you to be his blanket, so once you’d unhooked your ankles from around him, he plonked himself down on the sofa and lay back across it. This left you straddling his hips and he pulled you down over his chest, so you were pretty much laid on top of him.
He looks to the side a second and spots the remote for the TV. He picks it up and presses play, looking back to you, asking, “What are we watching?”
“Modern Family” You smile, not fussed about the TV at all anymore.
“Ooo, what season?” Harry asked and you happily told him where you were up to and what had happened in it recently.
Both of you attempted to watch it, but you both kept getting distracted by each other. First you shifted so you were just laying on him, not straddling him, something that Harry was perfectly okay with.
And then you both just ended up catching the other already looking longing at each other. You more so than him, but that was because you still weren’t fully convinced that this was reality.
You were waiting for something to happen which woke you from your wonderful dream, but as it turns out it was completely real.
He catches you looking at him instead of the screen again and he smiles, “I thought you were watching this?”
“I don’t even want to watch the TV anymore; I just want to look at you and cry because you're back home.” You tell him honestly after he catches you just staring at him again.
“I feel the same about you.” Harry says, hugging you tighter to him, even though you were pretty much lying on his chest.
You smile, “This must be what your fans feel like.”
“Are you claiming not to be one?” Harry playfully raises an eyebrow at you.
You feel his hand run up and down your back a few times before his fingertips find the ends of your hair and starts playing with that too.
“You know what I mean.” You roll your eyes just as playful.
He runs his tongue over his lips as they pull into a smirk when he asks, “How many times have you watched the Watermelon Sugar video?”
Your lips press together at that. You’d watched it more times than you could count. It was hot as fuck and any content of your boyfriend was always good. Especially that kind.
“You don’t need that question answered.” You tell him with a knowing look in your eye and an embarrassed smile.
Harry just chuckles at you then. He thought you’d enjoy it, and he knew you did because he made you watch it on FaceTime to him and he watched you get all flustered.  
Harry thankfully lets that question go and asks you, as if to test how much of a fan you were, “How many times have you listened to Fine Line whilst I’ve been away?”
“Enough that I think you need a new needle for your turntable” You speak truthfully, a guilty little smile now pulling at the corners of your lips.
You genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if it did need a new one.
You’d listened to it a lot.
Harry’s eyes go wide, “Jesus Y/N, there’s this app thing right, it’s called Spotify”
He’s chuckling though, loving the fact that you actually listened to his music whilst he wasn’t around.
“I listen to your first album on Spotify when I want to go to sleep” You admit, “I have to remove Carolina, Only Angel and Kiwi though because I start singing along”
Harry laughs and shakes his head, “I love you, you idiot.”  
“I love you too, coffee boy.” You smile, the little nickname that had made an appearance now and again when you remembered the day you ran into him.
Harry smiled at that, the name pulling back a good memory. And of all the times he’d teased you for calling it him since.
“What are we going to do? Our coffee shop isn't open.” He asks you, pouting a little.
It was true. You’d told him not long ago, that Lucy had decided to keep the shop closed for a little longer whilst the pandemic was still at large in London. You hope that she could open soon though, you loved that little safe haven of yours.
He’d missed going to your little coffee shop and getting your usual with you. Your coffee breaks usually lit his day up. Things could have been going completely shit for him in the studio but coming back from a coffee with you always seemed to help him.
“Harry, I messaged Lucy and asked if I could buy a bag of coffee beans off her.” You inform him what you’d been up to.
Harry likes your thinking, but he unfortunately had to burst your bubble before you got too excited, “That’s all well and good Y/N/N, but we can’t make coffee from the beans”
“You can if you buy yourself a proper coffee machine that has a grinder in it… Which I treated myself to” You smirk, sitting up a bit.
“You’re joking?” Harry asked, a smile beginning to form on his lips.
“No… It’s not exactly like I can buy anything else whilst being furloughed.” You smile, this was something that you were actually proud of spending your money on.
“Come look.” You say getting yourself up off him, before offering him a hand to help him stand up.
Even though he didn’t really need the help, hetlook your hand and you pulled on his, excited to show him your new toy. Harry loved seeing you this excited.
“I hope you don’t mind; it takes up that empty part of the worktop” You tell him as you lead him into the kitchen.
You pull him into the kitchen, noticing that he had his nails painted lilac, which looked really nice and you’d be sure to tell him later on. But for now, you were too excited to show off your new coffee machine.
“I’ve been practicing making patterns too, and I’m getting pretty good” You tell him as you flick the kitchen lights on when you walk into the room before pulling him along.
Harry can see the machine from around the island, but he loves that you’re so excited to show him your new toy. He follows you without a second thought and you only let go of his hand when you start showing him everything about this small machine.
You show him how it works and what to do with it because he’d obviously need to know with him being back. You end up making him a Cappuccino (with two shots of coffee in it) and he’s very impressed with the love heart that you made on top of it.
Harry takes a sip of it and he’s thrown right back to when the two of you met. You definitely recommended the right drink to him because that was the coffee that made him always go back to Lucy’s shop.
Meaning that it was your good recommendation that made him go back, leading to the day you’d bumped into him.
“Y/N… You’re a fucking genius.” Harry smiles before throwing an arm around your shoulders to give you a one-armed hug. His coffee in his other, taking another sip of the coffee he’d missed so much.
“Oh thank god, I thought you were going to tell me to get rid of it.” You say, breathing a sigh of relief, leaning into him a little more.
Harry shakes his head before putting his mug down for a second so he could hug you properly. He tells you, “No, god no, not at all. You’re actually amazing… Why have I never thought of just getting my own machine?”
“Because my head’s full of good ideas and yours is full of good song lyrics.” You grin, wrapping your arms around him once again.
“Mmhmm” Harry hums, a grin on his face. “This is why I keep you around.” He informs you before he leans down to capture your lips with his once more.
~*~*~*~ August 2020 ~*~*~*~
The month with Harry goes by a lot quicker than you expected it too. You felt like he’d only been back a few days but before you knew it, it was Mid-July and it was your 1-year anniversary.
You’d had a really cute night that day. Harry had made you both dinner and set up the dining room with fairy lights and candles. Cards and gifts were exchanged earlier in the day, and you’d both had such a cute little date day.
You’d gotten up a little earlier in the morning to make the both of you breakfast as a little treat before the day started properly. Breakfast in bed had then turned into a cuddling session, until things got a little steamy when you went for your morning shower and Harry decided to join you.
You then both went to your coffee shop and had lunch in there a few hours later. Harry seemed to be your lucky charm because a week after he returned Lucy decided to open the shop back up, so you were thankful that you could have a cute little date in the place where you’d met.
You then went for a long walk in the local park, both keeping your masks on to stay safe and when you both stopped and had a sit down, you did it very out of the way from everyone else who was around. You were both really careful, you didn’t want to take any risks.
And obviously you had dinner together before spending the night watching various films you both enjoyed. Falling asleep cuddled into the man you loved though was the best feeling in the world.
You were so lucky you could do that again now he was back home.
Over the weeks though, you both settled into your daily routines. Harry left you to work when you were required to and he occasionally popped into the spare bedroom, which was acting as your makeshift office with a coffee.
You loved every second with him and you also loved over hearing him create more music. It wasn’t a surprise when you first came to Harry’s house and saw instruments littered everywhere.
He had various guitars, a piano, and even a small drum kit in his music room along with a load of other instruments and recording equipment. So hearing him play, and when he showed you his recordings, was really lovely.
He was so talented; you couldn’t wait to see him on stage.
Despite the weather being good most of Lockdown, when August hit, the weather went completely shit. On a dreary Saturday, you could tell that Harry was bored and feeling a bit unmotivated when you saw loads of Twitter notifications pop up on your phone whilst you were scrolling through Netflix trying to find something to watch.
You pick up your phone and a grin immediately finds its way onto your face when you see that Eroda was tweeting people. You click onto it, abandoning Netflix, and see that the account is replying to loads of people with the watermelon emoji.
You can’t help but like each one as you start refreshing the feed seeing more come in. After 5 minutes of giggling at your phone, enjoying what everyone was saying you decided to tweet yourself.
Since you’d been seen with Harry a lot and James Cordon and Zane Lowe had asked about you in various interviews, fans obviously had a way of finding you. You didn’t mind so much with your Twitter account because you rarely went on it or posted, you mainly had it to see what was trending and to help support Harry when his singles and albums dropped.
Harry was so nervous about introducing you to all of his music, partly because he didn’t want you to have to go through what he did, both online and in person. He didn’t want you to have to deal with the fans online and possibly in person being rude about you just because you were in a relationship with him.
The other thing he was worried about too when he came to let you listen to Fine Line in its entirety was that most of the songs were about his ex. He thought you would hate them, not because they weren’t about you but because he was singing about someone who was once in the position you were in now.
But you genuinely loved every single song on the album. Your favourite being Falling just because it was so relatable.
You could never be angry at him for his music anyway. You had no bad blood with him at all because he was singing about someone who he’d once loved and clearly loved a while longer after they’d broken up.
He had a past, one that he could create so much beauty from. If anything, it was a privilege that everyone got to hear him be so vulnerable in his songs like that.
When you questioned why he looked so worried the whole time you were both listening, he was honest with you and said that he thought you wouldn’t like them because they were about his ex and he thought that you may think he still wasn’t over her. But Harry had made it clear before you even got a chance to speak that he truly was over her. He didn’t think about Camille that way anymore at all.
You were all his, and he intended to keep it that way for a significant amount of time.
When he told you that, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You wanted to be with him for a long time too. You were truly in love with him. Of course, you also told him that he had nothing to fear with you not liking his music.
You made it very clear that you loved each and every song you’d listened to and assured him that he had nothing to worry about when it came to him writing his songs about his past. It wasn’t like you both didn’t have one.
Harry then brought up his worries about him releasing an album and people questioning your relationship because of so many songs being about his ex. But you again told him that he didn’t need to be. As long as you both were honest with each other and that the ‘I love you’s that you both shared were real, then there was nothing that you could be bothered by.
You rarely used your social media, so it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t be seeing any of their comments unless you actively scrolled through.
You loved Harry and you weren’t going to let people come between you. You would always support him, and his music and you most certainly did do that.
You stayed up until 5am when Lights Up got released so you could watch the video. Harry, his band and you all made a night of it at Harry’s house.
Needless to say, you loved the video. You’d only wished you’d been on set to see it get filmed.
A video that you did get to see being filmed though was the Adore You video. Harry had invited you along and seeing as you needed to use your work holidays up you tagged along.
You loved it there in the ‘Isle of Eroda’. You’d had such a good week watching Harry get dressed up in various costumes for the video and you were envious that he pulled every single one off.
So watching him tweet from the Eroda account was comical to you. And you loved that he was running the account himself and just letting the promotional people post the pictures that needed to go up.
The watermelon emojis were all him.
After watching for a few minutes more, you decide to have a dabble at tweeting the account yourself. You rarely tweeted, and when you did it was just retweets, so you just hoped you were doing it right.
Can me and a certain peculiar boy come back and visit? We’ll bring watermelons to celebrate the national anthem, promise 🍉 @visiteroda
You saw that you started getting an abundance of likes and retweets, much like you’d got a massive number of followers on there all at once when you were confirmed to be Harry's girlfriend. And you became increasingly thankful that Harry had showed you how to mute all of your tweet notification settings for your own tweets.
There were literally hundreds within the first minute.
You then saw a blue bar come up on the bottom of your screen that said that @visiteroda had retweeted your tweet. You tapped on it immediately and smiled seeing what he’d replied.
Always welcome, please don’t leave on an odd numbered day this time. Watermelon is always appreciated 🍉🍉🍉
You giggled when you saw that come through and decided to go check on your man.
You head upstairs still engrossed in your phone, watching as more fans were retweeted with watermelon emojis. You couldn’t keep your giggles at bay as you climbed the stairs.
When you reached the landing, you headed into Harry’s music room, seeing that the door was already open. You saw him sat with his guitar on his knee, his arm over it typing away on his phone, no doubt sending people more watermelons.
He had clearly gotten too engrossed in his phone, forgetting about his guitar, and he didn’t hear you come up and stand at the doorway.
You just watch him grinning at his phone for a moment and love the way his lips draw back and show off those white teeth. The lucky phone, receiving one of his cute grins.
After admiring your boyfriend for a second, you decide its best to make your presence known. You softly knock on the doorframe and grin at him when he turns and smiles back at you just as brightly.
“You know if you’re bored, we can brave the rain and go get a coffee or something?” You ask him.  
“Who says I’m bored?” Harry asks you with a raised eyebrow, even though he knew exactly what you were hinting at.
“My phone, telling me that you’ve just replied to about fifty people with a watermelon emoji.” You giggle a little, before you walk over to him.
Harry looks back down to his phone when he sees you heading over to him, and only then does he notice the guitar in his lap once again. He puts his sacred instrument down on the stand before returning his eyes back to the handheld device.
“I think it’s so cute that you’re actually running the account yourself.” You tell him as you wrap your arms around his neck and lean over his shoulder to look at him once again replying to the tweets that catch his eye with watermelons.
You can hear his smile when he leans back into your embrace and says, “Well you know how they get… And when you see people playing on the joke of Eroda, like you did before, it’s nice to reply to.”
“Yeah,” You smile, of course understanding how much his fans meant to him, “Maybe one day we should venture back to the Isle of Eroda.”
“You liked it up there?” Harry asks you, looking to the side to try and look at you.
You smile when you catch his gaze and nod, “I loved it there.”
The filming had been done up in Scotland earlier on last year, and Harry loved it that you came with him. It was so nice to have you with him on shoots of his music video as he wanted you to see this part of his life just as much as when you went out and did mundane things.
He was really pleased you enjoyed going with him.
“Got to see you in action too.” You say before kissing his cheek. And afterwards you cornily whisper into his ear, “I adored it.”
Harry chuckles at that, “Adored being the correct word”
At this point, he spun himself around on the stool he was on to face you, and you stood between his legs. You grinned at him, placing your hands on his shoulders so you
“I’d walk through fire for you, Mister Styles.” You tell him.
“Like it’s the only thing you’ll ever do?” Harry asks with a cheeky look and a raised eyebrow, whilst he wraps his arms around your waist.
You pretend to think about it for a moment before giving him your answer, “For you, yeah”
Harry once again laughs at that before leaning in to peck your lips. He lingers for a moment before pulling away, but keeping you close when he asks you, ”Do you actually want to escape for a bit though… You must feel completely sick of this house being stuck in it for so long.”
“It’s better now your back.” You smile, playing with the hair that he’d still yet to get cut.
Harry grins, “That was cute but didn’t answer my question.”
“I’d love to.” You smile.
You were glad you at least had some options now; Lockdown had been eased for you all a little, so you could at least go away somewhere if you wanted to.
Harry’s toothy grin shows itself again and he asks, “Where do you fancy escaping to?”
“Wherever is safe and with you.” You tell him, not fussed at all.
“LA is out of the question the.n” Harry chuckles a little.
You nod, “Erm yeah, Trump’s not doing himself any favours is he.”
“Does he ever?” Harry says bluntly and you both just end up laughing shaking your heads.
In the end, you decide to leave him to his twitter antics for a bit longer before you go and get changed. You both decide that you would figure a little holiday out tomorrow, at least it would give you something to do tomorrow.
The days were getting a tad boring with furlough now. You wanted normal life to get back on track.
When you stalked out of Harry’s room, you saw that Netflix had sent you a notification about a recommended film for you, so you tapped on it. You saw that it brought up the sequel to a film that you really enjoyed.
You wonder if your boyfriend would watch it with you.
“Harryyy.” You draw out his name to get his attention away from his phone as you head back to the music room and once again lean against the door frame.
From your tone he knew straight away that you wanted something. He looked up from his phone and smiled seeing that you’d now changed into one of your oversized hoodies, that was so large it even hid the shorts that you wore underneath it.
“Yes darling?” Harry smiles.
You ask your boyfriend, “Would you maybe wanna do a Kissing Booth marathon with me?”
“You want me to kiss you for five hours straight?” Harry questions with a cheeky smirk and a raised eyebrow.
You laugh at that, you thought that he may have already seen the first film, but apparently not.
You correct him with a chuckle, “I mean, I do, but I meant do you wanna watch the films with me?”
Harry pretends to think about it for a minute, so you decide to give him a little more information to twist his arm, “It’s a romantic comedy on Netflix… I think it’s right up your street”
Harry laughs at your reference to his song, he nods, “You’re not wrong.”
“Come downstairs then, baby.” You tell him with a grin before pushing yourself off the door frame and heading downstairs to set up the film.
Harry follows you down a minute after, seeing that you’d saved him the corner of the settee to sit in. He smiles and sits himself down in the corner, raising his arm so you can cuddle yourself into him.
That being the only reason why you let him have the comfy seat.
You both get sucked into the films quickly, Harry telling you how much he thought he was going to enjoy the film not even 20 minutes in. You loved the hopeless romantic in him, always a sucker for a love story.
You got through the first one and immediately put on the second one as soon as Harry came back from the pizza place not far from the house. You were both that engrossed in the films though that you didn’t fully appreciate how good the food tasted.
Once that had been demolished though, you were back to cuddling and intently watching how the sequel unfolded.
Halfway through though, you and Harry both found yourself in a little debate about what Elle, the main character, should do about her little love triangle.
“She should just get with Marco.” Harry says, more to the TV than to you.
But that took you back completely. You were definitely not on the same page he was.
Your jaw dropped as you looked to your boyfriend and asked, “Are you having a laugh?”
“No,” Harry shakes his head before moving his attention from the TV to you, “He’s cute, plays guitar and... Look at them dancing together.”
You look back to the TV and see Elle and Marco on the dance machine. And yeah, it’s cute… But so is Noah Flynn.
You give Harry a dirty look for that. You shake your head at him, and even throw in a third option to try and show how much you didn’t want Harry’s opinion to come true, “I’d rather her get with her best friend even though that’s not on the table.”
“Better than her being with Noah at this point.” Harry shakes his head looking back to the large TV screen.
You can’t help but laugh and joke at his reaction to the film, “Wow, look at you not promoting long distance.”
“Yeah well, who was I gunna cheat with? Jeff?” Harry looks back to you and laughs a little.
You shrug your shoulders, “I mean, you never know.”
It was then Harry’s turn for his jaw to drop. He was shocked you would ever think that of him. Especially with his manager.
“I’m joking.” You laugh at his jaw being agape.
“You better be.” Harry says before pulling you into him some more, “You know I’d never do that to you.”
You smile at that and look into those beautiful green eyes before assuring him, “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Good.” Harry says before leaning in to peck your lips.
You get back to the film after that and both of you seem to enjoy the ending, thankful that they have left it open for another one in the future.
As Harry flicks through the other film titles for something else to watch, you can’t help but reminisce about the two films you’d just watched.
“Can I be selfish and say I would definitely go for Lee instead of Noah or Marco?” You think out loud.
“Nah.” Harry shakes his head, his tone of voice indicating it was fine for you to think that. He looks at you and smiles, “Who doesn’t love a best friend romance?”
You would give him that one. “I certainly do.” You tell him.
Harry kisses your temple then, eyes still fixed to the TV as he says, “I’m glad I’m in one.”
“I thought Mitch was your best friend?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow.
Harry chuckles, abandoning the films waiting to be watched for a moment to tell you, “Well a best friend is someone you want to spend every waking second with, and have fun with, and you know maybe kiss a few times…”
“And that’s most definitely you.” Was Harry’s closing statement.
“You’re so fucking cute, it’s not right.” You say, your cheeks going a little hot from his compliant.
You’d never be used to how adorable he was. You didn’t understand how after a year you still felt the exact same way you did when you went out on your first date.
Harry gives you a toothy grin, cheesily adding, “Only for you.”
You lean in to kiss the man you were thankful to call your own and he meets you halfway, never passing up the chance to kiss you. It was a sweet kiss, one that held a silent ‘I love you’ which melted your heart once again.
When you pull away you smile and tell him, “I wanna kiss you and get caught in the rain like they do in the first film.”
Harry grins at that and glances outside seeing that it's pouring down currently, but truthfully, he didn’t want to go outside.
So, when Harry’s emerald eyes meet your Y/E/C ones, he smiles but lets you down easy, “I mean I’d say let’s go outside, but I’m afraid we would catch a cold and I don’t wanna be ill.”
“Absolute pussy.” You shake your head, picking up the remote before looking back to the TV to search for something else to watch.
“I- Wow…” Harry stumbled on his words with wide eyes.
You’re still slightly shaking your head until you hear him scoff. The curly haired brunette then tells you, “Until you called me that, I was going to offer you an alternative… But I guess now you’ll never know.”
This gives him your full attention once again. You turn in your seat to look at him, scorning yourself that you didn’t let him continue.
“Aw” You pout, “I’m sorry.”
Harry shakes his head, “No, your loss now.”
He takes the remote from your hands and starts flicking though the platform again. But he knows you won’t let it go until you tell him.
“Harry please,” You plead, “Pretty please… With ice cream and cherries on top.”
You were pretty easy to give into when he was only faking being annoyed with you. He takes a deep breath before looking back to you, giving you his full attention when he tells you, “I was going to suggest that I could kiss you in the shower.”
You smile at that, now very thankful that you didn’t take a shower earlier like you were going to when you got changed. Your plan was to have one after the films anyway, so this was even better.
You grin at your boyfriend who’s looking like he’s just won a medal before standing yourself up. You know his eyes are still fixed on you as you start to walk to the lounge door, pulling your hoodie up and over your body.
“Oh, would you look at that, I’m already ready.” You say turning back to the brunette, throwing the hoodie at him.
You can’t help but smirk seeing his jaw agape and his eyes running up and down your naked body like he’s never seen it before. You knew he’d follow you to the shower in seconds.
“You’ve been sitting here the whole time with nothing underneath that?” Harry asks completely dumbfounded.
You nod with a grin before turning back around as you head towards the stairs. You liked leaving him speechless. It was rare that it happened, so you loved it when it actually did.
“Y/N!” He shouts after you and you can feel his eyes burning into your skin
“Come kiss me. Styles!” You shout back as you make your way up the stairs.
With no further instructions needed, Harry got up and chased up the stairs after you. Leaving clothes scattered across the house before joining you under hot water.
You were glad you got your kiss.
~*~*~*~
A week later you and Harry were lying in bed on a Sunday morning not really wanting to get up. Unfortunately, you knew you’d have to though, because you were meant to be going picking up some more things from your flat.
You were putting that off for a while though, Y/B/F knew you wouldn’t be coming around early because you really weren’t a morning person and you loved spending time in bed. And it made it even better that Harry was in bed beside you.
You were both half awake, Harry definitely more so than you, yet you were cuddled into his side using his chest tattooed chest as a pillow. You thought you were going to wake up due to the daylight peeking in though the curtains in the bedroom.
However, as soon as Harry started trailing his fingertips up and down your arm, he lulled you back into a tranquil state. You knew that you wanted to be in this position beside him for as long as possible.
Something which Harry agreed on entirely with too. He loved having you beside him every morning.
Waking up and seeing you sleeping beside him was something he already knew he would never get tired of. And the fact that when you got disturbed by the light that shone through the window that your side of the bed faced, he adored it when you would turn yourself over and cuddle into him to try and shield your eyes.
He just loved you so much that he didn’t want to have to experience waking up in this bed again without you beside him. And that was the thought that was whirring around his mind as you lay beside him.
“Angel.” Harry stirred you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear that he could see was over your face.
You’d no doubt get angry at it when it disturbed you later, so he thought he’d save you a job as he tried to wake you up a little more.
You hum in response to him, just hoping he wasn’t wanting to get out of bed anytime soon.
“I was wondering…” Harry trails off for a second, second guessing himself whether he should ask you or not.
Your tired voice asks, “Yeah?”
“I was wondering if when you go and get your stuff from your flat, if you would maybe like to get the rest of it?” Harry asks you in a roundabout way.
He just loved having you here. You made his house his home.
“What do you mean?” Your tired mind not picking up on what he was asking.
“I mean like come and live here properly,” Harry smiles as he clears things up for you, “And not just whilst you’re forced to for safety reasons.”
That aids in waking you up. You open your eyes, rub the tiredness away and quickly find his green ones after picking your head up off his chest.  
You ask, tiredness leaving a little now, “Are you being serious right now?”
“Of course.” Harry nods, his fingertips still running their way up and down your arm soothingly.
“I’ve spent so much time away from you… And I know I was going to be on my tour anyway at this point, but because that’s all next year now...” Harry starts to tell you.
“But that also means I will be spending months away from you then too. And if I’m honest I’m going to struggle with that just as much as I have done whilst being in LA without you.” He tells you honestly.
You were each other’s rocks through the past few months. Being away from each other was difficult, there was no questioning that, especially with what is going on in the world at the minute. 

“I wanna spend every second I can with you this year now… And I’d really like it if you didn’t have to go back to your flat for your work stuff every other day like you used to.” Harry smiles recalling life before lockdown.
Last year when you were staying at his a few days in the week, sometimes you would have to go home because you forgot something you needed for the next day I work. It happened more than it should have done, and you knew it drove Harry up the wall, so his little joke there made you giggle.
“You really want me to move in?” You had to ask, you weren’t sure whether you were still asleep or not right now.
Harry grins at your shocked expression, loving how innocent you looked trying to figure things out in your tired mind. The messy haired brunette nods at you.
“I’d love to.” You grin to match his.
You could definitely see yourself waking up to him every morning for the rest of your life. The more time spent with the man you loved, the better.
Harry is unable to contain his excitement then because he quickly rolls the both of you over so he’s hovering above you and traps you in a kiss. You can’t help but giggle into it because he can’t wipe the smile off your face to kiss you properly.
Your laughter is adorable. Infectious even, because Harry finds himself chuckling too and opts to just cover your pretty face in kisses, loving hearing your laughter continue.
When Harry calms down a little and places what you thought would be a final kiss to your lips, you grin up at those stunning green eyes that hold nothing but excitement for the future. You love how happy he looks in this moment that you wish you could grab your phone and take a picture.
You just opted to memorise everything you could about the moment. You most certainly never wanted to forget it.
You bring your hand up and lace your fingers in the back of his hair to keep him close to you. You were still looking into those eyes you were slowly getting lost in as you both stupidly grinned at each other.
You purse your lips trying to contain your gin as you say, “Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing here, Mister.”
“What?” Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.
“You just don’t want me to leave and take my coffee machine with me” You joke, not being able to keep your face serious any longer.
The joy you were feeling was just too overwhelming right now to let anything else but that show.
Harry laughs before he traps you into another loving kiss. He chuckles against your lips, “You got me.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thank you for reading x
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