#the way these two colourings look next to each other is so incredibly ugly... but i honestly couldnt do better jshfdgdf i really tried

[the-kingofdoritos]

Llwch ar yr aelwyd - mechanisms fanfiction

There were only the two of them left. Only two Mechanisms left. Just Brian and The Toy Soldier.

The others had all left, died or had gone missing without a trace. It had been horrible, but after a milenia Brian had gotten used to it. He had almost gotten used to the overwhelming loneliness that penetrated through his whole brass body. Even with the toy soldier as company, it just made him miss the others even more. He knew it was almost his time.

And so he had decided to land the Aurora on a small planet in the middle of nowhere. It was warm, there were flowers, and it was very pretty. And a nice place to spend his last day alive. The toy soldier had the good idea to go and watch the sunrise, as it seemed to realise what Brian was about to do.

And so they find an old battered blanket, it's covered in blood (Jonnys) and what seem to be a few other substances, and it smells familiar. They end up sitting down on that to watch the sunrise one last time.

“It's very beautiful isn't it, old chap?” the toy soldier pipes up. It's sitting cross legged, its wooden arms perched on either of its knees. The permanently painted smile seems much more downcast than usual.

“It is,” Brain agrees, though he doesn't look away from the sky to answer it’s question.

The sky is bathed in a bright orange, yellow, dark blue and a plethora of colours that seem too vibrant to be real. The sun peaks up from behind a dull mountain rage. He can't help but think that jonny and tim would complain about how boring it would be to watch a sunrise, but how they wouldn't move and would lay there in the grass next to him, small smiles on their faces.

How ashes would compare it to a raging fire.

How Marius would be playing his violin, one he would have pulled out of thin air.

How Raphaella would be trying to explain the scientific reason for a sunrise, and how the sky’s colours changed and other scientist things.

How ivy would be reading a book, not even listening or watching the others. But she would remark that the sky is incredibly pretty, and how she wished he had done something like this before.

Brian wished he could cry, but Carmilla hadn't given him tear ducts. At one time he was incredibly grateful for this, but now it just seems like a cruel joke. He can't even cry about his friend's family’s death.

He wishes they had more time. But he knows that would be cruel. None of them were ever truly happy, and they hadn't been since Nastya left. She almost seems like a fever dream now, and Brian can't say he even remembers much about her. And that hurts, stings and breaks his human heart.

“Toy soldier,” he speaks with a wavering voice, one of the only ways he can show emotion.

“Yes Brian?” it asks.

“Can… Can I have a hug?” he whispers it, because if he speaks any louder he will break down into ugly sobs. And then jonny would make fun of him because it would be a waste of a perfectly good morning.

“Of course you can,” its wooden arms wrap around his brass body, and he leans into it. Carmilla did put in nerves, and for that he is grateful. He cant feel temperature though, but if he could he knows the toy soldier is wooden and would be quite cold.

And there the two last Mechanisms stay, wrapped up in each other's arms.

The sun is gracing the sky with its brightness by the time either of them move.

Going back onto the cold and silent starship, back onto the Aurora who had stopped responding to them when Nastya had left. It almost feels like a deathwish, but Brian nor the Toy Soldier hesitate when entering the ship one last time. It feels like one last goodbye. And Brian knows it's the end.

That night, the airlock is open and waiting for him. A cup of tea on a table by it. His heart swells with joy for one last time as he drinks the warm beverage. He doesn't see the toy soldier, but he knows the tea is its way of saying goodbye. He can't think of what will happen to it when he’s gone, because that would be cruel.

The airlock is familiar, it's cold, and it's his death. And for one final time, he feels warm. And then it's gone as the coldness of space digs into his brass skin freezing him from the outside in as he completes the cycle. One last time.

The first mechanism died in space, and so did the last one. He became a mechanism in the vast coldness of space and ended his time as a mechanism in the vast coldness of space. The cycle is complete, one last time.

~He's not for heaven, nor yet for hell~

~Lost in the cosmos, Lonely~

#the mechanisms #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #angst #why did i write this #the mechanisms fanfic #death to the mechanisms #jonny d'ville #ashes o'reilly #gunpowder tim #tw death #all the characters are just mentioned (besides brian and ts) #i miss these fuckers soooo much

[theoutcastrogue]

concept, fairy thief who steals and redistributes metaphysical concepts. such as discovering the mayor is twice as ugly and coincidentally, their home caught fire

Yes! I LOVE thieves who steal impossible things, and redistributing them is a fantastic twist!

The sky's the limit: abstract concepts, dreams, colours, voices, memories, anything. Incredible flavour, straight out of a fairytale, or possibly a sci-fi story (steal quanta!). And of course it would be a fey creature of some sort, though we can work with a particularly shifty spellcaster, or get more creative.

That reminds me, there was an old homebrew project for 3.5, where Epic levels came with truly epic things, prestige classes and feats that basically changed the game's genre. [Instead of RAW's apporach of "number go up even more" for mundanes and "you're invincible and all-powerful now" for fullcasters.] And Epic Rogues could pick the following:

SUPERNATURAL THEFT [Epic] You can steal things that shouldn’t be possible. Benefits: You are a master of stealing what shouldn't be possible. You gain all of the following abilities. Each one can be used as a standard action: Steal Feature: You can steal two dimensional details from a touched object or creature (such as the stripes of a tiger or words from a page). Stealing from a creature in this way requires a sleight of hand check opposed by the target’s spot check as normal. While stolen in this way, these loose details weigh nothing and can’t be seen by anyone other than perfect wights. You can’t do anything with these details other than giving (or more frequently, selling) them to other perfect wights or putting them on another object or creature by touching it as a standard action. Steal Voice: You can steal a creature’s voice by succeeding on a sleight of hand check opposed by the target’s spot check. While stolen in this way, the target is rendered mute and you may make use of this voice as you see fit. By touching a creature as a standard action, you can pass one or more voice onto them. You may even surrender your own voice in this way. Steal Years: You can steal a year of a creature’s life by succeeding on a sleight of hand check opposed by the target’s spot check. Neither you nor the target seems to age or become younger as only maximum lifespans are affected in this way. As a standard action, you can touch a creature and give it any number of years you possess (including those that were yours to start with). Creatures immune to magical aging can’t have years stolen from them but can have years added to them. Steal Identity: You can steal a sentient creature’s identity by succeeding on a sleight of hand check opposed by the target’s spot check. Unlike similar feats, you may only possess one identity at a given time and stealing the identity of one creature grants them your former identity. Regardless of evidence provided to the contrary, all creatures are recognized according to their identities rather than by their physical forms or abilities. In most cases, this costs the target its job, friends, and more. Special: This feat fools divination effects that look for people (such as discern location or scrying) but not effects that detect things about you (such as detect evil). Steal Life [Epic]: Within 1 round of killing a creature, you may formally steal its life force. When doing so, you heal hit points equal to twice the HD of that creature. Furthermore, the next time you would be slain through hit point damage, you instead stabilize at -1 hit points and the soul is expended. A creature can only store one additional life force at a time and you can pass on a life force along with it’s death-defying properties (but not the healing). To a touched creature as a full-round action.

Far from vanilla D&D!

#correspondence #how to rogue #fluff #fey #steal all the things #homebrew #d&d #3.5 #epic #feat #trs #rogues in fiction #crunch

[robertacolndrez]

Station Eleven — 1x01, Wheel of Fire

#station eleven #userlera #usernastya #tvedit #cinematv #tvseriessource #televisiongifs #tvandfilm #cinemapix #entgifs #filmtvdaily #smallscreensource #stationelevenedit #* #parallel* #the way these two colourings look next to each other is so incredibly ugly... but i honestly couldnt do better jshfdgdf i really tried

[bibliosophist]

Asmodeus with a mc who is insecure. They thinks they are not good enough for him and think he'd rather be with someone prettier. He find out and go's to comfort mc.

Tonight is the night. Panacea Skincare is having a launch party to celebrate their new line of products, and Asmodeus is the face of the campaign. He’s talked about nothing else but this party for a fortnight, and now it’s here.

The first thing you see when you enter the hall is a screen displaying a thirty foot tall photo of your boyfriend. In it Asmo is sprawled across a white marble bench set amid a lush, verdant garden. One of his milky white arms rests above his head, the other lays across his bare stomach. Only a swath of silky white fabric covers his hips. He’s lithe and lean, with both the indentations of his ribs and the toned planes of his stomach on display. Letters forming the words Panacea Skincare scrawl themselves across the bottom of the screen.

He squeals as he runs across the room towards his own likeness, pulling you along behind him.

“I can’t believe it! (Y/N), look, it’s me!”

“It’s you. You look incredible. I mean, you always look incredible, but you’re practically glowing.”

He giggles. “I know, right? They didn’t even alter the photograph at all. That’s one of their principles- no retouching. Panacea wants everyone to know that they’re honest and authentic. But,” he grins, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “why not stack the deck in your favour, right? That’s why they came to me. Who else has skin this close to flawless?”

You smile and squeeze his hand. “Nobody.”

“Exactly! Darling, would you mind taking a picture of me with me?” he asks, striking a pose next to the photo. He leans forward slightly, one hand braced on his thigh while the other throws a peace sign. He winks at the camera.

You snap a half dozen photos of him from different angles. You know what Asmo means when he says “take a picture.”

A high pitched squeal breaks your impromptu photoshoot. When you whip your head around to the source of the noise, you find a beautiful young demon standing stock still, pointing at Asmo. “It’s him! It’s Asmodeus!”

In a matter of seconds, Asmo is engulfed in a swarm of admirers. Some hang off his arms, others clutch at his hands. One particularly enamored demon drapes themself over Asmo’s shoulders. Camera flashes sting your eyes- it seems that the entire room is desperate for a selfie with your boyfriend. You can just barely see Asmo’s amid the crowd. A perfect smile lights up his face- he’s absolutely in his element.

As the mass of demons around him continues to grow, you’re shunted to the edge of the room. You don’t really mind; it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Being with Asmo means having to be okay with sharing his attention, and you've accepted that. Still, you can’t say that it doesn’t make your stomach twist when you see the gorgeous demon with their head on Asmo’s shoulder whisper something in his ear that makes the Avatar of Lust giggle.

You’re so preoccupied with watching the encounter that it takes you a moment to notice the two demons standing a few feet away from you, heads bent together over their drinks. It isn’t until you hear your name that your ears perk up.

“(Y/N)... Yes, that sounds right. (Y/N).” says one of the demons. They both have sleek, bottle glass green hair down to their waists and skin the colour of sun bleached canvas. Sirens, you think.

Beside them, their similarly striking friend snorts. “Even their name is common. I can’t believe Asmodeus, of all demons, has settled for that.”

“Maybe they’re more than meets the eye. You’ve met the other human, Solomon, right? They say he’s the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived.”

“Unlikely,” says the other one. They make no attempt to hide the way their eyes rove over you, or the way their lip curls before they continue. “If they had any kind of magical power, they’d spruce themselves up a bit. Would you be caught dead looking like that if you could help it?”

“No, I suppose not,” says the first, sipping at their drink.

You feel the blood rise to your face. It’s not like you haven’t thought the same thing yourself a thousand times since you started dating Asmo, but to hear it said out loud...

Ducking your head to hide the tears pricking your eyes, you make your way across the hall to the washrooms. Thank whoever designed this building, they’re single occupant. You lock the door behind you and, closing the lid of the toilet, sink down onto it.

They’re right. You know they’re right. You see the way eyes linger on you when you’re together. You went to high school, you know that look. The “what’s he doing with them” look. What did Asmo see in you? He could have his choice of lovers from any of the three realms. Even among humans, you’re... average. What does the most beautiful creature in existence want with average?

You feel the telltale sting of tears rising to your eyes just as a knock echoes through the small room. “There’s someone in here,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“(Y/N), it’s me.” Asmodeus.

“I- I’m in here.”

“Hon, open the door. Please.”

With a monumental effort, you push back the tears. Smoothing down the outfit you’d so carefully chosen for his big event, you cross the room and unlatch the door. As soon as the lock clicks open, he’s pushing his way into the bathroom and relocking the door behind him.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, reaching for your hand. Instinctually you pull back. If he touches you now, you know you won’t be able to hold the tears in. He looks crushed. “(Y/N)? Did I do something?”

Well, crap. The very last thing you wanted to do was ruin this night for him. He’d been so excited. You couldn’t have him thinking that this was in any way his fault.

“No, no, of course not. I just- just have a headache, that’s all.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Really,” you say, turning away from him as the tears threaten to reappear. “Just go back out there, I’ll be fine in a few min-”

A warm hand on your waist spins you around. “I thought we promised never to lie to each other. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The look in his eyes as they try to catch yours pushes you over the edge, and before you know it you’re sobbing. He pulls you to him, rubbing his hand over your back in slow circles. You pull away, knowing that your tears will leave ugly marks on his beautiful shirt. When you try to say as much he shushes you, pulling you against him even tighter. “To hell with the shirt. What happened?”

Knowing there’s no way you’ll be able to brush this off now you relay what you overheard the Sirens saying. “And the worst thing Asmo, the very worst thing is that I know they’re right. I know it. And I know that someday you’ll leave me, and-”

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“W-what?”

“Do you really think I’m so shallow?”

“No, I didn’t mean- it’s just that you’re so beautiful. You could have anyone- absolutely anyone. Why would you settle for someone that isn’t your equal? Or as close to your equal as anyone could get, because I mean-”

“Stop,” Asmo says, cutting you off. “Listen to me. Normally I’d love nothing more than to listen to you babble about how beautiful I am, but not while you’re being so ridiculous.” He sighs. “I’ve had a lot of lovers, (Y/N). I’ve been with beautiful creatures- Demons, humans, even angels. But,” he runs his hands down your arms, slipping his hands into yours, “None of them were you.”

“So what, you’ve had your fill and now you’re ready to slum it?” You know you’re being belligerent, but you can’t help it.

“I absolutely did not say that, and you know it. I do think you’re beautiful, (Y/N). Of course I do. But that’s not why I love you. I love you for you. Do you only love me because I’m beautiful?”

“No,” you mumble, “but it’s a nice perk.”

The vibrations of his chuckle tickle your cheek. “Darling, in my long, long life I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Helen of Troy didn’t make my heart stutter like you do.”

“You dated Helen of Troy?”

“‘Dated’ Is a strong word, and that’s a story for another time. Please believe me when I say you’re the one I want to be with.”

You sniffle one final time, squeezing his fingers in yours. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And, once I’ve taught those Sirens how to accessorize with their own intestines, I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you on my arm. What do you say?”

#obey me #shall we date: obey me #shall we date #prompt #prompt request #anon asks #asmodeus #asmo #om! asmo #om! asmodeus #asmo x reader #asmo x you #minor angst #insecurity

[boldlyvoid]

New Romantics | Part Three

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, period mentions, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings,

Word Count: 4.7K

a/n: this chapter covers the whole week from Monday to Friday, thank you @awrfhi for making the gif I used here <3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Monday morning she’s in his arms still, and then again on Tuesday; he basically lives with her when he’s not on a case. They make dinner together at night and they drive in together every morning, and they have had sex all over her apartment… and he loves her but he was tired when he said it and in a post-orgasm haze and he’s her best friend.

But he loved her— just not the way she loved him. She was sure of it.

Tuesday morning at 10:53 am, she cracks her fake case. They’re apprehending the unsub by Noon and then she has the rest of the week off. So she heads to the main Quantico building, she gets a visitor's pass and she takes the elevator all the way up to the BAU.

She walks through the bullpen doors and Spencer is sitting at his little desk with his head buried in a book. Penelope sees her first, wrapping her up in a hug that gets everyone’s attention as she rocks her back and forth while telling her how much she likes her.

“You are so pretty, and nice and cute, and your hair smells so good?”

“Thank you, it’s Spencer's shampoo,” she laughs as she holds her back, “I just wanted to come and see him really quick?”

He’s standing beside her and she doesn’t even know until Penelope releases her from her grasp. He wraps her up next, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

She kisses him right on the mouth, holding his face in her hands she has missed him too much to wait till they are alone again, “I caught the unsub.”

“No way?”

She nods feverishly, “yeah remember I found that stray hair on the crime scene? Everyone was fighting over why there wasn’t a sexual aspect and I was trying to convince them she was a women unsub when the hair came back matching our victims best friend, who also knew victim number 1.”

He’s so happy, his smile is the biggest any of his teammates have ever seen, he lifts her and twirls her around and no one can believe the sight. Spencer Reid the uptight, overly smart, always following proper procedure, Doctor at the FBI; was spinning his girlfriend around as he kissed her cheek.

“You are a genius,” he compliments her as he sets her back down and places another kiss on her lips.

“I know,” she laughs, “I beat your score by one day.”

“I hate you,” he kisses her again and by now they don’t realize they have an audience. It’s incredibly convincing to everyone except each other.

“No, you love me,” she whispers, kissing him again before they hear someone clear their throat.

“Do you want to help with ours?” Derek asks, jumping into the moment and reminding them that they’re in public. “We’re just doing non-urgent consults today.”

“Am I allowed?” She lights up.

Derek nods, “I don’t see why not, as long as you just tell your ideas to us and don’t file anything then I think it’s legal?”

So she helps and it’s the most exhilarating thing since having sex with Spencer. She’s in her element, looking at small details and making connections that even leave Spencer humming and ha-ing. She has a younger insight than the rest of the team, she’s exactly why they hired Spencer in the first place and now she was shining brighter than him.

But he loved it.

Every time she made a connection or she had a suggestion that helped one of them on their own train of thought, Spencer would smile at her like she hung the stars in the night sky. He was proud of her in a way she hasn’t seen in many people before, filling her heart with warmth and hope that maybe he can love her for real one day.

—

She was possibly the love of his life and the more he saw her work and the more he knew her mind; the more he fell. She walked around his office and talked to his friends as if she was always meant to be there, and a part of him really wanted her to be.

He snuck away to go talk to Hotch, closing his office door as he sat down, “what’s wrong?”

“Y/N isn’t really my girlfriend,” he whispers. “She’s pretending so I could get everyone to stop bothering me about dating, and I understand it looks like she’s using me to get close to the team but I really do think she would be an excellent asset to the unit even if she was just in the office—“

“Reid,” Hotch cuts him off and a smile builds. “I already sent her an offer to take Anderson's job while he’s out on paternity leave.”

“Oh,” he smiles to himself. “Pretend I never said anything.”

“It stays in these 4 walls, don’t worry,” Hotch smiles back, “but you should tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not,” he lies, “really, I do love her but I’m not in love with her, there is a difference.”

“I know,” Hotch reminds him. “Did you know that I only joined the school musical to get close to Haley? I did whatever I could to get her to fall in love with me and didn’t even realize it when she did because I was so worried she didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Hotch nods with another smile, “you don’t have to tell her until you’re ready, obviously, but you should tell her before it’s too late.”

“I will,” he whispers. “Thanks, Aaron.”

“Why don’t you guys head out early?” He offers, “we could all use a day off with the people we love.”

When he walks back down from Aaron's office, Y/N is with Emily and JJ discussing how she caught her fake unsub at school that morning. She doesn’t brag, she loves to mention her classmates by name and verbatim explains how they helped her. She is a team player, a genius, beautiful, kind… she really is the love of his life.

“Hey,” he places his hand on her lower back as he slides into the conversation. “Hotch said we can all leave early if we wanted?”

“Sure,” she smiles, “actually, did you want to come with me to buy a dress for your thing?”

“That would be fun,” he agrees, wrapping his other arm around her so he can rest his chin on her shoulder and hold her. “Remember I’m buying it so don’t stress about the price.”

“You’re too nice to me,” she replies.

“I just love you,” his voice is as low as he can make it but everyone still hears.

She holds him back tighter, in a silent ‘I love you, too’ and they hear JJ and Emily swoon.

They’re quick to get their things and head out, she hands Spencer her keys and lets him drive to the mall so she can relax, she’s done a lot today.

She’s so quiet on the drive, she holds his hand like she always does and she just looks out the window, she’s peaceful and content with the nothingness of spending alone time with Spencer. They were always just quiet together, sometimes they laughed till they cried and sometimes he could make her scream but most of the time they were quiet.

“Have you checked your email?”

She smiles as she turns to him and her grip on his hand tightened, “what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just told hotch the truth so that he could offer you a job, but he already had before I went in there but he’s a good secret keeper, believe me.”

“Oh,” her smile disappears. “So he knows we’re not really dating?”

He nods, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess we’re going to have to find a convincing way to break up for them and still be able to hang out all the time,” she worries aloud. “Because I don’t want to stop this any time soon, I hope you know that. I really like spending time with you.”

“I feel the same way,” he agrees. “I promise, we can just tell them we work better as friends and they might believe us?”

“I don’t think they will,” she frowns again. “JJ told me not to break your heart today, but I feel like if we break up I’m going to break all of theirs.”

“We could have a fake ugly breakup, and not talk to each other publicly for a bit and then be friends again?” He suggests, “Penelope and Kevin did that.”

She nods, still frowning. She interlocks their fingers this time and she holds his hand instead of just anxiously fiddling with his fingers. She really doesn’t want to let go, and he’s almost convinced she feels the same way.

The banquet is on Saturday, she has one last week of school before her graduation and then they’re done. He thinks about asking her, about what would be the best time to tell her he was in love with her and ask her to be his real girlfriend.

Maybe he’ll do it after the banquet? Maybe he’ll do it after her graduation? He just really wants to do it before she meets his mom. He wants his mom to meet her as the love of his life and his best friend.

He hated many things, but as he kept glancing at her as he drove he realized he hated one thing most of all. He hated that he couldn’t love her as much as she deserved, at least not yet. He wanted to shower her in love, he wanted to protect her and care for her, he wanted to show her off and make love to her and never leave her side.

It hurts, his heart physically aches as he thinks about that. If he had to feel like this to know his love was real, then the pain was worth it. She was always worth it, and he would hurt as long as possible, forever even, if it meant he could be around her just as long.

He held her hand tighter in the silence which made her turn to him, he had no idea he had been crying until she leans over and wipes his cheeks, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he smiles but he can’t keep the conversation there, he’s feeling trapped and so he changes the topic. “What colour dress were you thinking?”

The quick-change makes her laugh, “probably black.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I don’t need to stand out beside you any more than I already do.”

“What does that mean?”

She bits her lip, “some of the people in my class are saying that I’m only doing so well because you’re helping me cheat and that I’m just fucking you to get a job… just like I thought they would.”

“At the end of the day, we have a friendship they will never understand, we have great sex because we want to, you’re smarter than me, and the BAU wants you… so who is the real winner?” He’s always going to be her number one cheerleader.

“You’re right,” she smiles again finally, “as always.”

—

He convinces her to get a red dress.

She hasn’t had a pretty dress like this one since her prom and that was 6 years ago. She hasn’t been to a party or mingled with people in just as long, she didn’t realize how lonely she had been while chasing her dreams until Spencer came along.

He was one of the dreams. She saw him talk once, years ago on a school trip, and she fell in love with him a little, even back then. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be him or be with him back then, doing everything in her power to get into the criminal psych degree at her local college, she just wanted to be like him.

Now she’s liked by him.

Every night he goes to his home across the hall and he does his own nightly routine before coming back to her apartment for the night. She’s too emotional to sleep with him today, she knows that if she has sex with him she’s going to say something stupid or cry after because being this close to him without being honest with him is killing her.

Something in him has changed too, he’s less scared to initiate contact, he doesn’t jump anymore when she hugs him or when she smacks his bum as she passes him. Now he’s wrapping his arms around her while she cooks dinner, and he kisses her cheek randomly when they’re in public.

He tells her that he loves her.

She’s confused and she has no one to talk to about it.

She lays back against her pillows and closes her eyes, she knows she’s going to cry soon, and she doesn’t know what to do because she doesn’t want to cry in front of him and he would be upset if she told him to not come back tonight.

The stress of the situation just makes her cry more as she stresses herself into another anxiety attack, much like the first night she talked to him. She just lets it happen, the anxiety in her stomach builds and the tears slip past her eyes and suddenly she’s sobbing into her pillow hard enough that she doesn’t hear him come back.

She jumps at the feeling of his hand on her back as he sits on the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong?”

She just sits up and hugs him, and he hugs her back and they stay there like that for a while. When she calms down, she pulls back from him and wipes her eyes, “my period is coming.” She’s not really lying, and he believes her.

“Does it normally make you this emotional?”

He’s never really experienced her mood swings, he has no idea what he’s in for, she nods. “Yeah, and I have really bad anxiety which just gets worse around this time.”

“And you’re not on anything?”

She shakes her head, “I’m waiting to get onto the good healthcare when I get a job with the bureau, I can’t afford to work and go to school, I’m glad I had enough scholarship money left to rent this place long enough to go to the academy.”

“Oh.”

She just nods, “I’ve never had much money like my parents have been saving for 2 years to buy plane tickets to Virginia so that they can see me graduate. They started saving before I even got in. I went to community college on a scholarship and I get a lot of money from applying for bursaries.”

“Are you going to take the CARD job or the BAU offer?”

She shrugs, “I’m not sure yet, but probably CARD.”

“Why?”

“I can’t work with you,” she whispers. “It makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be there like I’m using you and that all my work isn’t that great. I’m just Doctor Spencer Reids girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, imposter syndrome is a leading factor in depression among child prodigies, once you reach a certain age and you stop receiving awards for your work, it’s hard to believe that you’re still doing a good job.”

She knows he gets it, he has probably said the same fact to himself to calm down before. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She nods, pulling back the covers and moving over so he can snuggle in beside her. She holds him, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep inhale of his cologne, this was the love of her life and if this was as close as she was ever going to be to him, she was going to take it.

He kisses the top of her head and holds her in his arms at just the right pressure to calm her down. She feels so comfortable with him but she still feels like shit, she doesn’t stop crying, and he just holds her through it.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really wrong?” He whispers after a while, he sounds worried.

“No,” she whispers. “I can’t.”

“Is it about me?”

“Yeah,” she cries again, “and I don’t have any other friends to talk to about us and now you’ve told hotch and I have no one to talk to about how this is kinda stressing me out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his voice is still scared and she knows he’s going to panic regardless and just send them around in a circle of constant anxiety. But his tone is more apologetic than one fuck up.

“Who else did you tell?” She sits up, “I thought this was just between us?”

“I needed advice, the same reason you are reacting right now, you’re stressing me out,” Spencer finally talks back with passion and she knows they’re about to fight for no reason.

“I never said you were stressing me out. I said our situation was, but I think I need to sleep alone now, Spencer” she’s confident and stern even though she’s crying.

“We can’t go to bed mad at each other. You even said the mornings are the worst, we can’t hate each other for no reason tomorrow,” he starts to cry, not knowing where he went wrong and she can see it on his face.

“I just don’t have what you have, and I’ve always been trying to copy you…”

“What?”

She sighs and wipes her tears, “I have had a big fat, fan-girly, crush on you since I was 18, I came here with my class to watch you do a talk on philias and phobias and then I knew I wanted to get into the academy and I wanted to beat your record and join the BAU, and I just thought; one day I’m going to be friends with this guy and catch bad guys with him and now I am and I’m so alone.”

“You have me?”

“I know,” she tries to smile, “but I only have you and I can tell you almost everything. Like my biggest stressor right now is that if just looking at fake crime scenes for 3 weeks has made me this anxious; what if I’m not cut out for this? What if I get to a real crime scene and I pass out or—“

“That’s only human,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly, and very Spencerly. “If you didn’t feel like this job makes you hate the world and untrusting of everyone around you; then I would think you’re crazy.”

“How do you do it?”

“I open up and let people in, but I typically wait till I’m at my lowest; crying in my friend's arms because I don’t know what to do anymore,” he smiles again, wider and toothy as she smiles back.

“Thank you,” she can’t help but tilt her head and smile as her heart settles and her brain calms down a bit, “I love you.”

“Can I kiss you or is that too much right now?”

She gets in closer to him, laying back down on the pillow and looking at him. They’re closer enough to kiss, and she just takes a moment to look at him, resting her hand on his cheek as he wraps around her waist and pulls her in closer.

“We’re okay?” He asks with his lips right against her, his breath is hot and he smells like toothpaste.

“We’re okay, but no more talking tonight, okay?” She whispers.

He nods, leaning in and kissing her finally. She knows she shouldn’t be kissing him, she knows that she should be mad at herself, but she also knew that even just pretending that he loved her back was good enough.

—

He gets called away to a case on Wednesday morning, he’s too busy to really call her and he doesn’t text back. He feels bad about it but he knows she wanted space to think anyway, what he didn’t expect was for her to reach out to Penelope.

She’s in the office with her on Friday, tired of Spencer ignoring her so she went to the one place he couldn’t avoid her; Penelope’s office.

“How can I help you today, my fine furry friends?” Y/N answers the phone with a smirk, copying Penelope’s line perfectly, they can hear them high five through the line.

“Y/N?” Spencer is the first to catch it, “what are you doing there?”

“I came to meet Anderson and see if I’d like to take his job or not,” she teases, pretending she wasn’t there just to bother him.

Hotch cuts in, asking the question he needed to ask before hanging up, “not sure what’s going on at home but we’re too close to cracking this case for schoolyard games.”

“Yes sir,” he nods and looks away, retreating to the other side of the room to stare at the map and pretend to find connections.

“Crack this and you can go home to her,” Derek whispers with a smile, thinking he’s helping the situation.

“That’s not where I want to be right now.”

“Woah,” Derek catches it, “what happened?”

“Nothing,” he’s quick to get him to stop it but he really wants advice, “she’s stressed out and she took it out on me and I wasn’t very nice back.”

“You said sorry and you pretended you were over it, didn’t you?”

He turns away from Derek with a nod, he wants to come out with it and get it over with and he’s so mad and embarrassed he just starts to cry a little, “I don’t want to lose her.”

“How could you?”

“You have no idea,” he rolls his eyes lightly and scoffs, confusing Derek.

“And I won't unless you want to talk to someone about what’s really bothering you, but you’ve been happier since you met her and I like seeing you happy, and Savannah likes double dates,” he scolds him with a smile, patting his shoulder lightly. “now let's crack this and maybe on the plane you will tell me what’s up?”

“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t want to.

However, Derek Morgan is good at a lot of things, and one of those things is getting Spencer to calm down enough to tell him anything. Everyone is asleep on the plane, it’s just the two of them at the back together when Spencer finally feels confident enough to say it.

“I lied to you, a long time ago… and it’s just the first one.”

Derek doesn’t look angry, “okay, explain your thought process. I need to know how this pretty brain of yours works.”

He smiles a bit, “I slept with Elle the night before she shot that rapist in Ohio.”

“You did not?” Derek's voice gets a little too loud and they stop to make sure no one woke up.

“I did, but you still always made jokes about finally getting me some lovin’ and it bothered me for a while and I never told you, instead I offered to help my neighbour with her homework if she pretended to date me,” his voice lowers as the words continue and he only stares at the table between them.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” Derek apologizes first. “I didn’t know I was upsetting you, is there anything else I do that upsets you?”

He shakes his head in a silent no, still not looking at him, he can't.

“What happened between you and Y/N?” He jumps to the main issue, fine with what happened because he feels bad for causing the issue in the first place.

“We started sleeping together.”

Derek sighs, “you have such a big brain, you can remember everything she’s ever said to you and yet you can’t see that she’s in love with you.”

“She’s good at pretending,” he pushes it away.

“No she’s not, because she’s pretending she doesn’t love you right now; the same way you are and you’re both fucking it up for each other,” Derek gives it to him straight. “You have always been loveable, but you have a very hard time accepting it, Spencer.”

“Yeah,” he starts to cry a little more.

“Go home and talk to her and tell her the truth,” it’s the best advice he can give and Spencer knows it. “What’s the worst that can go wrong?”

“She does love me back but in a few years, she realizes I’m too much and she leaves me,” his voice is the saddest Derek has ever heard it.

He gets up from his seat and hugs Spencer, sliding into the seat beside him and wrapping his arms around him, “you have never been too much. You just surround yourself with people who aren’t good enough to love you for who you are.”

“She’s better than me.”

“Which is exactly what I mean, she’s not going to leave you, believe me, once you love Spencer Reid for who he really is, it’s hard to stop,” he speaks from experience, thinking of what could have been between them if either of them had tried harder in the past.

“She’s the love of my life,” he confirms, “I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love her.”

They get the word that they’re going to be landing soon, Spencer wipes his tears and buckles in for the descent, avoiding everyone’s stares and questions on the ride back to headquarters. He’s nervous to see her, he knows his face is puffy and she’ll be there waiting for him with Penelope, but he has to do it.

“Would you wait here, I need to tell her now and she might not give me a ride home if it doesn’t go well,” he asks Derek before heading to Penelope, “she was already mad at me for telling Hotch the truth.”

“Okay, sure,” Derek smiles, reaching out a hand for Spencer, “come to me when you need me next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees with a small smile, heading out to find his fake girlfriend.

She’s not with Penelope, no she’s in the filing room with Anderson and the other temps all talking and laughing, and it sounds far too interesting to interrupt. He waits outside the door and smiles at her laughter until he hears it.

“So be honest,” Agent Camden asks, “are you sleeping with Reid for this job?”

“If I was sleeping my way to the top, don’t you think I would have picked Morgan? Or Prentiss even?” She laughs and it’s like someone stabs a knife through his heart.

He turns around and heads back to Derek, “take me home.”

“Okay,” he doesn’t pry, he just grabs his coat and keys and follows Spencer to the garage.

—

He’s really ignoring her.

She finds out from Emily that Spencer left with Derek, and that he looked rather pissed off when he asked for a ride. It breaks her heart a little and she doesn’t know what to do next, she just drives home and finds herself knocking on his door.

“Let me in, please, Spencer!” She begs from behind his door.

He opens it and looks at her with a puffy red face, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips, he’s been crying for a while. “What?”

“What did I do?”

“You slept with me,” he whispers, “and I told you I wouldn’t react well.”

“Is it my fault you’re crying?” She asks softly and he nods, “do you want to tell me?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “are we still going to the banquet together tomorrow?”

“I really fucked up,” is all he can muster, crying again as he closes the door and goes to cry in his room.

She just opens the door again and follows him inside. Kicking off her shoes she crawls into bed beside him and wraps herself around him, “you don’t have to tell me but I am here for you, always.”

“I love you,” he says it like it’s the problem before he rests his head in the crook of her neck and holds her back for the first time in days.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she cries along with him. They cry until he’s asleep and she’s just there holding him in her jeans and she’s really uncomfortable but she loves him too much to let go.

“More than you will ever know.”

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[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 38

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.7k

; Warnings: Slight mentions of body insecurity/self-hatred

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Only two more chapters after this one! I apologise if this isn’t good or anything...I wrote it all today as I wanted to make sure I keep hitting one a week for you! This should mean that Flower should officially end in two weeks! 😢 it’s sad to think about but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the journey with me too! Also...once you’ve read the chapter then you might want to look at this link....it’s an important link

; Flower Masterpost

-

The dress shop you’d chosen for today was exactly how you’d imagine a wedding dress shop to look inside. The elegant interior design gave everything an expensive appearance; creams and golds and muted greens tastefully blended throughout the furniture and the walls. While you knew that wedding dresses weren’t cheap anyway, the whole atmosphere of the shop made it all appear so much more costly.

You had no real idea of how you were meant to find a wedding dress, and your first suggestion of just ordering one offline had almost given Chungha and Soyeon a heart attack. Even Hoseok had looked at you a little funny when you’d mentioned it, making you realise quickly that you’d made a bad decision.

Just ordering one from the internet wasn’t a good choice because you likely wouldn’t get the dress you imagined. Plus, Chungha had pointed out that you had no idea whether you’d even like the dress in person or whether it would look good on you.

That had been all you needed to realise that going to a store would be the best option. You were just a little nervous about it, worrying that they might not even have wedding dresses that would fit you or something. Or that you’d look too fat in front of everyone or you’d rip a dress accidentally.

Despite the reassurance your best friends had given you, you were still convinced that you weren’t going to find a dress you liked. Maybe a dress that didn’t look half-bad as long as you didn’t look in a mirror or any photographs in the future. You may have come a long way in terms of self-acceptance, but you still had your moments of doubt and self-hatred.

Formal events were most definitely one of them. The knowledge that your wedding was supposed to be the one time that you would look perfect and be the centre of attention was horrifying for two reasons. One, you were terrified that you’d just end up highlighting the fat on your stomach or your arms and two, you still hated being the centre of attention.

Already you’d been discussing with your therapist about this, pointing out that you were dreading your wedding day instead of being excited. Hoseok was understanding of it as well and was trying to help you overcome the issues and instead get you hyped up for it, but the knowledge that everyone would be focused on you was nauseating.

How did people enjoy it?

Still, you’d searched around for dress shops that looked to be friendly and held the kind of styles that you’d be most interested in before finding the best looking one. You knew there was every chance you might not find a dress you liked here so you also had a list of backup stores to visit at a later date.

For today though, you had your mom, Hoseok’s mom and your best friends here with you. All the people who would give you the right advice about what dress to pick. You’d told them all to be honest as the last thing you wanted was for them to try and cheer you up by lying.

At the moment, you were sitting on one of the couches that were set around the small room as you waited for the assistant to come back. The store had three rooms that were used for bridal parties to try on dresses and pick their favourites, away from anyone else who might happen to wander by. You’d like the privacy it offered which had been another factor in choosing them.

Before attending, you’d specified the types of dresses that you’d prefer to try on and the colour schemes. Upon arrival, she’d looked over your body with a critical eye that had made you feel uncomfortable before disappearing out of the door once more. As she had a lot of experience in helping brides find the perfect dress, she was now weeding out the dresses that she knew for a fact wouldn’t suit you.

Maybe someone else wouldn’t like that, but you appreciated the extra effort. Plus, you knew that you could always ask to see them if you didn’t find any from the dresses that had been specifically picked out for you to try today. You figured that you’d let her get on with it though. She had way more experience than you did in this area.

You were nervous though, your leg bouncing quickly while your fingers were tapping at your jean-clad thigh. Everyone else just seemed to be excited but the large mirror on one end of the room filled you with dread. What if you looked fat and ugly in every dress? You wanted to look perfect but you weren’t unrealistic. There was only so much to do with an average base, after all.

Unsurprisingly, your mom notices your quiet and shy demeanour. Not that you were naturally outgoing anyway, but mom’s notice these things. 

Reaching over from where she’s sat next to you, her hand firmly takes your own and presses it against your leg, stopping it from jerking. Glancing over to her, she gives you a soft smile before running her fingers along your cheek in a gentle movement.

“What’s wrong? Worried?” Nodding self-consciously, you try to avoid her gaze as you feel heat spread through your body. Even your fingers tingle with embarrassment, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone.

“Aren’t I supposed to be worried?” 

“No, you’re supposed to be excited. But don’t think about what you’re supposed to be. Just enjoy the moment and have fun dressing up!” She encourages you, giving you a bright smile while squeezing your hand. It attracts Soyeon’s attention from your other side, causing her to stop chatting with Chungha and Hoseok’s mom on the opposite couch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Now it’s her turn to try and comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before hugging you tightly. It causes you to smile softly before looking at her, shrugging underneath her embrace.

“Nothing. I’m just...you know me. If there’s one thing I can stress over then I will.” You can almost hear the audible sigh in the room. There’s no doubt that it’s not meant maliciously, but you know that everyone was probably hoping that you’d be able to enjoy today and get excited. Instead, you’ve just made it clear that they have damage control to do.

“What are you stressing over? Not finding the right dress today? The wedding itself? The cost?” The questions are peppered at you from your mom and each one is almost right. As excited as you were to get married to Hoseok, you’d never been one of those girls who fantasize about a wedding. As such, you’d never particularly cared to pay attention to what weddings require.

What Hoseok and you had discovered over the last few months was that weddings required a lot of money and a lot of different people involved. The florist, the venue, the interior design of the room, invite makers, catering, suit makers, wedding dressmakers and so much more. It was a headache to think about and you’d tried to get everything sorted as quickly as you could and for something that wasn’t going to bankrupt you both.

Despite that, you were still looking forward to finally getting to marry Hoseok. It was just the whole process getting there that was causing you anxiety. You wanted to look your best for him. Blow his socks off and all that jazz.

“Yes and no. It’s stupid,” Your voice lowers, almost to a whine. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“Hey...no. No, we won’t. You know we won’t, we never have.” That comes from Chungha and you can see that she’d like to be part of the ‘physically comforting’ crew. But there’s not enough space for her, so she’s relegated to just talking to you from over the glass coffee table between both couches. There’s a fresh bouquet in a pretty vase on the tabletop alongside copies of wedding magazines scattered along the surface.

A quick, unsure glance takes in Hoseok’s mom and you feel even more anxious as you wonder whether she’s judging you. Is she unhappy at what she sees? Uncertain whether or not she wants her son to marry you after getting to witness firsthand your anxiety and fears? You know that she knows about that stuff. Hoseok had told her over the years with your permission, but it was another thing entirely to see it in person.

There’s no judgement in her eyes though and it settles you a little. Instead, there’s concern, a frown on her forehead as she leans forward and watches you closely.

Swallowing, you sigh before finally deciding to just be honest with them. You needed their support right now and you wanted to be excited about picking a dress. This was going to be the dress that you’d remember forever. The one that you hoped would make Hoseok cry when he saw you.

“I just am worried. That...you know...I won’t look good. In my dress. Or any dress. Or that I’ll look fat. Like it’ll highlight my fat bits or something. I know he’s going to look gorgeous because he’s always beautiful and a suit is just going to make him stunning. So I’m afraid that I won’t look good next to him.” The little ball of anxiety in your stomach is growing bigger as you speak, paralysing your chest and making it a little harder to breathe as you imagine all the ways a dress could highlight your bad points.

Your mom can tell, purely, by the way your movements beneath her hand start to get a little more forceful as you try to fidget. She presses down a little harder, forcing you to stop and look at her. There’s so much love in her eyes, but you also see the concern and upset.

“You’re going to look beautiful, sweetheart. You know why? Because you’re already beautiful! Everyone will be in awe of you, thinking you’re the prettiest girl in the room on the day and that’ll be because you will be. Because you are.” She finishes, squeezing your hand while a firm smile is pressed onto her face.

“She’s right,” Hoseok’s mom interrupts, causing you to look over and see that she has her supportive smile. “You’re going to look amazing. And as someone who knows my son pretty well, I have every confidence that he’s going to cry like a baby when he sees you. Hoseok thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. You in a wedding dress is just going to be the cherry on top.”

That makes tears fill your eyes as your breath catches. Pulling your hand away from your mom’s grasp, you wipe at them daintily before sniffing. You’d carefully applied makeup this morning in a possible replica of what you might want your wedding makeup to look like. Smoky eyes and a neutral lip with a subtle natural look to your face. The actual makeup would be more in-depth but you figured this would be enough to get an idea with the dress included.

Before you can say anything in response to her, the door opens up again and a moveable clothing rail is rolled inside. It’s loaded with beautiful dresses, all carefully wrapped up in plastic or paper to keep them pristine for their potential bride to try on. The sight of them makes your stomach knot up in both anticipation and fear.

Your assistant, Fatima, closes the door behind her before giving you that brilliant white smile, full of customer service as she gestures to the dresses.

“Okay, so I’ve kept almost all the ballgown style dresses. I know you said that was your ideal silhouette and I’ve picked out all the ones in ivory for you. There’s only one or two that are shoulderless. I know you said you weren’t fond of that but there are some really pretty ones that I think would work with your body. Minimal lace as well though there’s one or two with some nice designs on them.” Standing, you head over to the rail and gently finger through the dresses with wide eyes.

There were so many of them.

As if she could hear your thoughts, Fatima speaks again. “You don’t have to try them all on if you don’t want to. If you find the dress then just let me know! Don’t force yourself if you’ve fallen in love with one, okay?” 

Nodding slowly, you look over at everyone else with raised brows. Understanding the silent question, almost everyone laughs and gestures to the dresses with excitement.

“Oh my god! Get trying!” Feeling shy, you carefully take the first dress off the hook before disappearing into the en-suite changing room. Taking your clothes off and carefully folding them onto the little seat in the room, you let Fatima in once more to help you slip the dress on. She hurries around you, adjusting bits of the dress and smoothing out areas before bringing you back out into the main room.

This one is pretty plain and simple with a ballgown style that reaches down to the floor in gentle swathes of soft, ivory fabric. The bodice consists of what seem to be two pieces of the same fabric, carefully designed so the right side slips underneath the left side in a criss-cross over your chest. It gives you a classic neckline that only gives the slightest hint of cleavage and helps to enhance your breasts while the straps rest on the very edges of your shoulders.

You love the style and overall design of it, appreciating that the shoulder straps are thick and the sweeping bodice manages to highlight the good parts of your body. For a moment, you wonder if you’d managed to find the dress on your first try, but turning around and examining it from all angles you soon realise that you haven’t quite got it yet.

Turning to the others, they all tilt their heads in various directions and make contemplative noises. Slowly, you spin around for them to get a good idea of the whole dress before you look at yourself once more in the mirror. Running your fingers down the luxurious cavenza, you acknowledge that it’s a beautiful dress.

But it’s not yours.

“I don’t think this is the one,” You say. “I think it’s too simple?”

Raising a brow, you look at the girls to get their opinion. They hum for another moment before nodding agreement with you.

“It looks beautiful but you’re right. It’s not quite...right. A little too boring. You look amazing though.” Smiling shyly, you turn to look at the mirror once more with a little hesitation.

You’d been so worried that a dress might just make all of your more unsightly bits even more obvious than normal such as the belly you could never seem to get rid of or your thick hips and butt. Thankfully though, the silhouette style you’d decided to try seemed to be doing a great job of disguising all those bits.

The only thing that you weren’t quite happy about was your upper arms, the fat there a little too much for your liking. Frowning, you take a deep breath and try to ignore it before looking at Fatima.

“Not this one. Can I try the next?” She nods eagerly before gesturing for you to re-enter the dressing room.

The next hour carries on like that with you trying on dress after dress and finding a reason to dislike every single one. It begins to get a little disheartening and you worry if you’re not going to be able to find the right dress. What if it didn’t exist or something? Wasn’t there supposed to be some magical moment when you’d put on a dress and it’d just feel right?

Like a sign from the heavens that you’d found the One?

Shaking your head at the mirror in exasperation, you turn back into the dressing room and begin to peel off the dress you’d been trying. This one had been an instant dislike with the train being far too long and the bodice making your body look particularly frumpy. You were more than happy to get out of it.

As Fatima helps you, undoing the laces at the back and making sure the dress comes off without any tearing, you give her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not wasting your time.”

She laughs at that, shaking her head as she carefully places the dress back into its protective wrap and hangs it up. Taking the next dress off the rail, she pulls it out of its wrap and turns to you with the same happy expression on her face.

“It’s okay, honestly! It’s what I get paid to do. Besides, it’s all a process. You wouldn’t believe how many brides have to go through multiple appointments before we can find the right one for them. Don’t stress yourself if it’s taking a bit longer than you might have hoped for. It just means that the right one for you is still out there! And trust me, you’re a lovely bride compared to some I’ve dealt with.” Fatima says, smirking before gesturing for you to spin around.

Wincing slightly, you wonder how many bridezillas she’s had to put up with over the years. You’d think it was a sexist term but you’d certainly read enough Reddit to know that it was, unfortunately, true for a sadly large number of brides out there. Hopefully, you wouldn’t even remotely be considered one.

“Not many left to go through now.” Fatima sing-song’s, carefully zipping up the pearl buttons on the back of the dress. Inhaling, you hold the top to your chest to help her along before watching as she continues her routine of making sure any unfortunate creases disappear.

Lifting the skirt slightly, you follow her back out into the room and stand in front of the mirror. It’s not one mirror, but more like a mini-wall of mirrors. There’s five, with one big one in front of you, two slightly smaller to either side and at an angle, while another two are angled even further in. It helps to give you a good look at everything from as many angles as possible while the bright lighting illuminates all the good points of a dress.

Tilting your head, you examine it closely before turning from side to side to try and look over all the angles. Humming lightly, you spin and watch as the skirt flares out dramatically. It had a slightly longer trail than some of the dresses you’d tried but it’s not so long that you’d need someone to carry it or anything.

“What is this one made of?” You ask, letting your fingers trail over the delicate design that makes up the bodice of the dress and spreads down onto the skirt. It feels soft and you feel pretty wearing it, admiring the leaf design and the way it creeps up your shoulders to cover up the straps.

“The leaf design on the bodice and the shoulders are ivory lace, tulle and Royal Organza with an ivory gown, tulle illusion and beading,” She gestures to the material that covers the bottom of the gown, the material light and see-through in an elegant manner. “The back of the dress is a v-design and the leaf design also continues around here. I must say, it looks beautiful on you!”

At any other moment, you’d be wondering if she was just trying to hurry the appointment up to get it moving and have you putting a deposit down already. You’d taken up so much of her time today that you wouldn’t be surprised.

But she sounds genuine, and you’re too busy admiring the dress to care. Because you agree with her. It’s a stunning dress and for once, you think it does look beautiful. It hides all the bits you were self-conscious about yet outlined your body perfectly to give you a body silhouette that you loved.

The lace design extends along with the skirt in all directions but it’s only directly in the front and behind where it extends almost to the edge. It’s intricate and so delicate, causing you to wonder how people managed to make these. You certainly wouldn’t have the patience for it.

“I...I love it.” You find yourself saying, eyes wide as you look yourself over in the mirror. Shifting around, you turn to everyone and give them an expectant look. Posing for them slightly, you shift in all directions to make sure they can see it all properly before spinning and letting the dress flow out.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful.” Chungha breathes out, pressing a hand to her chest as her gaze is focused firmly on the dress. Soyeon is nodding too, a huge grin on her face before she squeals and claps her hand as her excitement takes over.

“Ahhhh! It’s amazing. Oh my god, it’s perfect!” 

Hoseok’s mom nods, standing up to move over to you and get a closer look. She slowly moves around you, taking in the gown up close before reaching out to gently trail her fingers over some of the lace. You let her, watching closely to see what she thinks.

“Oh my, Hoseok is going to cry. You look amazing.” Her words cause a sudden surge of emotion in you as you look over your shoulder, taking everything in once more. It’s not the fairytale moment you’d imagined it might be, but it feels close enough. There’s not a single thing you hate about the dress.

You don’t even particularly hate yourself in it. Biting your lip, you try to imagine yourself on the day itself; the veil trailing down your back while your makeup has been professionally done and a specially made bouquet is held in your hands. The feeling in your stomach isn’t anxiety or self-hatred but...excitement.

“Mom?” Looking at your mom, you see the way there are tears in her eyes too. She’s got her hands covering her mouth and you frown, hoping she’s okay. Stepping over to her carefully, you reach out and take her hands gently.

“Mom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You’d crouch in front of her but you didn’t want to potentially do anything to ruin this dress. Not when you’d taken so long today to find it. Maybe you were just lucky that it had only taken one session to find it. You didn’t know, nor did you care anymore. 

You’d found it.

“Oh honey, you look so beautiful! I told you that you would, didn’t I?” Wiping at her eyes, she gives you a watery smile before giving a weak laugh. Slowly, she stands and places her hands on your shoulders, taking you in from a little distance with such a fond and happy look.

Feeling a little shy under her stare, you look down at your hands before taking a careful step back and letting her look at you from all directions. Chungha and Soyeon are almost vibrating with excitement as they stand to the side, clasping their hands together and giving you the biggest smiles possible when you laugh at them.

Looking over at Fatima, you smile at her. The look on her face is satisfied and you guess she’s probably content that she’s managed to fulfil her job today. Another bride was satisfied with her choice, after all.

“I think I’m going to have to put a deposit down on this one.” Looking back down at the dress, you run your hands down it once more in wonderment. It was odd to think that you were going to be wearing this in a few months, only then you’d be walking down the aisle to Hoseok. For a moment, you imagine what his face might look like.

Glancing at everyone else, you smirk slightly as you feel a little mischief taking over at the thought of him.

“Hoseok was bugging me this morning about if he could be allowed to see the dress. Trying to say that traditions are silly and everything. I’m going to call him, right now. Wearing this. Just to tell him I’ve found it. It’s going to drive him up the wall knowing I’ve picked it and he’s not allowed to see for months.” That makes his mom snort in amusement while Chungha let’s out a whoop of delight.

Your mom is shaking her head, amusement thankfully drying up her tears. Reaching to her, you embrace her in a tight hug that’s a little rare from you. But you’re thankful to her for everything she’s done and for all her support so far. Plus, you get the feeling she needs to have a hug right now.

She hugs you back just as tightly, patting your back before rubbing at it in soothing motions that make you feel young and small once more. When you pull away, she gives a slightly exasperated look before rolling her eyes.

“Go on then, go call him. Honestly. Do you two ever go a day without teasing each other relentlessly?” Laughing, you nod at Fatima who exits the room. You presume there’s more to go through before you’ll finally be able to leave but at least you can stop getting in and out of dresses finally.

“Never. Besides, this is revenge for him eating the last of the Crunchy Nut this morning.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #hobi fluff #hobi angst #j hope fluff #j hope angst #bts fluff #bts angst #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #hobi fic #hobi fanfic #hobi fanfiction #j hope fic #j hope fanfic #j hope fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #flower hoseok

[justablobfish]

Finding a present for that person that is impossible to find a present for

Day 13 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

______

It's going to be Jaskier’s second time visiting Kaer Morhen. 

Two years ago, Geralt had asked him only a few days before they were scheduled to separate for the winter. It had all been rather sudden and the whole season had passed in a blur of anxiety and excitement.

He hadn't even met the whole family then, Geralt's little brother Lambert hadn't made it to the keep that year. Then, the year after, Jaskier got delayed by his family until he couldn't make it to the keep anymore; the path had already snowed over. 

This year though - this year Jaskier is determined to make the most of his time at Kaer Morhen and charm his way into the hearts of Geralt's family until they can't imagine winter without him anymore. 

Step one is to make a good first impression after the Wolves haven't seen him in so long. And the easiest way to do that is to get the perfect welcome gift for everyone scheduled to be there. 

He comes across the first gift mere weeks after the snow of the previous winter has melted. After the tedious experience with his parents he decides to spend some time in Oxenfurt to recuperate. 

In his favorite dingy little bookstore he finds the perfect present for Eskel. 

Yes, yes, a steamy romance novel might not necessarily be the best way to prove himself to his lover's family, but the cover of the book shows your usual handsome warrior with very revealing clothing clutching a swooning damsel in distress in his overly muscular arms. Except this protagonist is drawn with an enormous scar covering the left side of his face. 

He's extremely handsome. So is Eskel, of course, but whenever Jaskier tells him as much he just dismisses the compliment. With this book though, Eskel will have to believe him that scars are seen as attractive by quite a number of people. Why else would they draw the cover like this? 

His second gift he also finds in a bookstore, though this place couldn't possibly be more different than where he found the book for Eskel. 

The "Ye Olde Books" in Toussaint sells only the most esteemed antiquities to rich noblemen who never intend to read them and only display them to prove their supposedly good taste and to exaggerate their riches. 

Jaskier quickly determines the oldest book the store has on offer. It's still younger than the recipient of the gift, of course, but the fairy tale stories it holds should still be similar enough to the stories that must have been popular when Vesemir was a child. 

After the events of the last winter Jaskier at least managed to guilt trip his parents enough that he has no trouble paying for the delicate tome. 

As for Lambert, Jaskier didn't meet him the one year he spent at Kaer Morhen, but he and Geralt ran into the younger Witcher on the Path once. It was a brief encounter and Lambert didn't seem to particularly like Jaskier. 

Geralt reassured him afterwards that it's nothing personal and that Lambert doesn't like anyone. 

Even though they couldn't possibly be more different, Lambert somewhat reminded Jaskier of himself. Jaskier is happy with his place in the world now, but he had to carve it out for himself, which hadn't always been easy. He remembers a time when he, too, felt trapped in the life he was born into, never good enough to satisfy his parents or to become a person in his own right, not just the heir to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with. 

So the bitterness Lambert carries around with him feels very familiar. 

His third gift, therefore, is just as expensive as Vesemir's and on top of that requires a large amount of convincing to work out. Luckily, Jaskier has practice annoying someone enough until they agree to anything. He spent most of his life perfecting the skill with the involuntary help of his lover.

By the time winter comes around again, the specially commissioned Gwent card will have started distribution. Though of course Jaskier will carry a copy of the new Lambert hero card with him as well and present it to Geralt's younger brother. He's made sure it would be stronger than the White Wolf card that became popular in recent years. 

Ciri's gift is easy enough. Jaskier simply buys the biggest, fluffiest teddy bear he can find. Ciri is going to roll her eyes at him and claim that she isn't a kid anymore, but that's exactly what makes it the perfect present. With all that destiny business, the kid forgets far too often to allow herself to be a child sometimes. 

How to get this monstrous thing, which is nearly as tall as Jaskier, back to Kaer Morhen is an entirely different story, though… 

The gift for Yennefer isn't hard to find either once he meets up with Geralt and travels with him again. In a run-down little general store in a village in the middle of nowhere, in the furthest corner of the shop, hidden under a fishing net and a set of gardening tools, lies the most atrocious knitted sweater Jaskier has ever seen. There's no reason to abandon old traditions, even if he and Yennefer don’t meet up at Oxenfurt anymore. And in case Yennefer doesn't attend Kaer Morhen this winter, he'll simply keep it around until the next time they meet. The knitwear is so incredibly ugly, it would be a shame to waste it. 

Geralt informs him one day that Lambert will bring a plus one. Not a boyfriend or close friend or anything, just a superficial acquaintance. The fact that Lambert risked his own hide to save the man's life is - apparently - entirely coincidental and without meaning. It's just that this other Witcher of the Cat school has no other place to spend the winter. Nothing more. 

Geralt calls his little brother an emotionally constipated idiot and Jaskier can't help but burst out laughing at the hypocrisy. 

Jaskier isn't sure whether to get this Aiden a gift as well since he never met the man, but as so often in his life, fate takes matters into its own hands. 

He's perusing his favorite clothes store in Vizima when he finds the most beautiful scarf. It's big and woolen and perfectly flashy. Every handspan or so the pattern and colours change completely. All in all it shows every colour of the rainbow. 

That is not the gift for Aiden, of course. But it's going to look great on Jaskier, especially since Geralt still insists he wears that old grey winter cloak. Granted, the cloak is warm, but oh so boring looking. The scarf will be just the right accessory to add a bit of color to his winter wardrobe. 

The gift for Aiden he comes across as he leaves the store. A little boy, who must be the owner's son, sits at the side of the road and busies himself with thread and needle. 

Curious, Jaskier steps closer and finds that the boy is attaching pieces of felt to a simple hairband. 

Once the kid is done he puts the headband on and the felt pieces stand up in such a way that it appears like the boy has kitten ears growing out of his head. 

Jaskier considers for a moment but then decides that if this Aiden is voluntarily hanging out with Lambert, he must have a good sense of humor. He buys the headband off the boy and heads back to his and Geralt's inn room. 

Maybe it's because he's traveling with Geralt and can't really go looking for a gift for the White Wolf, but by the time their departure for Kaer Morhen rolls around, Jaskier has a little something for everyone, except Geralt. He doesn't even have an idea what he could gift to the man. Anything practical like a new whetstone, better armor or a fancy dagger is something that Geralt is far better equipped to pick out himself. Jaskier has little knowledge about such things. 

And while Jaskier has spent the last twenty years of his life convincing the big oaf that he deserves pretty things every once in a while, too, Jaskier can't think of anything that wouldn't just be in the way when they eventually set out on the Path again. 

The end of autumn creeps closer and closer and Jaskier’s head stubbornly remains empty. It shouldn't be this hard to think of something that Geralt would enjoy. After all, Jaskier has known him for over two decades now. But it seems like everything he could get his favorite Witcher he has already gotten him at some point during their travels. 

He still has no idea when they pass the last village on the way to the Witchers’ keep. 

Or when they start making their way up the mountain path. 

Maybe there's a pretty rock he can pick up? 

What? No, that's a dumb idea. He's not just gonna pick up a random rock just because he's desperate. At this point he'll just have to accept the fact that he has no gift for Geralt.

They reach the keep after two days of tedious climbing - not something Jaskier missed from his last visit - and are greeted at the gates by the other Witchers. Geralt's family members each welcome Geralt with a short hug and a pat on the back, while another man, who must be Lambert's tagalong, awkwardly stands to the side. Vesemir and Eskel nod at Jaskier courtly, Lambert only grunts at him. 

Jaskier makes eye contact with Aiden who rolls his eyes at him apologetically over Lambert's behaviour. 

Then Geralt brings Roach to the stables and they all quickly make their way inside. 

In the large dining hall they meet Yennefer and Ciri. Apparently they only came here a day earlier via portal, making Jaskier and Geralt the last to arrive. 

"I have welcoming gifts!" Jaskier addresses everyone. 

Eskel reacts to his present with eyes narrowed in confusion. Then they grow wide with realisation and wonder. 

Lambert scoffs when Jaskier hands him his parcel. He doesn't scoff again after he unpacks it. 

Aiden grins at him widely and immediately puts his gift on. 

Vesemir simply hums appreciatively. It reminds Jaskier far too much of Geralt. He supposes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. 

Ciri, as expected, reacts with a pout and the declaration that she's not a child anymore. Still, she clutches the plushy to her chest and refuses to let it go when Aiden says he'll take it if she doesn't like it. 

Yennefer snarls at her sweater and quickly turns away from the group to hide it, but just like Ciri does with the teddy bear, she clutches it to her chest protectively. 

Which only leaves Geralt. 

"I, uh…, " Jaskier stutters and stares at his empty hands. 

"Hmm," Geralt hums. "Saving the best for last?" 

He grabs Jaskier by the shoulder, turns him around so that he's facing the room. He hugs Jaskier from behind and places his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

"Seems like you got me the best gift of all," Geralt hums. "Look!" 

Confused, Jaskier glances about the room. Vesemir and Eskel are sitting in a corner, flipping through their respective books. Lambert is chasing Aiden through the room, who has stolen his Gwent card and is waving it around tauntingly. Ciri holds the teddy out to Yennefer, who's holding her sweater to the bear's chest to see if it would fit him. There's nothing out of the ordinary that Jaskier can spot. 

"I don't under-" he begins. 

"Everyone's here," Geralt explains. "My whole family in one place for the very first time. I couldn't possibly ask for more." 

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #Jaskier #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #aiden #vesemir #ciri #Yennefer of Vengerberg #theblobfishwrites

[theasstour]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 21k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: my baby @shepherald... grazie mille my dear one! i’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for bb, and i’ll never be able to put into words how much you mean to me! i love you so much! thank you!

A/N2: so, this is it! last chapter of bb! it honestly doesn’t seem real, and i’m so sad i have to let painter!harry go cos i’ve grown quite fond of him the year i’ve spent thinking about him and this fic! what bb represents is what makes this fic so special to me. i - a plus size woman - never felt like i belonged anywhere. i assumed i was unloveable from never seeing a bigger person like myself in a book or a film where that person was deemed attractive. they were always the clown, or ‘the fat character’, or their entire storyline was based around them needing to lose weight. i’ve gotten pretty fucking tired of never seeing myself represented properly in fiction or irl or ANYWHERE for that matter, so i decided to take matters into my own hands, and i cannot begin to tell you how LIBERATING and AMAZING it felt! to each person who reached out to me saying bb made them confident, made them feel like they weren’t alone, opened their eyes to what life as a bigger person is: i love you all. this is the exact reason why i wrote bb. fat doesn’t equal ugly, it doesn’t equal unloveable, it doesn’t equal any negatively charged words. fat equals beautiful, it equals human. and anyone who ever tries to tell you otherwise can choke lmao. enjoy this last instalment of bb, i love you all so much x

Sunday, 1 March 2020

Y/N had always thought that the biggest changes were those you didn’t pay immediate notice to. Like the changing of the seasons, aging on your birthday, when the clock struck 12 and a new day began. Changes that were caused by time; that could not be prevented. Loads of changes couldn’t be prevented, but it was impossible to escape time. Manmade to make life simpler to live, and yet it’s what kills us in the end. However, Y/N had come to learn that some changes – the biggest and worst of them all – pained you so much, they didn’t fully leave your body. Like a volcanic eruption, they’d come every now and again, but would leave you scorched and burning for days. She chose not to think about those changes.

But it was hard when she was out shopping with her younger sister and said younger sister would not stop bloody chattering. The first day of spring had brought nothing but clouds and the occasional fall of some rain. Y/N wasn’t impressed. Wasn’t a new season supposed to bring something else? So far it just felt like any other winter day in south England.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Looking up at Portia, it was painfully obvious Y/N hadn’t been paying attention to anything her sister had been saying.

Portia raised her eyebrows. “Are you taking the mick right now?”

“What?!”

“You’re not even listening to what I’ve been saying.” Portia scanned her Oyster card and walked on into Haggerston station, leaving Y/N sighing behind her. Y/N scanned her own card and followed, knowing that her sister would not stop being annoying unless she asked what she’d been talking about. The second she began talking again, she’d forget Y/N wasn’t listening to begin with.

The two were on their way to Victoria Station, Portia was going back home after having stayed with Y/N in her shared flat in Hackney for two weeks, having had some modelling jobs to attend to. And now that she was done, she would be going home to their mother and staying there for a week until she had to come back down to London for some more jobs. Y/N was getting rather sick of her little sister staying with her when she could easily find her own flat, but she figured she’d bring that conversation up another time. A time when she hadn’t pissed her sister off already that day.

“Tia,” Y/N said as they reached the Southbound platform, the windy remnants of the storm that had just been making it freezing to be taking the Overground and wait outside for the next tube to arrive. “What were you saying?”

“Do you even care?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“This bloke I’ve been going on dates with while I’ve been here, right,” Portia started crossing her arms over her chest as the tube started approaching, knowing that a gust of wind would accompany it. “He’s got this friend that’s been eyeing me up the two times I’ve met him. He’s fit and everything, but I’m seeing Azeem, you know.”

“Tell Azeem his mate makes you feel uncomfortable and he’ll do something about it till next time you meet.”

“But he doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable, that’s the thing.” Portia sighed as the two girls walked up to the yellow line, waiting for the train to stop so they could get on. “I just think it’s annoying.”

“That men find you attractive?”

“That the fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have.”

“Oh, my days, Portia.” Y/N mumbled, getting on the Overground and sitting down in one of the orange and brown seats. Portia sat down next to her, putting her bag on the ground beside her feet.

“What, Y/N?”

“You just sound like a bellend.”

“How?”

Y/N gave her a look.

“How?!”

“’The fit one’s are always the ones I can’t have’? At least you’re dating someone, and they’re interested in you.”

“And Azeem is delicious, but his mate’s got…”

“Got what?”

Portia sighed. “Got nice arms.”

Y/N leaned her head against the wall behind her, it swayed with the moving coach.

“I know it’s not all about looks.”

“It really is not.”

“But I still can’t help myself.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Don’t be rude.” Portia nudged her sister’s shoulder. “If you’d just go out and date people as well, you’d have the same problems.”

Y/N huffed, looking at Portia. “Doubt it.”

Portia rested one leg on top of the other, examining her nails. “You’re so boring sometimes.”

“Cheers.”

“No,” Portia glanced at Y/N again. “But isn’t it boring to just be sat inside all day?”

“Oh, it’s incredibly boring to get an education.”

Portia rolled her eyes.

“Go out of my mind going to lectures, writing my dissertation, doing other assessments, and applying to thousands of jobs a day.”

Portia crossed her arms, looking ahead.

“So boring.”

“I know you pride yourself on the fact you’re gonna be a vet.”

“Shouldn’t I?”

Portia sighed, refusing to answer. The two kept quiet after that. Y/N knew in order to make Portia shut up, she just had to bring up her education. Portia was fully aware that Y/N was the smartest one out of the two of them – quite frankly, the smartest one in their entire family – and if Y/N rubbed it in, Portia would keep quiet. Reminding her sister how she’d gotten into the University of her dreams and was doing great, was a low blow, Y/N knew that. But at the same time, Portia just pissed her off so much sometimes that she simply could not help herself.

The two got up as they reached their stop at Canada Water, and walked off towards the Jubilee line once the tube doors opened. Portia’s bag kept bumping into Y/N as they walked, and though she would normally tell her to piss off, to keep her bag closer, she didn’t know. Giving Portia a reason to start shouting at her in the middle of a tube station was not ideal. She was mad enough as it was.

They got on the escalator, Y/N was just about to tell Portia what direction to walk in once they reached the bottom since her little sister always forgot, but Portia gasped before Y/N got the chance. Looking up at her sister, Portia’s eyes were wide, a small smile lingering on her lips. She pointed to the digital posters that lined the wall along the escalator, making Y/N look to her right to see what had gotten her sister all excited.

It was the colour that stood out first. She remembered the exact shade of it. The painting stood out second, then the colour of the person’s hair, the shape of their body, the shoes. The landscape, the warm colours. It was her. It was the same day she’d found Viola. The same day Harry had supposedly… No, she couldn’t even finish that thought. She’d tried not to think of him for months now. As they passed another one of the posters, she looked at it again. In white and bold letters, the text on the poster said ‘H. Styles’ exclusive and limited new exhibition. 11:00-18:00. 23rd February – 1st March. Dover Street, Mayfair. £10 admission.’

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Portia said, tapping her finger against the screen multiple times as they passed yet another one of the posters. “What the fuck?”

The exact same statement was going on repeat in Y/N’s head as well. Seeing the painting, seeing herself on that poster, it brought back so incredibly many memories from a time she had tried to forget.

Ever since they had parted ways, Y/N and Harry had only talked on a handful of occasions. They would text one another – very early on, Harry even called her twice (only after making sure the time zones weren’t fucked and she wasn’t asleep) -, and they did so for a long while, but then Harry’s answers got shorter and shorter, and Y/N felt like he might be falling out of love. She didn’t want to ask him in case she was reading too much into things, afraid of what the answer might be. She was still in love with him, would probably be so till the day she died, but she didn’t want to force him to talk to her if he wasn’t feeling it anymore.

As time went on, their text conversations got less frequent, and by Christmas, they weren’t talking at all. Y/N had tried to forget about him, thinking that he might have just viewed what they had as an intense summer romance and that was it. After all, he was a passionate and artistic man, maybe he fell in love with the thought, image, and what she represented to his summer more than her person. It all hurt to think about, which was why she rarely allowed herself to think about him at all. She hadn’t seen him in almost seven months, she was terrified of what that distance had done to them. To his heart. Because hers still longed for his in every way a person could yearn for another. It proved hard living apart from a person whose name you had etched onto the organ that kept you alive.

They reached the bottom of the escalator and the two girls stepped off, Y/N blinking a few extra times because she simply could not hold tears back when she was thinking about Harry. Portia walked beside Y/N, mouth agape.

“Y/N,” she said. “We have to go.”

Y/N sniffled, pretending it was because she’d caught a cold. “Why?”

Portia glanced at her as if she was insane.

“What?”

“Don’t even start, Y/N. We’re going. I need to see those paintings and so do you.” Portia walked onto the Jubilee tube, Y/N following straight after. They held onto a pole, and when Y/N averted her eyes to the advertisement on the walls of the coach, she saw Harry’s poster again. They were everywhere, how hadn’t she noticed them before?

“Dover Street.” Portia said. “Right by Piccadilly, innit?”

“Yeah.”

“Brill, we just jump off at Green Park and walk for like five minutes and we’ll be there.”

Y/N sighed, suddenly feeling like she needed to throw up.

Portia grinned, looking at Y/N. “I’m excited now.”

“Portia, this is a bad idea.”

“It’s a splendid idea.” Portia corrected. “I need to see all the paintings. I’m sure they’re amazing.”

Y/N had never told Portia she hadn’t seen the paintings herself, that Harry hadn’t let her. But then again, there were a lot of things she hadn’t told Portia about last summer and H. Styles. Her heart was beating way faster than normal, she was suddenly sweating. The notion that Harry might be there was overwhelming, that he had probably been in London for a while now but not contacted her made her entire body ache in a way it had never done before. Though Harry being at his own gallery didn’t make sense on any other days than the opening one, Y/N was still sick thinking about meeting him. He wouldn’t be there, but she still was wary of going.

“What’s gotten into you, you look faint.” Portia pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

“I think it’s a really bad idea to go to that exhibition.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Portia groaned. “These are paintings of you. You’re literally the star of the whole thing.”

Y/N shrugged.

“Besides, I don’t think we have to pay a tenner since you literally spent all summer with him so he could paint you. Free admission equals ‘why the fuck not’.”

Would Harry even want her there? They hadn’t talked after all; he hadn’t told her he was in London. Maybe he didn’t want her to come see the paintings. Maybe he just wanted her to stay away.

She hated how much she was overthinking this. The last thing she wanted to do was step on Harry’s toes, especially now that they hadn’t spoken in a while. Especially because she loved him and was afraid he didn’t anymore. However, realising the reason she was overthinking in the first place, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was because Harry meant so much to her. Never could she face him now without knowing if he felt the same way about her.

Portia dragged Y/N off at Green Park, walking towards the exit with an excited gleam in her eyes. Y/N’s stomach hurt so much she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to lay down in a foetal position and die. This was all so sudden, so overwhelming. They exited the underground, and as they reached the outside again, the sun was shining and the wind didn’t seem as horrible. It didn’t ease Y/N’s nerves one bit, though.

It took them a total of three minutes to reach Dover Street, and the exhibition was one of the first things that caught Y/N’s eyes. The entire front was made of glass, covered in a baby blue sheet that read ‘H. Styles’ new exclusive exhibition.’ Portia gripped Y/N’s arm, squealing before she looked both ways and crossed the street. Y/N knew Dover Street was known for having numerous contemporary art galleries, but looking down the street, none stood out as much as Harry’s. It was impossible to view any of the paintings through the windows, undoubtedly leaving people wanting to pay the 10 quid to do just that. Y/N was torn between actually wanting to walk inside or sprint back to Hackney.

“Why’re you hesitating? Come on!” Portia took Y/N’s hand and opened the door with the other, forcing Y/N in first.

The reception was dark, absolutely everything covered in black from the floor to the ceiling. There was nothing on the walls, nothing that stood out. But in the middle of the room stood another black wall, covering the proper entrance to the actual exhibition. In front of it stood a reception desk in the same colour, and behind it sat an old man, but he was accompanied by a figure Y/N recognised right away. Portia walked straight up to the desk, a huge smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the old man said, smiling right back at her.

“Hi, my sister and I would love to just enter the exhibition, please.”

“20 pounds, then.” Jamie said, standing bent over a pile of papers that they were signing and reading over.

“No, you don’t understand,” Portia started, turning around and beckoning Y/N over. “My sister is a good friend of H. Styles.”

Jamie looked up, their eyes immediately landing on Y/N. And just like that, she was brought right back to last summer and everything Jamie had told Harry on one of her last nights there. So many memories washed over her that it made her a little dizzy. The car rides where she and Jamie would sit in the backseat and discuss animals, life, or anything else that would’ve caught their attention. The other times when they’d wait for Harry to get ready downstairs. She didn’t know how to act. Did she give them a hug? Did she smile? Did she say something? This was exactly why she didn’t want to go.

“Y/N,” Jamie said, standing up straight.

“So you recognise her!” Portia was elated. “Can we just walk on in then?”

Jamie and Y/N didn’t break eye contact, both at a loss for words. It was clear that something went down between them, that there was something unspoken in the air of the reception hall. Y/N looked away, not wanting to have Portia ask her about Jamie once they entered the gallery. She didn’t want to tell her; didn’t want to recount anything from her time in Italy.

“Yeah,” Jamie hastily reached for two brochures, locking eyes with Y/N again as he handed them to her. Portia raised her eyebrows, catching on that something was going on. She looked at Y/N. “Don’t take any photographs, if any of our guards see you do so, you will be asked to leave and pay a fine. Other than that, I hope you enjoy.” Y/N knew they were talking to both her and Portia, but by the look in their eyes, she felt as though they were talking to her alone.

“Thank you very much.” Portia smiled, taking one of the brochures and walking away from them.

Y/N looked at the brochure, just as baby blue as the sheet that had covered the front of the gallery, the same writing on it as well. Her eyes met Jamie’s again, and there was something about the way they glanced at her that was so sad. Somewhere in the wrinkle between their eyebrows Y/N saw an apology of sorts. Regret so deep and intense that she could feel it herself. They didn’t say anything, but Y/N felt the agony; saw something in their eyes that she hadn’t experienced herself, but that they needed her to see. She gave them a small smile before following Portia and walking around the wall behind the reception desk, keeping her eyes on the brochure in her hands.

If meeting Jamie had her shaken up this bad, she didn’t even want to begin to think what an encounter with Harry would bring. The leaflet was shaking in her hand, begging for her to open it. What would it even hold? Copies of the paintings? No, if they weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, why would he have them attached in leaflets for anyone to see?

“Oh, my word.” Portia said, making Y/N look up.

The entrance to the gallery had her halting. Just like everything else, she recognised it right away. All over the wall was a painting she’d seen on her first week last summer; seen on one of her last days when she’d shown it to Harry.

“When I first moved into the flat, I found a painting in this wardrobe.” She pulled it down, taking a glance at the autumn painting depicting a gravel path leading nowhere into darkness. Turning around, she walked back over to the bed, handing the painting to Harry. “That’s only one of like, two of your paintings I’ve really seen, other was one of the sea back in your house. Mind if I ask what inspired this one?”

A projector planted it on the dark surface, welcoming the guests to the gallery. A gravel path leading off far into the dark distance, tall oak trees surrounding it, filled with the rich colours of autumn. Though it was filled with yellow and green, two colours that would normally have positive connotations, Y/N couldn’t help but get quite the opposite vibes staring at it, just like all the other times she’d seen it. There was something about it she couldn’t put her finger on. Like there laid a secret at the end of the path; an explanation in the black of the unknown.

“It’s the drive to my house back in Manchester. The drive up to my childhood home, or… this is facing the other way.” He explained, dragging his finger gently along the gravel path. “It’s what you see when you’re leaving.” He shifted the attention of his finger to the trees of different colours. “Autumn, the dull colours…” he trailed off, as if reliving a memory he’d almost suppressed; something he’d pushed so far into the back of his head it had almost vaporised and disappeared into nothingness. “This was when I left home, when I first moved to London.” He pointed at the darkness at the end of the gravel path. “That’s the end of the road, I couldn’t make it out clearly. My future, I mean. It’s all supposed to represent uncertainty.”

Portia looked over her shoulder at Y/N, squealing. The darkness at the end of the painting was a hallway, a dark corridor that seemed to be leading off into nowhere. Her sister stood there waiting for her, reaching her hand out so they could walk through the darkness together. But Y/N needed to take a moment and just look at the wall, because it was one of the very first of his paintings she’d ever seen, and now she was about to see all of the other paintings he had refused to let her see. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, took Portia’s hand, and the two walked into the dark hallway. Y/N felt her grip on Portia’s hand tighten for each step they took

“Why didn’t they just put some bloody lights in here?-“

But just as Portia said that, the exhibition was revealed to them. It was black. Dim white lights lit up the room on the walls and ceiling, illuminating the floating balls that were lined up down the room. Looking at the walls first, Y/N realised the light appeared as stars. Dotted along the walls and ceiling, lighting up the room and revealing the huge round objects that appeared to be floating, but was held from the ceiling and the floor by metal poles. The first one was completely dark, and as the two sisters walked on closer, Portia gasped a little.

“Y/N,”

“What?”

“How many planets are there in our Solar System?”

Y/N frowned, but as her eyes met Portia’s she understood immediately. Taking a step to the side, she looked down the room, seeing that there were quite a few others visiting the gallery as well. Harry was an immense painter, after all. Everyone knew who he was. However, Y/N couldn’t focus on the other people in the room with her, she started counting the different sized round objects that were nicely lined.

“Eight.” Y/N answered.

“And how many-“

“-Eight.”

Portia squeezed Y/N’s hand, eyes wide with some kind of realisation. The sisters looked at one another for a minute before Portia opened her mouth to speak again.

“Why the fuck has he done that, Y/N?”

Y/N shook her head. “Dunno.-“

“-You do.” Portia said. “That’s why that person back there looked at you all intense as well, wasn’t it? What happened last summer? You never spoke of it.”

Y/N sighed, closing her eyes. “Portia, it’s… it’s incredibly complicated and… and it’s a long story.”

Portia groaned, clinging to Y/N’s arm. “I don’t care, Y/N. I want to know. For fuck’s sake, look around you,”

Y/N opened her eyes, doing as her sister told her to.

“It’s so painfully obvious, Y/N.”

 Y/N refused to believe it was. She didn’t want to believe that what Portia was insinuating was true, because it would mean the last few months had been for nothing. It would mean the countless hours she’d cried, the times she stopped herself from thinking about him, from yearning for him, from going back to a time spent with him and cursing herself for doing so; it was not worth it. Trying to forget him had meant nothing.

Portia tapped Y/N’s arm, catching her attention. She gestured at the painting they stood in front of, giving Y/N a little smile. Y/N looked at it, and she was immediately taken back to the exact moment of it.

There was a hole in the planet in the shape of the canvas, white light washing over it to reveal it completely to the gallery visitors. Portia opened the catalogue as Y/N studied the painting Harry had never let her view. His first painting of her.

“Miss Sweeney,” Harry said, pointing at the hill. “You-“

“-You can just call me Y/N.”

“You need to stand far away.”

Shocking. But there was no use making that comment. She took her cardigan off, putting it along with her purse in the backseat of the car.

“You will find a tree further down if you just walk straight ahead, it’s got a blue ribbon on it. Stop there with your back facing me. And don’t move until I tell you so.”

As she started walking down the hill, she could feel Harry watching her, studying her every move and every surface of her body. She supposed he wanted to make sure she found the ribbon, as well as to see what he was working with.

An abundance of colours surrounded her; green, grey, yellow, brown. She could barely make out the baby blue dress amongst the nature swallowing her, there was no way of knowing the colour of her hair, the proper colour of her skin, or any of her characteristics. The only thing that stood out was the colour of her dress, but even that wasn’t as prominent as she remembered the colour to be.

“Won’t that smear the paint everywhere?”

Harry looked at her, those two familiar lines appearing between his brows. “How?”

“Shouldn’t it be left to dry or something?”

“It’s dry.”

She frowned back at him. “Already?”

“I finished a while ago, left it to dry for around an hour.”

The memory made her smile some, regardless of how infuriated she remembered being. It was the fact that they had started out like that; polar opposites with absolutely nothing in common. Two people who couldn’t see eye to eye on anything. That fact was easy to note in the first painting, seeing the insignificant role she played in the actual painting. The Tuscan landscape could’ve done fine without her presence in it, she wasn’t even placed in the middle of the painting where nature parted to reveal Fosdinovo, but somewhere to the right of it, in the middle of the trees.

Portia tugged at Y/N’s sleeve, motioning for her to follow her to the next painting behind the first one. It was the same as the first one; a rectangle shaped hole in the dark planet, lights surrounding it to show it off. She smiled again.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Do you see that rock over there?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Sit there facing me.”

She knew there was no use saying anything back, so she simply walked over to the rock and sat down like he wanted her to. It wasn’t comfortable to sit on, and she didn’t think she’d be able to sit there for two hours straight. Then again if she decided she needed a break, the painter would undoubtedly show his annoyance in some way. He instructed her to straighten her legs, crossing them at the ankle, leaning back on her hands. He said he wanted her to “be looking directly into the sun.”

“That could literally ruin my eyes.”

“Art goes beyond comfort.”

“I want to be able to see said art.”

Y/N felt like she was transported right back to the moment of the painting, like she could feel, see, smell everything. Though she had known that would probably be the effect once she saw the collection, she hadn’t been aware it would be this intense. The notion Harry had painted these of her; that he had painted them before, during, and after everything happened between them, it struck her. He’d been working on these for so long; she had been a forced part of his life for so long. Maybe that was why they’d stopped talking. He’d gotten tired of her. Gotten enough of her.

The colour of her dress was the same as the previous painting; it stood out, but not in a contrasting way like you thought the colour of baby blue would when surrounded by woods. The white sunlight lit up most of her surroundings, making them blend well with the dress, but then again, she could recall quite clearly how bright the sun had been that day. Though she had hated the heat of the Italian weather in the beginning, towards the end she’d gotten kind of used to it. It was almost cold coming back home to a normal British summer.

Y/N groaned, positioning her head like he wanted her to. “Went to this baker Wednesday.” It just slipped out. She had genuinely not meant to say it, but now that she’d already mentioned it, she might as well go all the way.

Harry didn’t respond.

“Said you were known around town as the grumpy Brit.”

She didn’t see him stop painting, but she could tell he halted a little. “Who said that?”

Trying not to smile as she had somehow managed to capture his attention. “Does it matter?” Y/N didn’t know why people wanted to know what someone else thought of them. It was out of their control. Then again, she supposed, she’d brought it up so it was partly her fault he asked in the first place.

Harry huffed.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What was the –“ Y/N imitated his exasperated huff.

“Whoever said that,” Harry said, bending down a bit and disappearing completely behind the canvas. “They’re a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N nodded her head, pursing her lips before she clicked her tongue loudly. Harry glanced up. “Great argument.”

It was weird how there had been a time prior to how she was feeling now. That at the time of this painting, she hadn’t been in love with Harry. The hands that had created this artwork hadn’t yet touched her; hadn’t yet loved her. She wanted to reach through the glass that separated the canvas from them; wanted to feel the paint and the memories that came with it.

But Portia was impatient, having already started walking around the planet to the next one. She looked down into the brochure, a furrow to her brows and concentration on her face as she read something on it before taking in the third painting. This was the one Y/N almost remembered best. This was the one that changed her and Harry’s relationship in a way neither of them was made aware of till after. You don’t realise the pivotal moments in your life till after they’ve happened, but as they’re happening, you don’t understand their incredible impact. Harry nor Y/N knew how big of a role Viola would play in their lives. What her presence would do to them.

“Is that a smile I see?” she teased. “You got a rise out of me, and now you’re pleased with yourself?”

He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head without looking away from the painting before him.

“Right then.” Y/N said, eager to get the conversation going again. “What’re you best at? There’s a lot of stuff you can do with gymnastics, innit?”

Harry wasted no time. “Swing bar.”

Y/N’s eyebrows immediately shot upward. Trying to be subtle, she let her eyes fall to his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and the curve of his slight biceps. The tan he’d gotten did wonders to the outline of his muscles. Stop, stop, stop-

“Explains the arms.”

Oh. My. God. Immediately she felt her cheeks heat up. And her blushing got worse when Harry looked up at her. He huffed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been checking me out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have not.”

She walked closer, feeling her bottom lip start to wobble as she saw the painting. Harry had depicted the cliff, the ocean, the forest, the atmosphere of that clifftop perfectly. It was exactly as she remembered it. Just looking at it brought her back to finding Viola, to watching Harry pet her to calm her down, the closeness in the back of Gioele’s car. How willing Harry was to help. How good he’d smelled. How hot his skin had been against hers. That was the first time she’d ever seen him smile; first time she’d seen him happy. It was the first time she saw him show compassion; saw him worry. She hadn’t known then, but she knew for certain now, that if Viola hadn’t stepped out of the woods at that second on that day while Harry and Y/N hadn’t been talking, then none of this would’ve happened.

“What?” His voice was a whisper, the small word leaving his lips like a simple puff of air that hit her jaw, sending a storm of goosebumps up and down her back.

“Your…” she started, swallowing thickly before looking down at the cat in her arms. “Your moped.”

“I’ll get it later.”

She hated that he sounded like he wasn’t faced by the close proximity at all.

“What if someone steals your painting?”

Looking up at him, she realised once again how close they were. They might have been close earlier when he helped calm the cat down outside, but this… this was close. She felt his hot breath against her lips, in her nose; felt his eyes on her like there was nowhere else to look in the car; felt everything too much. He was… so handsome. So incredibly good looking. There was undoubtedly sweat along her hairline and cupid bow, but she literally could not reach up to remove it right now. She was unable to move, not only because of the cat, but because of Harry.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N,” Portia said, pointing at the painting. “What’s that?”

Y/N walked over, looking at what Portia had asked her about. Though she didn’t see it at first, having mistaken it for a dark rock or something alike, Y/N gasped a little when she realised what it was. Small pointy ears, fur a dark brown with some striped black and desert brown and a tail swaying upward. The cat was so tiny, hidden amongst the tall grass by the forest, looking at Y/N with big pleading eyes. Y/N had almost forgotten what Viola looked like, but seeing her on the canvas, it was like being back in Fosdinovo, walking the cobblestoned streets with the little kitten following her every step.

“Viola.” Y/N answered, blinking a few times as her eyesight started to blur.

“What?”

“A cat.”

“A live one?”

“I, uhh,” Y/N nodded. “The day of that painting we found an injured cat in the woods and brought her to the nearest vet so I could help nurse her. She’d broken her foot.”

Portia looked at Y/N, raising her eyebrows. “And you called her Viola?”

“Yeah,” Y/N didn’t take her eyes off the cat. “She stayed with me the rest of the summer.”

Portia turned to face her sister. “Where is she now?”

“Dunno.” Y/N sighed. “I… dunno.”

Y/N looked at Portia, giving her a little smile before walking towards the next painting. Looking at Viola and knowing that she’d left the cat in Harry’s house in Fosdinovo, also knowing Harry had most likely moved out of the Italian mountain village, it hurt. She had no idea what happened to the cat after she left. Absolutely no idea of how she was doing or who was taking care of her now. There were many times when Y/N had cursed herself for not bringing Viola back home with her. After all, they had created a little bond between them that Y/N now realised would stay with her forever.

Walking up to the fourth painting, Y/N felt herself halt some, watching as Portia walked right up to it to study it properly. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because Harry had taught her about how he painted during the summer, if she was getting an eye for these things, or if she was just that observant, but she could swear there was something about this one that set it apart from the other few she’d seen up till now.

It dawned on her that for each painting, her figure had gotten closer and closer to Harry. As if the focus shifted from the nature around her to her alone. From far away in the first one, to taking up the whole lower half of the canvas in this fourth one. Her figure was the first thing you saw. The baby blue dress that only barely covered her bum, her bare legs, her white knee socks, her white docs.

“Don’t bend your knee that much.”

Y/N readjusted her knee.

“No.”

“Then how?!”

The grass shifted behind her, and looking to her right, she noticed Harry walking over. For some reason, Harry getting closer got her heart beating so hard she heard it in her ears and her muscles tensing. He sat down before her, a concentrated furrow to his brows that wasn’t at all intimidating. He just looked focused, deep inside his own head, constructing and planning his new painting.

For some reason, she hadn’t thought of the reason for Harry coming over, only that he was. So when he reached for her leg, she almost jumped.

She blinked as she remembered the first time Harry touched her willingly like that. How he had barked orders at her in the beginning, to coming over and moving her leg like he’d done. It made her thigh seem very cold all of a sudden.

“You’re not being serious right now.” Portia hissed, sliding her finger in the air along with the outline of the mountains at the far back of the painting.

They were dark against the pink, orange, and blue sky, so was the forest, making Y/N stand out majestically against everything else. The hint of a small white outline in the sky showed the presence of the early moon, welcoming the oncoming night. Y/N couldn’t remember seeing the moon that afternoon, but then again, she didn’t remember much besides the fact that she laughed with Harry that day and he touched her bare thigh. But Portia had miraculously seen what had captured Y/N’s attention as well. The landscape in the painting, though it wasn’t blatantly obvious, it resembled her figure. It swayed where her hips did; dipped where her legs did. It did so in a natural manner, Harry had made them seem like actual mountains and not just a replica of her curves, but Y/N couldn’t see anything else.

“The blue,” Portia said, pointing at Y/N’s dress and then at the slight streak of blue in the sky. “Kinda looks alike, does it not?”

Y/N didn’t pay much attention to it. She started walking away, eager to see the next painting, which she knew was a very special one because it might be the one she remembered the most clearly. As she rounded the planet and started walking toward the fifth one, a huge white orb caught her attention. The detail in all of Harry’s creations caught her off guard, but the moon she was looking at right now looked so real it took her breath away. She saw herself standing in the water; saw the baby blue dress; the knee socks and her Dr Marten’s in the sand. It all looked like a photograph, only the moon was abnormally big. But all his paintings looked so real it was almost like if you stripped the display of the glass protection, you could walk right into the world he’d created on the canvas and live there forever.

“What about you?” he asked again, voice low like a mumble.

Y/N hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was hammering, how every nerve in her entire body was on high alert, how every cell was screaming for him to get closer. “What about me?”

“You’re never as alone as your head makes you believe. The moon is always there.” He said, eyes searching her face. “What about you?”

“Will I always be there?”

He just looked at her, clearly thinking that his look was answer enough.

Her breath hitched somewhere in her throat, and she hoped the rush of emotions that was running through her didn’t show on her face. Portia looked at her with an open mouth before taking in the fifth painting. Y/N knew exactly how her sister was feeling; that overwhelming need to ask herself and everyone else in the room if this was an actual painting, or something from someone’s most desired fantasy captured exactly as it was and printed onto canvas. And maybe it was. But Harry had taken days, weeks, months to finish these paintings, Y/N knew. She remembered those times when she’d watch him paint and he’d refuse to let her see them. She didn’t know why he didn’t want her to see them.

It was so beautiful it was hard to believe someone had made it; it just seemed too celestial for it to be real. She wanted to touch it where Harry had touched it, feel the strokes he’d made, the lines of paint. There was something about this one that sent a shock of pain through her heart no medicine could cure.

“I’d stay up only to get a small glimpse of you.”

She balled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her skin to hold herself back from crying. Because all she could remember was how fast Harry had kissed her back when she’d kissed him, the feeling of his lips against hers, and the taste of peach tea on his tongue. His hands roaming her body, gripping onto her thighs as she hooked her legs around his waist. His body against hers, their cells mingling, the moon shining her white light down on them, and the ocean swaying around them.

Portia walked around the planet and onto the next one, and giving the moon one last glance, Y/N followed her. Y/N couldn’t even remember this one. Maybe it was because everything that happened after the wedding blurred together, or maybe she’d just not thought about it enough for it to take up space in her head. But as she got closer, the idea of her being a model for this painting seemed unlikely.

The canvas was black as night, a huge moon in the centre of it like the one before. A figure was floating in the middle of the white moon, a baby blue gown clinging to its form and floating up behind them like they were sinking. As she got closer, Y/N saw that this wasn’t her. All the other paintings were of her, but this one wasn’t. This was Harry.

His arms were floating at an almost 90-degree angle, the baby blue gown hovering behind his arms and torso, just barely covering some of his thighs and crotch. One of his knees was bent a bit more than the other, and the tattoos he had up and down his muscular legs were very visible, making Y/N think back to a time she’d been allowed to touch them. His neck was craned backward, eyes closed and mouth parted ever so slightly, bubbles of air leaving him and making a hasty return for the water’s surface. She remembered his fright of the dark, how much he hated the ocean, but his facial expression showed one of peace. He didn’t seem afraid; didn’t seem like he dreaded any of it. It seemed like he was okay; ready to reach tranquillity and the ultimate meaning to life. He was surrendering himself, it seemed.

“Y/N, I swear to you,” Portia said, pointing at different places on the painting. “Look.”

“At what?”

“You mean you don’t see it?”

“See what, Portia?” Y/N knew she must sound irritated, but with everything going on and all the emotions she was feeling at once, she simply could not hold her anger back.

“The painting,” Portia directed Y/N’s attention back to the canvas. “Do you see?”

Y/N took a closer look.

“Do you see all the blue?”

And it was like her little sister flicked a switch, and suddenly, Y/N saw it. Blue. Baby blue. It was hidden in the waves along the top of the painting, in the shadows of the water, in and around the moon, in his hair, his body, his gown. Taking a few steps back, Y/N wondered how she hadn’t picked up on the blue right away. It was all over the painting. Most of the details on that canvas were baby blue.

Quickly, Y/N walked all the way back to the first painting. Portia just watched her, unsure what was going on, but not wanting to interrupt something if Y/N had come to some sort of realisation.

The only blue in the first one was her dress, in the second one, the sky resembled her dress some. In the third, the sky, ocean, and a bit of the grass surrounding her held the same colour as her and her dress, and in the fourth the landscape swayed along with her form, the sky, the woods, and certain highlights were the exact colour of the dress. How hadn’t she seen it all the first time around? Because once she took a few steps back, the baby blue stood out starkly against everything else. Marching straight past the fifth and the sixth, Y/N wanted to see the last two. Because the second to last put the finishing touch on everything.

The entire canvas was baby blue. Her form was outlined in white, but none of her features were shown. Her breasts, face, or any other part of her body was not included. But Y/N would remember that exact pose till the day she died and long after that also. Because it was the one where Harry had drawn on her; her arms above her head, her knee bent, leg resting over the other. She wondered if this had been the one he’d painted when she laid on the floor of his loft, but why had he been so incredibly detailed when he painted on her if he was just going to erase it forever? Not include it in one of his masterpieces? It didn’t make any sense.

“You let him draw you like one of his bloody French girls.” Portia hissed, about to burst out laughing when she stopped herself. The room was silent as people walked through the exhibition, neither of them wanted to be thrown out or something to that effect.

Y/N looked at her sister. “Yes.”

Portia’s eyes got wide. “Shut the fuck up.”

“He painted on me.”

“Shut. Up.”

Y/N glanced at the painting again, noting that the only thing on that canvas was the very careful outline of her.

“Exactly how well did you fuck him for him to do that?”

“Portia!” Y/N hissed. “Leave off.”

“I’m serious, Y/N, this seems like the summer of your entire life.” Portia smiled, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Did he do you good at least?”

Y/N only gave her a look.

“Oh, come on.” Portia pouted. “I just found out my sister has been shagging with my boss all summer, I want the deets.”

“Can that happen another time? I’m a little busy-“ Y/N gestured around her and Portia nodded, clearly eager to be done here so she could hear Y/N explain everything to her over the phone on her commute home.

“You know,” Portia started, holding up the leaflet. “If you’d just bothered and taken the time to look in the brochure, there’s a lot of information about all the paintings.”

Y/N frowned.

“I kind of had my suspicions about the two of you before you even said something just now.”

Y/N looked down at her brochure, reading the front of it again as she walked toward the last painting. She wanted to go through everything one more time and read the leaflet, she needed to know all the details and all the reasons why Harry had done what he’d done. When she glanced up again, the first thing she noticed was how the planet surrounding the canvas was glowing. A dark golden colour, looking a little like the moon, but as if it was on fire on the inside, the surface of it pure gold. She turned around and looked down the row of planets, meeting Portia’s eyes right after.

“The first one is black,” Portia said. “And the last one is golden.”

Y/N felt her heart hammering faster, felt herself begin to sweat.

“With each planet, you slowly fade into-“

“-Venus.” She finished, looking at the last planet she’d been named after. Y/N Venus Sweeney. She was so overwhelmed she felt a little faint, though she hadn’t known what to expect from the exhibition, this – all of it – was not it. She didn’t want to draw conclusions and think this whole collection was about her, but right now, looking at everything around her, it was hard to think anything else.

She still had one more painting to go, so she grabbed the leaflet and walked to stand in front of it. Instantly, she remembered it. She’d seen this one before. It seemed like ages ago, but she had seen this painting. It was the same one Gioele had stolen from Harry’s house and given to Salvatore and Carina as a wedding gift. Y/N had no idea why that one would be in the collection, what had made Harry put it there. She was just about to open the brochure and read what it said about this particular one when she heard a commotion behind her. The screeching of joggers against the floor as if someone was running, some gasps, Jamie shouting something.

Y/N turned around, and she recognised him right away. Her heart immediately started screaming his name. He walked down the row of planets in a haste, frantically scanning the crowds surrounding each quickly till he came to the last one where she stood. He stopped abruptly as his eyes landed on hers, a sigh of relief leaving him in between pants for air. Had he been running? Quickly, he swallowed, trying to regain his composure before he did anything. While he did that, Y/N took him in.

His hair had grown, he must’ve trimmed it some since last summer, but his curls were lush, his hair thick, and just as brown as she remembered it. He was wearing a colour-block patchwork cardigan with all the colours of the rainbow, a white tee shirt with some blue artwork printed on it, washed denim jeans, and his signature pink Converse. He looked healthy, maybe not as tan as she remembered him to be, but he looked good. He looked like the same Harry she had fallen in love with back then; it was still him. He was here. Right before her. After months apart, he was here.

“Y/N.” He said, voice faint as he took a reluctant step forward. It was like he realised what he was doing – getting closer to her when he had no idea if she still wanted that - and was almost about to take a step backward again but stopped himself.

She was unable to say anything at all. One second she had been about to take in the last painting of the collection, and the next Harry had rushed into his gallery and now he stood right in front of her. It didn’t seem real. The months they hadn’t talked, the months they hadn’t seen each other. They all hung in the air between them, pushed them apart from one another; demanding them to keep separated. She wanted to defy their distance, wanted to fling herself into his arms and melt into him like she had done so many times before, but the uncertainty, the separation, and the many curious eyes watching them stopped her.

Harry was about to say something else when his eyes fell on something behind her, clamping his mouth shut.

“Hi,” Portia said. “Don’t know if you remember me.”

“I-I do, I…” Harry’s eyes fell to Y/N again as he trailed off, glancing back at Portia after clearing his throat. “Portia.”

“And you’re H. Styles.” Y/N could hear the smile in Portia’s voice, and Y/N knew instantly she was taking the piss, telling Harry she knew exactly who he was and why he was here. Whispers were heard, as if the visitors all suddenly realised who they were looking at. Someone gasped and someone on the other side of the room started walking closer. Harry looked around him as if he just understood what he’d done by coming here. Their eyes met again, and Harry let out a sigh.

“Can we talk?” he asked, eyes big and pleading. “Please.”

Y/N looked at everyone around them, then back at Harry, hoping he’d understand that she didn’t want to do it in front of everyone else. Taking a few steps backward, Harry began walking towards the exit of the exhibition, making sure Y/N caught up with him before he started walking normally. Y/N glanced at Portia over her shoulder, but Portia was grinning so widely Y/N knew her sister was okay with her leaving her behind for a bit.

The next room they entered was just as dark as the first one, but the paintings were huge projections onto the walls, ceiling, and floor, showcasing all the details each of them portrayed. Harry walked quickly through the room, having seen this multiple times before – having created this -, but Y/N slowed. The attention to detail was incredible; it looked so real, yet it still looked like art. She was never able to really put her finger on it, but then again, she supposed that was what creativity was. The lines between what was certain and what was a craft from someone’s imagination, blurred to the point of doubt, yet it’s human nature to find an explanation for everything; but in art we find an excuse not to have one. Maybe that was what drew people to it; it was real, but not real enough to need reason.

He held the door open for her, leading her to a smoking area in the back of the gallery. Two trees rose up, some dead grass sprung up between the stone flooring, and, thankfully, no one was there. The sun was still shining, and somewhere not too far off, an ambulance siren was going off. It was weird to be with Harry in an environment other than quiet, warm, rural Fosdinovo, it was almost as if she associated him with the peace of the Italian countryside now. But she didn’t mind having him here in London. Not in the least. In fact, she liked it very much.

“Y/N,” he repeated, almost as if he didn’t really know what else to say; almost as if he had to repeat her name over and over and over again to tell himself that she was really here. He just looked at her, studying her intently, probably to make sure she was okay.

“I didn’t know…” she started, blinking a few times. “Didn’t know you were in London.”

“I’m in London.”

“But I didn’t know you were.”

“But I am.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Harry sighed. “No.”

“Why?”

Harry opened his mouth but hesitated. “I… I just… It’s not as if I…” he ran a hand through his hair, sighing again. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

She frowned. “What made you think that?”

“We haven’t talked in a couple of months, have we? Maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

“You think I’d forgotten about you?” Y/N crossed her arms. “I’m not the one who got disinterested and pulled away.”

Harry’s face screwed up into that familiar scowl she had seen so many times before. “I never bloody lost interest, what’re you on about?”

“Seemed that way over text.”

“Those are text messages!” Harry gestured with his arms, very obviously frustrated. “How much can you tell from a text?!”

“A lot!”

Harry groaned. “Y/N, please.”

She stood her ground, looking at him and waiting for him to say something that would change her mind. How had they gone months without talking, months before that with barely any communication, and he didn’t think she’d be annoyed at him for that. She was annoyed at herself, too. It takes two to communicate.

“I don’t want to fight.” He said. “I… I just… I don’t want to fight. Can we just talk?”

“We’re talking.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the ground, nodding a bit before he dared look up at her. “What’ve you been up to?”

Though she wanted to yell at him, tell him that she’d been busy writing and researching her dissertation, that she had been busy missing him, she composed herself. She might be frustrated, but Harry was trying, so she should as well.

“Uni,” she simply said. “And you?”

Harry let out a short breath through his nose. “Figured, stupid question, really.”

She couldn’t help the slight tug at the edge of her lips.

“Been travelling the world, showing off the exhibition.” He gestured back at the gallery. “It’s been wonderful, but I’m glad it’s over now. Can relax for a bit before I start painting for clients again.”

“It’s quite the exhibit.”

Harry nodded.

“Almost a little too extra.”

He let out a chuckle, eyes falling to the ground again. “You think?”

“Wasn’t it hard travelling around with all of that?” Y/N asked, thinking about the huge planets – or rather Venuses – back in the exhibition. Seemed unlikely that they travelled far distances with all of that, but then again, what did she know, she hadn’t talked to him in a long while. And when they did talk, it wasn’t about the transportation of his collection from country to country because he never talked about it.

“No, we drove around most of the time, then by plane when it got to travelling from continent to continent.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

His eyes flicked between hers, inhaling slowly. The sun hit the top of his hair, making his locks shine like gold, and Y/N remembered the countless number of times before she’d seen his hair like that in the early morning light, or a bright sunset. Memories are supposed to bring you joy, especially those remembered with fondness, but those are also the ones that hurt the most to relive.

“Are we really gonna chat about anything but what we want to chat about?” Harry asked, face very serious all of a sudden.

“Which is?”

“Us.” Harry said, something in his throat making the word almost sound choked. “And… and…”

She waited, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest.

“And us some more.”

She let out a small chuckle.

“What?”

“Start then.”

She could tell he wanted to frown at her, as if he wanted her to have a certain reaction. But he didn’t, instead he let his shoulders fall a bit, taking her in for a few moments more before he decided to start talking again.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

It hurt every time he said that, as if he didn’t believe that what she’d felt this summer wasn’t half of what he had.

“Tortured me to think about you.”

She took a little step backward, not wanting to listen to him talk on about how she’d hurt him.

“But the thought of you also brought me peace, as it always has. Brought me inspiration and motivation.” He took a step closer to her. “I miss you. I’ve missed you since the day I was brought into this world, I never knew I did till I was without you.”

Those three words radiated throughout her entire body, her heart screaming them right back at his. I miss you I miss you I miss you I-

“Please don’t…” he trailed off, balling his hands into fists as if he was mad at himself for not finding the right words for what he was feeling. “Don’t leave.”

She swallowed, not wanting the hundreds of butterflies and warm feelings in her chest to get the better of her when she answered. “Don’t leave… now? In general?-“

“-Don’t leave me. If not as a lover, as a friend. I need you in my life to some capacity.”

“Harry-“

“-I’m in love with you, Y/N.” His voice was so soft, yet urgent. He needed her to feel the same way, to understand what he was talking about. “I love you.”

Every cell in her body vibrated with the effect of those words, telling Harry she felt the same. In every way one person could love another, she loved him.

“If you even feel a fragment the same, please tell me.” His eyes were so big, pleading with her.

She felt so much all at once, finding the right words – finding words at all – was difficult. Every single part of her tried, her brain working hard and fast so she wouldn’t leave him hanging. But that was exactly what she did. So overwhelmed with absolutely everything today had brought, she couldn’t do anything but feel.

Harry’s jaw visibly tensed with the lack of response. “Or don’t.”

She opened her mouth, brain working a hundred miles a second to find words for him.

“If you don’t, then that’s fine. I won’t pretend it’s not gonna hurt and I’ll need some time to come to terms with it.” He sighed, eyes falling to the ground as if he couldn’t look at her now. “I… I was terrified this would happen.”

She couldn’t just stay fucking silent, she had to say something. Speak you bloody nonce, don’t do him like this. “Harry-“

“-What I’ve been most scared about since we stopped talking is that I played an insignificant role in your life, when you played the most significant in mine.” His eyes were still on the flooring, gripping the ends of his colourful cardigan. “A part you won’t talk about with others, that you keep a secret.”

“I’m not ashamed of this summer, Harry-“

“-I feared you’d never need me like I need you.” He said, voice thick with something resembling torment. “Because I just… I know we have no power over who we end up loving, you meet someone and before you know it, they’re so important to you that imagining a life without them in it is like staring uninspired at a blank canvas. But I’ve chosen to pour every ounce of my love onto you. I’ve chosen you, and I’ll continue to choose you without hesitation and without fail, for the rest of my life.”

She felt her eyes sting, fearing that she’d start crying if he continued on talking. Why was it that before their first kiss, Harry hadn’t been one for talking, but after it he hadn’t dithered? Everything he’d told her since had been so heartfelt and true, she felt like he was putting words to her very own feelings.

The right words wouldn’t come, and she felt like the longer she left him standing there in silence, the longer she let him ramble on, the more catastrophic this would get. Because she felt the same for him, but what she felt was so enormous and she was afraid she’d never find words for it. She wasn’t one for art or expression. She studied science and medicine and animals, she knew all that, but she didn’t know how to tell someone like Harry what he wanted to hear. Most of the time, at least before, he didn’t need her to say anything. Her presence, her touch, her comfort was enough for him. He never expected anything else from her but to reciprocate his feelings. Which she did. Oh, did she love him. More than she thought possible.

“I-“ she started, but cut herself off as she didn’t know where it was going. Harry looked up at her instantly, instant hope in his eyes. “Your exhibit.”

Not the appropriate thing to be talking about right now, she thought to herself, but better than nothing.

“Could you explain it to me?”

He blinked. “Explain it?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling every surface of her body heat up. “Because I knew you were painting me, but I didn’t…”

His eyes lingered on her lips for a second, but he quickly composed himself, a slight redness appearing along his cheekbones. A wave of goosebumps ran up her spine.

“I didn’t expect…”

“Didn’t expect the whole exhibition to be about you?”

She just looked at him, biting her bottom lip.

Harry let out an amused chuckle. “You’re the smartest person I know, thought you might get it right away, to be completely honest with you.”

“It took me off guard.”

“Right, should I walk you through it, then?” Harry gestured at the gallery. “Want to see it?”

She sensed irritation in his voice and sighed. “You don’t have-“

“-Don’t fucking say I don’t have to. You asked about the exhibit. You don’t understand, even though I just made it very clear for you. So, let's.”

He walked toward the door, flinging it open and beckoning for Y/N to walk through it first. Walking first, he stomped straight through the entire exhibition, right past people who were leaving. They all looked over at Y/N and Harry as they walked the opposite way, a few raised eyebrows and some whispering. Portia still stood in the first room with the eight planets, looking up as Y/N and Harry came back. A smile first graced her features, but seeing the look on Harry’s face and how fast they were both walking, she quickly pieced together that something was happening.

“This,” Harry said as they reached the reception, pointing at the wall with the projection of that painting Y/N had found in the flat in Fosdinovo. The drive to his childhood home in Manchester. “You recognise this?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She gave him a look to tell him she didn’t appreciate his tone. He didn’t seem to care.

“Told you the path leads to uncertainty, hence the darkness at the end of it. I didn’t know where my life would lead me and I was terrified. Now,” he pointed to the dark corridor. “What does that lead to?”

Y/N blinked a few times, looking up at Harry when he didn’t continue talking. But he was already glancing down at her, raised eyebrows and a stoic look on his face. Though she was tempted to tell him to shove it if he was going to keep that attitude up, she didn’t. She needed to tell him how she felt, that he wasn’t alone in wanting more. She needed to find the right words. But right now, knowing Harry, he’d just get furious with her if she told him now that he was putting the effort in and showing her what everything meant.

“The paintings.”

“It leads to the exhibition.”

“That’s the same thing.”

Harry didn’t respond, he just walked towards the corridor without looking back. Y/N felt her anger bubble up, but she tried to control it as she followed him to the first room of the exhibition.

“Hope you know what the solar system is.” Harry shouted back to her.

She dug her nails into the palm of her hands, gritting her teeth from responding. Portia was standing at the other side of the room, watching them with wide eyes. Everyone else had left, she realised. The gallery was closing, and Harry’s exhibition needed to be taken down so the next one could be put up. This was his very last day showing his collection. Y/N gave her a look to keep quiet, the last thing Harry needed now was Portia intervening.

“Our solar system’s got eight planets-“

“-I bloody know how many planets there are in our solar system-“

“-But to me and my life,” Harry walked to the side of the room, pointing down at the last planet. The full Venus. Her plant. “In my universe, there’s only one.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“They each fade more and more into Venus. Notice how the first one’s black.”

“Like the end of the painting I found in Fosdinovo.”

Harry’s arm fell to his side, having proven his point on why he’d chosen space to be the theme for his exhibition. He walked on over to the first painting; straight past Y/N, jaw still tense and the look in his eyes enraged. She realised this was torturing him. Going through everything without knowing how she felt, and probably fearing – and believing – the worst. She had to say something.

“This one,” he pointed. “We can barely see you. You were a fucking pain in my arse.”

“Hey!”

“There’s only one dot of baby blue, you’re far away from where I’m standing.”

“If you don’t-“

“-Next one,” he walked onto the second one without Y/N even having reached him and the first painting. “You’re closer to me, still not very close, still not a lot of blue. Only some in the sky. Didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Harry, slow down-“

“-Third,” it seemed he was on a mission, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible. “You’re close. You can see baby blue in the sky, ocean, your dress, some in the grass. Still not doing it on purpose.”

She jogged over to the fourth as he did, really wanting to take a grip of his arm and tell him to calm down. But she had no right. Not now. But she was still getting annoyed with him.

“Fourth is when I start doing it deliberately. Realised I caught feelings for you, and you can see that in the landscape, how it follows the outline of your body.” Harry pointed just as the lights inside the planets went out. “There’s baby blue in quite literally everything.”

The lack of lights to showcase the paintings didn’t stop him, Harry walked on. She ran after him, about to tell him to slow down again when he walked right past the beach painting with the huge moon.

“The night you changed the moon for me forever. Now I do as you said you do; I talk to her. Every night.”

Y/N felt her heart ache. She wondered, if they were both talking to the moon at the same time, if they were talking about one another, why didn’t the moon whisper Harry’s words into her ear and hers into his? Why didn’t she help them?

“You’re further away in that one ‘cause I realised I’d have to let you go at the end of the summer, didn’t want to get too attached.” A dry laugh slipped past his lips. “Look how well that worked out.”

They stopped in front of the second moon painting, where he was floating in what looked to be the middle of a huge and dark ocean.

“You once told me the moon knows all your deepest secrets and biggest desires,” Harry pointed at himself in the painting. “Here’s me surrendering myself to her.”

“Why’re you in the ocean?”

Harry chuckled, running both hands over his face as if he couldn’t believe her.

“What?”

He looked at her for a few seconds while clenching his jaw. “I used to be terrified of the dark and the ocean. You taught me monsters won’t magically appear just ‘cause you can’t see. They’re just as likely to show themselves in sunlight.” He glanced at the painting again, blinking a few too-many times as he looked away from her. “If you take your time to understand and truly look at this painting, you’ll understand it.”

She was about to open her mouth when Harry said, “And don’t use your ‘I only know science, I barely know how to interpret art’ rubbish.”

“Well, it’s true.” She mumbled, but Harry only clicked his tongue, disinterested in her insistence on not understanding art. He walked on to the next one, the one that was completely baby blue, where her body was carefully outlined in white.

“Here you can clearly tell-“

“-I have a question,” Y/N said, making Harry shut up. “That painting of me… the one where I’m… Where’s that one? I mean…”

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to continue, but when she never did, he mumbled another question right back at her, “You think I’d put a painting of your naked body on display in my exhibition?”

She just looked at him, seeing something in his eyes that was vaguely familiar but too far away to fully grasp.

“I’m keeping that one-“ he stopped himself, swallowing hard. “It’s private.”

She nodded.

“Anyway,” Harry went back to the painting before them. “You represent baby blue to me, so here’s your colour – you -,” he paused for a second. “Becoming everything.”

She looked at him, feeling everything within her wither and bloom at the same time. The painting seemed to take him back to a time long ago, every urge he had to do this as quickly as possible seemed to leave him when he looked at that painting. They still had one left, but he forgot about that, losing himself in a memory. And Y/N lost herself in him. Suddenly, proper lights lit up the room and the stars that had illuminated everything prior, disappeared.

“Harry!”

Harry didn’t meet Y/N’s eyes as he stepped away from the row of planets, looking up at Jamie how had shouted his name.

“Closing time. We need to pack up, mate.”

Harry nodded, looking over at Y/N who suddenly felt her heart pick up speed.

Jamie clapped their hands together. “Come on, you lot, you need to leave.”

For a few moments, it was like the two of them moved in slow motion. Harry took a few steps so he could face the other way, ready to leave through the backdoor, not breaking eye contact with Y/N. Once they looked away from one another, the rest of the world would resume being and they had to leave. Y/N had to say something, she had to tell him. But everything was clogged up somewhere in her throat, she wasn’t able to say anything. This whole exhibit… it was about her. Harry had cared so much about her and he still did. But she couldn’t find the right words. She had to say something. Had to let him know she felt the same way.

Harry’s jaw clenched again before he looked away from Y/N and started walking back down the way he’d taken Y/N before. Everything inside her went into panic mode.

“Harry.” She said, but he didn’t turn around. She started jogging after him. “Harry.”

“Y/N-“

“-Just a sec, Portia!” Y/N continued to follow Harry through the now lit exhibit. “Harry!”

He didn’t turn around still.

“Harry, please.” She took a grip of his arm.

Harry stopped, dragging his arm out of her grip. “Y/N, stop.”

The force of his words took her off guard and it took her a few seconds to compose herself. “I’m sorry.”

Harry nodded, looking behind Y/N at the closing exit door. “What?”

“I… I need to tell you that…” she swallowed, feeling her palms get clammy. “You said earlier that…”

Harry looked at her expectantly, something in the frantic way his eyes moved over her face and the quick breath he took made her think he detected reciprocation in her voice. “Yes?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her heart was beating hard and fast, she was beginning to sweat.

“What, Y/N?”

“I can’t, I-“ She ran both hands over her face, frustrated with herself. She groaned.

“What?”

“I know how I’m feeling, but I don’t know how to say it.”

Harry took a small step towards her. “Say what?”

“How I feel for you.”

He let out a small breath. “And how’s that?”

“Just how you feel about me.”

There was a single second when Harry’s eyes were filled with elation; like he was ready to embrace her, kiss her, and never let her go. Wanted to become one with her right then and there, to never leave her side again. A ghost of a smile grace his features and his shoulders lowered; his entire composure seemed to relax. As if all the anger he’d been carrying around with him in the gallery disappeared. But the next second, realisation sunk in and he glanced away for a second.

“Need to hear you say it.” He said, voice weak. “Know you say you’re not one for words, but there are moments in life when words are everything.”

Y/N felt a drop of sweat run down her back. Her head was spinning.

“I deserve to hear you say it yourself.” Harry said.

“I know! That’s why I’m trying so hard to say something!”

Harry nodded, eyes falling to the floor. “You’re not ready.”

Y/N frowned, sure her panic showed on her face. “I am ready. That’s why I followed you out here, isn’t it?”

“No, Y/N, you’re clearly not. You might feel it, but being vulnerable is hard for you. Admitting to being vulnerable isn’t something you know how to do.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open.

“Your whole life you’ve put up this cold and hard exterior to protect yourself from feeling too much. You’ve had a hard time receiving the love you needed while growing up, and you’ve been burned in the past-“

“-Don’t psychoanalyse me.” She pointed a finger at him. “You know I have a hard time opening up to people completely.”

“You have a hard time admitting to letting your guard down. You do it willingly, but there’s a part of you that just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I said don’t psycho-“

“-I know, I’m sorry.” Harry took a few steps back, as if getting ready to walk away from her. “I’ll wait.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Harry nodded, just about to turn around and leave when she called his name again.

“You just begged me to tell you I felt the same way, and I did.” Y/N said, taking a few steps toward him, but stopping herself. “I told you.”

“That you felt like I did.”

“Exactly.”

Harry let out a small chuckle and though it sent a swarm of butterflies straight to Y/N’s stomach, it also hurt because she knew the next few words would send her into a panic. “And thank you for that, but I told you how I felt. Now you need to tell me. Physical show of affection is nice, but proper verbal confirmation that someone loves you…” he trailed off, looking at her in silence for some seconds. “It’s key.”

“Harry-“

“-I love you.”

She fell silent, taken off guard. But the words warmed her so that she was sure she’d never freeze again. He started walking away.

“I’ll wait, you need to figure this out on your own. I know,” smiling he continued, “Now I need you to comprehend.”

Mouth falling open as she tried to force herself to say something, she cursed herself over and over again for having built up that humongous wall around her. Being vulnerable was like admitting that you were weak, and she knew those two weren’t the same thing at all, but she’d associated them with one another her whole life. She needed to stop.

“I’ll wait for you.”

And just like that, Harry left her this time. She was tempted to run after him again, but to what purpose? To have him tell her yet again that he needed her to tell him she loved him when she couldn’t bring herself to? To hurt him again? No, she was going to deal with her struggles to admit vulnerability herself. He deserved to hear her say everything he’d just told her and much more. And hopefully Harry would still love her the way he did now by that time. How terrified she already was that he didn’t.

But if that was the case, at least she’d have taught herself the importance of vulnerability.

Thursday, 10 September 2020

“Smile, baby.” Elaine brought her phone up, snapping a picture of Y/N with her diploma in hand, standing in front of her University.

It was a nice day; the sun was shining through a thin layer of clouds and the temperature was high, but not so high that Y/N was struggling to breathe. All her course mates were milling around behind, beside, and around her, saying their last goodbyes before everyone was to part ways after this. It had been bittersweet saying goodbye to her mates. She knew she was going to see them again and knew she would be happier now that she didn’t have to care about uni, but it would be sad not seeing them and not knowing when she would meet them next. Though she hadn’t really been close with any of them, she still counted them as her friends and would miss their time together.

Portia stood beside Elaine and gave Y/N a little applause, grinning from ear to ear as her sister walked over to them again. “Look at you, all smart.”

“Yes,” Y/N said, doing a little dance with her diploma. “I’d like to think I am.”

“Look,” Elaine begged Y/N over so she could look at the pictures she’d taken of her. “You look lovely, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, the lighting’s amazing.”

“So peng.” Portia said, zooming in on Y/N’s face.

Y/N playfully hit Portia in the head with her diploma, making the two sisters chuckle before they turned back to their mother. Elaine smiled at Y/N, there was a look in her eyes Y/N wasn’t accustomed to seeing on her mother’s face when looking at her. It was something she often directed at Portia, but Y/N rarely got this. Pride. It almost made Y/N’s eyes sting with oncoming tears.

“Come on, girls,” Elaine said, taking each of her daughters’ hands. “We need to celebrate. What’s a good pub around yours, Y/N?”

“Hmm,” Y/N thought for a few seconds. “There’s a Gregg’s two minutes away.”

“Sausage rolls!” Portia exclaimed.

“We’re not celebrating you getting a degree at bloody Gregg’s, are you dim?” Elaine huffed, unlocking the car once they reached it. “We need to get a pint each, and a fancy dinner later.”

“Reckon we could afford a fancy dinner in London, Mum?” Y/N sat down in the car, putting her seatbelt on as Elaine started the car. “I’m skint.”

“Well, you’re not the one paying for the dinner, are you?” Elaine raised her eyebrows at her, driving away towards Y/N’s flat in Hackney. Portia reached into the backseat where Y/N sat, squeezing her knee before she sat back and focused on the city they were driving in. Y/N leaned forward and squeezed Portia’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming, P. Know you have a lot going on at the moment, but it meant a lot to me that you bothered to come.”

Porta looked over her shoulder at Y/N, studying her sister for a second before she smiled. “Might be busy, but it’s your graduation. It’s important to me.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up a bit, something they always did when she managed to discuss her feelings. “Thank you anyway.”

“You’re very welcome.” Portia’s smile widened, and she grabbed Y/N’s hand, kissing it before turning to look ahead again.

Y/N smiled herself, sitting back in her seat and looking out the window.

She’d never really gotten attached to London. Maybe it was because she didn’t really have anyone she was close to, or the constant fast-paced lifestyle you had to lead to live there. Y/N had always preferred a slow life, like the one she had grown up knowing in Maldon. Essex was calm, it was what she’d known her whole life and what she wanted to know forever. Regardless of where she wanted to live and where she felt she belonged; she’d gotten a job at North London Veterinary Clinic so she didn’t really have much of a choice in where she could settle down for a little while. North London wasn’t as busy as Central, so she wouldn’t be as overwhelmed as she usually was. She’d have to move and though the thought stressed her out, she was ready for a little change. It would be good for her.

“Do you remember that guy I was chatting to for a little while?” Portia suddenly asked, snapping Y/N out of her reverie.

“Drake?”

“No.”

“That Felix lad?”

“Not him.”

“Ezra?”

Portia shook her head.

“Jackson-“

“-Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Portia turned around in her seat. “Do you have to rub it in?”

“That you date a lot of men? I don’t have to do that; you know it perfectly well yourself.”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Azeem.”

“Ahh! Azeem!” Y/N nodded her head, giving her little sister a smile. “Remember you talked about him, yes. Ages ago, though.”

Portia seemed to think back to the time she was talking to Azeem, getting lost in her own thoughts for a few short seconds before she blurted out, “Anyway, I met him on a night out like two days ago.”

“You did? What’d he say?”

“Just that it was nice to see me again.” Portia said. “Told me I looked good. And then he walked me home.”

In an attempt to come to terms with how she was feeling and letting other people know, it had been one of the first things Y/N had done. She sat Portia down when she came back to London, told her she loved the fact her sister came down and that they got to spend time together because it brought them closer – and she wanted to be close to her sister since they’d struggled being just that growing up -, but Portia needed her own place. If she was going to spend that much time in the capital, she might as well move there permanently. Elaine had struggled to come to terms with the fact that her youngest daughter would be moving out, especially considering how much time and resources she’d put into Portia and her career. But both the sisters had convinced their mother that this was what Portia needed to do. She needed to become independent. And besides, Portia wouldn’t be alone in London, Y/N lived there as well.

“And…?” Y/N urged, raising her eyebrows to show she was eager to know what happened next.

“He asked me out on a date.”

“He did?!” Y/N grinned. “Why did you stop seeing each other in the first place?”

Portia sighed. “It was hard to not see him very often, we lived far away from one another, and all that. But now that I live in London, maybe it’ll work out.”

“Is he a decent bloke, Y/N?” Elaine looked in the driving mirror back at Y/N. “I won’t take Portia’s word for it. You know she’s blinded by a good shag when she’s got one.”

“Mum!” Portia exclaimed. “Don’t say that! You’re not allowed to say that!”

“Say what? What you always tell me? You talk about lads and your sex life constantly.”

“I do not! Oh, my God!”

Y/N laughed, zoning out as her little sister and mother started arguing in the front. They soon reached Hackney and Y/N’s flat building. It felt weird knowing that Thursday next week, she’d be moving out of this flat and into a new one. Though Hackney wasn’t the nicest place to be living in London – or the nicest place to just be walking through – it had been Y/N’s home for five years now. Sure, she spent loads of time in Maldon and Essex, but this was her place in London. But soon, Hampstead would probably be it. It wasn’t that the commute would be horrible from Hackney and up to North London, but she would rather have a stroll to work in the morning instead of using public transit. It was bloody unbearable on the tube in the mornings sometimes.

They exited the car and Y/N rummaged through her purse for her keys, giving them to Portia when she reached her hand out for them.

“Thanks, babes.” Y/N said, getting her diploma out of the car seat before closing the door and letting their mother lock the car.

Portia glanced at Y/N for a little while, a grin spreading out over her lips.

“What?” Y/N asked, gesturing for her sister to unlock the door so they could walk on in.

“Dunno,” Portia shrugged, putting the key in the hole and turning it. “You never call me ‘babe’ or anything like that, but you’ve started recently.”

“Been watching too much Love Island.”

Portia laughed, holding the door open for her mother and sister. The lot of them walked up the stairs to the second story, about to let Y/N change out of her heels so they could go have a pint and then go out to dinner. Though she wouldn’t look as smashing as she did with her heels on, they would ultimately kill her feet and she was not about that life today. She’d just gotten a degree, she was going to feel good all day. So fuck heels.

They reached Y/N’s door and she let Portia unlock that one as well. Her flat was as simplistic as always; one single room with a small kitchen, a bed, a desk, and a door to a small bathroom. Elaine walked over to the desk, sitting down in Y/N’s office chair while Portia bent down and picked up something behind the door.

“Mail.” She said, giving Y/N a few envelopes.

“Thanks.” Y/N took it, looking through the envelopes to see nothing interesting. A couple of bills, some rubbish, and…

“Where are we going after this then?” Elaine asked, looking from Y/N to Portia. But Y/N didn’t hear what Portia was answered because she was too busy reading the small slip of paper that told her she’d gotten a parcel. Everything that was too big to slip through the mail slot was out into a cupboard on the outside of Y/N’s flat. Beside her front door was another, smaller door where her electricity metre was. If she wasn’t in to receive the parcel herself, she’d written on her mail slot to just pop it in there.

She put all her mail down on the kitchen counter before walking outside to check the cupboard. Upon opening it, she saw a single brown parcel, though it looked more like a gift than anything. She reached for it, bringing it out into proper lighting. She read her own address on the front, and when turning it around, she found it a little hard to breathe. Had he…

Y/N walked back into the flat, closing the door behind her and placing the package on the kitchen counter so she could unpack it. She knew Elaine and Portia were talking behind her about something, probably where they were going to go have their pint, but Y/N could not focus on anything but what was right in front of her. Ripping the paper off, a sea of colour was revealed to her and she recognised what she was looking at right away.

“A sunny morning in Essex.” Y/N smiled, looking at him. “The most beautiful sight in the world, if I may say so.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, putting the brush away and placing his hand on her thigh, turning to face her.

“Uh-huh.” Her smile widened some as he moved closer to her, brushing his nose gently against hers.

“I can think of more beautiful sights than a sunrise in bleeding Essex.”

She ran her hand over it, feeling the strokes of paint she’d put there with Harry’s help. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the paintings in his collection, but it was the most breath-taking creation she’d ever laid her eyes upon. It was something she’d made with Harry. It was art. Picking it up, something fell to the kitchen counter. An envelope.

“What’s that?” Portia asked, but Y/N couldn’t answer.

She put the canvas back down on the counter and reached for the envelope, tearing it open. It was his handwriting and she suddenly longed for him again. Months had gone by, but she thought about him every day. He was always with her, always motivated her; made her want to be better. And seeing something the two of them made a year ago, reliving the memory of them sitting close and creating something beautiful in the warm Italian summer night, it made her yearn in a way she never had before.

‘Complimenti per la laurea, celeste.’

Looking down on the canvas again, she suddenly recognised it. The landscape resembled the one in Tuscany, the one she had walked through and lived in all last summer. And in the corner was a white house, almost like a mansion of sorts, but not as big as some of the houses she’d passed on the countryside. She didn’t remember painting that. In fact, she barely remembered painting anything but the colour of the sunrise. Orange, yellow, blue. Harry must’ve completed the painting after she left.

“Y/N,” Portia said, now standing by her sisters’ shoulder. “Is that one of his paintings?”

Y/N just looked at he canvas, unable to say anything.

“Is that one of his fucking paintings?” Portia gasped, looking at Elaine and back at Y/N. “Imagine how much that is worth!”

“I’m not gonna sell his painting, Tia.”

“No, but-“ Portia gestured at the artwork, squealing. “What’d the card say?”

“Think he’s congratulating me on graduating.” Y/N put the card down, looking at the painting again. The room fell silent as nosy Elaine probably didn’t know which of her questions to ask first, Portia looked dumbfounded at the canvas, and Y/N yet again lost herself in daydreams of Harry. He knew she was graduating today. Sent her their painting. He congratulated her on finally getting her degree. He was still thinking about her like she was thinking about him. One of Y/N’s fears with taking so long to figure herself out, he’d somehow move on. But she believed in him enough, knew how she felt well enough, to know that they’d see each other again.

“You have to leave.” Portia said. “Y/N, it’s been six months.”

“I know.”

“You have to go to bloody Italy right this second.” Portia looked around Y/N’s flat. “Where’s your bag?”

“What about my life here? I’m starting a new job next week, I’m moving.”

“Figure that stuff out next week.” Portia smiled. “You’ve grown so much in the last few months, Y/N. You’re softer now, not so prone to fighting people for not having the same opinion as you, but you listen and you’re willing to change. Not for the world, but for yourself. Harry didn’t tell you to embrace tenderness just so you could admit how you were feeling about him, but also so you’d be nicer to yourself.”

“But I already am.”

“I know, but he wanted you to allow more love into your life. By seizing love and allowing yourself to feel, not only self-love, but the love of others, you allow yourself to live fully and completely.” Portia squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “Without regret, without apology.”

Y/N smiled a little at her sister, studying her face. “Portia Cressida, when the fuck did you become so wise?”

“Can’t let people know I know shit or else I’ll ruin my dumb image.”

The girls laughed, and Portia rested her head on Y/N’s shoulder, glancing at the painting Harry had gifted her sister.

“Go, Y/N.”

Saturday, 12 September 2020

She remembered Italy to be hot, but something about Italy in autumn was almost unbearable. Everything was still a lush green, nothing had changed outdoors since last year it seemed, everything still looked the same. But Y/N wondered how that was possible when she wasn’t even in the southern part of Tuscany anymore, she was in Veneto, a county further up north. North-west Italy looked as summery in autumn as Y/N would’ve expected it to, and she loved it. Though she didn’t like the sun much, she’d come to appreciate it more than the rain of England. Besides, she could stand the heat if it meant meeting Harry again.

She’d called Jamie yesterday, asked them where she’d be able to meet Harry. She knew she could’ve just asked Harry, but she also wanted to see the surprise on his face when he saw her on his doorstep. So, she hadn’t told him she was coming. Which could either end with them living happily ever after or him saying he didn’t feel the same anymore. Thinking about the latter gave her a panic attack.

She hadn’t brought much with her, just a small bag as a carry-on and the clothes she was wearing. A see-through red, yellow, white, and pink tie dye crop top, showing off her cute black bralette underneath, a washed-out pair of high-waisted boyfriend denim jeans, and a black pair of Dr Marten’s. Though it had gotten a bit chilly on the plane, she knew Italy would be hot, and she had been very right about that. Besides, she needed to look extra cute now that she was seeing Harry again for the first time in six months.

The bus ride wasn’t as bumpy as the one she’d taken to Fosdinovo, the bus was new, and she trusted the driver to know if something was wrong. She hadn’t trusted Gioele to know the same, which she applauded herself for in retrospect. The bus was fairly new and the road to Padua, Veneto was nice. She’d done some research and figured out the reason why Harry might’ve moved up north and close to Padua. It was a city known for art; spectacularly pretty and often overlooked by Venice, a mere hour-drive away. Knowing Harry, he’d probably walk through the quieter streets of Venice to get inspiration or sit on a corner café in Padua to people-watch. She knew he wanted to get out of Fosdinovo, but he hadn’t been able to remove himself entirely from the Italian culture he had immersed himself in. His love for that country was too great for him to ever truly leave.

Reaching Padua, Y/N got off and got a taxi right away. She told the driver where she was going, and though it was a bit out of town and onto the countryside – not to Y/N’s surprise, Harry liked quiet after all – he agreed to get her there. It took them about 30 minutes to reach the house, and when they did, it was a simple gravel path. She obviously had to walk for a bit to get there, but she was glad she got to take in Harry’s new residence in the calmness that was the outskirts of Padua. She could make out the white house at the end of the road, the newly sown trees that lined the path, and knew when they had grown to their full height, they would envelope the drive like a tunnel of green leaves and nature. Y/N smiled a little to herself as she imagined it, knowing that Harry most likely had the exact same thought in mind.

It was nice seeing how he decided to live now, especially after everything that happened in Fosdinovo. Secluded, but a couple of neighbours a few minutes’ walk up or down the cemented road she’d just been on. It was undoubtedly his new paradise. And by the looks of it, the closer she got, it seemed he was still working on the house. White and grand, with huge French windows and sheer curtains on either side of them all, there was still some construction work going on on the outside, though the workers weren’t working today it seemed. It was only 12pm, but maybe Harry wanted them to take the day off to relax. She’d ask him, she told herself, because she was now in the driveway, viewing the red front door, looking in through the windows to see if she saw him. Her heart was hammering so fast in her chest that she noticed her tie dye top vibrating with each beat.

Reaching forwards, she pressed the doorbell, taking a step back so the door wouldn’t hit her in the face when he opened it. Nearly as quickly as it had gone off, she heard something very familiar inside the house. Spending time around animals nearly all the time, Y/N’s puppy radar went off when she heard the tiny barks of a baby dog inside. Immediately, her mouth fell open, and she walked to the closest window to look inside.

Down a white tiled corridor, the light from the massive windows on the other side of the house shining down on him, a puppy came running down on his big paws, his tail wagging so wildly his little bum moved with it.

“Hi.” Y/N cooed when he reached the window, standing on his back-paws to get a better look of her and bark some more. “Who’re you then? What’s your name?”

He sniffed the glass as if trying to get a sniff of her, but he whimpered when he couldn’t. And as Y/N got a good look of the little guy, she realised something very quickly that made her almost fall backward onto the gravel of the driveway. A Scottish deerhound.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Y/N said under her breath, walking back to the front door and ringing the doorbell again. Why was it that Harry had trouble answering the bloody door every time? She stood her ground this time, the puppy still barking at her and watching her in anticipation, ready to jump onto her the second Harry opened the door. But he didn’t. So this time she knocked on his door with her fist, not about to wait around for hours. She knew he was in. A puppy couldn’t be left alone in a big house like this, he’d either have to put him in a cage or take the pup with him.

With no response, Y/N decided to explore the outside of his house. Giving the pup a little wave, she stepped down from the front step, taking in the marble pillars on either side that held a small roof above the front door. The house was incredibly elegant and new. Had he built it himself? She walked around the side, admiring the huge garden and the tall stone fence that secluded it from everything else. There were a couple of trees that stood around a tiny pond, and it seemed he’d taken the time to put a grey stone bench beside it. The rest of the garden was newly trimmed and grand, though pretty empty still. There seemed to be the start of a pretty big doghouse beside another tree, and something else that might be the start of a veranda. Maybe he’d just about moved in. It would explain why everything looked so new, anyway.

It felt like Harry, though. All of it. Elegant yet simple, big but not too much. He was a simplistic person who loved grand things. The thought of him moving into a new house, probably a little anxious to meet new people and to get acquainted with his new life in a new town, it made her smile. He was restless and would move in a few years, but for now, this was exactly what he needed, she knew.

Faint, but Y/N still heard it with every single part of her being, a meow sounded from behind her. Turning around, there stood a striped cat looking over at her. She hesitantly moved forward and Y/N felt like breaking down crying.

“Viola,” Y/N hunched down. “Hi, baby.”

The cat made her way over quite hastily when she recognised who the person was, rubbing herself against Y/N’s outstretched hands. She’d grown, yet Y/N would know this little creature anywhere. She’d often wondered what happened to Viola, because when she left, she assumed Harry would take care of her till he left. But here she was. Had he brought her with him everywhere? She reached down, pressing a soft kiss to Viola’s forehead like she always did, and the cat meowed in response. Y/N giggled, the feel and sound of Viola brought her right back to her time in Fosdinovo. The cat had been there for her every single day, putting a smile on her face. They gave each other a home for a month.

Thinking she might explore more of the grounds, she stood upright, and Viola immediately perked up, ready to follow Y/N wherever she decided to go. Her eyes suddenly landed on a glass house attached to the mansion, and then on the figure standing by the open door leading into it. The inside of the winter garden was fully furnished, unlike the rest of the property that lacked the same attention. She couldn’t believe this. Not only was this Harry’s dream home, it was hers as well.

Their eyes met, and a jolt so intense rocked through Y/N’s body that it shook up everything. She fell in love with him all over again, seeing him there, looking right back at her with a look of startlement and longing and relief. She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to be close to him. Taking the first few steps, she felt the inside of her tummy vibrate as the butterflies inside her came to life again. The closer she got to him, the more every single part of her body tickled, itching to hold him again. And when it seemed to have dawned on Harry that this wasn’t a dream, he started walking toward her as well. The closer they got the more they picked up the pace. It had been too long, they had taken too much time, they had worked on each other for one another and for themselves.

Y/N threw herself into his chest and Harry wrapped his arms around her so tightly she was sure she’d fade into him. Though it had taken them so much to get to this moment, it had taken them a while for a reason. People needed to work on one another and for each other to make a relationship work, it didn’t just magically happen. And sometimes people need to be apart for a little while to gain perspective and mature enough to return. Harry needed someone who could be as open as him, and Y/N needed someone who wasn’t afraid to be himself to the fullest, without apology.

They broke apart, eager to look at one another again. Harry’s eyes moved over her frantically, taking her in again. He was wearing another silk shirt, tucked into high-waisted washed out denim jeans, and barefoot. Something about his bare feet was adorable. And the fact they were basically wearing the same jeans made her stifle a laughter.

“Hi,” she said, unsure how else to greet him.

He chuckled. “What the fuck, Y/N.”

“What?”

“You’re here.” He said, smiling at her. “I… I had no idea. But you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He took her hand, squeezing it, looking her up and down. “Here.”

She smiled as well, feeling her hand heat up here his skin met hers. When he looked up at her again, eyes glistening, face lit up more than she’d ever seen before, dimples as deep as ever, she felt like tearing up. This was the man of her dreams; the man she wanted to spend every day with till death. And even after that she’d find him in their next life, or she’d find him in her afterlife, or wherever else they’d end up. There was no one else. Would never be anyone else.

“This is a big place.” She said, gesturing at the house and the rest of the estate.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, still looking at their joined hands. “Started building it back in March.”

“Big place for a big lad.”

Harry laughed, looking up at her again. “Need enough space for Viola and Gopher to wander.”

Y/N’s heart did a dreamy sigh. “Gopher?”

“Oh!” Harry pointed behind him at the house. “He was the one barking.”

“The puppy?”

“Yeah.”

She bit her lips together, looking down at their hands. “You adopted a puppy.”

Silence for a few moments before Harry said, in such a soft voice she swore it felt like a caress, “He’s been waiting for you.”

She glanced up again, happiness so overwhelming filled her to the point that she felt like flying. Eyes landed on the house and then back on Harry as he ran his thumb over her hand.

“Don’t you remember that day in the car last summer, when you first met Jamie?”

She didn’t at first, but it hit her like a truck and she almost gasped out loud. Harry only smiled a little at her, having remembered her words this whole time.

“A Scottish deerhound.”

“They’re quite big, aren’t they? Can’t remember how they look, but I think I know.” The phone was in Jamie’s hand, typing the name of the breed into the Google search bar.

“I’ve always wanted one. Always wanted to move to the outskirts of Maldon with two deerhounds. That’s where I want to settle down, I think.” She said. “With a winter garden and a big property so the dogs can run freely.”

She shook her head, not wanting to believe Harry had done this.

“Harry…”

“It’s not Maldon, or Essex, or England for that matter,” he said, stepping aside so she could look at the house. “But I tried to make it like you said, with some pieces of me in it, if that’s okay.”

The resemblance it held to the last painting of Harry’s exhibit was incredible, the same painting that had been stolen by Gioele. The painting Harry had an emotional attachment to of sorts. It was because it was this. It was the house. It was the place he hoped she’d settle down. With him.

“Wanna take a look inside?”

She smiled at him. “Please.”

He smiled back, letting go of her hand so they could walk into the winter garden. Viola followed them, strolling in through the door before Harry closed it. He took her into his arms and walked over to the door that led into the house, opening it and letting Viola walk away before closing the door again. They were left in silence, a few of the windows were open to let some air in or else the room would undoubtedly get incredibly hot with the sun shining right in. The roof was shaped like a spire, the whole glasshouse a half-circle, and green plants lined the window wall. Vines hung gracefully along some of the stiles, and in the middle of it all stood a big blue velvet ottoman. The whole place had a gothic feel to it and Y/N absolutely adored it. When she’d pictured a winter garden, she’d just wanted a place she could relax outdoors during wintertime, but this was something else entirely. It had a Harry feel to it, but it also felt like her.

“What do you think?” Harry asked, leaning his back against the windows.

“It’s amazing.” She mused, looking around. “Harry… I’m speechless.”

“Tried to make it into something that I knew you’d like. That’s why I painted it first and had an architect sketch the outline of the house after.” Harry explained. “Hope it falls into liking.”

She looked over at him, for the first time in ages, seeing the hint of doubt in his eyes again. Simply not able to help herself, she walked over to him, hesitating a bit before placing a hand to his cheek. He leaned into her, closing his eyes for a second and letting a sigh of relaxation leave his lips.

“I love it, I haven’t even seen the inside of the house, but I love it.” She told him, studying his dark eyelashes against his cheekbones. “And I love you.”

Harry’s eyes shot open, looking straight into hers. The absolute joy in them made the colour of his irises more radiant, and it was almost as if the sun shone a little brighter. As if the world fell into place; like how it was supposed to be all along.

“I love you.” She repeated, softer this time around.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice sounded like a whisper; a plea for her to really, really, really feel it – what was between them – like he did.

“I’m in love with you, Harry.”

He grabbed the back of her neck, swallowing hard. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t help it when the sides of her mouth tipped upward. “I know.”

Harry smiled. “Smug bastard.”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp tenderly. God, it felt good to have him touch her again. It felt good to be close to him. It felt good to not be ashamed of saying ‘I love you’. It felt amazing to let someone else know how deeply you cared for them and see them light up in response because they felt the same way.

“Now fucking kiss me before I go out of my mind.” Harry said, an undertone to his voice that made a hot tingle run up Y/N’s spine.

“How about you kiss me?”

Harry frowned.

“After all, if I hadn’t kissed you in the ocean that night, would we even be here?”

“You take pride in that, don’t you? I would’ve kissed you eventually.” Harry said, and Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. “I would’ve!”

“Yeah, alright. When? The opportunity presented itself a couple of times, but you only had the nerve to kiss my hand.”

Harry gripped her hair hard in his hand, bringing her lips to hover above his. She gasped, looking down at his lips and then feeling it against her thigh. Very quickly, she felt hot all over, and the need to be closer to Harry grew so fast it made her dizzy.

“Got the nerve to fuck you good now, don’t I?” Harry said, voice so deep she felt it vibrate through her bones.

Y/N bit her lip. “What gentleman talks like that to a lady before he’s even kissed her for the first time in a year?”

“You want a gentleman?”

She ran her hands down his torso. “Depends on the situation.”

Harry kissed her jaw, leaving wet kisses down her neck. “Hmm, does it now?”

“Want a gentleman to walk the little puppy with, to make breakfast with, or to take me out for dates.”

“Do you want a gentleman between your thighs, baby?”

She closed her eyes at the feel of Harry’s lips on her, bit her bottom lip as he pressed her body closer to his. “Depends on how well that gentleman knows how to treat a lady.”

Harry chuckled, the feeling of his laughter against her skin was like heaven. “I’ll be a gentleman, the devil, an angel; I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

She huffed. “Thought we were doing dirty talk, and here you go turning it romantic.”

“I need you to shut up,” Harry said as his lips hovered above hers. “Because I’m about to kiss you and then fuck you on that sofa.”

She grinned, tilting her head to fit perfectly against his. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Hard and passionately. They wasted no time, slipping their tongue into one another’s mouths, clinging to one another, touching all over. They tasted the other, felt them right there. There were some birds singing outside, rustling of some leaves, but the two of them didn’t care. Harry pushed her backward till her legs hit the couch, but she stopped herself from falling back into it. Instead, she turned them around, pushing Harry back onto the ottoman.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” She said, and Harry let out a shaky breath at her words.

He quickly undid the buttons of his silk shirt, threw it somewhere behind him before he leaned on his elbows. “Nothing you’ve ever said has turned me on more.”

She giggled, taking her jeans and knickers off and straddling his lap. He sat up, attaching his lips to hers once again, grabbing onto her bum, begging her to grind against him. They both wanted some friction, and she knew that if he pressed her harder onto him, there would be wet marks from her left on his jeans. But in the moment, neither cared. They just wanted to be as close as humans could be, wanted to feel ecstasy. She buried her hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, and the heat between her thighs got more and more intense the more time went on. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through her as she felt Harry’s hand run up her back, reaching for her bra. He wanted to see all of her.

She let him, throwing her shirt off and letting her bra fall to the floor. Harry kissed her the second she was done undressing, moaning her name against her lips. She felt her centre ache, reaching for the zip of Harry’s jeans as quickly as possible. She couldn’t bare it any longer, she needed to be skin to skin; soul to soul. Y/N found that the people she had sex with, she formed an emotional attachment to them in a way that was unexplainable. There might not even be real feelings there, but you’d shared an intimate moment with someone, and it was a moment neither of you would ever forget. But with Harry, it was more than that. It wasn’t just a single moment she shared with him when they were like this; it felt like sharing an entire lifetime. It felt like happiness; it felt like the rest of her life. And she knew she was right to have spent time away from him, because she would tell him this over and over and over again, and she wouldn’t be ashamed or feel weak for admitting how much she loved him.

They got Harry’s jeans and boxers off, and as she took a grip of his cock, Harry stiffened. Their eyes met.

“A condom.” He said, reminding her what they were about to do.

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Harry gripped her thigh, squeezing her.

“You pay for the pill.”

He smiled, kissing her for a long time. “Fuck me, please.”

Slowly, she sat down on him, gasping at the familiar feeling of him inside her like this. Harry didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time, mouth opening wider for each centimetre he moved inside her. Positioning her feet on the floor, she started moving her hips over him. He instantly moaned, not able to help himself because it felt so good. He moved his hands up her thighs, her sides, her back, wanting to feel every single little part of her. Wanted her to know how much he appreciated every little thing about her. There wasn’t a single part of her body, of her soul, of her existence he didn’t love. She felt all his emotions in his touches, in the kisses he left along her collarbone, in the soft way he moaned her name.

She tried to push him down onto the ottoman, wanting to have him watch her as she rode him, but Harry stopped her. He shook his head, curls tickling her jawline and cheek.

“No,” he simply said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m staying right here.”

And though he hadn’t meant it that way, Y/N still took it as him telling her he’d stay with her like this forever. After all, she’d been the one to leave him in the first place, but they were here now. Never was she going to leave him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, the truest thing in her life, and her best influence. Had she ever been happy before she’d met him? Had she known true happiness till now? Because right now, feeling Harry’s bare skin against hers and hearing him repeat her name, she wasn’t so sure the happiness she’d felt before him could be counted as just that, happiness.

Harry squeezed her hips. “Like that,” he moaned, burying his face in the cook of her neck.

Nothing mattered besides the magic they were creating between them; nothing mattered but Harry and eternity. The soft skin of the inside of Y/N’s thighs against Harry’s hips and sides, pressed to him, sweaty. His tattooed body against her bare one. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

The burn in her core was really starting to build up now, and she knew it would burst any second. Harry moved his face so it was right in front of hers, studying her moving form above him. Her sliding hips, her desperate hands, her exclamations of pleasure. The butterflies in her stomach went crazy, all of them flying wildly in a single circle to intensify the oncoming orgasm. Harry’s hips moved more with hers, staring at her as she closed her eyes, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Harry said, hands trembling against her back.

She didn’t know why that almost brought her to tears, but it did, and she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. No one had ever made her feel as stunning as Harry. Though she was confident in her body and on her own, being with Harry made her feel on top of the world. His love, his encouragement, his compliments, it all made her feel so incredibly good about herself in a way nothing ever had before. She had no idea how she could ever thank him for that.

Their hips moved rhythmically, hard against one another, desperate for release. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. Y/N wanted to melt into him and have the two of them sitting like this forever. Wanted to feel him close, feel his love, feel his skin. Having him inside her like this, feeling him grip her hard, whimpering against her lips, moan her name; she felt powerful, beautiful, strong, and so so so good.

“Harry,” she moaned, looking into his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He said, bringing her closer. He reached between them, knowing that in order to come properly, she needed him to flick her bud. “Let me watch you come.”

“Oh, God.” She gripped his shoulders harder, moaning loudly as he rubbed her clit like he knew she loved so much.

“Yeah?” He watched her, flicking her faster. “Come for me, baby.”

She came hard. Harry watched her intently, clearly holding back his own release till he knew she was completely done with hers. She grinded on top of him, looking deeply into her eyes as hot flames lashed threw her body, rocking up her entire reality. She gasped for breath and moaned and repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it let like it was the only word she knew. Her legs were shaking, and it was hard for her to move properly so he could come to.

“Say it.” Harry said, his neck vein about to show and his face reddening with the oncoming climax. “Tell me.”

She knew exactly what he needed to hear. “I love you.” She whispered against his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his lips as she continued to rock over him. “Everyday, for the rest of my existence, I’ll love you.”

“Fuck.” Harry moaned, not able to look away from her. “Y/N. My love.”

She held his face in her hands. “Never leave me. I love you too much.”

“Never.” Harry said, a moan escaping his lips. “Shit.”

He came, not looking away from her. A furrow appearing between his brows, lips parted, and Y/N had never seen anything so hot and beautiful. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. She watched him till he came down, feeling his cum inside her, feeling his breathing against her, his arms around her.

“You need to go meet Gopher now.” Harry said after a little while.

“My puppy.”

Harry laughed. “We’re gonna have a house filled with fucking animals, aren’t we?”

“And what about it?” Y/N smiled. “Don’t you want to see me happy?”

Harry’s eyes softened, smiling slightly up at her as he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, then her palm, then the pulse of her wrist. “For the rest of my life, celeste.” His smile widened as he felt her beating hearts against his lips. “My baby blue.”

the BIGGEST thank you to all my beta readers! you lot have saved me and helped me more times than i can count! love you!

@aileenacoustic @sunflowervolumeeleven @emotionally-imbruised @fromyourstrulyh @harryisadogperson @harrysthighles @mellowstyles94 @toolazymyguy @clorenafila @dearest-rebecca @tpwkceline @tasteslikestrawberriesharry​

and thank you to you! thank you for reading baby blue! thank you for the love sent both mine and bb’s way! thank you for letting me tell you yet another story, the fact that you sit down each sunday (or whichever day tbh) to read bb and immerse yourself in the bb-verse means so much to me!

as for what i’m gonna do next cos i’ve gotten quite a few questions about that! i won’t be posting writing on tumblr or wattpad till may, but in the meantime i’ll be over at patreon posting! there’ll be a poll there where some of my patrons can vote for what they want me to write next and i’ll post something every week!

my next fic will be announced sometime in april (tho i’ve talked about what it’s gonna be multiple times lmao), and the first few chapters will be available to read on my patreon before it starts posting on my other platforms!

ANYWAY, i love you all so much! thank you again! bb!harry and bb!mc appreciate you very much, as do i :’’)

thank you so much. till next time, stay hydrated.

your bestie, nora x

[fortune-fool02]

Permanent Support

Dio Brando x fairy female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Warning: Angst, possessiveness, bit yandere

It feels good to write for Dio again! Please enjoy.

It was not in a fairy’s best nature to intervene with humans, as it often led to awful things happening to the fairy. Humans were creatures of greed and need, a hole burned into their hearts that will never be filled no matter how much they take. 

[Name] knew this and yet, like the fool she was, she ignored them when she saw the poor blonde haired human boy being thrown around his house like a ragdoll, ugly bruises littering his skin from objects his father had thrown at him or from his fists. She waited until the father was passed out in a drunken slumber before fluttering over to the boy, hoping to ease his pain. He was curled up in his room, bruises along his skin though he shed no tears. 

She had landed close to the boy and walked over to him, the soft glow her body radiated no brighter than a candle which seemed to catch the boy’s attention. At the time, she believed that the sharpness in those ember eyes was a result of the abuse his father threw at him. Warmth radiated from her as she gave the boy a sweet, caring smile. 

“It’s okay, human. I want to help you.” It was at that moment where the [Colour] fairy had made her greatest mistake. One that, if she could go back, stop herself from making. The human boy looked at her, eyes flickering with confusion at the strange winged creature beside him. This wasn’t possible. He had heard of fairies from the stories his mother would read to him before she died. The fresh wound of those memories burned with the boiling rage he felt towards his father; [Name] could easily sense this festering anger and approached carefully, placing her tiny hand against the boy’s leg. 

A strange sense of warmth flooded Dio at the touch, the touch was comforting, soothing all pain from the bruises. Her small form glowing like a bright star in the sky was unlike anything he had seen before. 

From that day onward, [Name] was there for Dio. She was there to take and soothe his pain, replacing it with that warm comfort that would fill his body like his blood. It was a sensational feeling. One that nothing could come close to compare with, he felt as if his body was floating in water when she did this. It was incredible. The world around him would melt away into nothingness, one would say it was blissful. 

Each day that passed by, each abusive encounter his bastard of a father gave him, [Name] was there to ease the pain. Be it by using her strange glow to soothe it or that aura she emitted; her presence alone eased Dio. She was the one ray of light in his unfitting life, the one thing that made him feel stronger than ever. And God forbid he would let her go. 

As his father grew “suspiciously ill”, [Name]’s concern for Dio only grew. The glowing warmth would flow through his body even more often in her attempts to help him feel better, filling his bloodstream and making his entire body tingle. It was...he could not get enough of it. Whenever she would stop and it would fade, he felt cold, as if he was coming down from a drug high; and she was his source. They had made arrangements so she had a small place to sleep and hide in his room, someplace that his father wouldn’t accidentally discover her and try to take her away from Dio. Even if he did, Dio would not let him. He would not let anyone nor anything take his [Name] away from him. 

***

The letter in Dio’s hand had finally arrived, albeit a little surprising for Dio but he accepted it. The noble family, The Joestars, had apparently owed his deadbeat father for saving their lives over twelve or so years ago, and his father wanted them to raise Dio as their own. Many would see this as a life changing experience, especially someone in Dio’s place but he didn’t. Nobles had no idea of how the world truly worked because they were rich, they could do anything they wished without so much as a passing thought. His grip tightened on the letter. 

The soft, wonderful [Colour] glow caught Dio’s attention as [Name] fluttered over and sat upon Dio’s shoulder, [Eye colour] orbs reading over the writing and a bright smile lifted her lips. 

“This is amazing, Dio!” she spoke, her tone joyous for him, “You’re going to live with a noble family! Isn’t that great?” She hopped from his shoulder onto his arm, closer to the letter and looked up at him. This was such amazing news for the blonde boy, he finally had a chance to achieve his dreams with the support he needed. She had no doubt these nobles would be far more caring than the man who claimed to be Dio’s father. Then this meant one thing. 

She turned to Dio, her bright smile lowering to a caring, warm smile as she looked at him. “You can do whatever you want with your life now, this will probably be the last time we see each other.” It might seem sudden but it was true. Dio no longer needed her as now he was going to a loving family. She has fulfilled her purpose for him and now, they could go their separate ways.

Something flickered in his ember eyes at this. She couldn’t be serious. After all this, she was going to turn her back and leave him? As she turned to fly, a sharp pinch on her wings prevented her from doing so. Turning back to look, confusion coiled inside of her at the two fingers holding her wings together, stopping her from using them. Dio looked at her, his eyes swirling with this darkness that made a coldness brush over her skin. 

“Dio, what are you doing?” She asked, her voice growing small as fear lightly coated her words. 

“Where do you think you are going, exactly?” His tone was cold, sharp like a knife’s edge along with that glint in his eyes. [Name] did not like this. Not one bit. Cold fear began to wrap around her small form, sinking into her bones. 

“Y-You don’t need me anymore. I-” His hold on her wings tightened slightly, making her wince in pain from it. His eyes looked at her as if she was nothing more than an item of his, something that he owned. 

“I never gave you permission to leave, [Name]. You are mine now.” With that, he stood up and walked over to the table, setting the letter down and keeping his hold on [Name], despite her thrashing in an attempt to escape his grip. He grabbed something off the table and help [Name]’s small body in his hand, her back facing whatever he had picked up. 

“Dio, stop please! Let me go!” Her pleas were ignored as he pressed something against her wings, a cold dread dropped in her stomach at this. He wasn’t going to....Oh God, he was! “No! Please, Dio!” A sharp snap was heard and she screamed, the upper sections of her wings fell to the surface of the table. 

“I cannot have you trying to escape from me, my dear.” The scissors set down next to her fallen wings, his hold on her remaining as he reached for something else off the shelf. “If you behave, I will let you out again.” He opened the lid of the glass jar and dropped her in, placing the lid back on and sealing it. 

She got up, wincing from her wings, and pressed against the glass, looking up at Dio with icy fear in her eyes. “Dio, please! Let me out! Please!” She might as well have said nothing at all for how he ignored her pleas. 

“You are mine, [Name]. And I am not going to let you go.” Once making sure the lid was secure, he turned on his heel and pulled a suitcase from under his bed and began to pack everything he deemed necessary to take to the Joestar Estate. She told him when they first met that she was going to help support him until things got better for him, and yes, she has done so. But that did not mean he would allow her to leave. 

She was his fairy. She was his support. She was his sweet drug. And she was his. 

#dio #dio brando #jojo bizarre adventure #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #dio jojo #dio phantom blood #phantom blood #phantom blood x reader #jojo phantom blood #jojo part 1 #fairy reader #yandere dio

[umbry-fic]

To Wish Upon a Lantern

Summary: In the midst of their journey, Lloyd and Colette visit a new town and decide to participate in their lantern festival.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Original Character Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 3266 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 22/06/2021

Notes: Fluff fic with a little bit of angst! Written for @frayed-symphony's birthday!

~~~

“Look at these, Lloyd! They’re so pretty!” Colette exclaimed next to Lloyd. She was pointing out the tiny charms on display in the pop-up cart in the middle of the bustling marketplace. “I wonder what they are,” Colette mused.

“They kinda look like a chef’s hat to me,” Lloyd replied, leaning down to get a closer look at the charms. “You know, the one Professor Raine wore sometimes when trying to cook, just without the folded ridges? It’s even pure white in colour.”

The design resembled a cuboid with an open bottom from which a tassel protruded out, the individual strands all ramrod straight without a kink or tangle in sight. The top of the cuboid transitioned seamlessly into a pyramid-like shape, the same string that made up the tassel extending upwards out of the top of the pyramid, tied into a complicated system of knots. Trying to follow the string down its path made Lloyd’s head hurt. At the end of it all, the string formed a loop, perfect for hanging the charm up on furniture. Threaded on the string above and below the “chef’s hat” were two gems, sunlight reflecting off their polished surfaces and making them sparkle.

“I see what you’re saying.” Colette picked up one of the charms by the loop of string, pursing her lips as her fingers rubbed at the knot. It was a rather satisfying feeling. “But I don’t think a chef’s hat would be important enough to a town for it to be everywhere.”

“True.”

By everywhere, Colette truly meant everywhere. Lloyd had seen multiple variants of this charm at other stalls, some with different colours, some with and without the gems on the strings, some with even more complicated knot designs, some with words printed on the side, some without strings altogether and instead using clasps and hooks, perhaps to better attach the charm to clothing and bags. But it wasn’t just products in the marketplace. He’d seen it in murals painted on the walls of this town, and even walked past some children making a larger version.

“The details are incredible…” Lloyd muttered, feeling the material of the charm. It looked to be folded out of paper at first sight, but the texture wasn’t remotely like it. He wanted to ask the stall owner how he’d folded something so intricate and yet so small.

"Ah, young man, looking to buy one of the lantern charms?"

Speak of the devil! Lloyd nearly jumped out of his skin, gaze snapping up to find that the jovial, bearded stall owner was now right in front of him. The last Lloyd saw of him, he’d been engaged in a fervent discussion with another patron, and that had been just moments ago. How had such a large figure manoeuvred in front of him without any noise at all?!

“No, no! Just window shopping at the moment!” Lloyd quickly clarified, acutely aware of how light the sack of Gald in his pocket was.

“Lanterns? These are lanterns?” Colette interjected, head cocked and hands clasped before her chest. “I’ve never seen lanterns like these before…” When she heard the word “lantern”, she thought of fragile glass and cold metal grips, a flame burning with the faint whiff of kerosene, chasing away the foreboding darkness of winding caverns.

“Ah, I thought you might not be locals. I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Yeah, we’re just passing through. Never been to this town in Sylvarant before, so we thought why not?” Lloyd replied.

“It’s always nice to see travellers now that the Desians are gone,” the shopkeeper said with a hearty chuckle, his smile hidden by bushy black bristles. “To answer your question, young lady, these are indeed lanterns. It has been this town’s proud tradition to make these lanterns and hold an annual festival involving them, where we send them to the Goddess above. Though we’ve only been able to do so again with the Chosen's success. We’re actually holding our second one tonight!”

“A festival?” Colette squealed, clapping her hands together. If she weren’t in the middle of town and surrounded by dozens of other people who could clearly see her, Lloyd thought to himself with a smile, she certainly would have started jumping up and down on the balls of her feet like an excited child.

For that was precisely who she was allowed to be, now that she no longer had to labour under the title of Chosen. The child that had been buried for so long in favour of performing her duty could now come to the forefront. She could show her excitement over experiencing all the strange and delightful customs of each town they came across, whether it be Sylvaranti or Tethe'allan. And it was always so endearing to witness, the clear delight on her face, and it gave Lloyd even more motivation to continue this journey across the reunited world. Both to collect the Exspheres, and to let Colette experience everything this beautiful world had to offer, now that it was no longer denied from her.

“Yes. Everyone is encouraged to participate! All you need to do is purchase one of the lanterns, light it up, and release it into the sky! You can even write custom messages on the sides. Most people choose to write wishes, such that the Goddess can grant them.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Colette’s eyes were shining just as brightly as the gems on the cart. Lloyd was sure that she had built a vivid picture of the festival in her mind, what with her bright imagination honed from years of daydreaming as she sat within the cold walls of the Church of Martel, wanting desperately to escape but only able to do so in her head.

A festival sounded like a wonderful experience to him as well. All festivals were, events that exuded a magical aura as all types of people, strangers, friends, lovers and family alike, came together in one place just to celebrate and have a fun time. He hadn’t gotten to participate in that many, but he’d love to go to more.

"Lloyd, do you want to go?" Colette asked, nudging him in the side.

That was all it took for Lloyd's smile to slip into a small frown. Colette's terrible habit was rearing its ugly head again.

It had taken him a while to pick up on it, to learn to parse through what was innate to Colette’s personality and what was Chosen behaviour. But once he did, it was rather hard to ignore. The accursed mention of “Lloyd, do you want to…” had started to grate on his nerves - she’d done it with regards to the summer festival at Mizuho, and the newly revamped Altamiran theme park, and likely a thousand other times throughout all the years he’d known her that he hadn’t noticed. Asking was all fine and dandy, but only if she expressed her own desires first.

She always did this. Disguised her desires in the form of questions posed to others, too afraid to just do things for herself. She still thought she needed justification to let loose and just enjoy herself, despite her own happiness being justification enough.

Time to flip her question on its head.

"Do you want to go? To release a lantern?" he countered, eyes narrowing as he held her in a stare.

"Uh - uh, I -" Colette stuttered, fumbling at the unexpected turn of conversation, unable to look away from those intense russet eyes. "Well, we're low on Gald! And you did say you wanted to make it back to Iselia by next week, so if we stay a night -"

"That's not what I asked," he interrupted, taking hold of her hand. He didn't like being this forceful with her, but it was required. She needed to learn to ask for herself, and giving excuses was not the way. "I asked if you wanted to."

There was silence as Colette bowed her head, her hair hiding her face. It was but moments later that she raised it again, uncertainty painted across her face. "I… Would like to go... With you… And release a lantern together," she whispered haltingly, like it hurt to get the words out, shy blue eyes meeting his again. For her, it likely did, battling against her instinct to swallow the words down and the fear that there would be retribution, whether from invisible priests or the world at large.

There would be no retribution, not if he had anything to say about it. He squeezed her hand, giving her an affirming nod.

That's it. I’m so proud of you.

A small smile graced her face.

"Then it's settled!" Lloyd declared with gusto, turning back to the stall owner, who’d been watching the whole exchange in silence. “Uh, except the cost. How much is it?” He expected he’d have to haggle; they really didn’t have much Gald left. But no matter how, by hook or by crook, he would make this happen.

The stall owner burst into roaring laughter, slamming a hand on the cart. “For you two, free of charge!”

“What, really?” Lloyd blurted out, hardly able to believe his ears. Surely this was a deal that was too good to be true?

“Yes, really! Take it as payment for putting such a large smile on my face. Go down to the fields at sundown. I’ll meet the two of you there with a lantern. In return, spread the news of our festival to your friends! And if you choose to return next year, you can pay the full price.”

“Thank you so much, mister!” Colette said. ���We’ll be sure to tell all our friends! I’m sure they’ll love the idea so much that they’ll all turn up next year!”

“Ha! I like the sound of that!”

Confirming the details of the meetup, Lloyd thanked the stall owner profusely before walking away hand-in-hand with Colette.

“He was very nice,” Colette muttered.

“That he was. So we shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”

Colette mumbled her agreement, that small smile still on her face, soothing Lloyd’s worry that he might have pushed her too far.

There was still the issue of lunch, though. His stomach was growling, and Colette must have been hungry from all the walking they’d done in the morning. But this time, he’d cut her some slack. He couldn’t expect change to occur immediately - it would take time, possibly years.

“Want to go get lunch at that place we saw down the road that sells dumplings? We’ve never tried it before, and Sheena said it was good.”

Receiving Colette’s enthusiastic agreement, (and spotting the relieved slump of her shoulders,) they set off, their fingers tightly locked together. And after lunch, there would be enough time to explore this town to the fullest.

~~~

Colette stood back on the grassy hill, watching the stall owner (whose name she still hadn’t learned), kneeling on the ground and carefully lighting a match. Lloyd stood slightly closer, observing with a keen eye. He was most likely trying to figure out the craftsmanship of the lantern; he’d been obsessed since he’d first seen the charms. She was more interested in the knot, and would likely be spending an afternoon at Dirk’s playing with string trying to recreate it. She didn’t think that would end very well, and a lot of untangling from Dirk and Lloyd’s end would be required, but it would be fun!

Standing too close to the stall owner ran the risk of her accidentally starting a fire, and that would have horrific consequences on plains of short grass such as these, so she was going to keep a safe distance.

As agreed, she and Lloyd had met up with the stall owner at the rolling hills behind the town, though not before exploring every nook and cranny of the town, with its curving arches and winding, narrow streets, watching the children play games with toys she had never seen before and having the honour of joining in. The stall owner had been in the process of unfolding a compact square of an unknown material, unveiling a lantern that was half her height and fitting it with something that resembled a lamp without the glass covering. (How did that fit into a small square?) After which, he’d lent them brushes whose tips were drenched in dark red ink, asking them to write whatever they wanted on the side of the lantern.

Enraptured with the idea of granting wishes, she had written the first thing that had come to mind before she lost her courage to do so. Lloyd had smiled after seeing her wish, choosing not to write another and only adding his name under hers, causing her to giggle as she tried her best not to trip and dot him in ink.

The sun had still been peeking over the hill when they’d arrived here, but in the time it had taken to finish their preparations, it had sunk out of sight, leaving behind only a harsh pink that was quickly being chased away by sparkling stars.

“It’s done!” the stall owner called out, standing up while keeping a secure grip on the side of the lantern. The fire was contained inside the lantern, causing the sides to be lit up in gentle orange light and the tiny words to stick out in harsh red. She’d noticed that quite a lot of things in this town were red. Maybe it was an auspicious colour to them?

Colette ran over to join Lloyd, accepting the lantern from the stall owner so that she was holding one side and Lloyd was holding the other, standing across from her. She could feel the heat of the flame licking at her fingers, chasing away the chill of the night. The lantern was fighting to escape her hold, the surge of hot air doing its absolute best to propel it towards the heavens, where it belonged.

“You can let go at any time,” the stall owner clarified. “Once that’s done, you can sit here and watch your lantern for as long as you want! I’ll be joining my family and giving you two some alone time now.”

“Thank you, mister!” Colette called out after the diminishing silhouette of the stall owner, until he disappeared amongst the throng of others. It seemed like the entire town and then some had turned up for the festival, populating the plains with head upon head. Somehow, upon this one hill, they were the only two present, free to soak in each other’s company.

“On the count of 3?” Lloyd offered, drawing her attention back to him. The flickering flame of the lantern cast him in the same orange light, the tips of his hair catching most of it and rendering the strands an even lighter brown, the features of his face soft while his lower half was covered in twisting shadow. A truly magical sight.

“Okay.”

“1…”

“2…” she joined in.

“3!” they cheered together, throwing the lantern into the sky and angling their heads up to watch.

The lantern rose fast into the sky, wobbling a little in its journey but remaining steadfast. The weather was good today, with no hint of a raincloud and only a gentle breeze that would pose no problems. Theirs was one of the first lanterns, joining the dozen that had already made their way into the clear sky to play by the moon, darkness having fully fallen.

Feeling a tug on her sleeve, she found that Lloyd had settled himself on the grass and was gesturing for her to join him. She did just that, the two of them sitting in silence side-by-side for a few minutes as more and more people released their lanterns.

"Sorry if I was too hard on you in the morning," Lloyd whispered, finally breaking the silence as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"No, it was necessary," she replied, taking his hand and squeezing. "You were just trying to help me. Besides, you've more than made up for it today. And I know I need to start thinking about myself more. It's just… Hard.”

It was difficult, to push past the echoes of the priests in her mind, telling her that as Chosen she had to conduct herself with the utmost grace and not indulge in cravings. That accepting gifts from others were already pushing the line, not to mention asking for things. It wasn’t proper.

“I'm -"

"Stop right there," Lloyd interjected, pressing a finger against her lips, a slightly exasperated smile on his face. “No apologising for what isn’t your fault, remember?”

“Ah, right! I’m - Okay, I’m just going to stop talking,” Colette muttered with flushed cheeks, clapping her hand over her mouth as she let her head fall onto his shoulder. She’d gotten better, but whenever she fell back into one habit, she tended to fall into all of them at once.

At least she could stop herself now. And she wanted to shed those behaviours, not only for herself, but to stop seeing the sad frown on Lloyd’s face. He continued to blame himself for not catching on sooner, for unknowingly encouraging those habits, when it wasn’t his fault.

Lloyd chuckled, leaning his head on hers. “It’s alright. I know it’s not going to be easy, but all you need to do is take baby steps. And I’ll be here to help you.”

“I know you will.”

“Let’s just enjoy the view now, shall we?”

“Mm.”

Above them, there were a thousand pinpricks of light as the lanterns rose into the sky. So many and so dense that they seemed to outnumber the stars themselves, though she knew that was impossible. Or perhaps the lanterns were golden stars, each holding a precious wish that its owner hoped could come true with all their heart, prayed would reach the Goddess. It almost reminded her of gazing up at the grand chandelier adorned with candles that hung in the sanctum of the Church, but instead of a sight that filled her heart with melancholy, the sight before her now was a breathtaking and uplifting one, even if she knew there was no Goddess in the sky.

For surely, if this many people came together with a common dedication, a miracle could still occur to grant these wondrous wishes.

She could barely see their lantern now - it was both lost among the crowd and too high up, the words she’d written on it too far away to make out. But they were still held in her heart.

I wish that I can continue exploring this incredible world together with you.

Mayhap it was a selfish wish. It would have been more appropriate for the Chosen to wish for the good of the world. But she wasn’t the Chosen anymore. Besides, she was sure other people had made such a wish. And… If the wishes contained within all these lanterns were to come true, would the world not be a better, happier place? Would there not be a brighter tomorrow awaiting all of them?

“I’d like to come back next year,” she said, trying her best to push out the desires in her heart, to stop battling against guilt that she knew she should not need to feel. “Maybe with all of our friends?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Maybe my wish will be different next year.

She snuggled closer into Lloyd’s warmth, enjoying the feel of his arms around her, both a comforting blanket and an impregnable shield.

I don’t think it will.

#fanfiction #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colette brunel #lloyd irving #one shot

[belit0]

The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1

This is a project I have, where I want to develop two of my most important OCS, Indra’s children. Since Kishimoto did not give us anything about how this beautiful man created the Uchiha clan, I made my own version of the events, and here I come to show you! Plus I’ll add a third OC of mine, Indra’s wife (I did not feel like a [x reader] situation was fitting for this fic)✨🖤

Rating: E

Pairing: [Otsutsuki Indra / FEM OC]

TW: probably tons of them, but I don’t just yet

Thanks a lot to the amazing @art-blocked-gremlin for giving this two boys life!! Check out Art’s blog!!✨🖤🧙🏻‍♀️

Kuro (left) and Hikari (right). Indra’s twins!

An explosion was what woke both brothers up in the middle of the night. The room was lit up with an intense red color, from the flames that swept across the night sky from one moment to the next. The twins sat up in their beds, but their reactions were incredibly different.

Hikari was stunned as he had never witnessed such a display apart from the demonstrations of his father and mother as they both trained with murderous intent and skills.

“Why are mum and dad training at this hour, Kuro?”

The other brother, however, was aware of the facts that preceded those flames.

Kuro was always the closest to Indra, trying to follow each of his steps and imitating all of his attitudes perfectly. Both twins were arduously instructed from an early age by their father in the art of Ninjutsu, turning them into two young prodigies. But Hikari maintained his innocence intact, which his brother did not, and that distinguished them completely from each other despite being almost equal physically.

The twin who was closest to Indra developed a special and unique bond with him, sharing moments with him that his brother did not experience. Hikari, on the other hand, was always more likely to bond with his mother, and gain power from a less aggressive yet tactical point of view, without getting his hands too dirty.

It was during one of the moments alone with his father that Kuro heard the story of an extremely evil man, who had been pursuing his father with a thirst for revenge for years. This evil man, as told by Indra, tries to kill him and his family, after betraying him when they were teenagers. He will do everything to see him suffer, torture his children and wife in front of his eyes, and kill him slowly.

That day, this twin found out that their father trains them from a young age with such ferocity so that they will be able to defend themselves if one day the evil man finds them. After hearing Indra’s words that day, Kuro understood that it was his duty to protect his brother’s innocence at all costs, and that if the occasion ever arose, it would be his duty to get rid of the evil man.

At the age of 8, Kuro knows that those flame-leagues dancing outside the window do not belong to a mom-and-pop training session. Kuro knows that the evil man came to get them, and that things got ugly.

Before they can act or move, both twins hear hurried footsteps outside their room, and look intently at the door. After a few seconds, it opens, revealing an Indra dressed in his shiny, heavy armor, with two crossed swords on his back and his hair down. Both children know that seeing their father in this appearance means that a dangerous confrontation is approaching, for that protection they see on his shoulders, chest and back has been kept unused for years, as have his blades.

“Dad? Where’s Mommy?”

Hikari does not want to believe that their peaceful life is threatened, and that his father was forced into his war position again.

“My sons, come here.”

Quickly obeying the demand, both twins move into Indra’s arms, to be lifted in the air a second later. With his two children in his grip, the Ōtsutsuki uses his teleportation technique, and soon the corridor of the house is illuminated by a blue flash, while the three of them disappear.

One second later, they appear considerably away from the house where the pair of children have been raised, in the middle of a forest. Indra places his heirs on the floor, and holds them both by the shoulders, kneeling on the floor to stare into their eyes.

“Children, eyes.”

Understanding the request, the twins activate their Sharingan, and with increasing anxiety they wait for more words to understand the situation.

“Kuro… Hikari… I need you to be strong… Time is short, and your father has to take care of something urgent… My sons, my young boys. You are both warriors, you both carry my eyes, and this will guide both of you today and forever…”

“B-Bu-ut d-da-ad where’s mommy?!”

“She’s fighting Hikari… your mother is the strongest woman, and both of you must hide until we come and get you… Can you do it for us? Can you hold on together until mother and father defeat the evil man, Kuro?”

“Yes, Dad, we can… But… please… don’t… don’t leave us alone.”

"We wont ever leave you alone… you are my legacy, you are the black flames that run through my veins… Dad will always find you, I promise to return for you.”

Holding each child behind their head, Indra drew them into a hug, where he ran his arms behind their little backs.

“Be the strong ones, remember the power of your eyes… you, my two young boys, are my very soul, protect each other”.

“Yes dad.”

Both twins answered in unison.

By separating them from his embrace, Indra wiped away Hikari’s tears with bitterness, those his son was trying to hide from his eyes to look strong in front of him. He himself knew that if he kept saying goodbye to his children, he was capable of reaching the edge of sentimentality. Those kids were the cause of his soft side, a side that he never considered possible to have after the things he had lived through.

Bee had softened him up quite a bit, but the birth of his twins and their existence was something that brought unexpected happiness to the life of the Ōtsutsuki, something that washed away much of the accumulated meanness of years to give way to a light that he hardly remembered anymore.

“Go and hide, wait for us, go!”

And so both brothers ran in the middle of the night through the forest. Barefoot and wearing their bedding, they held hands, and dodged every tree and bush thanks to their Sharingan’s vision. Neither of them knew where they were going, but with his father’s words etched in his mind, Kuro guided Hikari as far as possible from the explosions heard in the distance.

Suddenly, the lattest stopped, and placing his hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath. As the two breathed in agitation, a huge violet light shone on the horizon, along with an orange flash. The flashes of both colours constantly flickered as if colliding with each other in the air.

“Come on Hikari we have to keep moving!”

Kuro rushed his brother by the wrist, panicking at the terrifying display that danced across the sky. If one of those lights belonged to their father, he didn’t know, for Indra never wanted to share much of his past with his children beyond the story he told one of them.

They returned to the trail, trying hard to find a place to take refuge until their parents could come for them. Neither of them knew the true story of what was happening, and the only thing the children had at that moment was each other. Their hands were tightly intertwined, sharing the feelings of anxiety and panic through their union.

Eventually they found a cave, shallow and hidden among some trees. Sitting together, interlocking their arms and leaning their backs against the cold rock, they both shivered and closed their eyes, hoping that it would all be over soon, hoping to hear the voices of their parents sometime before it was too late.

“Kuro… I’m scared…”

“Nonsense, Hikari… mom and dad are the strongest people on earth… on the planet… on whatever comes next…”

“But… but… what if there’s someone just like them?”

“…”

“We never saw daddy fight… What if he’s not as strong as we thought, brother? What if…”

“ENOUGH ALREADY.”

“Kuro…”

“You’re insulting our father… he must have reasons why he doesn’t want us to see all his skills… Do you really think he can only use the Katon he uses when he trains with mom?”

“But…”

“They are both much stronger than we know! They will murder the evil man and come looking for us soon!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared too, elder brother.”

“I’m not… What did you call me?”

“Elder brother… you are taking care of me like one would take care of one’s younger brother…”

“It’s okay to admit that I’m five minutes older than you, younger brother.”

“Shut it, fool… I wonder if dad had any brothers… We know mom didn’t, but what about father Kuro?”

“If he had any brothers we’d know about it. You know he had always been alone until he had mom and us. Why are you wondering?”

“I don’t know… we just don’t know anything about his life. Aren’t you curious?”

“I tell you what, when they come looking for us, we’ll ask him anything we want about when he was a kid. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Both twins laughed in the middle of the night, ignoring for a second the tragic scenario that lurked outside their safe bubble.

Suddenly, a disembodied voice spoke from somewhere in the cave, and the two children huddled together, for that sound was certainly not coming from either their mother or father.

“I can attest that Indra had a younger brother… I can tell you the whole story if you want, children.”

A chill ran through Kuro’s body, and by his side he felt Hikari shaking uncontrollably.

“W-WHO ARE YOU?! WHERE IS OUR FATHER?!”

With the Sharingan activated, the twin scanned the darkness, looking for the source of sound, the threat. Suddenly he found a man, tall and dressed in a white coat.

“Papa, papa, is that them? Is that them?”

The voice of a third child echoed in the cave, and both twins were stunned. Where did a child come from and why was he asking for them?

“Yes, son, they are your cousins.”

“NONSENSE, WHERE ARE OUR PARENTS?! SPEAK UP BEFORE I KILL YOU.”

“ Certainly you are my elder brother’s sons, I have no doubt about that. I would expect nothing less from Indra’s kids.”

“ ANSWER ME!”

Kuro was beginning to lose his patience, and with him, Hikari was growing more and more courageous in the face of the stranger’s evasive responses. They couldn’t be afraid of such a situation, their father had trained them to deal with such things, and they had to live up to their knowledge.

It was the boy who claimed to be their cousin who spoke first.

“Papa, are you going to tell them that their mum and dad are dead?”

The boy tried to whisper it, but in the silence of the cave, the words reached the twins’ ears easily.

Hikari turned pale in his place, dropping his arms and staring at the ground as his mouth and eyes opened wide.

Kuro tensed, all his little muscles contracted, his eyes fixed on the stranger in front of them, and he took a fighting stance. It was he who continued to speak.

“NO, DON’T LIE TO US, OUR PARENTS DIDN’T DIE NO!”

“Children I… I’m sorry…”

The stranger looked down at the ground and hugged his alleged son.

“NO, NO, NO, LIES, LIES, LIES!”

“You will come with me and- ”

At that moment, something inside the twins’ minds broke. Their hearts exploded into a thousand pieces, and their lives became blackened without warning. Hikari looked up, staring at the stranger as his brother was doing. The two children glared at their enemy with intensity, pain and agony in their red eyes.

A thick drop of blood slipped from the right eye of both of them.

An unknown and terrifying pattern was drawn in the eyes of Indra’s sons, who mourned the death of their parents by unlocking new powers.

In a second, the cave burned in black flames, which were born of Kuro’s will.

In a second, both twins were covered by a grey skeleton surrounded by matching chakra, born of Hikari’s will.

-To be continued-

#otsutsuki indra #otsutsuki kuro #otsutsuki hikari #indra's twins #uchihas #my ocs #my fic #indra's family #kuro #hikari #indra

[inkedtae]

lost at sea ⇾ kth. [A]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ bestfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ f2l, mutual pining, angst, fluff

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ in a state of misery, you shine through. and for eternity, it will always be you.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 1.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ crying!taehyung, insecure!taehyung

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ just missing mullet!taehyung. extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. if you have any requests, please send them my way. enjoy!

⤑ le playlist

The sky was a swirl of lilac clouds, the setting sun peeking through as its peachy light glittered over the blue sea. You sharply inhaled the salty air as your eyes trailed down to the rusted railing the two of you were leaning against. His large hand rested near yours. A part of you wanted to interlock your fingers, forever holding onto each other, but the rational part of you talked you out of it. 

“Things seem so dark sometimes,” he suddenly muttered over the engine of the ferry. 

You looked up to face him, his gaze locked with the contrasting colours of the world before you. “What do you mean?” 

He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His wild, tiger-like eyes seemed tamer this evening, a whirlwind of doubt and pain drowning in them. They slowly glassed over, causing yours to do the same. “Sometimes I just feel trapped.” His voice was quiet, forcing you to lean in closer to hear him over the roaring waves. “My heart just…” He trailed off, curling one of his hands into a fist as he tried to find the words.

“Feels like it’s crushing into itself?” you finished. 

You knew that feeling all too well. The twisting, squeezing feeling of your heart collapsing into itself, trapped in anger, hurt, and regret. “Like all hope is dying with each breath you take?”

He swallowed, blinking back a tear and slowly nodded. “Sometimes I just feel like whatever I do, I can never get rid of that feeling.”

You were not sure where this confession was coming from. In all the years you’ve known Taehyung, he always had a smile on his face. Whenever you were sad, or feeling insecure, he had always been there, with that wide, boxy smile, reassuring you that everything would be okay. Not even a minute ago, you were both laughing, clutching your guts from joyous pain. 

You timidly stepped closer, your bodies half an inch apart now, and looked up at him. His little freckles were so clear now, and you resisted the urge to kiss the one by his lip. Ignoring the thought of kissing his pain away, you asked, “What’s making you feel this way?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You tried to lean around to meet his eyeline, but he remained distant. You took his chin between your fingers and forced him to look into your eyes as I asked again, “Why are you feeling this way?”

“People have been telling me I’m odd,” he finally confessed, his eyes watering once again. “That I’m weird and that my hair is ugly.”

Who the hell has been feeding him lies?

My eyes flicker to the black hat and grey hood he had been wearing all day. It suddenly made sense. You let go of his soft face and pushed back his hood. You took his hat off and stared at it for a moment. Your eyes flickered between it and the sea, then returned to Taehyung’s sad ones. Before you could think twice about it, I threw it overboard.

“Hey!” He shouted, watching it shrink from view as it floated. He turned to you with a confused look and a little smile playing on his lips. “What the hell did you do that for?” He asked, glancing back at the wet hat. 

“Because you don’t need to hide your hair,” I laughed, fixing the little mullet on the nape of his neck. You brushed it out with your fingers, ignoring how soft it felt. 

He stared at you for a moment before mumbling, “I’m thinking about cutting it off.”

You paused mid-stroke. “I will never talk to you again if you do,” you replied, moving your hand from his neck to his forehead. “And for the record, you’re not odd,” you added, straightening his bangs.

He rolled his eyes, those lips forming a cute, little pout. You cursed yourself for sneaking a peek at them. After all these years, you should have known how dangerous those lips can be. 

“You’re just saying that,” he sighed. 

Does he really believe those idiots?

You returned your hands to your sides as your brows knit together. “Tae, do you seriously not see how amazing you are?”

He scoffed, turning his body back to the sea, and leaning against the railing once more. 

You literally felt your heart break. 

Taehyung was a living prince, incredibly handsome and graceful in every aspect of his life. His kind soul never failed to surprise you and his soft heart never failed to steal yours away. He was always willing to help, even strangers he’d never met. Yes, he had a big personality, one that may seem animated, but it was one that was pure. 

It dawned on you that the only way to make him see that was to use what he already believed against him. 

“You are odd.” 

He snapped his head to you, a tear falling from his left eye. 

You cleared your throat and blinked back your own tears as you continued, “It’s odd that you stopped on the side of a road for a stranger at four in the morning. It’s odd that you tried your best to fix that blown tire, and when you finally realized you couldn’t and you called the tow truck, it was odd that you stayed until it showed up.” You cursed your voice for cracking at the end and the tears that were freely falling. “It was odd when you offered that stranger a ride home, and then came over the next day with a cup of coffee, even though you hate it, just to make sure they were okay.”

He stood straighter, watching you through his own blurred vision as his own tears stained his rosy cheeks. 

“You’re odd, Taehyung,” You shrugged, using the back of your sleeve to wipe your nose. “But in the best way.”

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears before pressing his forehead against yours. You swallowed, as your eyes flickered from his gaze to his lips. Your noses brushed, and he hesitated, watching you carefully. You began to think that he must’ve changed his mind, but he surprised you once again, muttering, “I came the next day because something told me I’d be an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you get away.”

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, he pressed his lips on yours. It wasn’t as soft and sweet as you always imagined it, but instead rather needy and a bit desperate, like the only air left was trapped between your mouths. 

Your lips were swollen when you parted, faces still slick with salty tears. Neither one of you cared enough to pull away, your foreheads still pressed together. 

As the silent crashing of the waves and droning hum of the engine surrounded you, you could feel that twisting anger, hurt, and regret in your heart slowly drift away. And the look in his eyes told you that his heart must be freed from it as well. 

Together, on this crappy, slightly smelly ferry, you let the world melt away, for the only proof of your darkness was an abandoned black hat lost at sea.

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #bts kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts angst #bts fluff

[tumblingdownthefeels]

Day 1: Rule the Court

B. Seasons (well, a mix of both A and B)

The same way the seasons change, what Oikawa felt towards volleyball changed too.

Summer

It was a very hot summer, the air was humid, the sun blazed, and Oikawa Toru had just discovered volleyball. His soft brown eyes were glued to the T.V. screen, a glimmer in them as he watched the match unfold. Though he enjoyed watching the ball go back and forth at incredible speeds between the two teams, he couldn't help but notice how one person on the court seemed to outshine the rest.

The man's fingertips would brush against the ball, making sure to reach those coming in from behind or beside him. He seemed to be aware of his surroundings, the conditions of not just his teammates, but those on the other side of the court as well. Without doing anything that stood out, he'd make sure his teammates were at their level best.

Whatever he did, didn't seem too flashy, but something about it sparked a fire in Oikawa's chest, giving him a torch to light the path to his future. Oikawa knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to play volleyball.

He made sure to pester his best friend Iwaizumi until he agreed to practice with him. Though Iwaizumi seemed reluctant at first, he too, developed a love for the sport.

Together, the two boys would practice whenever they had the opportunity. Oikawa tried his hand at setting, just like the man he saw on television, slowly getting better at the task.

Autumn

Oikawa was now in his third year of middle school and his skills had improved to a great extent. He practiced daily and tried to be a setter who made his spikers shine on court. Together with his team, they managed to defeat almost every opponent that stood before them.

Oikawa felt as if he was a great setter, no one in the prefecture could beat him, that is, until Kageyama Tobio made his way onto the team.

This small, quiet first year who seemed to have no care in the world, made Oikawa boil with rage. Why was it that this boy could say he wanted to play the position of setter so easily? That was Oikawa's role on the team and he wasn't planning on giving it up to a newcomer.

However, it wasn't long before Oikawa realized just how dangerously amazing this first year was. Kageyama simply had pure, raw talent, something he seemed to be unaware of. He was still a little rough around the edges, but given proper training, he could outshine Oikawa.

The thought that he could eventually be replaced haunted the third year setter. The fear of losing what meant the world to him, was something that ate the poor boy alive. Seeing Kageyama play stung like needles, moulding the fear in his heart into something very plausible.

To prove he was more capable than his junior, Oikawa trained as hard as he could, or so he thought. During practice matches, his thoughts would drift from volleyball to the ugly fears consuming him. No matter what he did, he was unable to set the ball. He was rapidly accelerating towards the very thing he was so desperately trying to protect. He was replaced by Kageyama.

Winter

Oikawa, along with his teammates finally made it to the finals. The third years could go to the nationals in their last year as middle school students. They could go home victorious.

Their final opponent, Ushijima Wakatoshi, stood on the opposite side of the court, a cool and calm look in his eyes. He didn't seem to be worried at all, he appeared to be anything but.

Eyeing Ushijima, Oikawa raised an eyebrow, wondering how confident the boy before him was. Did he really think without a second thought that Oikawa and the team were going to lose against him? Was he so certain that he could take on this team that worked hard to get to where they were? If that was what he was thinking, Oikawa would show him just how wrong he was.

Throughout the match, no matter the odds, the setter didn't lose a single ounce of hope. Until the ball hit the floor for the last time, Oikawa struggled to keep up with those on the other side of the net. He couldn't give up, for his team was relying on him. He had to prove to them that he deserved to be their setter.

After experiencing a crushing defeat, Oikawa vowed that he'd make Ushijima feel the same way he did. He would become stronger, someone who wouldn't let his teammates carry the pain of defeat in their hearts.

The ice gnawing inside Oikawa, was slowly capturing the fire that had burned so brightly, making it dimmer and dimmer. The terrifying blizzard had yet to melt away.

Now in his final year of high school, Oikawa had gradually learned what was truly required of him as a setter. He wasn't special, that much he was aware of. He knew he had to do what was best for his teammates. During matches, it would be impossible to remain in peak condition, but it was his job to ensure that even at their lowest, they would still be able to play.

Since the end of middle school till his third year in high school, Oikawa also learned that training constantly didn't equate to being better and stronger. In actuality, it meant the exact opposite. He had learned to take a break every now and then, so that he could maintain his health, both physically and mentally.

This year was Aoba Johsai's last chance to defeat Ushijima and the rest of Shiratorizawa, something they still were unable to make a reality in the past two years. Oikawa was certain victory was in their reach. He had faith in his team and in his skills as their captain.

However, there was another thorn in his path, the Flightless Crows, Karasuno, a team that seemed to have risen from the shadows. They weren't the best, but they were certainly commendable. Not only did they have Kageyama, but a spiker who could keep up with him. The duo seemed make use of Kageyama's sets and the spiker, Hinata Shouyou's, speed, making Karasuno a worthy opponent in Oikawa's eyes.

The preliminaries went by, with Karasuno being the toughest wall to break in order to get to Shiratorizawa. However, Oikawa's promise to defeat Ushijima was once again shattered as the ball dropped a final time.

Even after this, Oikawa still prayed that they'd be able to come out victorious in their next and final chance.

For Oikawa going to nationals would have been amazing, it was an obvious dream of his, however, his stubbornness to prove Ushijima wrong was something that held just as important a place in his heart. He felt as if defeating his rival would make him realize that Oikawa didn't need to be the strongest like him. He needed to be strong enough to solidify the strength of those that stood by his side. Aoba Johsai didn't rely on a single person's strength, but that of the six members on court and all of those that weren't.

Though the captain was aware that Karasuno was going to stir up even more trouble for them than last time, what he wasn't expecting was them all to have matured immensely in the short span they hadn't seen each other. Forget facing Shiratorizawa, Karasuno was going to be a challenge in and of itself.

Unlike the previous match against Karasuno, this one proved to be even more difficult. Their libero's defense, their Captain's level-headedness, and that Freak Duo of theirs, was a tiresome obstacle which Oikawa really wished to overcome. But what became of the match, ripped any wish and dream Oikawa had regarding nationals.

Aoba Johsai lost.

Everything Oikawa lived for, turned to dust before his now glistening eyes.

The heat of his tears against his skin wasn't enough to melt the freezing emptiness he felt inside.

Spring

A cool breeze brushed against Oikawa's cheeks, ruffling his hair in the process. He didn't mind; he was at such a place in life that made him glad he didn't give up volleyball. Oikawa had moved to Argentina, deciding he'd continue the sport there, away from the people he still planned on beating.

One day, Oikawa found himself at a beach in Brazil, standing face to face with Karasuno's Number 10, Hinata Shouyou.

Never did either one of them thought they'd ever run into each other, but the truth was right before their eyes. The two hit it off almost immediately, and soon they were competing against another team in beach volleyball.

It was when he first tried his hand at this version of the sport and failed at it magnificently, did he realize what made him fall in love with volleyball in the first place. Trying something once, failing at it, trying it again, failing once again, doesn't necessarily mean that one isn't getting better at it. If one doesn't give up, the thrill of succeeding is much more exhilarating than if they had gotten it right the first time around. Oikawa realized that volleyball for him did not equate to winning, but to improving himself so that once he did win, he'd know he had done the best he could. Something that Oikawa now believed in was that there were always going to be people more stronger, more talented, more faster than him, but he had to be the very best that he, himself could be. In the end, he was the only one he had to prove his worth to.

The dying flame in his soul was ignited once more, erupting into colours so bright, one would have to turn away. Oikawa Toru was back, and this time he would surely rule the court.

Finally, the day Oikawa had been waiting for arrived. He was to face off against those he had promised to quite a while ago. He stood tall and confident, with every intention to repay them for all the losses he endured and to show them his pride wasn't misplaced.

And that is exactly what he did.

>>>>>

So I decided to give this a try, and hopefully it wasn't a terrible read. And also I hope I didn't miss the deadline. Anyway, thank you so much for reading through the whole thing. It means a lot. ❤️

#haikyuu!! #haikyuuweek2020 #hq!! #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru #haikyuu season 4 #fanfic #seasons

[sevendeadlyheadcanons]

to kick things off-

The Sins + Elizabeth and Elaine in a high-school AU

(You’ll have to forgive me I don’t know how the American school system works,,)

Meliodas-

-The leader of the gang™

-The teachers and students either love him or hate him there’s no middle

-Makes up stories about the school to put people on edge or make them follow through with his schemes (“I heard there was a ghost in the girls bathroom”)

-Absolutely wears one of them jerseys.

-all of the girls adore him even though he literally rolled out of bed looking like that

-probably starts the food fights

-brilliant at pe.

-he’s an absolute madlad

-he has a pencil case but all of his pen caps have been chewed

Diane-

-The loveliest girl you’ll ever meet

-The girl that always has a pad/hair bands for other girls in need

-She’s in all the dance clubs inside and outside of school!! She dances in every play but she can’t act to save her life

-Always wears scrunchies.

-Wants to be friends with everyone.

-Often forgets to do homework/coursework but the teachers let her off because they all love her

-Colour co-ordinates her work. Never writes in black

Ban-

-The kid who connects to the school’s speaker and plays the monsters inc theme

-Him and Meliodas have had beyblade battles in the hallway. They’re intense

-He looks incredibly scary although he’s mostly harmless unless you touch his gf

-taller than most teachers

-“Are you gonna eat that?”

-he is always scruffy- untucked shirt and odd socks.

-Never listens in class and somehow always passes?

-probably also wears a jersey

-never has a pen ever

King-

-If you ever miss class and need to borrow somebody’s notes King is your guy. He writes down things that aren’t even necessary. He writes at lightning speed and is really neat.

-Probably owns a bullet journal in secret

-The best dressed guy in the school. Always wearing designer polos. Nobody appreciates him for it

-his lunch was always stolen by Ban so King started making two lunches and indirectly started making lunch for Ban everyday

-he also makes Elaine lunch

-He has a large pencil case which is organised in rainbow order and if you put a pen in the wrong way you die instantly

-teacher’s pet

Gowther-

-They let him be on the cheer squad !!!

-He probably transferred later and was on his own for a while until the sins picked him up and took him in

-he’s either shy or flamboyant. I can’t make up my mind

-If he’s not with his buddies he’s in the library reading

-him and Slader both watch RuPaul and Queer Eye and talk about it often

-He’s well dressed- although sometimes he dresses in girls clothes

-Has a religious skincare routine

-Is really smart at most subjects but he stays quiet in class. He absolutely sucks at cooking class though

Merlin-

-Once got told off for violating the dress code so she released a bunch of rats in the kitchen to assert dominance

-Knows the principal and apparently has some dirt on him so she hasn’t been kicked out

-Never does the work in class but somehow aces the tests

-Literally a master at chemistry

-Always late because she was caught up in an experiment or something wild

-wears the weirdest things to school

-Arthur’s tutor

-Most teachers are scared of her tbh

Escanor-

-Really intrigued by Merlin

-Merlin is always running late and never brings in lunch so he always makes her some sandwiches and brings her some water

-The kid that can understand Shakespearean language and understands Macbeth on a deeper level

-He’s always dressed well.

-a nice guy to talk to. If your seat is assigned next to his he’ll talk to you and be your buddy and let you use his pens

-probably wakes up at 6am even though school doesn’t start until 8:30

-surprisingly good at pe. him and meliodas are often pitted against each other in basketball

-on good terms with all the teachers. probably buys them all mugs at the end of the year

Elizabeth-

-everyone knows she’s meliodas’ gf

-she’s super clumsy. She’ll forget her pencil case or her lunch and she’ll trip up in the hallway 24/7

-once somebody tripped her up on purpose. everyone turned on that person

-The biggest heart ever,,,

-knows all of the teacher’s birthdays and buys them all cards and chocolate

-will always help if a student is stuck in class or has a situation at home

-buys and writes Christmas cards for the whole school

-always gives extra money in on tag day

-gets along with everyone

-always wearing cute dresses and outfits. Never seen in the same thing twice

Elaine-

-everyone knows she’s ban’s gf but she wants to be so much more than that!!!

-very artsy. makes candles and knits for everyone

-gets all of her brother’s stationary that he doesn’t want anymore.

-She never forgets anything ever.

-probably has a decorated hydroflask

-wears clothes that she got from a thrift shop and revamped.

-very big on recycling

-she once made ban a scarf and it was really ugly but ban insisted on wearing it everyday and booted whoever laughed

-Always decorates the school at Christmas

thank you for reading haha 💛💛

#nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #meliodas #ban nnt #diane nnt #gowther #king nnt #harlequin #merlin nnt #escanor #elaine nnt #elizabeth #this took me a long time oof

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 19

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 5k

; Warnings: Brief mentions of depression, anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A chapter that’s a little bit more fluffier :D thank you for the love and as usual, please send me comments or feedback so I can see you’re enjoying it still! :D We’re almost halfway through!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Ooh, look at that house.” Hoseok murmurs, almost to himself given how quiet his voice had gone. Pausing from your walk, you turn around and see that he’s stopped a feet away, his camera being held up to his eye as he looks through the viewfinder. There’s a few moments where he shifts around, trying to find the best angle and lighting before you hear the click of the shutter.

He’s not even looking at you as he begins walking again, instead his eyes are focused on the LCD screen on the back of his camera. Leaning against him a little when he finally reaches you, you peer around at what he’d just taken a photo of and smile in amusement.

After all of the bad stuff that had happened recently, you’d found yourself needing to do something to distract yourself. The antidepressants no longer gave you any major side effects and you thought that they were working, though it was probably too early to say yes or no for definite. But you also wanted to thank Hoseok for being so sweet and reliable.

As such, you’d asked Chungha if her family might let you use their beach house for the weekend. It was one of those big, rambling wooden beach houses that always looked so pretty, its yard bumping up against soft white sand and an endless expanse of beautiful blue ocean as far as the eye could see. 

The town it was in was equally picturesque, one of those places that looks like it’s been transplanted from some old European place with plenty of old style charm and warmth. Chungha’s house had apparently been in her family for generations; some long ago ancestor had built it themselves when they’d arrived and since then, her family had moved on and it had become more of a holiday home.

You’d been there once during college when Chungha had invited Soyeon and you for spring break. It had been a great time and you’d just known that Hoseok would love it all, particularly for his photography.

So you’d told him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything this weekend and to bring his camera before driving out here. He’d been excited enough to know that you were both spending a weekend at the beach, apparently he loved the ocean, but when he actually saw the town as you were driving through and then the house he’d been thoroughly charmed by it all.

That had been yesterday, the both of you getting to see the town just as the sun was setting in the winter hours and so today, Saturday, was the first time you were getting to show him it all properly. The house he’d just taken a picture of was on one of the little side streets and it looked adorably quaint, its wooden front painted a delicate shell white with baby pink window frames and a soft yellow door.

Flower boxes full of what must be winter blooming flowers and plants were hung from the windows while planters of small, ornate bushes framed the door. The awnings along the roof were also wood but had been intricately carved, giving it the impression of some kind of fairytale house.

The photos that Hoseok had taken looked pretty enough, but you knew that he’d do some magical editing later and they’d look beautiful. You could already see how the contrasting colours would look perfect against the greenery surrounding the building and you couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face as Hoseok made little noises as he walked.

He did that a lot when he was happy, and you didn’t know if he knew he did it. You weren’t going to tell him though, because you didn’t want him to get embarrassed about it and stop doing them. It made you happy to hear his vocalisation of his own emotions, and you needed some happiness lately.

Wrapping your arm around his, you pressed against him until he veered slightly off course. Looking up, he checks that he’s not about to walk off the road before looking down at you with a grin, letting his camera drop to hang by the strap around his neck and withdrawing his arm from your grasp before placing it around your waist contentedly. 

“This place is great, my photos are gonna look awesome.” He commented, his tone already distracted as he spotted something new in the distance that had attracted his attention. Smiling, you simply lay your head against his shoulder and just…enjoy his presence. You’d been well aware of his love for photography and had watched over the last few months as he’d done some casual stuff around the place you lived in alongside taking your photos for your Instagram.

But this was the first time you were truly seeing the raw passion he had for it. The way his eyes lit up when he got a good shot or how bright his smile became when he saw something that he knew would look perfect on camera.

“Why didn’t you do photography professionally? Your photos are great and you obviously love it, you’ve got a good eye.” You ask, looking up at him as he evidently decides that he’s not going to take another photo.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t respond but you can tell by the way he purses his lips slightly and his dimples come to life that he’s thinking about the answer for you. Eventually, thought he just shrugs.

“Because I was young and dumb? I liked photography when I was a teenager but it was never my number one thing. And then I went to college and finally learnt to handle my emotions better. By that point…I just wanted something stable in my life. As much as I love photography, I know that it’s not really a hugely stable job and I might never make it. I wasn’t ready to risk myself when I’d finally gotten my life on track again.” He sounds a little bit wistful but it vanishes as he shrugs lightly.

“It’s fine, I love my job now and I love computers. I get to enjoy photography as a hobby, which is all I want to be honest. I’d be worried that if I turned my hobby into my job then I wouldn’t love it anymore, you know?” Nodding, you hum gently as you ponder on his question intently.

Hoseok is only two years older than you, and sometimes it feels like he’s got his whole life sorted out already. Like he’s a real adult and you’re just a pretend adult. The thought makes you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Hoseok gives you a querying look.

He’d probably think the same thing if you told him. What was being an adult anyway? You still called your dad for the simplest of things after all.

Smiling to yourself, you huddle further into Hoseok’s warmth and take the opportunity to simply chat lightly with him. Next weekend, you would be going to his parents for the first time. And if he’d been nervous to meet your parents, then you were terrified to meet his.

Hoseok’s family was pretty well off compared to yours and he’d never really wanted for anything. The fact that they’d lost a daughter made that all seem pointless in comparison really, but it made you feel a little sick thinking about it. You were dating their only child now, the only child they had left out of what had been two.

He’d never said anything but nice things about them but you knew that parents were always god in their children’s eyes. Especially if they had no negative emotions or feelings towards them. And Hoseok adored his mom, you knew that. But that just made it all the more worse.

You’d read more than enough subreddits to have realised that there was a special category of mom and that was the moms of sons. Some seemed to be fine, but some seemed to act like a girlfriend was taking their place in their son’s life. There were plenty of horrifying stories out there of women treating their sons girlfriend or wife horrifically bad and the son being unable to see it because of how much he loved her.

While you doubted Hoseok’s mom was like that, and for that you didn’t really think Hoseok would react happily if his parents were mean, it was still a worry. You’d never met a guy’s parents before. So that was all rushing through your mind as well. Yet another reason you’d opted to spend this weekend just enjoying each other’s company.

Taking a breath, you let you a small ‘ooh’ as you realised that you smell something delicious. Looking to the side, your eyes widen as you see a café with its door swinging shut, sending a waft of delightful smells your way. The delicious looking array of baked goods and sweets in the shop front make it even more enticing and you purse your lips as your mouth waters.

Pausing, you let go of him to step closer, focusing intently on a delicious red velvet cake that was topped with decadent buttercream frosting. You don’t even realise you’re making a face at the cake until you hear Hoseok’s chuckle and the sound of a shutter once more.

Looking at him with wide eyes, you sigh affectionately as you see him pulling his camera down with a grin. Turning it around he shows you see the image that he’d just taken and you smile at how he’d focused on your face, the background soft and pretty as you stared intently into the café front.

You always hated having your photograph taken, until Jung Hoseok had started taking them. As long as he was the one behind the camera, you knew that he wouldn’t make you look ugly or anything.

“Do you want one?” He asks, gesturing to the display. Humming lightly, you chew on your lip before nodding with a smile. This was a weekend of doing stuff to make you happy, which obviously meant that you had to treat yourself.

The answering grin on Hoseok’s face tells you that he probably knows that, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gestures for you to go inside the dual café and shop. It’s nice and warm inside, making you realise just how brisk and chilly it had been outside and you unwrap your scarf from around your neck.

“Go sit down, I’ll get your stuff.” Hoseok says, leaning forward and kissing your forehead quickly before handing you his camera and backpack. You take both from him without complaint, wanting to tell him that you’ll pay but you know there’s no way he’s letting that happen right now.

You’d learnt to pick your fights with Hoseok, or arguments rather. Particularly as you hated arguing and all of that so you tried your hardest to not argue at all. And this wasn’t something worth the time or effort.

The café isn’t that busy so you make sure to grab a table a little further inside. It’s only knee high but the dark red couch that accompanies it looks far too comfy to give up, particularly given the abundance of soft, multi-patterned cushions. 

Carefully placing Hoseok’s camera on the table and his backpack on the floor, you add your own bag before sinking down into the blissfully squishy couch. The cushions practically envelop you and you can’t help but smile as you almost fall backwards, resting against the equally soft back.

Yeah, this was a good spot. And it let you people watch in the whole café along with a perfect view of the street outside.

Hoseok came over with a tray in his hands and you take a moment to peruse him, enjoying the little triangle his lips have turned into as he concentrates on not dropping anything. It makes him look adorably cute, which is at complete odds with the rest of his look. 

His one concession to being in this pretty town today had been that he was wearing a white shirt, just a hint of the outline of his tattoo whenever he moved a certain way. But that was it though. Otherwise, he definitely didn’t look like he belonged in this place.

Grey distressed jeans with holes ripped into the knees met his new pair of black Dr Martens, a present he’d bought himself after a particularly hard week. An equally dark leather jacket was slung casually over his shoulders, the silver points on it highlighted by the silver necklaces he wore and the new hoops in his ears and the ring in his lip.

As usual, he looked incredibly handsome and the perfect picture of grunge and rock. But he really didn’t fit this overly…dainty town and you almost wanted to laugh at how out of place his fashion was, even in this café. He must be used to it by now, particularly given he was dating you but it still amused you anyway.

“What are you laughing at?” Eyes widening, you realise that you must’ve been smiling or something at him because he had a decidedly amused look on his face as he places the tray on the table. A big slice of red velvet cake is placed in front of you alongside a fork while he puts a fancy looking sandwich down in front of himself before sitting.

He’s got you a tall glass of water, flavoured with some real strawberries that makes you ‘ooh’ in delight while he takes a sip of whatever tea he’d bought. Peering over at his plate, you give him a raised brow and he smiles.

“Pastrami, Swiss cheese, mayo, tomato and lettuce.” He grins and you make another noise, watching intently as he takes a bite. A spot of mayo stays on the corner of his lips and you reach over, wiping it away with one of the paper napkins he’d brought too.

“Good?” You ask, curious as you eye the thickly stacked sandwich questioningly. Pausing, Hoseok looks at you before nodding and making a sigh so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it. But then he offers it to you, gesturing for you to take a bite and you grin happily.

The flavours burst in your mouth, combining together beautifully and you let out the tiniest moan of contentment at just how delicious they all are. You’re surprised Hoseok doesn’t mind the mayonnaise given he’s not a fan of it, but you suppose it’s just like people liking tuna mayo and not mayonnaise.

The next fifteen minutes are spent with the both of you slowly eating the sandwich, one bite at a time and you can’t help but hum happily with how…content you feel with everything right now. It’s a very bizarre concept to you and you’re sure it’s the antidepressants, working properly like they’re supposed to.

Maybe it’s just a placebo effect, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“God this place is so nice.” Hoseok sighs once he’s finished, slumping on the couch and resting his hands over his stomach. You poke it gently and giggle as he overly exaggerates a pout before reaching forward for the plate of cake. Take a large section, you eat it slowly and make an appreciative noise before glancing back at your boyfriend.

“This is so good, holy shit.” You whisper, eyes widening as he laughs loudly at your reaction. His mouth is engaged pretty quickly though as you feed him a piece of the cake, watching as he contemplates for a second before nodding agreement with you.

Wriggling in your seat, you continue to eat the cake with sole minded focus while Hoseok just watches you for a moment. That is, until he reaches for his camera, popping the lens off and changing it for you knew was better for closer shots. Sure enough, just like you’d suspected, he lifts the camera up and raises a brow at you, asking the question silently.

With a mouth full of cake, you don’t answer verbally but instead nod a little shyly as you swallow as quickly as possible. It just makes him snort though, lifting the camera to his face and angling it exactly how he wanted. You’re not entirely sure what he wants you to do but you can’t help but look down at the plate, fork cutting into the soft cake as you try not to feel too embarrassed about him photographing you in a place where other people are probably looking.

Outside it felt fine, but it felt very personal in here with the dimmer lighting and such. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Hoseok says, his voice soft as he checks over the image and you feel so many emotions at once that you’re not sure what you’re actually feeling. Embarrassed? Pleased? Shy? Happy? He’s the only man who’s ever called you beautiful outside of your dad.

So you deflect it with sarcasm, because that’s how you dealt with things that made you feel shy. A terrible coping mechanism, you know, but it has got you through life so far.

“Has that sandwich turned you sappy? Or was it the cake?” From the way Hoseok’s lips twist, you can tell that he wants to laugh but instead he just continues to flick through the photos he’s taken over the day. It’s one of the things you like best about him, that he never lets your awkwardness interrupt.

“Can I take one of us?” He asks, his voice gentle as he poses the question to you. You loved that about him, that he’d learnt to always ask if he could take a photograph of you both together. Nodding, you lean into his body and smile at the camera as he holds it out in front of you both. There’s a moment of nothing before he clicks the button a few times.

Placing the now empty plate down, you lean back on the couch and let out a deep sigh, belly full and your mind happy. There would have been a time when you’d have been ashamed of your body after eating, not wanting Hoseok to see anything that he might find ugly. But you’d learnt by now that he wasn’t like that, and he didn’t even notice that kind of stuff.

So you let yourself just relax fully against the cushions, moving your hand to rest on his thigh and simply enjoying the contact while he looks at the selfies. He shows them to you and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach at how happy you both look, your eyes bright with sweet smiles on both your faces. You’d also discovered that you liked having your photo taken with him.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence after that, the sounds taken up instead by the gentle music flowing through the speakers, the quiet chatter of other customers and the clinking of cutlery on plates. It all feels very…domestic and you have one of those moments where you realise how strange this all is for you.

If you’d been told a year ago that you’d be sat here, on a weekend break to a little beach town with your boyfriend of nine months after suffering a breakdown and finally reaching out for help, you’d have laughed in their face. Being on antidepressants might have been believable sure, but a boyfriend? That’s been with you for nine months?

No, you would’ve never believed that.

And yet here he was, in all his outrageously attractive glory with his calm and reassuring presence. For you. Because of you. 

Hoseok smiles at something on his camera and you can’t help the smile in response, a bubble of emotion rising inside you as you watch the way his eyes almost glitter, the skin beneath them swelling in that way they do when he’s happy and the shape of his eyes becoming those sweet little half moons that he always got when he was feeling particularly joyful. It was a mix of happiness, fondness and something else, something much deeper.

“You have such pretty eyes.” You whisper without meaning to, practically purring with delight as those eyes get even smaller as his cheeks rise from the size of the grin he’s sporting. There’s just a hint of pink on them now and you coo at him, carefully taking his camera and putting it into the shooting mode.

Lifting it up to your eye, you wonder if the camera will ever be able to get across just how much you care for this man. Just how much you adore him and will treasure him for as long as you are able to have him. You’re not sure, but you want to try at least.

His face comes into focus in the tiny viewfinder and you watch in enjoyment as he gets a slightly bashful look on his face, your compliment evidently still being consumed. But you don’t let him off that easy and instead decide to lay it on a little thicker.

“Such pretty eyes and a beautiful nose. You’re so handsome, I swear. It’s not fair. Even your smile is like a heart!” The pink starts to stain deeper, his ears slowly turning too while he bites at his lip, the silver ring catching the light perfectly and you snap away happily.

He lets you take photos with the camera until finally he reaches out, gesturing for it. You give it back to him happily, content that he went along with you long enough that you got some pretty pictures of him. Leaning back against his arm, you rest your head on his shoulder and watch as he flicks through the pictures.

“I want those pictures. Just so you know.” You state, letting him know that he’s going to have to edit them for you and he can’t just delete them. He doesn’t argue back, just nodding before pressing a kiss to your forehead affectionately.

-

The sea here during summer is a beautiful blue that shimmers like a jewel, but at the moment it’s duller. A coldness rolls in from afar, the waves harsher with the oncoming winter and you shiver inside your coat, wrapping your arms around your waist.

After leaving the café, Hoseok and you had walked around the town some more. He’d taken a few more pictures of things he thought were interesting before you’d asked if you could take some photographs too. That has resulted in him giving you a quick tutorial in how to use his camera in depth. You had a brief experience with it obviously, but actually doing anything more than just simply clicking wasn’t something you had experience with.

It had been fun though. Not only had you enjoyed taking the photos themselves, along with the process of trying to decide what would make a good shot, but you’d enjoyed interacting with Hoseok about something he was passionate about. You felt like he’d done a lot of the heavy lifting in your relationship so far, and you wanted to try and show more of an interest in what made him happy.

And he seemed to quite enjoy teaching you different shooting techniques. It wasn’t ever going to be your thing, but you’d decided that you would be more than happy to go along with him whenever he got the creative urge.

Now though, you were both walking along the beach back to the house. It perhaps wasn’t as nice of a walk as it could have been given the chilly temperatures, but it gave you the perfect opportunity to get closer to Hoseok.

Leaning into him as you both trudge against the shifting sand beneath your feet, you can’t help but smile as the wind blows the familiar smell of Hoseok to you. You’d always thought that he smelled good and the thought runs through your mind even now, thankful that he was someone who actually took care of himself.

There had been far too many guys in college who had thought that hygiene was just a word they couldn’t spell properly.

Neither of you says anything, too happy and content in the familiar silence between you both and you’re thankful for that too. It had always been hard to find people with whom silence was just a comfortable experience and not an anxiety inducing event where you mentally scrambled for a topic to talk about.

With Hoseok though, you didn’t feel that need to talk and he didn’t bother with any small talk either. Instead, you both just enjoyed the world around you and the simple company of each other.

You don’t notice that he’s fallen behind you once more, too concentrated on not falling over in the sand as you spy the house in the distance. It’s only when you go to reach out for his hand, hoping to curl your fingers together inside the pocket of his coat and find nothing but air that you realise.

Turning around, a particularly harsh and severe wind cuts through you, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself even tighter as you shiver while you stagger slightly from the force. Looking back at Hoseok with wide eyes, you can’t help but laugh when you see how red his cheeks have gone from the windchill. His camera is being slowly lowered and you can see that even his fingers are red too.

Reaching up, you cup his cheeks and coo gently at how cold they feel against your hands, thumbs stroking the slight stubble growing from his lack of shaving this morning. Grinning, you eye his nose in amusement, the elegant tip now pink from the cold sea breeze.

Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you press your lips to said nose affectionately. It’s gentle and quick, but you bite your lip as you see the happy look in his brown eyes.

“Cold nose.” You tease him lightly, moving one hand to press the tip of your forefinger against it. He lets you for a few seconds before moving his head just enough to allow him to kiss your finger instead, his gaze warm against the chilly conditions.

“I love you.” Hoseok says it so casually that you don’t even really register what he’s just said at first. Instead, you’re still just smiling at him with a look of pure girlish happiness on your face from how sweet he looks and the adorable reaction he’d had to your kiss.

And then it does. Those syllables become words in your head and those words gain meaning, causing you to jolt back from him slightly as you comprehend them. 

Your eyes must be astonishingly wide right now, your jaw dropped open at some point and in the back of your mind, you note how cold your teeth feel against the wind. But that’s not what you can focus on.

Hoseok loves you. He loves you. He loves you and he’s told you this.

No one had ever told you that they loved you outside of friends and family. A swirl of emotions forms a vortex in your stomach and you’re not sure whether you want to cry, shout, dance for joy or throw up. It wasn’t really a big deal, people said it to each other all the time, right?

“I don’t expect you to say it, and I’ve held back until I felt you might be able to accept it a little better. But I really do. And I hope me telling you can make you as happy as I feel telling you.” Now he’s cupping your face, the palms of his hands so hot against your cheeks.

And he’s smiling, lips spreading and his white teeth showing as the gesture gets wider and bigger with dual amusement and happiness. For a few seconds, you simply gawp at him, unable to form words before you look away, shyness you haven’t felt in months with him rising to the fore.

“Even after…everything?” You don’t need anyone to pull apart what you’ve just said as you understand it better than anyone. After the breakdown and crippling depression, the side effects of the antidepressants, the long time it’s taken for him to get anywhere with you in terms of a relationship. You were happy with how everything had gone with him, but you knew that there would be many men who would be frustrated.

“Yep. And I don’t want to make a big thing out of this, okay? It’s just how I feel. I don’t want to overwhelm you or have expectations on you. The sun is hot, space is big, this wind is really cold and I love you. That’s all. Now, I think maybe we should head back to the house, call for takeout and then spend the rest of the night cuddled up. Sounds good?” Just like he’d said, he doesn’t ponder on what he’d said.

And you understand him instinctively, because you would be the same way. He evidently doesn’t want to analyse his words, maybe because he just doesn’t want to or maybe because he didn’t want to make you overthink.

But you can’t deny the fizzing happiness that zaps through your veins as you smile at him brightly, the emotion beating out everything else you’re feeling to be the most prominent. He loves you.

“Netflix and chill?” You ask, your voice a tiny bit hoarse and a little shy, but Hoseok takes your words with a grin of relief as he nods.

Tangling your fingers together, he begins to walk back down the beach while you keep pace beside him. “Thought you’d never ask.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btssunshineclub #btscreatorsnet #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #j hope fluff #j hope angst #hobi fluff #hobi angst #bts fluff #bts angst #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok series #j hope fic #j hope fanfic #j hope fanfiction #j hope series #hobi fic #hobi fanfic #hobi fanfiction #hobi series #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts series #flower!hoseok #hoseok x reader

[beyoncesdragon]

Oh lord (Loki x Reader)

Pairing: Loki x Queen!Reader 

Warning: fluuffff I suppose. No swear warning this time and that’s a first lol

Summary: Loki had not exactly planned on going back, or better; he had not thought he survive it. Thor being Thor couldn't care less about that, naturally. 

A/N: lets just...PRETEND this is how Vanaheim looks. I did my research dont worry, but...it’s fiction after all. and the old norse is real aHA!

My Masterlist 

The chains around his feet rattled with every step he made and the dragging sound of the iron was painful and annoying to listen to. “I don’t understand why you are dragging me to this very place brother.” Loki asked annoyed, before eyeing the few other people who were accompanying them suspiciously. “And why you felt like bringing them with you.” Thor didn’t even bother to turn around to answer, he only pulled at the chains, making his brother almost stumble forward.

“They have a right to know where you are kept safe, after you attacked their city.” He explained quickly, before pulling his brother towards a tree in the middle of a corn field. “And why, by the gods…” he started again, but Thor silenced him with a glance. Instead Loki sighed and tilted his head to the right, attentively watching the attractive red haired assassin lining up in front of him. Right to her left stood a man in skin tight uniform with his (in Loki’s eyes) ridiculous shield, and next to him Tony Stark. Not to forget the guy with the arrows he couldn’t remember the name of and the Hulk. Even though he wasn’t green and a bully creature in this moment, but more of a slight built scientist. Loki let out another quiet sigh and closed his eyes. They shot open in horror only a few seconds later, when Thor held his hammer high and a sudden beam of yellow and white light beat down from above.

He sucked in a breath when the light disappeared and showed them their new location: an unreal blue river surrounded by incredible high trees. Some of them were so high, that their tips grazed the clouds above. Strange plants wound themselves around their massive trunks, pulsating in many different colours.

“Where are we?” Stark spoke up, seeming to be the first to catch himself again. The beauty of the place was nearly hypnotizing.

“Vanaheim.” Loki whispered, his face pale by now. “Brother…” he started, but Thor just shook his head. Natasha looked around curiously.

“So what are we looking for? Is there a path…” she got cut off by a roaring sound from somewhere above them. Everyone’s eyes snapped up, gasps getting loud. Coiled around the tree near them, an emerald scaled dragon-like beast looked down, golden eyes glomming hostile.

“Don’t move.” Thor spoke quietly. “What the heck is that? A dragon?” Clint whispered, his hands slowly wandering towards his arrows.

“Not exactly. This is a drakon. They are several millennia’s older than dragons and can grow almost twice as big.” Loki whispered, his eyes fixed on the reptiles’ head. “Can it fly?” Natasha asked and Thor shook his head. “As far as I know, it can’t. but who knows maybe she gave’em some wings…” Loki stiffed up. “No. No, she didn’t. Now let’s leave, even I do not particularly feel like triggering a drakon by hanging around his tree.” Everyone agreed, much to his surprise and they slowly backed off. The drakon wouldn’t follow them, it stayed on its gigantic three-mile tree and only hissed warningly.  

“So, where are we even going?” Natasha asked, attentively observing the surroundings. She had two knives drawn, her body tense and always ready for another drakon to drop down on them. As if a knife would help against a seven ton, rock hard scaled, ancient beast. “To the palace.” Thor answered drily and received a rather annoyed look from the avengers and a pained one from a certain frost-giant.

“I really don’t think that this is a benefitting idea for either of us brother.” Loki tried to pursue his brother, but Thor cut him off. “It is the best option for all of us Loki. It’s the safest place where I can bring you, not only just for your safety.” Clint seemed like he wanted to say something, but Natasha gave him a small push with her elbow. “I can’t believe she agreed to do this.” Loki just whispered and Thor chuckled mischievously.

“She hasn’t agreed on anything actually.” He then pulled at Loki’s chains since the prince stopped on his tracks immediately. “You haven’t asked her? She will behead me brother, the second she sees me!” he protested and stumbled forwards, still putting up resistance against Thor’s pulls. “She will not. We both know that and now come on.” Steve carefully cleared his throat. “Not to be impolite but who exactly are we talking about? And what is Vanaheim exactly?” he asked silenty and Thor gave him a motivational smile. “We are talking about a dear friend of Loki, also a dear friend of mine actually. She basically rules here and stuff. Really laid back lass.”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “Friend of mine…” he whispered almost inaudible before carefully avoiding a bluish pulsating ivy creeper hanging from one of the trees. They seemed to follow a small path through the sparsely grown forest, almost unnoticeable for untrained eyes.

“But rules over what?” Bruce asked, his eyes wide. He brushed over a bush with silky soft leaves in a light green and yelped shocked when the rims of the leaves were razor-sharp. “Hvasslaufsblað-Laukr.” he snapped around.

“Excuse me?”

Loki stood behind him, his eyes following the steady trickle of blood that dropped from the long cut the leaves had caused him.

“Hvasslaufsblað-Laukr.” He repeated and pointed at the plant. “It’s called like that. Roughly translated it means Sharp-leafed plant. How ugly.” Bruce blinked confused as Loki passed him without another word.

“Vanaheim is one of the Nine Worlds and exists on the highest level of the World Tree.” Thor explained whilst carefully making his way through the slowly higher getting grass. “The World Tree?” Tony asked and Thor nodded. “Yggdrasil. Its inhabitants are the Vanir, masters of sorcery and magic. They are also widely recognized for their talent to predict the future and so on.” Loki rolled, slightly irritated by the rough description of his brother, his eyes again. His description wouldn’t even come close to the many wonders this world held.

“It’s beautiful.” Natasha sighed and he only snorted but said nothing. Suddenly the sky opened up, the trees stopped. The group had arrived at the top of a small hill where a silver glomming path leaded to a gigantic building. It looked like a mix between a forest, a palace and a beehive. The whole construct seemed to actually breathe and radiate energy.

“Ha! I knew I could still remember the way!” Thor cheered triumphantly  and determinedly started to walk towards the magical place. Loki’s pale face almost turned ashy.  

When the guards in front of the living tree portal recognised Thor, they lowered their weapons. They weren’t surprised about their appearance and that made Loki more than suspicious. Especially because they seemed to even expect him. Him, Loki the god of mischief that had parted with the people of Vanaheim in not a particularly friendly way – at least not with their leader. And with her, he was about to meet again and he was not ready for it.

“Look at who’s finally deciding to visit me again.” The voice was chilly, demanding and with a hint of anger. Thor immediately bowed respectfully and the rest of the avengers followed his example. Loki however stood still, his eyes on the ground.

“Of course minn dróttning.” Thor immediately answered and the woman chuckled softly. “I am not your queen Thor, son of Odin. How have you been and who have you brought with you?” Thor stood up fully and gave the woman sitting in front of them on a simple chair a dashing smile. “I have been very well. Let me quickly introduce my friends from Midgard to you.” He said with a knowing smile as he saw how your eyes flashed up in a bright and vivid green. “Midgard?” he nodded and carefully and slowly started to introduce every single one of the avengers in the old-fashioned way of Vanaheim, listing up all their titles and heroic deeds. The queen’s eyes changed colour all two to three names and titles, depending on the emotion you felt the second you heard them. When Thor finished you leaned back, her eyes now quickly switching between a deep purple and a vibrant red.

“I welcome you.” Was the only thing you remarked after a few seconds, still not paying attention to Loki, who slowly got jittery. “It looks wonderful here. Truly magnificent.” Bruce bubbled out and you tilted your head. “Thank you. It hasn’t always been this way.” Your voice suddenly seemed ice cold, eyes drained from all colour. “Vanaheim was one of the battlefields in the Vanir's raging war against the Aesir. It still is ravaged after the centuries-long war.” Thor shared an alarmed look with his brother who just pressed his lips together. He knew that the queen wasn’t in a particular good mood when it came to asgardians and particularly not when it came to the family of Odin.

“It was the marriage of Freya, one of the leaders of the Vanir, my mother, with Odin, the King of the Aesir, what finally brought peace to Vanaheim and the rest of the realms.” You continued coldly. “After the marriage's fallout, Odin locked the path to Vanaheim through Týr's Temple, allowing nobody to visit the realm. Which is also, why I haven’t seen my mother in over a decade and me and my people hardly ever get visitors.” The temperature in the room had dropped, all the lights lost their golden tone to it.

“Now, what are you here for? And why in the name of all god’s is he here.” you asked coldly, finally looking straight at Loki.

“Your highness…” Loki got down on his knee and the avengers threw each other surprised looks. Loki kneeling was a whole new thing. Your eyes had changed again, still whiteish and only a gleaming white ring was sparkling angrily at him. “You left, almost a decade ago, with the city on fire. It took us three weeks to put it out.” Loki had his eyes still glued on the floor.

“It was an accident milady.” He mumbled half-heartedly. “An accident?” you laughed coldly getting up abruptly. “An accident?!” you repeated again, your voice now noticeably louder. The avengers stepped back softly.

“Then so was that!” you snapped, slipping something from your finger. A golden ring gleamed up in the light, a snake that was about to swallow itself with a huge green jewel on top of its head. Thor sucked in a breath and so did Loki whose face had lost all colour again. He stood up as well, raising his hand.

“Please…” he only pushed out, a sincerity in his voice that surprised everyone in the room. “Don’t do this.” your hand shook lightly, the arm still risen and ready to throw the ring to Valhalla. “Give me a reason! You’re not even wearing yours.” your voice had turned into a whisper at the end, a pained expression flitting over your face. Loki frowned softly and rose his left hand. A green ring of light and energy wandered over his hand, the illusion of a bare hand disappearing. Suddenly, there sat a set of three rings on his ring finger, all of them connected by a octagon cut emerald that resembled the yours in colour perfectly. It seemed like they were both cut from the same emerald and Tony’s head spun at the thought of how big the emerald must have been. “Loki…” Thor whispered but Loki rose his hands. Thor closed his mouth again, staring at his brother in disbelief. Your hand sunk slowly. You sat down carefully, mustering the prince with a piercing glare.

“You haven’t took it off?” Loki shook his head. “Not once my queen.” you sighed softly, waving him closer quickly. Loki walked towards you, approaching the steps to your throne slowly and still a bit shaky. You extended your hand towards him, so he could slip the ring back on your finger.

“Forgive me.” You mumbled softly and Loki mustered a soft smile. “Forgive me, my love. I shouldn’t have left after the fire.” You just nodded, getting up once again. Suddenly you looked tired and drained, very unlike the vivid young woman everyone had first seen. “You have been missed. My people loved you.” you explained silently, having forgotten the rest of your guests that still stared at the two of you in confusion.

“Only your people?” Loki asked with a soft and knowing smirk before very carefully supporting your stand by placing his hand on your lower back. “You…I do not wish to elaborate my prince.” You brushed his comment off before giving him a sincere look. Loki just smirked mischievously bowing his head, gaze falling down to your lips. You had obviously picked up on his gaze, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“Waiting on something?” your voice was quiet and not more than a whisper, but Loki’s eyes snapped up again. His eyes met yours, yet in a light pinkish colour, like a bushing sky in the morning. He swallowed thickly, eyes falling back to your lips.

“May I…?” his voice deeper than before, his warm breath feeling hot and a bit quicker against your lips. You only tilted your head, eyes switching into a deeper pink. Almost hesitant Loki moved in, lips delicately placing on yours. It was as if a spark run through the whole palace, the lights suddenly seeming to shine golden and warm. Thor couldn’t hold his smile back, so he looked down. As Loki moved back again, his cheeks were full of life and colour again, eyes vividly sparkling.

“I missed you too.” You whispered, a small smile gracing your features, as you linked your fingers with his. Loki took a deep and shaky breath, looking down at your beautiful appearance.

He had been lucky again, too lucky almost. Not that he complained, of course not.

And oh had he missed you too.

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