#there's just this really big part of him that always find conflict between his inner introversion vs his innate desire to be wanted

[fkevin073]

I am shocked and fascinanted by the reaction of some readers to the slightly more explicit subtext of Jace/Alys that has always been there (like, it was already there in that scene after Harwin's death with all the sibilings conforting each other. Jace and Alys were already the surrogate parental figures and Jace stated that if forced he would always choose his family). It is not the first time that I have seen such reaction. As somebody who has been reading fanfiction since the early days of AO3, I do wonder If the tag system, while being extremely useful to curate your own experience, is changing the way some people read. Like, "this love story about these tagged characters has to be *just* about them and to unfold *just* as I have envisioned based on fandom tropes and fanon." Nevermind the complexity of the characters or the world which the inhabit. Nevermind that one of the key traits that all off Rhaenyra's children share is that they have close relationships with each other which (like every other relationship) do evolve based on life happening and stuff. I find the tendency in fanfiction to isolate couples from their family/friends/whatever, incredibly frustrating. As if people were no longer individuals while they are falling in love/after. And the this bunch are not only politicians by virtue of their very birth, but they are constantly on the verge of putting themselves, their loved ones and the WHOLE kingdom at risk if they follow their own desires. As I read it (and I might be wrong) Alys inner conflict from chapter one has been being trying to deal with the consequences of being forced to choose between romantic & obssesive love and her deep love for her sibilings& mother. On top of that, a Civil War is unfolding. Perhaps because I come from a country that went through a civil war in living memory, but I find myself particularly frustrated by the oversimplification of family/friendship bonds in HotD love stories with such type of conflict. I know that you have said that you did not like your latest chapter, but I must admit that It might be my favourite yet. The world of Alys and Aemond is expanding, as the moment demands, and with it their complex relationships with other people and with each other will have to change. Or maybe I am just protective of Jace (personal favourite, I will admit. And the way you write him is exactly how I had envisioned him. Constantly trying to fulfill a set of expectations by denying himself everything that he might possibily want while knowing for a fact that it will never be enough to satisfy society. Loving his parents while trying not to blame them for the situation they have put him in....what I wouldn't give to read a creaganxJacexofc not Sara Snow with your out of the chartd characterization skills. )

Anyway, sorry for the nonesensical rant and for the English. I just wanted to thank you for writing characters and relationships which are as complex as the situation demands and....as those between human beings. And for that Jace, of course <3!!!

Oh thank you sm!! I’m so glad you’re liking the story and my interpretation of Jace. He really is a favourite of mine both in the show and the book! The Strong Kids deserved so much better. I’m a big fan of Jace x Cregan too. They are both bisexual in my eyes lmao.

But thanks again! The subtext between Alysanne/Jace has been there from the very beginning. Obviously Alys hasn’t clocked in on anything romantic or is acting in that way, but I think a part of her is either intentionally oblivious or just generally unaware of the tension within Jace, because he’s also done a very good job of hiding it. He’s never spoken of it to anyone ever, really.

Obviously I’m not supporting or condoning incest. They’re Targaryens and it’s weird and obviously gross - but this is just a story and George’s world. I blame him lol.

I think this story is going differently compared to how people want/expect it to. And I get it! I hope people keep reading regardless, but that’s totally up to them :)

#i kept you like an oath

[buttclench-ryugazaki]

gonna be hater so here are my half-inebriated thoughts about what i didn't like about the final stroke part dos

• boring. you can even stop reading right here because that's my overarching opinion

• i still don't fully understand or like the conflict between rin and haru and resolution was... confusing? and frustrating! the race and following conversation don't actually address the issue of haru feeling abandoned. he apologizes for saying hurtful things he didn't actually mean and rin apologizes for... not thinking of haru's feelings when making decisions about his own swimming career? (i don't want to turn this into what is basically an r/AmITheAsshole thread, because i hate how contemporary fandom discourse treats every fictional conflict like one, but like. haru's TA. rin did nothing wrong. they kind of acknowledge it but they don't follow through). i don't really know what i was supposed to take away from this ordeal

• if not outright retconning stuff, attempting to write around or re-contextualize stuff in a way that i find dishonest or disrespectful to viewers' intelligence. the big example being haru confronting his younger inner self, where it actually turns out he was actively repressing his desire to swim in a relay as an affect of his loneliness (?), instead of simply being apathetic as he was previously written. why rewrite the main character's backstory and motivations at the very last minute? we've been along for this ride for the past nine years, come on

• rin continuing with his "my relation to haru isn't that simple" explanation to ikuya, who as far as i remember simply described them as friends. or suggested that rin see haru in the infirmary because that's an inconsequential but kind thing to do? i do not fucking understand. i hated this stance in fs1 and i hate it now. they have a unique bond for sure but they're not not friends

• speaking of rin and haru's friendship, i was put off by the "red-blue super sentai destined partners" imagery, and then the shot of them holding hands as kids. i've always viewed rin and haru as two people who were undoubtedly important to each other but, in regards to certain parts of their individual lives, not particularly close. those shots felt like they mischaracterized their relationship to be a lot closer retroactively (but because of the nature of interpretation i am more willing to let this one go. also nobody can accuse me of having a bias against rinharu, by the way, i used to be huge on rinharu. but i have thoughts about what it looks like and it wasn't this)

• i got a little irritated with how many times a character would start talking about haru and how much they need to support haru, oh we haven't seen him in a while is he doing okay? my times are getting better don't you think BUT HARU- i don't think this is an inherently bad way to convey information to an audience but it happens too frequently in scenes that are already too short. so i never felt like i got to see the characters fully as i know and love them because they were too busy providing commentary

• kinjou barely had any impact as a character, as a villain, as an ally, etc. his big climactic heel-turn moment is him finally giving teamwork a try (at the expense of asahi's participation, press f to pay respects lmao), i guess. when he was introduced in df i was excited for him to be an honest to goodness asshole for once in free!'s history but his presence quickly fizzled out. he stopped being threatening right away and there wasn't nearly enough there to make me care about him

• what were these two movies about, anyway? what was the arc and what was the resolution? early promotional material, as well as a significant portion of part 1, made me believe it was about haru reexamining his relationship to competitive swimming and the possibility of going pro, but it just concludes with "haru continues to do the thing he set out to do a season ago." i admit i am one of those people who wasn't completely satisfied with the ending of eternal summer, where haru decides to start competing seriously after a season of fighting exactly that. it didn't feel like a solid resolution. so i was intrigued with the idea that haru could outright quit, or reorient his goals, something. but that didn't happen. and it didn't have to, really, but anything other than "and the story continues!!!" would have been better. nothing changed in the end. what was the point

#free! #free! the final stroke part ii #i didn't like it sorry y'all

[asrage]

✲ﾟ 〢 *    ✕      (   CHARACTER  STUDY  /   𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒   )

bold any fears which apply to your muse.

    italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

the dark   ⋆   fire   ⋆   open water   ⋆   deep water   ⋆   being alone   ⋆   crowded spaces   ⋆   confined spaces   ⋆   change   ⋆   failure   ⋆   war   ⋆   loss of control   ⋆   powerlessness   ⋆   prison   ⋆   blood   ⋆   drowning   ⋆   suffocation   ⋆   public speaking   ⋆   natural animals   ⋆   the supernatural   ⋆   heights   ⋆   death   ⋆   dying   ⋆   intimacy   ⋆   rejection   ⋆   abandonment   ⋆   loss   ⋆   the unknown   ⋆   the future   ⋆   not being good enough   ⋆   scary stories   ⋆   speaking to new people   ⋆   poverty   ⋆   loud noises   ⋆   being touched   ⋆   forgetting   ⋆   being forgotten   ⋆   hospitals

tagged by:  stole it off my other account ey tagging:  hngnghn pls im t,ired n busy i’m just trying to look activ,,e i’m probably gonna come b,,ack and say this is all a lie in three weeks take pity,.,..,,

#long post / #cb i really did this to myself with those tags huh #❛ ⍀ 𝟎 𝟎 𝟕 ．» ʷᵃʳᵐ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʸʳᵘᵖ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ∕ hcs ． #every single time i do this meme i have to restrain on the urge of explaining why i did / didn't pick shit and im hhhhghhh #anyways as if i can ever shut up so #asra's literally so courageous and about ready to take on anything life throws at him without care but #there's just this really big part of him that always find conflict between his inner introversion vs his innate desire to be wanted #which i'd def meta out as stemming from the loss of his parents at such a young age #but me? talking about how every route gives the main this 'group' that surrounds and tells them how much they love them #except #you guessed it #asra #like there's only muriel and even then....... im sure asra just feels imposing half the time #like WHICH one is out there actually Communicating for once huh #and he doesn't get a moment like everyone else where a group's out there supporting Him it's more like... sorta there for both him and mc #and even then it's never.... clear cut for him that anyone other than mc will always be there for him #and that's probably why he was so reckless in bringing them back bc he really #Had no one #anyways i'm done i'm clearly deprived of my meta writing habits #IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT HIS FEARS ANYMORE GOODNIGHT.

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Better alternatives for Boba no longer living with the Tuskens than "they were all suddenly massacred to heap more tragedy on his head in a really cheap-feeling way, like why did you go to all that work to humanise these people and then dehumanise them by discarding their lives like that":

Option One:

They have a falling-out. They're not massacred, but the path Boba has led them on leads to more frequent clashes with the gang he stole the speeder bikes from and people are getting hurt and everyone is exhausted and stressed out. The Tuskens want to retreat, find a different territory, and resume their strategy of living in hiding as much as possible. Boba insists that they could still win if they keep fighting, and then live freely as they deserve. They say that there is no winning in this situation and as much as they care for him and consider him their own now, he doesn't understand the values behind their decisions because he comes from such a different world. If he can't accept them, he can't live with them. Everyone is hurt and angry and disappointed with each other, and he leaves under a cloud. He seeks redemption by reconnecting with his Mandalorian heritage, symbolised by his armour.

Option Two:

Boba looks at the big picture and realises that he can't be effective in helping the people he owes his life by just dodging around getting into skirmishes with bikies, living day by day with no strategy for turning things around. He loves and respects the Tusken leaders but believes they've been in bare survival mode for so long that they can no longer see or believe in a way out. He likens them to Mandalorians who, locked into their diaspora trauma, are still so focused on reclaiming Mandalore that they can't see that's no longer a viable future for their people. (I don't know how he gets all this out in dialogue, maybe he goes into Tosche Station for a drink and bends the bartender's ear.) And it's not just the group that he lives with, this affects Tuskens all over Tatooine, it's been the situation worldwide for centuries, and the more he knows them the more it bothers him. He resolves that although it will mean living apart from them for some time and they may feel he's left them behind and gone back to human society, the best thing he can do is to change the rest of the world for them. And he's going to do that by taking it over. First, he'll need his gear.

Option Three:

Boba's nose lizard experience continues to affect him. He has vivid dreams about his father and his feelings of grief come back with fresh intensity, complicated by the fact that he now sees his father through an adult's eyes and can find some fault with him. (Dramatised in a dream scene where the adult Boba argues with Jango - attempt only if the digital de-aging on Temuera Morrison is chef's kiss flawless.) Dream Jango angrily tells him, "You have forgotten who you are," and he's torn between feeling that this is who he is now, he's grown into something different and more than Jango envisioned and has a right to do that, and feeling that he really has let go of an important part of his identity and heritage.

Scene (in sign language) between Boba and his gaffi teacher, when they're practising together and he keeps making dumb mistakes because of his inner conflict. She gets fed up and says, "I know you can do better than that. Something's distracting you. What's really wrong?" Because - oh - when you have people who care about you and value you for yourself, not just what use you can be to them, you can tell them about your problems instead of just stewing in them. Boba haltingly explains and she takes it in, and he talks himself to the point where he realises that although he's deeply grateful to them and doesn't want to leave, he needs to reclaim what he's lost, because it's part of him. He discusses this with the chief, who says, "We'll miss you, but we understand why you need to go. There will always be a place for you when you want to come home." Boba, who thought he had to choose between his heritage and his new community, who didn't realise he would be allowed to come back, is a bit overcome. He sets out with a new sense of hope and purpose - somehow, he is going to make a better world for his people.

All Options:

Boba has a bittersweet parting scene with the Tusken kid, who naturally doesn't want him to leave and doesn't understand what he could be looking for that's more important than what they have here. Boba promises that no matter where he goes, his heart will be with them. The kid says, "That's no good, promise to come back." And Boba promises, while not knowing quite how he'll be able to keep the promise. They exchange a small gift each of them has made for the other - Boba carved a little bantha from a small offcut of the branch he made his gaderffi from, and the kid made a necklace with a tooth from the godzilla centaur Boba strangled. Boba leaves then, but he turns back and waves before he's out of sight.

#the book of boba fett #spoilers #book of boba fett #tbobf #bobf #boba fett #book of boba fett spoilers

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

↳ to be added to my taglist, please fill out this ♡form♡

as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

#timeskip reiner still sexy asf #I just wanna hug and kiss him ugh #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk x reader #reiner braun #reiner x you #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[deleteddewewted]

Hey, I just read your Kurogiri omega and was wondering if you could do a part 2, but with Kurogiri remembering his time in the AU when he was Obroro and how he met the alpha reader until the day of his "likely" death?!

I've been trying to find an excuse to continue that, so thank you for being that excuse, anon!

Omega! Kurogiri Part 2

🚨spoilers🚨

Kurogiri x M! Reader

Omega! Kurogiri Headcanons Part 1

TW: Angst, Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

You couldn’t tell him he was your mate. It would place you and him in danger.

You kept going to Tartarus to visit him but decreased the frequency of them.

Kurogiri did not take this lightly.

You were leaving him again.

You both had built something meaningful and you were leaving.

Kurogiri laid down on the bed he was given and stared blankly ahead of him.

The world became dimmer as the time passed. Eventually his eyes closed and he drifted away to the lovely abyss of sleep.

“Shirakumo!” The blue mist haired boy turned around and spotted his two friends call out to him.

Yamada, the loud blond, was dragging the dark hair Aizawa with him. He looked eager to tell him something.

“Hey man! Uh, something going?” He asked. Yamada was way to energetic for it to be his usual and Aizawa didn’t look all that annoyed either.

“You won’t believe it man! One of our classmates is super hot!” Yamadas face held a small blush to it while Aizawa turned his head around to ignore them.

He was also blushing.

Shirakumo laughed at the two and wrapped his arm around Aizawa's neck.

"Oh really? Tell me more." He teased.

Yamada gave him an entire speech about how their classmate was hot as fuck and how the guys name was really pretty. He was fanboying over someone he barely knew.

Shirakumo thought it was cute how affected Yamada was by the new student so he couldn't wait to meet him.

When he did meet you, his inner omega purred.

Everything about you was perfect and beautiful to him.

He wanted to get to know you better.

Thats what allowed a friendship to bloom between you both.

He smiled a lot throughout the day but it became brighter when you would walk into the room.

His omega purred at him, begging him to get closer to you so he could take your scent in. Look at your beautiful eyes and your beautiful face.

You would catch him staring at you, the lingering trail of smokey blue hair giving him away every time.

You also liked him, a lot actually.

Easy on the eyes but with a big personality.

Welcoming, comforting, everything you would ever want in a significant other.

You found it endearing how he took the initiative to keep Aizawa away from rude and mean people.

You could also see how your guys friend, Yamada, would falter. His smile dropping for a moment when he thought no one was watching.

That always happened when Aizawa and Shirakumo were together.

You were all young, so it didn't matter who was dating who or what the future would hold. The now was more important then anything else.

Shirakumo contemplated what he could do to court you.

He jumped to the conclusion of courting instead of asking you if you were wanting to try a relationship with anyone.

He told Aizawa and the black haired boy just looked at him. His eyes saying something that his mouth wouldn't.

Didn't matter how well Shirakumo knew him, he didn't know how to read his eyes.

"Should i get him a bouquet? Maybe his favorite foods? Ah, i dont know what to do! Aizawa help me!" Aizawa recommended he just asked you out.

"You're so not romantic, but i still love you." He missed how much his words affected Aizawa. The black haired boys face was tinted red, his neck taking most of the blush he couldn't show on his cheeks.

Shirakumo made up every possible scenario inside of his own head and instead asked Yamada for some help.

"Yo! You should totally make a dramatic confession!" Shirakumo and Yamada planned everything out.

It did not go well.

You made it clear to him that you weren't looking for anything at the moment and that you just wanted to be friends with him.

Shirakumo and his omega became upset. His spring like scent became muddled, dirty water and a harsh smell overlaying itslef in a thick blanket.

His personality didn't change around you, he was still smiles and laughter.

When class would finish he would walk with Aizawa back to the train station and vent about everything you did that day.

"He looked so handsome eating that pudding and the way he leaned on his arm. So hot." Shirakumo sighed.

Aizawa felt very conflicted. He was happy for his friend but something else made itself present when he spoke about being with you.

Shirakumos pinning wouldn't stop and it finally got to a point were he would openly flirt with you.

You didn't mind it, in reality, you were as much of a flirt back.

This game between the two of you played out with him complementing you with big charades.

You would be more tactile. Occasionally touching his arms or running your hands threw his smoke hair.

It was pleasant. His hair parting into tendrils and at times having a mind of its own.

It would wrap itself around your wrist preventing you from removing your hand.

Enough time had passed that you felt like pursuing something more with him.

Something more romantic.

Shirakumo dragged you to the roof top one day.

All he said was that it was important.

"I like you, a lot. You're just so...handsome and pretty and beautiful and everything else thats good really." He stopped and began to walk around the roof top of the school.

"My omega is going nuts with your scent and it honestly drives me crazy too." Shirakumo danced around you.

"If you only knew how much i want to hold you and kiss you every time you help Aizawa out. That one time you helped that omega by fighting those meat heads off of them. Purring for you, baby!" Shirakumo got close to the roofs edge.

"Everything about you makes me and my omega want you. I-" Shirakumo slipped from the edge and fell.

You ran to catch him, maybe you could save him.

Shirakumo would most likely die, you wouldn't get there on time to catch him.

Your heart pulled with dread and dropped when you heard him scream.

Then, a peak of mist made itself seen from the edge of the roof.

“Shirakumo!” You yelled at him as he floated above you.

He flew around in his cloud, circling around you laughing.

“Was that intentionally?” You asked once he got down from his cloud.

His face became red as he watched you look at him expectingly.

“Ah, yeah?” You laught at his response and pulled him towards you.

You ran your fingers threw his smoke like hair and cupped his cheek in your hand, thumb gently caressing his face.

“You know? You should really stick to just two word phrases. I don’t think you have the mental capacity or brain cells for anything more.” You teased.

He gave you a goofy smile while he practically melted into your touch.

You were heaven and safety for him.

His inner omega begging him to ask you to be his mate. To bond. To do everything with you.

To be yours and you be his alpha.

His mouth a body moved on their own. He couldn't stop himself from getting closer to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm sorry,” He stared at your eyes and admired them more a moment, “but you’re to perfect to just put into two words.”

Shirakumo closed the gap between you two and kissed you.

Both you and him, and your secondary sexes, we’re overwhelmed and overjoyed.

It was a thrilling emotion that coursed through you. The giddiness of being able to say that this was someone you would like to invest all of your time on.

You both loved each other so much, nothing in that moment or the ones to come could ruin that.

Then in your second year, Aizawa brought you Shirakumos speaker.

It was battered and broken. Wet.

Destroyed.

Aizawa said nothing to you, the other alpha walked away from you without batting an eye or even acknowledging the blond beta running after him.

You felt your legs give way as you fell to the floor. Vision becoming blurry and warm streaks falling down your face.

“So what should we do? We both want to mate but we can’t risk our careers.” “Don’t worry about Y/n. You’re already my mate. My omega is telling me that you’ve already been accepted and naturally, I’m always glad to call you mine. Fuck the rules!” “Sure, whatever you say, my mate.”

The happy memories and the planned out future you both had with each other was now just a dream.

It was delusion you had set yourself up for.

Your mate was gone.

“So that’s who you are.” Kurogiri spoke into the empty cell. The dream having woken him up.

He turned to lay on his side and stared at the invisible cell door.

He didn’t attempt to fall back to sleep.

You laid awake in bed, face pressed into an old jacket that was clearly worn down.

It was faded in color and no longer had that signature scent you adored so much.

It no longer smelled like spring.

Or like fresh air.

It smelled like you and your laundry detergent.

Your mate was dead and you both never got the chance to make it official.

Would never have a family of your own. Never have your first anything together.

Never have another moment with each other.

He was gone and yet still here.

Your mate was a terrorist who found no issue in killing others.

“Goodnight…my omega. Sweet dreams, Oboro.” You drifted off to sleep once your eyes closed.

#mha #bnha #kurogiri #kurogiri mha #my hero academia #kurogiri x reader #kurogiri x m! reader #kurogiri x y/n #oboro shirakumo #oboro shirakumo x reader #shirakumo #omega shirakumo #omega kurogiri #mha omegaverse #alpha reader #omega character x alpha reader #angst #shirakumo oboro #shirakumo x reader #omega au

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Magic Reveal fic we deserve, in which Merlin gets as angry as he deserves to get:

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Don’t get me wrong I LOVE a magic reveal with a Merlin who feels bad about lying. I love a reveal with Arthur being furious and Merlin crying but then they talk it out and all is well. I think it's pretty in-character for Merlin to want to see Arthur come to his own conclusions about magic, without being influenced by Merlin’s opinions

BUT I also kinda wanna see Merlin get angry? Like, why should he feel bad about hiding himself in a kingdom where "himself" gets him nothing but a pyre?? Yeah, he and Arthur are close, but unless you've lived with a secret like that (one that will get you shunned, hated, or even killed) then, and I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, it doesn't matter How Close you are with someone, how certain you are that they would never hurt you, or care either way, it will almost ALWAYS be scary to tell them. So like. Let Merlin get angry:

I'd say Arthur has been king for maybe a year at this point. He's still a new monarch, still a lot on his plate, BUT also still plenty of time for him to have repealed the ban on magic, or at least started working on it.

But he hasn't.

Granted he hasn't executed anyone in a while (banishments and prison time are the norm, executions are only used nowadays for high treason). BUT the law still remains, it's still technically punishable by death, to be a sorcerer.

Arthur and Merlin have little hunting trips, when Arthur is getting too stressed and losing too much sleep, when he trains the knights too hard and snaps at even Gaius, Merlin (or sometimes even Leon, if they're both being grumpy arseholes) insists that they leave the city for a day or more, to go hunting.

The council have been told it's so the King can keep up with his fitness, can keep familiar with his lands, and keep his skills sharp (he only has enough time to train with the knights a couple times a week nowadays, a far cry from the several hours he used to do every morning without fail), and that keeps them satisfied.

The Gang (the Knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana (she's good in this because that's what I want let me have this)) know the truth, that sometimes the two of them just need a few days to goof off and be themselves, to finally get some time to relax. They'll grab a couple hares and maybe a stag on the way back if they can, so they can at least pretend that's what they've been doing the whole time.

These trips can last anywhere between a day, to two weeks, and Arthur leaves the same set of instructions with the council and the knights every time:

"The safety of Camelot’s people is your highest priority. I leave Sir Leon in charge of everything to do with the knights, patrol, and should any form of conflict arise. If there is an emergency, you are to consult the Inner Council (I don’t know if that's a thing but let's say it is; its The Gang), and send a squire on horseback to fetch me immediately. There's one boy in the troupe who always manages to track me the down the quickest, so make sure he's the one sent, Sir Leon knows who I speak of."

(He's improved over the years, but Arthur is still very... cagey, when it comes to compliments, and his trust. Leon will never mention it, but the fact that Arthur leaves the safety of the kingdom to him, without hesitation or worry, makes him feel greatly honoured. That is the highest form of trust Arthur is capable of giving.)

~

ANYWAY I feel like most of this has just been backstory so let's get into it:

Normally it's Merlin or Leon who demand that the trip needs to happen.

This time

It's Arthur.

Arthur has tried to ignore it (he's trying to get better but he's not great with emotions and stuff, the big dummy) but Merlin has been in a sour mood for weeks now. He's been quiet and withdrawn, snappy, and has been avoiding Arthur whenever possible.

At first it was easy to ignore, when it started a few months ago it was barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know the two of them Very Well, but in the last few weeks it's become a problem.

Arthur reckons a trip might do them some good. Merlin can relax, and will either get over whatever is bothering him, or be comfortable enough to talk to Arthur about it.

So they head out. Merlin doesn't seem too happy about the trip but he doesn’t complain.

(Odd in itself, if Merlin is unhappy about something he usually makes it known.)

The first couple of days are... odd, to say the least. It seems that every time Arthur notices Merlin relax, he quickly tightens up again. One short, joking conversation is followed by a few more hours of painful, awkward silence.

Arthur comes to the daunting realisation, that if he wants to help is friend (and the love of his life but like... baby blondie has hardly reached that conclusion himself, he might need a bit more time on that) is to confront it head on.

So they're settling down in the evening. The fire is roaring, the horses have been fed and watered, dinner has been eaten, and the two of them are sat at opposite ends of the fire (Very Odd, they're usually glued at the hip, especially when it's just the two of them).

Arthur looks at his friend properly for the first times in a while and he Does Not Like what he sees.

Merlin is visibly exhausted, big bags under his eyes, and his skin paler than normal, scowling ever so slightly into the fire. Shoulders tense, and hands gripping each other until the skin on his knuckles is white. And despite all that, Arthur thinks that Merlin looks more sad, than angry.

Maybe Merlin notices Arthur's staring, they hold eye contact for a little while before Merlin becomes sort of... resigned?? To the fact that he's gonna have to have this conversation whether he wants it or not? He goes to say something but before he can, Arthur interrupts him:

"So Merlin. How do you think I'm doing so far?"

(Which is a stupid thing to say, really. But Arthur is, as we've already established, extremely emotionally constipated, and he figures that finding out what's wrong with Merlin indirectly, and then subtly fixing it behind his back, is a far better idea than asking him to his face.)

Merlin clenches his jaw and looks away it this, his reply and his body language clearly sending different messages:

"You know what I think. You're going to be a great king."

Arthur thinks : "(Going to be? I've been king for a year, there's been no war and far fewer attempts on my life than when I was a prince. There's been a good harvest, all diplomatic meetings have gone well, and more peace treaties, and trade agreements, have been signed in the last twelve months, than in the ten years before it. I know I can still do better but... does Merlin not think I'm good?")

Arthur says : "Going to be? I think I'm a pretty great King already if I do say so myself."

"Then why ask? Besides. There are a few things you haven't done."

Merlin's tone is biting, even though he tries to force it out casually. Arthur notices. ”There are a few things you haven't done”... that means something specific.

"Hmm. I suppose. What things did you have in mind then, Merlin?"

Arthur also tries to sound casual, but the question comes out very pointed

Merlin desperately doesn't want to say it out loud, in fear of revealing too much of himself, so he goes with the vague answer of:

"Promises were made. I guess I just figured you weren't the type to break them, that's all. I'm sure you'll get there in time."

Merlin sounds sort of hopeful there. But the sort of hope that he's been living with for years, the sort of hope that has a layer of sadness and resignation laying over the the top like a tablecloth.

Arthur notices:

"Promises?" He doesn’t want to talk too much or too loudly, in fear that Merlin realises that he's speaking openly and clams up again.

Arthur has realised, over the last year or two, that despite their closeness, despite the endless conversations they seem to have, he doesn't really know all that much about Merlin. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time picking herbs, or in the tavern, as he and Gaius would claim. He doesn't know his favourite colour, or season, or holiday. He doesn't know when abouts his birthday is, or what he likes eating. He doesn't know much about his childhood, he's never mentioned his father.

(Despite all this, he's still in love with the idiot, but again, a revelation for another time.)

Merlin responds "To the druids. You promised they would be welcomed, that magic would return. I know your opinions on magic-"

(The manservant visibly shuffles at this, uncomfortable.)

"-but I figured a promise is a promise. Keeping your word had always seemed so important to you. Before."

Arthur notices the past tense. Like Merlin doesn’t believe that Arthur holds importance to his word anymore:

"I'm not my father Merlin. There have been no executions just for the sake of it since I took the crown."

Merlin’s reply comes quickly, in a harsh tone:

"Yes I know that. But your fathers law still remains. It's technically still punishable by execution just to exist as a sorcerer in your kingdom."

(Arthur notices the thinly veiled disgust in Merlin's voice when he mentions Uther. Arthur knew that Merlin disliked the previous king, but he didn’t think he hated him that much.)

Merlin is getting more and more visibly frustrated at this point. Both at Arthur, and the topic of conversation, but also at himself, for letting himself become so worked up over something he'd sworn to keep Arthur away from.

"You really didn't like my Father did you Merlin?" He says it with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.

(This is NOT a conversation that should be light and casual, his friend is in pain, and revealing more of himself than he ever had before, this should be serious. But Arthur isn't quite sure how to do that, so inappropriately light and casual is what he goes for.)

Merlin responds with a quiet, but forceful:

"I hated him. I still do. He's your father, I know that you're not him, and I know you can't help your heritage. But I'll never forgive Uther for what he did. And I'm not angry that he's...gone."

Arthur's very much taken aback at that. He knows everyone has... strong opinions on Uther, but they've never voiced it in front of him.

"Why?? I mean I know he put you in the stocks a couple of times, but so have I to be fair. Why do you hate him so much?"

(This is the point Merlin gets angry. Or angrier. This is when he stops trying to hide it, stops trying to hold it in. Arthur hadn't gotten angry at Merlin for talking about Uther in such a way, he was just curious. Merlin had been planning on telling him the truth at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now, with no one else around, and Arthur in a goodish mood.)

Merlin jumps up, clenching his fists and staring Arthur in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, breathing deeply.

Arthur is taken even further aback at Merlin's sudden unwillingness to hide his true reaction to the topic at hand, but he doesn't say anything, and just waits for Merlin’s response

"Why?? Why do I hate him? Maybe because he was blinded fear and selfish hatred."

Merlin stops and looks away, but doesn't sit down, still tense.

I imagine he's waiting for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t, opting to wait for Merlin to carry on himself, unwilling to remind Merlin exactly who he was talking to, and about what.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin continues, getting angrier with each word as he paces:

"Your father, the Great King Uther, murdered thousands of people. He committed genocide, because he insisted on blaming other people for his own mistakes. He didn't pay attention to the fine print, and killed his own wife and in return, he executes THOUSANDS of MY people. Just for daring to exist. He was so full of hatred, but he, of course, was infallible so it MUST have been someone else's fault. He was incapable of admitting his own mistakes and the injustice that went unpunished is indescribable, he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and I'll never forgive him."

(Arthur knows the truth about what happened to his Ma in this story, I don’t know how, he just does. And it's a topic of conversation he avoids like the plague.)

At the end of his little outburst, Merlin stills. He is shaking as he glares at the floor, and is more furious than Arthur has ever seen him before.

The King notices the little slip up.

"Your people?" He says, so quietly it's a wonder Merlin hears it.

Merlin freezes at this, at the realisation that there's no real way he can play this off. He was planning on telling him at some point anyway. They're miles away from the city in the middle of a large, barely tamed forest. If he needs to run for his life, he could get away easily enough.

"Yes Arthur. My people. You really should've let me speak first."

Arthur is reminded of the fact that Merlin had opened his mouth to say something, before he'd interrupted him at the beginning of the conversation. It felt like it was hours ago now, but it was really only a few minutes.

The King isn’t nearly as shocked as he thinks he should be. He knew there was something odd and secretive about Merlin, and he'd considered that he might have magic in the early days, but that hadn't been a genuine consideration for years.

He wants to be angry, and selfish, and furious at Merlin for lying to him all this time. But after hearing Merlin’s little speech, does he really have any right to? 

Yes, Arthur hadn't executed any sorcerers, but he also hadn't changed the law. He hadn't stood up to his father and he certainly hadn't tried to stop the executions before he was King himself. Can he really blame Merlin? For being scared? For being angry?

"You're a sorcerer." It's not a question. It's a statement. In his mind he knows the truth, but it needs to be confirmed, out loud, by Merlin himself, before they can move the conversation on.

"Yes."

And that's all he says. Arthur waits. And when he's tired of waiting, when he realises that Merlin isn't just gonna carry on talking this time, he speaks up:

"And?"

"And what, Arthur? What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I lied? Yes, I feel bad for lying to you, but I'll never apologise for protecting myself in a kingdom that would see me burn. And I would do it again in a heartbeat"

Arthur nods. He's tense, but he notices that he isn't scared and he wonders why, after all, as far as he was aware magic had only (almost only) caused him pain and fear. 

(In the back of his mind he knows why he's not scared. Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body, and he's met the druids, he knows that some magic users are peaceful.)

He looks up at Merlin to see him staring at him, a sort of challenging look on his face, like he was daring Arthur to prove him right. Daring him to be selfish, and angry, and just like his father.

But when Arthur looks deeper. Really Looks at Merlin. He sees the fear, Arthur has no doubt in his mind that Merlin could escape, or even fight him off, now, if he needed to. But Merlin is scared.

If that wasn't enough to break Arthur's heart, the quick glance that Merlin throws to the space a few feet from Arthur's side, is.

Arthur looks over slowly, eyebrows furrowed, to see what Merlin glanced at so fearfully. His heart shatters when he realises what it is. Arthurs sword, sat underneath his bag, just out of his reach. Merlin thinks Arthur is going to kill him. Merlin is scared. Of Arthur.

Arthur looks back at Merlin, disbelief and gut wrenching sadness on his face. He resists the urge to jump up (knowing it would just panic Merlin) as he speaks, trying to keep his tone calming, but it comes out rushed and desperate anyway:

"I'm not going to hurt you Merlin, I swear. I'm...sorry, if my actions and words have led you to believe that I would EVER see any harm come to you."

It's over the last minute, the anger and fear from Merlin, that forces Arthur to realise the legacy he's dealing with. That Uther had done so much damage, had struck so much fear into Merlin, that it didn't matter how close they were. Any subtle, deliberate ignorance of the law wasn’t enough. Any small compliments, or defence of Merlin, wasn't enough.

As long as the law remained, as long as Arthur left his fathers legacy intact, with not even a small attempt to dismantle it, Merlin would be scared of him.

Merlin relaxes only slightly at Arthur's words, gulps, and glances once more at the sword before sitting down again. He’s still tense as he stares into the fire once more.

"All these years you've been putting your life at risk, to stay at my side. You could've quit at any time. You could've stayed in the relative safety of Ealdor, but you didn't. Why? I want to know everything Merlin. You... you mean a great deal to me, and it pains me to see you in fear. And I know it's no one’s fault but my own, and I want to fix it. So the whole story, from the beginning, I want to know."

It's Merlin’s turn to be taken aback now. In his mind, everything he's said and done in the last few minutes should be making Arthur angry. The disrespect of Uther, the tone of voice he had taken, the shouting. All of that even before the admittance of his greatest secret. But still Arthur wasn't angry, he was confused, and maybe hadn't quite processed it yet, but mostly he was just sad, sad that Merlin had to be angry on his own. Sad that Merlin had to be fearful on his own.

So he does. He starts at the beginning. His mother sending him to Camelot so Gaius could train him. Saving Arthurs life that first banquet. Saving his life again a few days later. And again. And again. And again

He talks about all the small insignificant magicks he did: cheating at dice games and keeping Arthur's bath water warm and making sure the fire stays lit through the night and helping the knights sleep when they're out and about.

He talks about all the big magicks he did: killing Nimueh and being the last Dragon-Lord and Balinor being his father, and all the great battles he had won and all the times he'd saved Arthur when Arthur hadn't even realised he'd been in danger.

He talks about everything in between. About every lucky fallen branch and every lucky rockslide and every lucky solution that wouldn't have worked without Merlin... nudging it in the right direction.

He talks and talks and talks until his throat is sore. And Arthur stays silent, unwilling to interrupt, listening intently and saving any questions and queries until the end.

After an hour or so, Merlin hesitates, but Arthur can tell that there's something else. Something he's not saying. Something that in Merlin's mind, is the scariest truth of all. So he stays silent, and waits for Merlin to continue:

"The old man that you think killed your father. Dragoon, the sorcerer who kept popping up but was never in the same room as me? That was me, in disguise."

He looks nervous at this and looks up at Arthur. Before, he'd been explaining everything with a blank but resolute look on his face, still staring into the fire (that hadn't been fed in well over an hour, but was still going strong).

Arthur just looks surprised, he'd never considered that Dragoon had been anyone but himself.

"I tried Arthur. I may have hated your father but I tried to save him. But the pendant around his neck stopped it from working and healing magic has never been my strong point anyway. I really did try."

Arthur nods at this. He figured there had been no reason for the old sorcerer to kill his father, and after consulting Gaius and realising the truth about the pendant, he didn't blame him. Though he never told anyone, not even Merlin, why would he? His manservant had never even met the guy.

"I know. I'm sorry, it can’t have been easy, thinking I blamed you for his death all these months. I'm sorry Merlin."

Merlin looks surprised but quietly grateful. Over the course of the last hour of explanation he had slowly become more and more relaxed, realising that Arthur really meant it when he said he wasn't going to hurt him, and just wanted the truth.

Merlin was still scared, and a big part of him still believed he'd probably be banished at the least at the end of this conversation. But it still felt good to get it off his chest.

"But you still haven't answered my question. Why? We didn't know each all that well those first few weeks. Months even. We practically hated each other at the beginning. But you stayed anyway. Despite hating me and despite being in constant danger. Why?"

Merlin once again hesitates at this. He tried his best but even after all these years, he's not quite sure how to navigate conversations about destiny, especially his own, and especially how it's tied so intrinsically with Arthur’s.

Instead he says:

"What do you know about Emrys?" He really needs a starting reference for this part of the conversation, and at this point, the best way to get it is to ask directly.

Arthur goes to question why, but Merlin has been nothing but honest and straight forward with him, so he trusts that it’s important, and answers truthfully:

"Not much. A few Druids have mentioned him to me before. Apparently they've been seeing him in prophetic dreams for centuries, the Druids have quite a few "seers" in their ranks. He's meant to be some great sorcerer, whose destiny it is to bring Magic and peace to Albion, with some King or other at his side. I never payed much attention to it, I hardly believe in visions of the future."

Merlin nods at that:

"You've got most of it. Emrys is meant to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present, and future. When Uther started culling sorcerers, an astronomical amount of magic was poured back into the earth all at once. The Triple Goddess took that magic and put it all in one place, in one unborn baby, in the hope that said baby would grow into his power, and restore balance and compassion to the world. The Druids call him Emrys but it's just a title, like King, or Sir, not his real name. He, and the Once and Future King, are meant to rule with the support of one another, uniting all of Albion under the King’s rule, and bringing magic back into the land. Emrys and the Forever King, two sides of the same coin, their destinies interwoven."

Merlin goes silent at that, and Arthur thinks he knows where this is going, but he Needs the confirmation:

"What's that got to do with anything?" is quietly muttered.

"You're the Forever King Arthur. And I am Emrys. Though it's weird enough when the druids call me that so just... let's stick with Merlin alright?"

"All those times you said I would be a great King, all those times you had unfailing faith in me, was because of destiny?"

Arthur tries not so sound hurt, but he’s never cared for, or believed, in destiny. Up until now he'd thought Merlin had had faith in him as Arthur, his friend, not as some prophetic Once and Future King that Arthur was afraid he would never be.

"At first, sure. I was angry, that my destiny had been decided for me. That I couldn't just ignore it because if I did then the world would never know peace. I never asked for that responsibility I just wanted... I just wanted to keep my mother safe. I wanted to learn how to be a physician and use my magic to help and entertain and brighten the world. Just a little bit. And suddenly I had this big important role to play. I hated it. But I did it anyway, kept you safe. And then I got to know you as a person and you weren't your father. You Love Camelot, you Love your people, you're a good man who does everything in his power to help those around him, even if they don't deserve it sometimes. And suddenly, having my destiny be to help you to greatness... well, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe it was your destiny to be that Great King from prophecy, because you were already a good man."

Arthur is speechless at that. Tears gather in his eyes but neither of them mention it and he doesn't let them fall. Merlin had been almost as nice as that in the past, but never so fully, and with the weight of the truth behind it, it seemed much more meaningful.

Merlin gives him a sad smile before he continues:

"I'm your servant until the day I die Arthur. I have faith that one day, you'll do the right thing."

Arthur suddenly remember the whole point of this conversation. That Merlin was upset and angry that he hadn't repealed the ban on magic yet, that Merlin was still waiting on him. Waiting on him to do the right thing. Waiting on him to fulfil his destiny.

~

Maybe they head straight home? Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers the next morning to find him already up and pacing, making a start on the repeal?

Maybe Arthur demands they go to the closest Druid settlement so he can consult them on how he should go about it? Merlin’s knowledge of magic is great and all, but neither of them were alive before the purge, neither know how it would work practically.

All I know, is whenever Merlin first comes across Arthur working on the repeal, determination in his eyes, he cries a little. That everything he sacrificed is finally paying off.

I also know, that the first time Arthur timidly asks Merlin to show him something magical (maybe that's straight after this tiring conversation, or maybe its days later, back in the safety of Arthur's locked chambers) Merlin cries even harder, Arthur is still scared of magic, how could he not be. But he loves and trusts Merlin more than anything in this world, and he wants to learn to not be scared anymore.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED!!

All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know✌

#merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin/arthur #magic reveal #good morgana #knights #sir leon #sir gwaine #sir elyan #sir lancelot #sir percival #gwen #guinevere #gaius #arthur is gay but stupid #merlin is gay but stupid slightly to the left #morgana #merthur headcanon #angry merlin #bamf merlin

[helpicant-stop]

dsmp characters if they were youtubers (we're going full circle baby): part one—c!bench trio

tommy (BIG INNIT VLOGS): world's softest motherfucker disguised as world's most obnoxious vlogger. also the people who only know him from his vlogs are always worried at the vague concerning things he occasionally says but the people who recognise him through l'manburg or even know him are just like "yeah ...."

he had a two week radio-silence in exile before returning with "VLOGGING IN TECHNOBLADE'S BASEMENT" and an apology for the lack of uploads. if you somehow recover his broken camera from logstedshire, you would see him try to vlog for the first few days before losing motivation every time. after some point he just stops but the camera keeps rolling and it films everything until december 16, at which point a shard of shrapnel pierces the lens and everything goes dark

he also has several videos of himself reviewing tubburger and wilburger and starting beef between them. wilbur and quackity always have those fucking comments with 500 replies on every video and it's just the two of them arguing in it. tubbo and ranboo on the other hand comment stuff like "good job ranboo ^_^! i really liked how you incorporated the cheddar with the swiss" and ranboo's like "thanks! i love how crunchy the lettuce is"

ranboo (xxxeverlastingmemoriesxxx): he reads creepypastas, mostly, but he also has these weird commentary videos like every two weeks where he talks about server conflicts in the most unbiased way physically possible but always ends up accidentally going on tangents about his inner turmoils. he also always has royalty free creepy music playing in the background and a gif of like. a snowy forest in the background

he also makes cooking videos and family home videos that tubbo/michael make cameos in but the catch is that all his food had a horrible twist, such as casserole but all the cheese is replaced by taffy. people have joked about him becoming the new ryan's toy review and he's like "what are toys ?.. i asked tubbo if he could review my food instead and he says he doesn't want michael to become a mukbang youtuber ..........." he also likes and replies to every single comment and he types in unreadable fonts with fifteen ellipses instead of full-stops

enderwalkboo also occasionally makes appearances but they're just exposè drama videos over footage of him mining a very long, very dark tunnel. everyone thinks it's an arg but no he's just like that. this is also the only point in which he does q&a's and he always has like a Hot Take in every video. they always end up getting deleted after like 2 days when normal ranboo finds them on his channel

tubbo (Mad_Bees03): mad science channel just like that one guy who extracted the dna out of strawberries and ate it except he always has like a 2 minute bee intermission in the middle and it's a video staple.

he also uploaded a lot less frequently in new l'manburg/manberg era, and those have either the most of least views on his channel because he always ends up rambling about political stuff. post–butcher army is like his 3rd most popular and it's him dissecting the flaws of his anvil contraption and the external variables that made it fail for like 3 hours with low res security camera footage projected on a whiteboard

when he joined las nevadas, every video got like a 3 minute ad segment on tubburger complete with "SAY 'TUBBO UNDERSCORE BELOVED FROM MAD_BEES03 SENT ME HERE' IN TUBBURGER IF YOU WANT A DISCOUNT DON'T TELL QUACKITY THOUGH OR HE'LL GET MAD" and everything

{part 2}

#dream smp #bench trio #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #chitter #long post

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Hey, so I think my fondness for Tommy’s style of lore might’ve made it a touch harder to enjoy Techno’s style of SMP content. I’m feeling like its a preference thing anyway... it’s hard to articulate the issue but I’m gonna try. xD

Techno’s latest stream didn’t feel immersive enough basically.

i think some people have complained about Techno’s tendency to joke and break the fourth wall even in tense moments but as a fan of Tommy ‘there’s a reason I gave up my discs and you spent £200 on Etsy for a suit’ Innit, I can’t say cracking self-aware jokes is a problem in itself. But I feel as if Techno’s stream lacked gravity for me, failing to create tension and uncertainty in scenes which needed them.

While Tommy jokes a lot, it feels like part of his character and his character’s use of humour as a shield when he feels scared means it can still help to display his character’s feelings so it doesn’t break immersion for me but helps to give him more character. Tommy’s character is openly vulnerable enough that I feel like the audience can always read into his feelings and the motivations behind his actions.

With Techno, I struggle more to read him. I find myself uncertain if his humour is part of his character or if its really the CC joking. To what extent is his humour a way to cope with stressful situations and hide his inner turmoil? Or is it more a way of showing he is relatively composed, able to joke about because he still feels in control of the situation.

I feel like there’s two ways to read this latest stream and I find myself slightly dissatisfied with both. Either the prison was a trap he was not prepared for and he’s out of his depth and is genuinely distressed. Or he’s not that worried because he had a plan all along and the developments were not outside his expectations. (Note that he doesn’t need to know exactly what might happen or be certain of everything, what’s important is that he is confident in a way to escape thus he’s still in control.)

Either option would be fine with me in terms of story and Techno’s arc. (I think him being genuinely out of his depth would be slightly preferred for me as I think it’d be cool but it also suits him to be ready for anything) What dissatisfies me is instead the execution. I’m not confident in my reading.

Techno’s performance - the way he joked around and gave indications of a plan - lead me to prefer the reading that he does indeed have a plan. The issue is then the structure of the stream. It felt like it was all leading up to a twist where Techno gets trapped in and things go wrong. If Techno has a plan, I would prefer he share it more with the audience, share that he’s suspicious, that he is really looking into thinks, that he’s here to gather information no matter what. I dislike it when the audience is more in the dark than the viewpoint character. Also, even if he has a plan, he can still show lots of doubt and worry and hope that his worst expectations won’t be realised. I want to really get into his head. Again, that’s probably my preference towards Tommy ‘chat if I was the traitor I’d tell you!’ Innit who very very rarely hides stuff from his audience. We get surprised along with his character when things go wrong.

I’m sure one might think it could spoil things, knowing to expect things to go wrong and the twist might be less thrilling. But the trade-off for really leaning into sharing what Techno’s thinking is more than worth it. Assuming Techno’s plan means relying on his friends to save him means that Techno is putting himself in a position of extreme vulnerability and is entirely dependent on someone else helping him. He’s never done anything like this before and it would be a big step for Techno who finds is hard to trust people because he’s been betrayed before. Surely if betrayals hurt him so much, he would struggle to come up with this sort of plan? I would love to dig into that more. This would really demonstrate what a huge sacrifice it is trying to help Dream. It’s just really, really interesting. But I’m not really given anything to work with here, I haven’t seen Techno display any conflict about this plan or what a big thing it would be to trust his friends. If there was a period between being betrayed and learning to trust others again, it happened off-screen. Which means its all theory, not canon.  

And if it was the other option - that Techno was genuinely caught off guard with the audience, then I’d really expect a little more expression of vulnerability. Just a little more panic and alarm to sell me on this being unexpected. Maybe some regret, some anger, there’s a lot he’d feel and I’d like it if more of it was displayed. It doesn’t need to be super extreme and jokes are still fine, but I would want to feel like he’s joking to hide his distress. (And gosh you know I’d really love to see his character display vulnerability - it would be such great development. My issue with Techno having a plan is that it means he’s not really being defeated and experiencing a low-moment here - which is something I’d love to see.)

#meta #analysis #my thoughts #dsmp crit #dsmp meta #i really think id be more into it if i was more into techno and less into tommys content #the way tommy does lore is simply my favourite though what can i say #xD #tommyinnit #also gosh i hate misinformation driving the plot #its my least favourite thing #and when important information is kept from the audience just for a twist #twists are temporary #character exploration is forever #feel free to debate me about this though #i have a certain perspective which colours how i see things #ill never pretend otherwise

[lovestrucked-again]

Render Your Heart | J.Jaehyun

(Jaehyun’s Tattoo Edit - @rrregan​) Summary: Growing up beside your brother’s best friend forces you to keep your crush a secret. But who knew, the way you’d expose yourself was when you asked for help from a dropout high school student. When your lie of an excuse gets caught and your long time dream becomes a reality. Careful though, don’t get caught. 

Genre: smuT Pairing: bad boy!Jaehyun x reader (ft Taeyong big bro) Word count: 5.8k

Warning: Jaehyun has tattoos (sleeves, chest), hard dom!Jaehyun, fingering, rough, orgasm denial, dirty talk, explicit content, wet and messy sex, begging, orgasm control, spanking, humiliation, praise, punishment, teasing, nipple play, cum licking/swallowing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking, cock worship, blowjob, throat fucking, hair pulling, gagging (on cock), cum swallowing i think i said that, rough sex, cockwarming, belly bulge, thrill sex? risk of getting caught, safe systems because that is very important to have, also safe sex please this isn't something you should follow

a/n: Yeet. I drank 2L of water writing this.  Also thank you @hyuckiesgf​ for helping me read thru this <3. _____

“Y/N?”

He slowly slides the paperwork off your lap, exposing your legs in the short skirt you’re wearing, the almost non-existent breeze from the fan now hitting your skin, leaving you feeling very naked. His arm swings across your shoulder, closing the gap between the two of you sitting side by side against the couch.

“Y-yes?” You stutter out, your head turning to see his hand resting so close to your face.

“So why don't you tell me what you really want?"

You gulp down the saliva forming in your throat as you watch his hand fall to your legs, the veins from his wrist bulging out as he gently squeezes your thigh for a response. “Hmm? What are you talking about?"

His left hand creeps up your skin, sliding up the inside of your thigh as he tip toes up your skin, tracing his fingers very softly, gliding closer to the hem of your skirt, “You want me to believe you called a high school drop out for help, on a university assignment?”

His hand climbs closer to the inside of your thigh, and the background noise coming from the TV is no longer audible to you. Your figure frozen suddenly, feeling all the tiny details of his touch, the texture of his fingertips, trailing along the inside of your thigh, going up and then back down, moving around in an eight pattern.

“Why’d you call me over?” He murmurs, his eyes focused on your parted lips, watching as they fall open slightly.

“I-I wait – hold on.” Your mind runs in a mess as you stutter out a random string of words in an attempt to think.

The hand on your thigh suddenly halts, no longer gently squeezing and fluttering along your skin. “I’m waiting?”

You realise the nerves from your stomach, from the touch in your thighs, from the dim lighting in the midnight timing, were all connected directly to your pussy. His touch, causing your pussy to self-lubricate and swell at its own volition, in strict disobedience to your control.

“It’s not what you think.” You mumble.

“Is it not?” He whispers, flipping himself to face you. His free arm flies to the back of the couch, using it to support his weight as he leans forward, keeping you encircled by his body. Your eyes glance over to the side, following the abstract shapes tracing up his forearm. The simple black tee rising higher up his arm, exposing his pale skin – mostly obscured by the smooth paintings in ink that wind up his biceps. “What are you staring at baby?”

Abruptly, your breath hitches, your pussy simultaneously releasing a gush of wetness at the nickname, the darkness of his eyes staring down at you. His fingers press against the damp spot in your panties as his breath goes to the crook of your neck. Your cry of alarm being quickly muffled as you bite down on your tongue in resistance. His breath tickles your neck and your hands clench onto the sheet of paper you’re holding, scrunching it up unknowingly.

“Should I stop?” Jaehyun removes his face away from your side, moving to face you, letting his gaze fall on your lips.

Your mind spins around in circles as the inner conflict begins. The two of you had always flirted but took nothing seriously, not wanting to mess up the relationship he had with your brother. Taeyong would also never approve of it, his own wish was for you to find a more responsible guy who didn't have so many bad influences. Which was also hypocritical considering his own nature.

Jaehyun watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body involuntarily moving up for a stronger presence of his touch. He follows along smirking, deciding to press a little harder as he finds your sensitive clit.

“Fu-ckkk” You draw out, your body sinking deeper into the couch.

He towers over you, his shoulders squared and blocking your view from anything behind him. His dark eyes sweep over you, his gaze trailing from where his finger presses, up to your naturally pink lips before he lets out a low, deep, exhale of desire.

“Can I continue?” He whispers, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of your jaw.

Your hand still holding onto the paperwork is now crushed, the sheet mushed into a ball as you dig your fingers into it. Your other hand leaves the couch, reaching out to his chest, flattening weakly against his muscles. “Jae- th-this, fuck, we ca-cant do this.”

“Why not?” He pauses for a few seconds, waiting for an answer, but nothing forms out of your mouth, only the lifting of your hips to meet his touch yet again.

His drawn back to your clit when you can’t respond, gently pinching at it through the fabric as you let out a stifled moan. Your palm weakens against his chest as your strength drains from your body, achieving nothing. You may as well try pushing a whole truck instead. Jaehyun wasn’t budging, his muscle and strength, his chest and shoulders, alarmingly hard. And truth be told, you weren’t trying to get him off.

You knew you were slipping, losing your grip on your rationality as you moan out again feeling his fingers tease your clit through the thin material of your underwear. As your body relaxes into the couch, your skirt slides up, revealing the little amount of skin left unseen, all the way to your panties. His weight is still barely on you but his leg wedges between your knees as he kisses closer to your parted mouth.

“What about my brother?” You stutter out, your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden contact.

Jaehyun’s lips brushes against yours, forming a smirk after hearing your words, “Taeyong? He won’t know,” he places a soft peck, “unless you tell him.”

It sounded safe right? Jaehyun wouldn't tell him and there’s no way you ever would. You nod along to your thoughts, but within the next second, Jaehyun is devouring your lips. His hand which previously laid against the couch, now cupping your cheek as his other hand continues to rub you through your panties.

Your arousal grows as you realise how screwed you were if Taeyong saw this, how you probably looked so helpless pinned underneath his best friend’s figure. Jaehyun continues, both stimulating you and checking the level of your arousal. The ripples of lewd, mind numbing pleasure racing through your body making you panic, as you constantly try to detect the sound of the shower in the background. Waiting for it to stop and for Taeyong to come trampling through the scene. Your pussy was oozing and throbbing, obeying his fingers and his crushing desire as you panicked for your life.

You had yearned for his touch and sensation and savagery, and he was giving it to you, just like you had imagined it, and you felt herself melting under his assault. Your cries diminishing and becoming more like beseeching moans as he slips his fingers under your panties, parting it to find your slit.

“Fuck your so wet for me.” He groans, pausing in between your frenzied kiss. There’s only the sound of your soft gasps for breaths against the wet kisses before you realise there’s no other noise.

“Jae the showers stopped.” You mumble against his lips, bringing both your hands to his chest, pushing him back only slightly.

“Then we should hurry, shouldn't we?” The frantic moan that escapes your lips are left to mean anything: fear, urgency, or imploring lust, desperate to relieve the tension in your lower stomach.

You begin to whine and whimper into his mouth, begging him to hurry before you’d be forced to stop in order to spare your life and what little dignity left you had in front of your brother, but Jaehyun continues to take his time.

“Jae-” Your rational mind tries to tell you that if he was going to keep this up, you might come, that you may lose all your self-respect to the combination of his touch, your helplessness and the thrilling shame of being so close to danger. What is he going to think of me? If he knew this rough treatment, this anxious feeling of being caught, can make me climax? What would he say?

However, the low groans coming from Jaehyun as he plays with you, teasing your entrance, was begging you to forget everything. The humiliation that was increasing seeming to connect directly to the spot between your legs as you felt your pussy spasm desperately, sucking on empty air, aching for something as he slides across the moisture.

As you move your body up, desperately for his finger to enter, Jaehyun stops moving, pulling back his face so you see his eyes clearly. “Stop grinding your hips at me,” he growls, “you’re going to make me cum.”

Your pussy clenches involuntarily at his words, releasing another gush of wetness. “Isn’t that the point?” you stutter, your body deflating a little against the couch, dropping your hips which were previously moving in line with his hand.

“Not right now.”

Before your able to ask what he means, his weight is off you, immediately leaving the couch in search for something. You stay seated, dazed in confusion as he picks up the scattered paperwork on the floor placing it neatly on the coffee table.

“Grab your jacket.” He tells you.

“Why?” you ask, your mind still in a muddled mess.

“We’re going out.”

As you hear the knob of the bathroom door handle fumble, you quickly bring down your skirt, hurriedly standing up and pretending to be busy. Taeyong walks out with a towel in his hand, his eyes glancing between the two of you as he ruffles his wet hair.

“Where are you guys going?” He asks, having heard the last spoken sentence.

Jaehyun throws on his beaten leather jacket, letting it hang loosely over his frame, “You never taught her how to change a flat tire?”

“U-uh no? Was I meant to?” Taeyong asks, confused at the sudden topic.

“Well now I have to.” Your eyes dart over to Jaehyun, meeting his gaze as he signals you to follow along.

“It’s cold and dark outside” Taeyong shrugs, clearly unbothered by whatever was going through his best friend’s mind, “but whatever, suit yourself.”

Jaehyun grabs you by your wrist as you trail along. The sudden change in temperature instantly hits you as you step out the front door. He doesn't say anything but you peek around his body which leads you, waiting for him to glance back at you and say something. But he doesn't.

“Where are we going?” you ask, having to jog slightly to keep up with his strides.

“To finish what we started,” he simply replies.

***

There’s no hesitation left as he unlocks the front door to his apartment - so conveniently located in the apartment building next to yours. His jacket is shrugged off before you’ve even had a chance to slip off your shoes, the front door slamming shut automatically by its weight. Your core flutters as you notice the sound of just your heavy breathing, trying to remain calm.

“Why are you acting so shy suddenly?”

You look over at him, removing your gaze from your feet to look over, gulping as you see he had also removed his shirt within the little time you had just entered, “I’m not.”

He chuckles at your confident reply, gesturing you to come over, “It’s not like this is your first time over.”

“Well it’s my first time coming over for something like this.”

“Like what?” He asks amusingly.

“You know what I mean.” You mutter, your feet dragging you closer to him so your standing just inches apart. He holds a smug expression on his face as you’re forced to look up at him to match his gaze.

“Mmmm I don't think I do,” he murmurs, bringing your hands around his neck, making you stand on your toes to reach comfortably around his height.

“Asshole,” you mumble, breaking his gaze. You stumble back a little as your hands leave his neck, realising how close you’re standing.

Jaehyun wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you steady, “Be careful.”

The pull closer towards him brings you face to face with his inked skin and your attention goes to the patterns in front of your eyes. Your eyes follow the delicate shapes and lines along his shoulder which start from around his collarbone, down to the centre of his chest where the tattoo meets to form a flower. You can’t help but imagine how he’d look if he was entirely covered, the gap between the inks being marked by you. What you’d do to suck on his skin and mark it yourself.

“You can touch them Y/N, they don’t hurt” he chuckles, watching your eyes waver.

You shut him up when the contact of your lips brush against his skin, softly sucking at the vines on his collar, then trailing your tongue towards the ink down the middle of his chest. You bring your attention back to the clear patches of skin around his collar, deciding it’d look better with some of your artistic touches.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun hisses as you teasingly graze along his flesh before biting at it softly. The hand around your waist tightens and you can feel his nails digging into your skin. His free hand slides up underneath your shirt, between your closed bodies. You nip and suck at the uninked patch, moving your head back every so often to see the dark colour forming a mark.

His hands leave their spots, deciding to remove your shirt and you help him, guiding the fabric over your head, exposing your bra, and then your naked midriff as you feel the pulse in your throat beating in a growing excitement.

"Mmm... Beautiful. Just fucking beautiful" he hums. You feel yourself blush, heat rising at his approval. It was insane to you, and without reason, but you desperately wanted to please him. "Baby, I could fuck you all night long and not get tired," He grabs at your breasts, going at them hungrily as he begins to kiss and pluck at your nipple with his lips through the sheer fabric of your bra.

“Please,” you mewl, weak from pleasure. His hands cup your breasts as he gently pushes you backwards, until your back hits a wall and he stands looming over you.

"Mmm..." he grabs your bra, pulling it up over your breasts, then attacks them with a vengeance, sucking, licking, squeezing one while he devours the other. His need and passion so intense, so overwhelming you can hardly breathe.

He lets go of your breast and his right hand goes back under your skirt, finding your soaked panties and pushing the crotch aside. He pushes his finger into you and you cry out, arching up against the wall as you try and support your weight. Your legs spreading eagerly as the sloppy sound of his fingers filled the room.

"Please," you whisper, "Please..." He fingers you till you feel yourself start to bear down the looming orgasm and then he stops suddenly.

You watch as his hand flies to his zipper, your breath hitching as you gaze at the bulge straining against the thin material of his jeans. He catches your gaze and decides to move slower. He moves with excruciating ministrations, his fingers gliding over the waistband as he undoes the first button before sliding the zipper down. Through lust hazed eyes you watch as Jaehyun strokes his cock, covered by the thin material of his boxers, the fabric stretched for release. Eventually, he kicks of his jeans, the more apparent tent now restrained only by a single layer.

“Eyes up princess,” He smirks, watching your eyes flicker back up to him. You reach down desperately, wanting to touch him. Jaehyun grabs your arm, pulling you back as he finally removes the last layer, letting his cock spring free, hard and angry, arching up in its full arousal, erect and proud. The moment you see his entire length you let out a low moan.

“I just want to touch it,” you whine, freeing yourself from his grasp.

“You can,” he pushes your shoulders down gently and you immediately sink to the floor in eager when you realise what he’s implying. “Show me what a hot little cock-sucker you are and get me good and hard, baby. Good and hard.” He takes a handful of your hair and pulls you closer, his other hand holding his dick up like a weapon, aimed directly at your mouth.

The sticky velvet head of his dick presses against your lips and you can smell him, the scent of soap and denim and male sexual musk. You lean forward at the sight just as his heavy cock slaps against your lips and you obediently open your mouth, taking him inside.

He exhales a grunt of excitement and you feel his hands in your hair, pushing your head down impatiently as he lifts his hips and thrusts himself into you. His cock slides into your mouth and fills you: hot, thick, and pulsing with life, and you hear him groan in animal pleasure as you sink down on his thick hardness.

Your lips suddenly turning wildly sensitive as he tugs at the strands in your hair, grabbing your head and fucking his cock into your mouth, pushing the fallen strands of hair out of your face so he can see you getting fucked.

"Fuck!" he moans. "Oh fuck!"

You continue sucking, slobbering, pushing your head onto him and pumping, pausing only to slurp up the streams of saliva that poured from your mouth and down his shaft. You can hear your own guttural moans and sounds of obsequious sucking, and when your neck starts to ache and your lips grow tired, you just hold your head and mouth still, letting him use you, letting him thrust his angry cock into your throat and making you choke and gag.

"You're going to make me cum, baby!" he moans.

As the words leave his lips, you suck harder, jaw no longer slack, wanting him to cum in your mouth. But he wasn't ready to give it to you yet. He digs both his hands into your hair, prying you off as his cock pops out your mouth, slimed with spit and twitching with pre-orgasmic spasms. Jaehyun quickly grabs his cock, squeezing his length to stop his immanent ejaculation as you cry out in frustration.

“What are you doing?” you whine as Jaehyun leans down, wiping the substance off your lips. You were desperate for his cum in your mouth, and he was denying you.

“Not yet.” As his head rolls back, you continue to stare, watching him squeeze and clench his dick and the watery pre-cum roll down the angry purple head. You pounce on it, reaching forward to scoop it up in desperate need with a single swipe of your tongue, savouring its flavour before swallowing thickly.

“Fuck Y/N!” He yells, painfully sensitive and reacting instinctively by shielding his cock and pushing you away gently.

You barely move, your hands quickly falling to your side to keep your balance. If he wasn't going to let you have his cock, you were going to satisfy your oral need another way. You watch as his breaths become heavy, his own attempt of calming himself down. Your eyes are still glued to his cock, wrapped tightly around his hand as your gaze travels up his length, noticing his balls hanging in attetion.

Immediately, you crawl forward, ducking your head to come up from below as you lick and kiss at the hanging bottom, your wet lips running over them.

“Shit!” he moans, his hand squeezing tighter against himself as he watches you in shock. You were shocked yourself but you were more concerned about your eager need growing in the pit of your stomach. You slurp and suck gently at his cum filled balls, grabbing his cock from his hand as he lets go. “You’re such a bad girl.”

But as you begin to pump up his shaft, Jaehyun pulls you up by your upper arms, lifting you off the floor and picking you up into his chest. For a moment your mind goes blank, suddenly forgetting where you are.

It’s not until you feel the soft fabric of the bed sheets under your skin that you realise you’re in a different room. The dim light shining through his open bedroom curtains on your left and the reflection of your body in the mirror on your right.

Your arms climb to your chest, covering yourself in instinct as you notice him staring. “What is it?” you whisper.

“Why are you hiding them?” he asks, crawling up to your face, his hands at the side of your head.

“Because.”

“because what?” he asks, his breath reaching your lips.

“Because I want to,” you sass back. You can feel his body leaning against your crossed arms and you fight the urge to move.

“So much attitude,” he chuckles, attacking you with kisses. His tongue glides through your lips, meeting yours and his hands find your shoulder, pushing down lightly to keep you still beneath him. Your palms go to his back as his chest meets yours, bringing his body down closer to you in the midst of your kiss.

Jaehyun’s tongue is questing and inquisitive; learning the corners of your mouth with practiced flair, drawing sensual noises from you. Sounds you didn't know were capable of leaving you. Tentatively, you reach your arm up around the solid anchor of his arm and your rewarded with a deep growl of pleasure from your partner.

All you had now was need, this basic elemental need, and you wanted him to take you and do things to you. You wanted him to take everything you had to give, because nothing seemed of any value unless he wanted it. Jaehyun notices your change quickly as you fight back for power, your hands gliding to his chest, pushing him. You flip him over, rising onto your knees so you’re now straddling his lap. He makes no effort to stop your strength but continues to pull you close with his lips, waiting for whatever you wanted to do next.

But you pull away from him, the constant thought that plagued your mind being asked, “What happens after this?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused.

You sit up properly, his hands resting at your hips to keep you steady. You hesitate before responding, deciding between your words, “Is this just for fun?”

There’s a moment of silence, his eyes showing the gentler side of his emotions, “Do you want it to be?”

You pause for a second, weighing your options. Of course you wanted it to be more, you had fallen for Jaehyun the moment you saw him, but you were sure he only saw you as his best friend’s younger sister, “No.”

Jaehyun smiles at you, bringing your fallen strands of hair behind your ear, “Then let’s work something out.”

You feel his body shift and your suddenly thrown to your side, landing softly on the bed with a thud. In the dark room, you can hear him shuffling before his hand reaches for your skirt, tugging them down in a swift movement along with your underwear. You let out a squeal in surprise but he ignores it.

He walks over to the side of his bed, patting his lap as you crawl over to his side. He guides you over, placing you over his knee, your bottom naked under his hand as you shiver in anticipation.

“I think you know what’s about to happen baby,” he murmurs, stroking the back of your thighs. You let out a choked mumble, your ass clenching as you wait for the sound. “Didn't I tell you no before? I told you not to keep throat fucking my cock but you continued,” he hums, “and do you know what happens to those who don't listen?”

“What?” you squeak

“They get punished.” He squeezes your ass gently, watching it fill his palm, “Here’s how this works, red for stop, yellow for slow down and green for I’m okay.” He pauses, waiting for your response, “did you hear me princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, heart beating rapidly as you laid vulnerably over his knee.

His gaze darkens, as you respond, his voice coming out almost two octaves lower, “Repeat it Y/N.”

“Red stop, yellow for slow and green for okay,” you automatically reply.

“If anything’s uncomfortable tell me okay?” Jaehyun coaxes with a gentle whisper.

He draws his hand back and you close your eyes for what’s coming. The slap of his hand on your ass amazingly loud in the room, the sharp sting and burn immediately felt. You yelp at the contact, clenching your ass for the next slap to come.

“Count them for me baby.” He purrs, pausing for you to answer.

You let out a shaky breath, “One.”

Another slap comes. You draw in a breath, mumbling out the tally “Two.”

“Count them properly or we start again baby,” he warns.

And another, “Three.”

“Four.” The heat starts to sink into your pussy, radiating through your body.

“F-ive.”

“Maybe you should have listened to me?” he hums in response – another harsh spank following his words.

“Six.” you whine out, crying in pain. As each slap continues, the arrogance you had from earlier drifts further away, the sting of his slaps sinking into your pussy and causing your muscles to clench and clit to throb.

“Your ass fits so perfectly around my hand.” He praises, rubbing the skin delicately after the seventh spank. He shuffles back against the bed, sliding you over with him.

He grabs you by the arms again, lifting you up easily over him and lowering you down between his parted legs. You stare at his stiff cock so close to your entrance and your eyes widen as you watch him move.

“Time to do some work princess,” he orders, hands tightening around your waist.

“You want me to ride you?” You ask, unable to hide the hint of power you could feel rising in your chest.

“Don’t take that fucking attitude with me,” he warns, his hands digging in the side of your skin, “Or we’ll continue our counting.”

You didn't fight him, desperate for something to fill you below. Jaehyun had handled you so easily, like a doll, lifting you up and holding you by the arms, kissing you, nuzzling his face into your breasts as you arranged yourself around him. At the slight contact your pussy makes with the velvety head of his cock, you moan, wiggling your hips back and forth to work the head of his cock between your folds.

He holds you up, not letting you sink down any closer until you groan in frustration.

“Jae just let me!” you scream, frustrated as you claw at his hands holding your body up.

He chuckles in response, beginning to lower you and you feel yourself stretch and spread around his invading length. Then, he lets go of your arms, gripping onto your ass instead as you whimper out in pain from the soreness of before. But that was the least on your mind, finally feeling in charge of fucking him and taking him inside. Every movement of your hips has you taking his cock deep into your pussy and Jaehyun grunts in delight, his hands pulling your body deeper around him.

“Fuck such a tight little princess.” He groans. His cock is huge, and hard, and it split you painfully, but the pain was just what you wanted, the perfect price for the pleasure you desired. He pulls your body towards him, his hands bringing you to his lips around your neck. Jaehyun took advantage of your busy mind, slowing the kiss down, drawing the moment out until you were leaning heavily against him, dizzy.

Your pussy was melting, your juices running down his shaft in an obscene display of need but you were loving it, the wicked sense of control you now had, doling out his pleasure as he moans and gasps simultaneously as you sink down on his cock.

However, when you’re only still half-ready, he begins to thrust up impatiently into you, burying his cock into your hilt and you break your kiss to sob. He was filling you, packing you with his length as you gasp, leaning your forehead against his, feeling so totally fucked and consumed by him.

"Sit up” he growls, " I want to see my cock going into you."

You groan at the dirtiness of his words but obey, pulling yourself up as you watch his eyes flick down to where you see yourself stretch in a tight ring around him.

“So perfectly made for me,” he grunts as you slide down. Jaehyun brings your breasts in his hands, finding your nipples and rolling them between his fingers slowly, pinching and increasing the pressure till you gasp, your pussy spasming around him involuntarily. Your vaginal muscles clench from the immense size, making its long journey in and out of his now conquered territory. “Keep going princess, show me how much you want me,” he growls.

You rise up again, feeling the sweet suck of his cock leaving you, then push back down against him, filling yourself up, grinding to rub your clit against his shaft. Jaehyun moans, sighs, and grunts with pleasure as you continue in a working rhythm, starving to feel his hot release into your pussy. His fingers still tugging at your nipples, bounced in his hands as he bounced on him. But your body grows exhausted soon after your first climax, unable to keep up the same pace as before.

“Fuck I c-cant,” your voice trails off, your thighs weakening as your legs were giving out in support.

Jaehyun doesn't miss his cue, his hand reaching for your ass and the other for your neck as he flips you over, you’re back hitting the sheets with a soft thud in the midst of everything.

“I got you baby.” He whispers, his cock still buried in your pussy as he nudges between your legs. He doesn't move, waiting for you to regain your breath as he gently holds your legs against the sheets, helping you calm down the tremoring of your muscles. “What colour?” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Greenish-yellow,” you mumble, “just give me a second.” Jaehyun hums in response, waiting patiently for your response as he holds still inside of you. He nuzzles against your hair. You take a few more moments, breathing deeply before you’re ready, “green.”

He takes no time in returning back to his movements. He pushes your knees up to your shoulders, fucking you hard, deep and with brutal passion. You grip onto the surrounding bed sheets, his full length of his cock sliding in and out of you faster and harder than you could’ve achieved by riding him.

Jaehyun buries his face into the arch of your throat, peppering kisses into your flesh as you gasp out for air with every thrust. His lips trail along the side of your collar before wrapping around the skin, lightly suckling at it. He tugs at the thin skin between his teeth and you feel the slight pang of pain as he bites down softly. Nevertheless, he continues – sucking and biting as many hickeys he can into your skin, gripping onto your opposite shoulder and tilting your head for further access to your neck.

“Your mine now, all mine,” he murmurs against your skin, “whose are you princess?”

“Yours,” you squeak, voice coming out at a higher pitch than usual.

You can feel the building tension, feeling his cock knocking against your hilt as you move, your stomach bulging with his length. You grasp at him, trying to reach for his bicep which holds your knees up, wanting to tell him you were close, but you couldn't move, couldn't say anything. You can only lie there with your mouth agape, eyes shut as he continues to dive in.

“Fuck I’m going to cum.” He groans. But you were already drowning in your own torrent of orgasm, crushed by the relentless fucking and his deep grunts. You feel his cock throb intensely inside you before it begins to spit hot waves of cum into you.

He continues to fuck you as you come, your pussy milking his cock as he shoots into you again and again, his face now buried against your breasts. He was still thrusting as you come down from your high, his member deflating but still insisting in sliding in and out on the slippery bed of your mixed juices. Slowly, you float back into reality, your body still uncontrollably spasms as the thick cloud of ecstasy still clouds your mind.

“Jae n-no more,” you whimper, feeling him retreat from your sensitive walls as the overstimulated pain and displeasure kick in. Jaehyun listens immediately, moving his weight from you so his hovering over your sweaty figure, your hair sticking to your forehead.

“No more baby,” he tells you, his hand skimming over your waist and then to your belly. He pushes down lightly and you feel a rush of cum leak out and trail down to your ass. He climbs off, panting still as he rolls over beside you, bringing in your exhausted figure to his chest. Your clammy skin and his comforting presence washes over you as he runs his large hands over your back soothingly, whispering loving words.

The ringtone of a phone from the bedroom floor snaps Jaehyun out of his trance, and when he tries to move you cling onto his arm. “Don’t go,” you whine.

“I’m just going to answer the phone,” he coos, “I’m not leaving.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead before climbing off the bed to search for the source of noise in the pile of your thrown off clothes.

The ringing finally stops and you watch as you make out the outline of Jaehyun’s shadow placing the phone against his ear.

“Hello?” Jaehyun doesn't say anything else for a while, just listening to the person on the other side of the call while he runs a hand through his hair. You throw your head back against the pillow and sink further into the scented bed sheets when you realise who the caller is, letting out a muffled groan. “We’re coming back now.”   _____

Feedback always welcome! 

#nct smut #nct imagines #jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun #NCT-WRITERS #nct127 jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #nct #kpop smut #smut #nct scenarios #nct fanfics #jung jaehyun #nct127 #jaehyun imagines #nct x reader

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey if requests are open can I ask one?

Can you do a bucky or stephen strange x reader where the reader falls under the ace spectrum and they are terrified to tell him that they are ace.

I'm ace (on the spectrum) and I've been struggling with forming romantic attachments and not feeling like "complete" or "enough" so I just felt this would be nice💕

If its convenient for you then please do this request

Thank you!

On the spectrum

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request. I kinda made a little twist to it, so I hope that you like it. I am in no way saying that asexual people can only be with asexual folk, but I thought this might be cute, so I wrote it like this xx

Warnings | erection, mentions of sex, ^^

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Jolting up from your rest, your eyes widened as you get your weight lounging upon Bucky, eyes wide as felt an appendage of his jolting stiffly upon your inner thigh. It was a surprise, the pair of you, through the expanse of your short term relationship, had never had the conversation of sex, and a part of you wanted to avoid it at all costs. There was something that you needed to inform Bucky about, but you were wary of what his reaction could be.

You weren’t sure that he would understand, after all, back in the 40s he was known for his womanising reputation, and whilst you knew that you weren’t another loose fling that had no attachments, it was still a big deal to share the truth with him. Not only would it impend and possibly affect his view of a future with you, but it would promote a new side to you, that you hadn’t told many people about.

Nat knew, but that was only because years back, you had confided in her, confused about your lack of sexual attraction to anyone. She had been supportive, and prompted you to research online, to see if you were as she suggested, asexual. There were many perceptions of the sexuality, some people would still do the deed to keep their partner happy, and others swore off the act altogether.

It wasn’t that the thought and idea of sex grossed you out, in fact, you could understand that people did it to feel amounts of pleasure that came from nothing else. But the rouse of body parts brushing against the other, and slipping inside was not something that ever appealed to yourself. And then you met Bucky, and your perception of the ordeal remained the same; you weren’t blind, you knew Bucky was extremely attractive, however, there still seemed to be no pulse in your veins that was prompting you to jump his bones.

It wasn’t him, it was you, and that was more okay. There was nothing wrong with not having a desire to perform erotic acts with any partner, and more so than his appearance, you had fallen for not only Bucky’s heavenly appearance, but his soul. He had an old soul, that was a given, with all things considered. And that was what had first made you step towards the man that liked to be alone, and change his perception of that fact.

He was new to the team, Tony enjoyed picking fun at the man, who as he liked to say ‘hadn’t got any in eighty years’. Bucky hardly responded to Iron Man’s nit picks, ignoring them instead to settle the conflict in his eyes. Berating with Tony was off the table, and so were snarky remarks, otherwise the billionaire would remind him of his sins against the Stark family, although in foresight, he had just been carrying out orders.

A groan relented from the man beneath you as you uncomfortably shuffled, his cock clearly rubbing against your thigh. His sleep dazed eyes slowly peeled open, revealing the blue globes beneath that stared up at you. A furrow endorsed his features, as he came to realisation of what had you so frozen; he was hard, nothing in particular had turned him on, it was just his body’s way of rousing him from slumber, and apparently it had extracted you from your rest also.

He released his arms from around you, watching as you shyly rolled to the side, and glanced at him from out of the corner of your eye. He released a small and sorrowful smile as he glanced down to where the covers had lightly raised from his manhood, feeling guilty for how his body had reacted by itself. “Doll face I’m sorry, I didn’t- it just- ugh.” The man groaned, rubbing his face with his prosthetic hand as he tried to rid the dust from out from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s okay.” Your voice came across as meek, small to the elephant in the room. “Just I- there is something I should tell you.” You twiddled with your fingers, picking nervously at the hanging skin that had chipped its way partially off on your latest mission, that had required you to furiously try and peel a jammed car door open to get the family out. Bucky now focused all his attention on you rather than the uninvited presence of his little friend in the bedroom, his pupils sending you signals of warmth as if to tell you that whatever you were going to tell him next, he would remain here for you.

“I’m asexual, and I get that you aren’t and you probably want all of nothing in this relationship but-” You spoke, but quickly paused when you saw Bucky tilted his head, a clear frown creating a thin line through the middle of his forehead. “What is it, do you not want me or-“ he stopped you from speaking, reaching out to hold your hands, giving them a light comforting squeeze, before he happened to open his mouth to speak.

“Doll face.” That name made you gulp, afraid that it would be the last time that he addressed you in such a way. And if it were, then that emotional connection that you felt to him would be unwound, and set out to sea to float and turn under the waves. “Asexual.” He tested the word on his tongue, as he lightly nodded, for some reason the phrase feeling right upon his tongue. “Can you explain it to me, I don’t know what it is?”

Of course, he wouldn’t know what it is! It made sense, he was from the forties, where various sexualities were not explored, all because straight white men thought their opinions were inferior. Well now, everyone had the freedom to be who they wanted to, and could be attracted to whomever they pleased, as things should have always been. Brushing your hand through your hair, thinking of holding onto the locks for dear life as you felt your nerves persevere, and spur in your membrane.

“It’s where someone does not experience sexual thoughts or feelings, towards anyone. Their thoughts are primarily romantic, and that’s how I feel. I do love you Buck, but I’m not sexually attracted to you, and I understand if that is a deal breaker for you. Not everyone wants to be put on a sex ban for the entirety of their relationship, but for me, it’s not like that at all, instead it’s more so I find the little moments to be more intimate than intercourse.”

“Y/n... I, not to jump the gun, but I’ve been feeling the same way.” Bucky slowly spoke, making your eyes dart up to his guilty expression. “I guess eighty years on ice will make you think about the things that are more important, and you are the most important person to me, and I guess if we neither of us have any desire to have sex, then me and you are supposed to work.”

It was surely a surprise, but he had contained his emotions, thinking that even when Tony pried at him for his lack of involved affections, he felt ashamed, as though there was something wrong with him. But it appeared as this day and age was far more fitting for this version of him, the one that had endured the battles against aliens and his own friends.

“I’m sure we’d have found a way to sort your needs out even if you weren’t asexual.” It felt strange for him to hear himself described with that word, but it felt right. “And look, it’s gone down.” You laughed lightly, resting against his chest once more as he let out a breathy laugh, and cuddled you to his chest. “I’m with you for you Buck, I love every part of you. And I think, maybe we should move out of the compound and get a place together, maybe downtown?”

“Really?” His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, shining with festive luminescence. “You want that, with me?” You humbly nodded, pressing a kiss upon his cheek as you inhaled his scent. His hands dipped to your waist, holding you that bit tighter. He was never going to let you go, no matter who was what, or what was who. The two of you were y/n and Bucky, and you got through anything.

That way, leaving these Stark white four walls behind, Stark himself could not pry at the soldier, nor make jokes about his lack of sexual affection. The two of you were complete with the truth wading between you, there was to be no dwelling or worrying about the other thought, because you both understood.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky oneshot #bucky imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes request #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky reader insert #bucky request #sebastian stan fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader fluff #imagines #imagine #xreader #marvel x reader

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!! 

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[pure-kirarin]

The enchanting croon - Sabo x f!mermaid reader

A/N : Beware this very cute scenario that kept haunting me while I was swimming in the pool haha. I decided to break from the enchantment by writing it. I hope that you will like it as much as I do, because honestly, this is my favourite Sabo x reader scenario I have written for now. I added the song I listened to while writing this, as I looked at the sunset from my terrasse~ (look at the end of the post) Synopsis : Two different people cross paths only to share an enchanting moment, threading a fine line between dreams and reality.

Warnings : None. Enjoy.

-

“There isn’t much to explore, huh ?”

Sabo surmised as he wandered around the island. He didn’t care enough to follow Koala on her little shopping trip. The blond had most of his clothes tailored to his own tastes and fitted for his figure. He didn’t care much about fashion, but he prefered to own a few pieces of clothing that reflected his style and tastes rather than owning too many. He took advantage of these few moments of peace to explore the island and maybe gather some information for their next mission. Even when the young man had free time, he would always find a way to make it about work. The sunset was now approaching big times and he started to think about returning to the meeting point with Koala.

However, he wanted to spend some calm time by the beach before going back. In fact, he appreciated meditating on his own and gathering some alone time, away from his partner’s reprimands.

As he took a few more steps towards the tortuous alley, a gentle humming caught Sabo’s trained ears. The humming added a reverie-like beam to the atmosphere, it was as if he was stepping in some unreal territory. As he got closer , the enchanting voice got more distinguishable and it sounded now more like a chant. The gentle melody dragged him in, enchanting all his senses, in the span of a few seconds he was totally captivated.

He was curious to discover the origin of this croon. The dimness of the alley fell away the closer he came to the end, burned away by the colors of the sunset. Orange, yellow, red, all merged together, reflecting on the beach. And there, you sit in all your glory, offering him your back.

“So, this is what a mermaid’s singing sounds like ?” he thought to himself.

The notes were soft, but in your voice laid some melancholy that reached a deep part of his soul. He stood there in awe, he was petrified by the beauty of this magical moment. The way the notes rolled off your tongue, the way the light reflected on your scales made them glow like pure gold. He wanted to look longer, tracing every single image in his memory so he doesn’t forget about it.

He didn’t move by an inch, looking at you combing your hair with what looked like a golden comb, ornamented with little diamonds that glowed like stars under the sun. As much as he wanted to see the face of the fae creature that enchanted all his senses, he held back, unwilling to stop the chant.

He understood now the legends he read about mermaids, but how could such a beautiful song be one of destruction ?

But to his disenchantment -or would it be to his enchantment ?- the singing stopped abruptly. You turned your face towards him, sensing his presence, and the comb automatically fell from your frail hand.

A second was enough for him to react, he knew how to recognize terror in one’s eyes. He knew it too much, having worked for the revolutionaries for such a long time. You moved your tail, ready to disappear into the sea as if he had seen something that he was not supposed to see.

“Wait !” He didn’t move, he knew that if he did, you would be even less convinced to stay. “I won’t hurt you.”

You were already in the water, but as you heard the man’s voice, your movements got slower, as if you hesitated whether to go back or to stay.

“I am sorry I looked at you, that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.”

He continued, his even voice was calming to you. No human has ever talked to you, you were excited and curious, but at the same time terrified.

Your intuition told you that he was a good man, the internalized voices of your parents and your likings said otherwise.

He sensed your inner conflict and decided to leave the choice up to you. He has met mermaids before but he has never talked to any. The mermaids he knew were also very different from you. Mostly ones he freed among other slaves, or older mermaids that were a part of a pirate crew. He got closer and his hand grasped the comb that fell on the shore minutes ago. His eyes scrutinized the arabesques that ornamented it. He then held it towards you.

“I think this belongs to you.”

You turned back and got closer to the rock where you were seated before he interrupted you. You leaned your upper body completely against it. Then, holding eye-contact, you stretched your delicate arm towards his. Without breaking eye contact your fingers grasped the comb, snatching it off his fingers, then, holding it close to your bosom. Your chest lifted up and down, your breath seemed heavy and you didn’t dare move. You seemed scared. His big black eyes were full of compassion as he could only imagine the reason behind your fear of humans.

“May I take a seat ?” he attempted. You nodded your head energetically, and he took place next to you on the huge rock. You inspected him with curiosity, but you didn’t move yet. In reality, you were now feeling that he wasn’t much of a threat, but you were still a bit scared.

“So, you understand me. Can you speak as well ?” you nodded again.

“My name is Sabo. Nice to meet you.”

You leaned towards his face inspecting it closely, your hand reached out to his cheek a few times but you were quick to hold back. You were very curious as you have always wanted to know more about humans. Sadly, everyone on your island said that humans were horrible creatures that would enslave and abuse mermaids. A few stories about mermaids being sold in auction houses were enough to scare you.

“Sabo” you repeated. He smiled and said back

“Yes, Sabo, that’s my name.”

“Sabo is a funny name.” your melodious laugh was contagious.

“You think so ? It’s short for sabotage. You’re right !” He laughed to lighten up the mood, a gloved hand scratching his neck.

“Humans have funny names.” You commented, taking his words literally.

“Not everyone. But it’s true that I have a rather peculiar name.” he smiled and you mirrored his smile.

You looked at the way the sun reflected on his golden locks and you thought that it looked so beautiful. You took place next to him now, you turned your face towards him, not able to detach your eyes from his sight. It wasn’t every day that you were able to see humans this close after all.

“My name is (Y/N) !”

“(Y/N), nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Your eyes now lowered, looking at his legs, head blown away by how different his body was from yours. He noticed that and couldn’t refrain from smiling. It was the same for him actually, but he tried not to scare you away by dwelling on your body, it was breathtaking and he felt extremely lucky to share such a moment with a dreamy creature.

“So, what were you doing here ? And why is there no one by the beach ?” he asked.

“I like to come watch the sunset. It takes around half an hour of swimming for me to get here, but it’s pretty much worth it...This is the only time that I can come here unbothered.”

“And why is that ?” he asked gently. He encouraged you to talk more, trying to get you to feel more comfortable.

“Oh, it’s because it’s prayer time. The citizens of this island pray at this time, so there is no one by the beach. I spend half an hour here before going back home. I like to sing and enjoy the fresh air...This is why I was very surprised to see you here…”

“I am not a local, you are right. I had no idea about this. I am sorry again for earlier, your voice sounded really enchanting.” He complimented and you looked in front of you now, blushing a bit. It was the first time that someone, a man, a human man, complimented you.

“Was it your first time listening to a mermaid sing ?”

“Yes” his answer was simple and fast, he enjoyed the sunset, not looking your way so he doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.

“It’s my first time too. Seeing a human.”

“How is it ? Is it different from what you have imagined ?”

Sabo tried to put himself in your shoes, or should I say- in your scales. He was genuinely fascinated by how big the universe is, and how different it should feel to be someone else. Life as a mermaid must be very different from his own. This conversation he was having with you was an opportunity for him to see things through your eyes.

He thought about the privilege he had as a human, and how he would often forget to his dismay, that the world was far bigger and that everyone had different experiences. And that was what he fought for, he fought for a world where a mermaid and a human could meet and where it would be natural.

“It is different.” You said as you veered your eyes towards his face once again. You seemed unable to contain your excitement. Your eyes shined like those of a child with an insatiable curiosity. “For example, I knew that humans had legs, but I have never seen legs before...Can I..Can I feel them ?” you hesitated.

“Of...of course.” he stuttered a bit, surprised by your question, but he had to remind himself that you were just fascinated by your differences and that it was just an innocent request.

You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed it before laughing. “It’s hard, different from my tail. You want to touch it as well ?”

His cheeks were rose colored as he thought that you really had no idea of the hidden meaning of your words. He then took off his gloves and touched your tail with the tip of his fingers. You put your hand on his and pressed it on your tail while laughing

“Come on, don’t be scared. It doesn’t hurt.”

“It feels soft, like a fish.” He said.

“Well, I am technically half a fish, so that’s right.” You let go of his hand and added. “Also, I imagined humans to be more...scary ? I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude to you. It’s just that- it’s complicated between humans and mermen. My parents have always warned me of humans.”

“I know” Sabo was now looking at the sky with dreamy eyes “And your parents were probably right. They worry about you. Most things that you have probably heard about humans are unfortunately true.”

Your shimmer smile faded away leaving an expression of melancholy and sadness on your traits.

“But not everyone is like this.” He looked back at you with a determined expression. “I am a revolutionary. I fight for freedom and equality, for a world where humans and all other species will be considered equal. I am sorry that the world isn’t a safe place for you at the moment, (Y/N).”

You smiled lovingly and pressed on his hand. You could feel that the man was incredibly sincere and you were moved by his words. You then added, and in your voice he could discern that same tone of sadness and melancholy that he heard in your singing ;

“That’s very admirable of you, Sabo. I have always dreamt of..Of walking outside freely and meeting humans. Life underwater is fun, but it’s also just one percent of what is there to see in this world...I think that it’s unfair that I’m not allowed to discover all of these things…” your eyes almost teared up as you said those things. “But your words give me hope. I wish more people were like you, Sabo. I don’t understand much about “revolutionaries”. But you sound like good people.”

There wasn’t much to be understood, only to be felt. You put your head on his shoulder and he hesitated before rubbing yours in a comforting way. You were just two people sharing a connexion, something that was soul-level and that words couldn’t express. You were the embodiment of what he was fighting for. And you being there, so beautiful, yet like a bird in a cage, tore his heart apart.

With a swift move you plunged into the sea and dragged him away from his hand. “Come on, that was really depressing. Let’s swim together.” You said with a laugh.

“W-wait !” he protested. “I can’t swim !” you looked at him with big eyes. He was already starting to sink a bit when you got closer to his body and put his arms around your neck.

“Hold onto me really well then !” you said with a mischievous smile.

He did as you asked and was surprised with the ease with which you held his body and with how fast you swam.

“And why can’t you swim ? Are you scared ?” you teased a bit.

“It’s not that, I am a devil fruit holder. But I loved to swim before.”

You heard about devil fruits before, but only in books. You have never witnessed such a power and believed it to be a legend. But you also knew that devil fruit eaters can’t swim, since devil fruits were cursed by the sea.

“What kind of power do you have ?” you asked, curious as you bring Sabo back to the shore. He got up, turning his fist into flames under your admiring gaze :

“I can control flames”

“That’s pretty impressive. I wonder if I can get such a cool power one day as well.” You smiled.

“Who knows ? What kind of power would you like to have ?” he asked as he took off his jacket and shirt, wringing them to get rid of the water. You got lost looking at his body and how handsome he was. He really did look charming. You then recollected your thoughts trying to think about his question :

“I have never thought about that. I didn’t think that devil fruits existed until today. I like talking to you Sabo, you taught me so many things.”

You tapped the place next to you back at the rock, gesturing for him to take a seat which he does.

“I like talking to you too, (Y/N), it’s refreshing. You have such a pure and innocent way of viewing the world.”

He meant that it was easy for you to warm up to him, and it gave him hope. It felt as if you were ready to see the good in everything. But he knew that this could also put you in danger, as some people could have bad intentions towards you, especially that mermaids were unfortunately targeted by slave traffickers.

“Gee, if my parents knew that I’m here with a human, they’ll kill me~” you mused.

He tapped your shoulder in a comforting way and said :

“They don’t need to know for now, but I promise you that I will do my best so that humans and mermen can live in peace. This way, your parents won’t be so worried about you coming here.”

Without a thought, you encircled the man’s neck with both your arms.

“Thank you so much Sabo” you chirped. He put a hand on your back, taken aback by the proximity. He knew that you didn’t think much about this gesture, but he couldn’t help but notice the softness of your chest against his. He pulled away gently, embarrassed by this thought crossing his mind.

“It’s only natural, (Y/N), it’s my duty.”

“But still, this means that you are a really kind and selfless person.” A smile played on your mouth. But the corner of your lips fell down as you noticed that the sun was already setting down. You had to go away soon. You wished to spend more time with Sabo, but if you stayed any longer, your parents would get suspicious, not to forget that prayer time was almost elapsed.

“It’s getting darker now...I have to go soon…”

Sabo looked at his wrist watch, noticing that his meeting time with Koala was also getting closer. Time passed by really fast in such an agreable company, he thought to himself.

“I have to go as well.” he says as he puts back his shirt after drying it faster with his devil fruit powers. “It was really nice meeting you, (Y/N), I wish to hear you sing once again.” And he smiled gently, and your heart hurt a bit as you didn’t want to leave his side.

You wanted him to tell you more, you wanted to know more about this world that he was trying to build for you and your people, a world where humans and mermen could coexist.

“Say Sabo...We will meet again right ? You’ll come here again, right ?” you tugged at his sleeve bringing him closer to the rock where you were seated. Your pleading eyes made his heart melt and he couldn’t help but ruffle your hair. This simple touch made your heart skip a beat. You wanted him to stay so badly. You really liked how gentle he was, how respectful and polite he was towards you. You have always been both scared and fascinated by humans, yet, now that you have met him, you wanted to meet more of them.

Sabo seemed to think for a moment, then, he took a piece of paper out of the pocket of his coat and put it in your hand.

“Unfortunately, I’ll be leaving this island tonight, however, I’ll give you a piece of my vivre card.”

You looked at the piece laying in the palm of your hands with big surprised eyes. He continued, noticing your surprise :

“This will always guide you to me. It points to my location. This way, whenever I’m by the beach or the sea, you’ll be able to find me, if you want to of course. I’ll be very pleased to hear you sing, and to talk to you of course, (Y/N).”

You instinctively closed your fingers around the piece of paper, bringing it closer to your chest. I will cherish it with all my heart, you thought to yourself. You wanted Sabo to never forget about you, and you were excited to meet him again, and have him tell you about his adventures. You looked a bit around you then took his hand and placed your golden comb in it.

“Please accept this as a memento of mine.” He looked at the beautiful comb, was it alright for him to accept such a gift ? Seeing him so reluctant and hesitant, you reassured him

“I want you to keep it, maybe you’re not aware of it, but today was really meaningful for me. I was afraid of humans because of mermen legends, but you proved me wrong.”

You punctuated your words with a smile that he mirrored. You were so adorable to him, he liked how spontaneous you were and how easy it was for you to speak your feelings. As you took your hand away from his, he closed his fingers around the comb then put it in his pocket.

“I’ll keep it then. Please know that the pleasure is shared. Good and evil exist everywhere. I am glad that I have given you a good impression about humans. Please don’t hesitate to ask me for help if you run into any kind of trouble. Alright ?”

You nodded, your heart melting at his kindness. You hesitated for a second, then, you lifted your upper body with your palms placed on the rock. Then, with one arm, you pulled Sabo from his cravate so that his face was inches away from yours. His eyes were shaken with surprise, pupils dilated. You closed yours and kissed his cheek softly, his blond locks tickling your face. You let go of him fast, plunging into the sea.

“I won’t hesitate...I hope that we will see each other again…”

He straightened his back, smiling at you. It would have been impossible not to be shaken by your move. He engraved that moment in his memory : the way your cheeks were flushed pink, the tone in which you spoke : flowing like velvet, and how your hair glowed in the dark as if it had stars entangled in it. You were so beautiful, too beautiful, and he had a desire to protect this beauty, this purity of yours. He had to pursue his goal, to continue, to make the world a place for beauty to be appreciated.

Your voice was heard once again, now low, just a murmur.

“But there was one thing that the mermen legends weren’t wrong about...Human men are really handsome.”

He could hear a shy smile in your voice, and after these few words, you disappeared into the water, as if you had just been a dream. But the comb in his pocket proved otherwise. What a playful girl, he thought. Then, he stayed still for a few minutes, taking in the peaceful air of the sea.

Maybe you will meet again. He thought. But till then, he had to work harder. He turned his back to the sea, returning to his meeting point with Koala, although his thoughts were still attached to your enchanting croon.

Tag list : @fishandfuck

#sabo x reader #kirarin writes #sabo #one piece sabo #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #sabo x you #revolutionary sabo #chief of staff sabo #mermaid x reader #SoundCloud

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SIX

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: a high probability for swearing

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     "LEONARDO, MICHELANGELO!" An eleven year old Y/N Robins called from her porch door, impatiently tapping a food bowl against the wooden frame she leant against. Behind her, the sun was setting and painted the sky a gorgeous array of pinks and oranges, sweeping together like watercolours. She looked out on the street impatiently, finding its sleeping state both calming and unnerving. Elm Street was never noisy, but after three years of living there, the girl had realised it wasn't a place of silence either.

And she was completely right. A distant, yet soft, meow grew ever closer, finally appearing around the side of a bush. Y/N grinned, affectionately calling out for the birman to go find his dinner, "C'mere Angelo, that's it boy!"

He trotted past her up into the house where his found his dinner waiting.

"Leo!" Her small voice called out as loud as it could into the cool evening air. He had wandered off earlier that same day to enjoy the Riverdale summer heat elsewhere, and the Robins family didn't think anything of it. Just as her mouth opened to call out the name again, Vegas came barrelling out from the door of the Andrews household, across the street to her side with Mary and Archie following.

The Andrews matriarch noticed the empty food bowl, "Is everything alright, Y/N/N?" She asked in her usual professional voice, but the girl knew from experience how much love and warmth it really held. Elodie told her about Leonardo's disappearance and how it wasn't uncommon in this kind of weather, but he could be getting a bit hungry.

Mary handed the dog leash to her son and sent him a secret wink, "Why don't you two walk Vegas together and see if you can find him?"

Excitement had been bubbling through the small town of Riverdale for weeks now anticipating the big Fourth of July celebrations ahead of them. Y/N Robins had planned on keeping up with her old tradition of sleeping in until late afternoon, then rolling out of bed in time to catch the fireworks with her friends. But with with the drunkenly asking Archie to be her boyfriend, which was not something she remembered a few hours later, her plans for this year were flipped on their head. So she found herself getting dressed to go talk things out with her supposedly best friend in a quiet spot next to sweet water river.

With her hair half tied up, and a black denim jacket over her shoulders, Y/N left through the door in her bedroom, and waited on the edge of the pavement until she heard a door across the street open and quietly shut. Any butterflies fluttering in her stomach all but disappeared as Archie turned around and smiled into the early morning sun towards her. It had been three days since they had last seen each other, since the girl confessed she didn't really know what she wanted in the space between them.

He jogged over road, asphalt kicking up under his new Nike trainers, and immediately engulfed Y/N's small frame into his own. The two teenagers walked all the way to the edge of Sweetwater River in the silvery silence of early birds and rustling leaves, their hands every now and again grazing each other and lacing together.

"So," The Andrews boy sighed as he lay against the warm grass, watching as she sat next to him and propped her head up on his chest, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Leo!" Y/N's melodic voice rang out across the long stretch of stream. Crystal clear water you could see the smoothness of the rocks which lay underneath if you peaked your head over the bank enough. For some unknown reason, the young cat would always find his way towards some kind of water, even back in Phoenix.

"Hello?" Archie bopped the girl on the tip of her nose as she returned back to reality, evidently not hearing what he'd just asked by the puzzled look her face adorned.

She hummed and gave him her full attention, allowing him to rephrase his previous words. In the back of her mind, Y/N knew exactly what she wanted- to leave high school and go on endless adventures with the boy her head lay upon. She wanted an easy life, away from the eerie little town she called home- to decorate her own house with pictures of smiles and candid memories. But most of all, in that perfect moment, she wanted herself to let go and fall in love with her childhood best friend.

After finding Prince Charming and finding out he was really the one from Shrek and not Cinderella, her faith in true love was shaken at the age of sixteen.

"I'm scared of you hurting me, or doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Arch." Y/N's voice faltered at her blunt honesty, "I meant everything I said, but I don't think I'm over what happened with Chuck last year."

"Tiger," Archie interrupted her thoughts, sitting up slightly leaning back on one hand and using the other to cup her face, "I can't promise we won't ever hurt each other even just a little bit, but whatever happens, we'll learn and grown from it together. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much that bastard hurt you. But, nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, life is scary and I'll go through all of the shitty parts twenty three hours a day, if it means I get just one with you smiling up at me."

Half an hour of roaming up and down the river bank had passed before a twisting, nauseous feeling took over the pit of Y/N's stomach. She and her family adored their two fluffy boys, her dad would never admit it but they all heard the little 'goodnights' he'd whisper as he made his way up to bed finally. Though with her parents still working, and Y/S/N desperately needing to finish an assignment due tomorrow, the youngest Robins was the only one able to attend this search and rescue mission.

"What if he's -"

Vegas rubbed his nose against her shin in comfort.

"Y/N/N," A twelve year old Archie cut her off in his usual caring voice, "don't even let your mind go there. He's a little ninja cat he's probably off catching frogs or something."

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort and heading towards an unexplored area of the forest line. Truth be told, he was meant to be doing English homework with Betty Cooper right about now, but that had slipped his mind as soon as Y/N Robins adorably wonky smile found him across the road.

"Leo!" Y/N's sweet voice called out.

"Leonardo?" Archie followed with Vegas by his side.

"That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard." The girl admitted shyly, hiding her rose dusted cheeks by bringing Archie into a tight hug, her head resting in the crook of his neck while her long y/h/c hair tickled his face. It smelt of strawberries and mint in the morning breeze.

"Y/N/N, can I ask you something?" His voice sounded nervous, but as she looked up and nodded, his face held a smirk, "Will you stay my girlfriend?"

She answered with a small kiss, staring into his eyes innocently as her fingers traced his back under his thin t-shirt, about to lift the material from his body. But life had a funny way of throwing challenges their way, making them run before they could walk.

"I think I see him!" Archie handed the leash to his best friend, seeing a patch of grey in between the auburn autumn leaves. Vegas barked and tried to follow after his human, but Y/N managed to stop the Labrador from bounding away by distracting him with ear rubs. Wild growls and hisses could be heard as Archie wrestled the feisty long haired cat into his hoodie clad arms. Then Leonardo hissed so madly, the young boy almost dropped him, "Yep, definitely Leo."

Y/N ran over as fast as she could, dropping the lead as soon as she saw his pumpkin eyes and bare teeth, clearly not a fan of Archie. She grinned widely with glee and got to her tippy toes to kiss Archie's cheek. "You're a life saver!"

As soon as the fluffy animal felt Y/N's little hands rubbing his chin as she took him from the boy's arms, he switched into a completely different cat and started purring.

A gunshot sounded through the open clearing, and before a high pitched scream could escape from Y/N's mouth, Archie saw the terror in her eyes and pulled the petite girl behind him. He scaled the area, unable to see anything but birds fleeing from the unusual noise.

"We need to get out of here." The boy's gravely voice whispered with urgency, picking her up without hesitation and running until his lungs burnt and his trainers once again hit the comfort of tarmac.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/N screeched, her inquisitiveness telling to turn back, but thankfully common sense won that battle. She and Archie found themselves back on the pavement of Elm Street before they knew it.

"Y/N, we didn't see anything, it could've been a car backfiring a street away for all we know." Archie tried to rationalise, but in all honesty he was stuck to his core with dread.

"Right, or someone was just murdered and we could've been next on some psychopaths hit list." Y/N's dark mind shone through as she blurted out her inner monologue. The boy didn't have any words of wisdom, instead he lead her to his front door and brought her into his body. They stayed in their own little world for what could have been hours, thankful they had each other and not allowing themselves to think about what secrets Riverdale was really hiding under it's pretty exterior.

Nothing ever happened in the town with 'pep'.

Betty Cooper awoke early that Saturday morning, ready to get any assignments out of the way to enjoy the weekend ahead. She opened her curtains and tied her hair up into a ponytail, but as she looked out of her window at the beautiful blue skies, she watched in shock at the surprising scene unfolding in front of her. Y/N Robins up on her tippy toes, with Archie Andrews' hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed intensely in what the two thought was privacy.

PART SEVEN

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#fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale masterlist #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #archie andrews #archie andrews smut #archie x reader #archie riverdale #archie imagine #archie fluff #archie andrews x reader

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

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[moonyblackwerewolf]

Betrothed Ch. 1 - Sirius Black

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.653

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both. 

warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is just an idea for a possible series!! i never published anything before so i’m kind of scared but i really hope you like it!! :) xxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5 

(not my gif)

Diner party

The Royal Manor of Watson was a cold palace, stone walls, rich decorations, sumptuous, but intimidating. The Watsons were cold people, living in a house too big for five people, but Y/N thought it was only fitting, since her parent’s ego was as big as the manor itself. Their pureblood mania deep in their minds, untouchable, which made their daughter’s life miserable. They were the perfect family on the outside but rotten in the inside, three children, Diana, two years older than Y/N, beautiful, smart and most importantly just as purist as their parents and William, tall, handsome, sophisticate and serious, he was the older sibling, three years older than Diana, he was already working with their father on the Ministry of Magic, daddy’s favourite. Home was big, impressive, a dream home if you saw it, libraries, uncountable bedrooms and living rooms, ball rooms, huge gardens, and everything you could ask for but it was far from being a welcoming home.

Though, all of her miserableness went away once she first went to Hogwarts. Of course, being sorted in Slytherin and having good grades was minimal when it came to living up to her parents’s expectations, which were high and if not complied there would most certainly have severe consequences, but still Hogwarts was more of a Home than the Watson Manor ever was. 

Throughout the years, Hogwarts had become her first true home. There she felt the warm winds, the familiar feeling in the great halls, friendships, all she ever hoped for was there, a home, but not quite yet. She met Elizabeth Greengrass a blonde, tall thin girl with deep grey eyes and enviable beauty, Katherine Abbott who looked almost like Diana, but shorter, longer darker hair, blue-green eyes and thiner face. The three girls became best friends right after being sorted into Slytherin. Later on her second year she met Elijah Lestrange, through her sister, he was a year older, handsome and had a polite appearance. Y/N loved her friends but they shared the same blind beliefs her parents do, she’d always nod when they talked about mudblood, choosing not to create conflict, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, her parents couldn't disagree more, controlling they way they were, they were more than satisfied to know that their daughter’s inner circle contained only close family friends’s children.

The Marauders were quite famous for their pranks since first year, Y/N always admired their courage and wit, but her siblings and friends didn’t share the same opinion. When she was around them she’d always get a look from her sister, her brother or her friends would push her away, which only made them more interesting. Although, with time, she stopped trying and just kept living her life the way her family wanted her to.

Until summer break before 5th year, at least. 

By then Sirius had already gained his bad boy reputation. Y/N had known Black for a long time, only by sight, his family was friends with hers and his cousin, Narcissa, hangs out with her sister, she’d see him in the pureblood elite parties they were forced to attend, they’d exchange glances but never talked. Sirius was once again being forced to go to some snobby party from snobby people. He couldn’t count in a thousand hands how many other places he’d rather be, but there he was sitting in a huge room full of people he despised, until a certain girl he recognised from other dinner parties and Hogwarts caught his attention, she was Remus’ partner in DADA, though he wasn’t sure, he never paid much attention in classes, pranking the student body was much more entertaining.

She caught his eye from a couch across the room. She was stunning, he thought, her slightly wavy H/C hair matching her S/C skin, freckled rosy cheeks and her alluring E/C eyes. Sirius only hoping she was different from the other brainwashed people in that house.

“Hey” Sirius said softly while he approached the girl that was, apparently, just as bored as he was, to his luck. “Not your scene, love?” He asked with his signature smirk on his face, wanting some good company for once at these afternoons.

“Not really” she chuckled, not knowing exactly what else to say, they weren’t close and she was a bit shy. But she was being honest, these parties were hell, full of families who thought too much of themselves, she didn't feel much like them, but she could fit in she was quiet and not nearly as loud as Sirius was about her beliefs. No one knew. 

“By any chance would you know whose death palace are we on? I mean it’s huge but it looks like Salazar himself lived here, it gives me the creeps” he paused laughing “and my house it’s not a Hufflepuff common room or anything” Sirius said mockingly, not knowing exactly who he was talking with.

“Well” she chuckled awkwardly “It is my parents’, but i know, it’s not very homey, looks like a dark theatre or something and Salazar did live here, family heirloom” she laughed for real this time, she didn’t take it as an offence, if anything she couldn’t agree more.

“How come we never crossed each others path before?” Sirius asked wondering why they never talked on one of those parties or at school.

“I guess I usually just stay in the corners, like today” she chuckled.

The two of them bonded after talking for a while, they discovered that both of them hated these things, Sirius couldn't get how she managed to hide her feelings so well, she looked so much like them. After laughing, talking about school, Sirius was a part of the infamous marauders, telling stories and joking around, for the first time any of them could think of, they had fun in a family party, since Sirius’ friends weren’t pureblood except for Potter but his family had been banished from the sacred twenty-eight for being “blood traitors” and Y/N’s friends’ parents kept them at their side the whole time for “good image”. 

Y/N stole a bottle of fire whiskey from the cellar and started showing the house to Sirius, while the two of them drank more than their bodies could handle, who was just as pleased as her for making fun of the paintings and carpets and the fancy but useless stuff their families valued so much. As they entered a room, particularly big and empty, Sirius had to catch his breath, Y/N and him started running through the halls before entering the room they were now on. He had only now realised that he had grabbed her hand, and apparently she hadn’t noticed until now too, making her blush furiously, releasing each other’s hand quickly and Sirius teased.

“getting comfy are we?” He smirked, as she blushed at his comment. They were very close, he could feel her breath catching. “Where would we be now, love?” He asked inching closer to her.

The both teenagers weren’t thinking straight anymore, the alcohol in their system already influencing their emotions. All they could think about, was how their touch felt electrical and the magnetic pull they were feeling towards each other, wondering how would their lips feel like. They just wanted to have fun, not caring about consequences that moment.

“Ball room” she said innocently but still a bit teasingly, not backing away from him as he inched closer to her “East wing, third floor, far away from where the party is going on, on the first floor” she bit her lip “But still very close to a room-” she said boldly wanting to see his reaction to her suggestions “-two doors away near a window at the end of the hall next to a beautiful painting of my favourite flowers” she said voice husky and breathy, making Sirius groan.

He chuckled low, “And may I ask you whose room is that?” They were now so close that their lips were slightly brushing.

“Why don’t you take me there and see for yourself” she said feeling a flip on her stomach and with a swift motion he lift her up bridal style, making her shiver at the contact, but then laughed, his hand gripping her body and legs tightly as he followed her instructions to get to her room. Once there, he settled her down on her bed and admired the girl in front of him, lust in his eyes. She smiled and bit her lip, she knew Sirius’ reputation, only one night stands, he was a ladies man, but she didn’t care, she wanted him, the fact that her mother would murder her if she ever found out only made it all more exciting.

Sirius took a look at the room, it wasn’t dark as the rest of the house was, it was still sophisticated, but nicer, the detailed wood on the wall was white and, above, the wall it self was light lilac, the room had big windows covered by delicate curtains and even had a balcony, and everything matched between the lilac and whites tones, she had a few paintings and pictures, and flowers, probably fake but still beautiful, the same flowers as on the darker painting outside, her four poster bed that matched the couches by the windows had delicate semi transparent white curtains and her silk white sheets were under a soft lilac blanket, she had a lot of silk pillows with subtle embroidered details on the corners, it was certainly appealing he thought, a beautiful room fit for a princess. Then he was brought back to reality.

“Do you think our parents are wondering where we are?” He asked with a still semi amazed look, it made her laugh, she patted the sheets next to her, inviting him to sit, he sat closely to her and then suddenly she went to the middle of the bed, which was big, pushing his wrists and they sat there, her legs crossed.

“They probably are” she affirmed giggly, she hadn't let his wrists go yet, she was holding it gently. “But, they won’t find us here, even though it’s pretty obvious that i’d hide in my room. Mom and dad wouldn’t leave the party” She paused and laughed “And well your parents certainly won’t come up here to my room i guess” He chuckled at her commentary.

“Well, well, miss perfect pureblood daughter escaping a dinner-party with the rebel Black son, who’d have thought” Sirius said dramatically, she laughed at him.

“Guess this Black here is just a bad influence on me, or… I just put on a good facade” she said more serious this time, voice low, eyes fixated on his. Her hand tracing their way up his arm, his gaze fixed on her movements. “And the fact that if mommy finds out i brought a guy to my room, and that he’s in my bed with me, would make her go crazy, only turns me on” Sirius let a little breathy moan escape his throat.

When Sirius looked at her she was already looking at him, lust all over her eyes. He trailed off just a little and asked, voice low “Y/N… are you sure you want this?” She nodded so he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap, he was holding her waist, lips brushing, he finally kissed her, the kiss felt electrical, it was slow and passionate at first but then I grew more heated. One of her hands was wrapped in his neck, the other was holding his chest going slowly lower, he was pulling her impossibly closer, the both couldn't get enough of each other. They had to pause for catching a breath, in the mean time Sirius leant over pushing Y/N down onto bed earning a tiny moan form her. They started kissing again, but this time was less passionate, more lustful and heated, Sirius started fiddling with her dress’ zipper and took it off slowly, undressing her, tracing kisses in each piece of newly exposed skin until she was only in her underwear, She, then, pushed his blazer off then started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing and sucking his neck making him moan. Once they were both in their underwear Sirius looked at her searching for a final consent, when she nodded, he took the rest of their clothes off.

“What do you want princess?” He asked kissing his way down from her cheek, to her jaw, neck, breasts and she moaned a little louder, the nickname turned her on even more. “Hmm??” He groaned waiting for her answer. “I want to her you say it”

“I… want you” she said between moans, after that she pulled his boxers down kissing him desperately, waiting to feel him against her in the most intimate way possible, the feeling was ethereal.

——————————

They laid in her bed legs tangled under the silk sheets, her head laid in his chest, his hands caressing her back while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, making her shiver, the both of them catching their breaths while he stroke figure eights on her back inhaling her delicate floral floral scent. It felt heavenly to be there by his side, neither of them wanting to let go of one another, enjoying every moment before reality came back to them, but they knew they’ve been gone for too long, the party was probably ending.

“Sirius” she said voice as low as a whisper “This was nice” he smiled at her and pulled her to a kiss.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some fun in these events, and you love, are the most fun I could've had today” he said trailing his hand on her lower back “I mean, this is certainly the best place my parents could’ve dragged me to”. It made her chuckle. He never thought he’d fuck a girl his mother would approve and in one of their elite parties, but here he was, proof that Sirius Black always managed to corrupt girls, anywhere.

“Glad you liked it then” she said chuckling while she buried her head in his neck. But they couldn’t go on with this any longer. “You should go first” she said “Your parents are probably looking for you and it would be suspicious if we showed up together” she advised “Since the fact that we’re both missing from the party is already very much suspicious” she said laughing this time.

“Sure, love” he helped her get dressed before dressing himself and gave one last peck on her lips before getting out of bed. “See you” with a wink and that signature smile of his, he left, leaving her there with her thoughts about the events of this evening and the captivating boy, while rubbing her hands lightly where he left love bites on her neck, knowing she’d have trouble walking tomorrow and a bad headache from all the drinking. She decided it was best if she took a shower, changed into her pyjamas and if her parents show up there, she’d say she wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep.

On his way back Sirius kept thinking about Y/N and how much they’re alike, she was the only nice person he met in one of those parties, she was a good kisser too. Starting to get confused on why he was thinking so much about the girl and the strange feeling she caused on him, but then assumed it was because of all the drinking, he didn't realise his mother, father and brother were waiting for him in the foyer and their faces weren’t kind, he knew it’d be a long night back home. But he didn’t care his only thoughts were about going back to Hogwarts and seeing her again.

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