#Holy Cross Girls’ Primary School

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 25 February:

1570 – Elizabeth I is excommunicated by Pope Pious V. Pope Pius V issued a papal bull in 1570, called Regnans in Excelsis, declaring ‘Elizabeth, the pretended Queen of England and the servant of crime’ to be a heretic and releasing all her subjects from any allegiance. 1852 – Death of popular poet and editor of Irish Melodies, Thomas Moore, who was born in Dublin. 1891 – Edward ‘Ned’ Daly is born…

[dysphorie]

Ok, I'll bite. What's the story of your first menstrual period?

Ok so

I was brought up catholic. Went to catholic primary and secondary school (no it wasn't like in the movies, our uniforms sucked). So being catholic we had to go on religious retreats every now and then that were all VERY holy-holy fire and brimstone and women should be barefoot and pregnant at all times

You can see where I'm going with this

So we're on this retreat, which is for once an own-clothes day, so no uniforms, and i was really feeling myself for some reason, in my animaniacs t-shirt and some leggings

So during some group thing we're all sitting cross legged on the floor, when the girl opposite me is like uhhhh steff there's blood on your leggings 👀

Oh, did i not mention the leggings were

w h i t e ?

I was sheltered as fuck ok i had a vague understanding of what periods were but i didn't realise that's what she meant when she said blood so im looking at my legs like wtf how did i get blood on me?? And the girls are like no omg its your period. And the teachers notice us talking and the girls gesturing at me and rather than come over and ask what's wrong, they call over and ask me to WALK UP TO THE FRONT OF THE ROOM TO SPEAK TO THEM

And it's fucking obvious what's happened. Everyone can see

So i tell my guidance counsellor (who should never have had that position) and the grabs me by the arm and runs me out the room AND GIVES ME INTO TROUBLE. FOR SOMEHOW NOT BEING ABLE TO CONTROL A HUMAN BODILY PROCESS, BECAUSE PERIODS ARE "DIRTY", so she sent me home because in her words i couldn't sit on the bus back to school

By sending me home, i mean she took me to the bus stop outside and left me there while they called my house to tell my folks to come get me. This was 1994. No mobiles. My family didn't have a car and both my parents worked. Thankfully my big sisters were home and one came and got me and they helped me clean up, gave me some supplies, and cursed my guidance counsellor upside down. My mum complained to the school but ofc they just brushed it under the rug

So aye. White leggings on a religious retreat. Great fun, A+++ first period

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 9.3 (after 1930)

1925 – USS Shenandoah, the United States' first American-built rigid airship, was destroyed in a squall line over Noble County, Ohio. Fourteen of her 42-man crew perished, including her commander, Zachary Lansdowne. 1933 – Yevgeniy Abalakov is the first man to reach the highest point in the Soviet Union, Communism Peak (now called Ismoil Somoni Peak and situated in Tajikistan) (7495 m). 1935 – Sir Malcolm Campbell reaches a speed of 304.331 miles per hour on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, becoming the first person to drive an automobile over 300 mph. 1939 – World War II: France, the United Kingdom, New Zealand and Australia declare war on Germany after the invasion of Poland, forming the Allied nations. The Viceroy of India also declares war, but without consulting the provincial legislatures. 1939 – World War II: The United Kingdom and France begin a naval blockade of Germany that lasts until the end of the war. This also marks the beginning of the Battle of the Atlantic. 1941 – The Holocaust: Karl Fritzsch, deputy camp commandant of the Auschwitz concentration camp, experiments with the use of Zyklon B in the gassing of Soviet POWs. 1942 – World War II: In response to news of its coming liquidation, Dov Lopatyn leads an uprising in the Ghetto of Lakhva (present-day Belarus). 1943 – World War II: British and Canadian troops land on the Italian mainland. On the same day, Walter Bedell Smith and Giuseppe Castellano sign the Armistice of Cassibile, although it is not announced for another five days. 1944 – Holocaust: Diarist Anne Frank and her family are placed on the last transport train from the Westerbork transit camp to the Auschwitz concentration camp, arriving three days later. 1945 – A three-day celebration begins in China, following the Victory over Japan Day on September 2. 1950 – "Nino" Farina becomes the first Formula One Drivers' champion after winning the 1950 Italian Grand Prix. 1954 – The People's Liberation Army begins shelling the Republic of China-controlled islands of Quemoy, starting the First Taiwan Strait Crisis. 1967 – Dagen H in Sweden: Traffic changes from driving on the left to driving on the right overnight. 1971 – Qatar becomes an independent state. 1976 – Viking program: The American Viking 2 spacecraft lands at Utopia Planitia on Mars. 1978 – During the Rhodesian Bush War a group of ZIPRA guerrillas shot down civilian Vickers Viscount aircraft (Air Rhodesia Flight 825) with a Soviet-made SAM Strela-2; of 56 passengers and crew 38 people died in crash, 10 were massacred by the guerrillas at the site. 1981 – The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, an international bill of rights for women, is instituted by the United Nations. 1987 – In a coup d'état in Burundi, President Jean-Baptiste Bagaza is deposed by Major Pierre Buyoya. 1989 – Cubana de Aviación Flight 9046 crashes into a residential area of Havana shortly after takeoff from José Martí International Airport, killing 150. 1989 – Varig Flight 254 crashes in the Amazon rainforest near São José do Xingu in Brazil, killing 12. 1997 – Vietnam Airlines Flight 815 (Tupolev Tu-134) crashes on approach into Phnom Penh airport, killing 64. 2001 – In Belfast, Protestant loyalists begin a picket of Holy Cross, a Catholic primary school for girls. 2004 – Beslan school siege results in over 330 fatalities, including 186 children. 2010 – After taking off from Dubai International Airport, UPS Airlines Flight 6 develops an in-flight fire in the cargo hold and crashes near Nad Al Sheba, killing both crew members on board. 2016 – The U.S. and China, together responsible for 40% of the world's carbon emissions, both formally ratify the Paris global climate agreement. 2017 – North Korea conducts its sixth and most powerful nuclear test.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: screenshots of reblogs, tags, and comments, which say:

brbgensokyo: #re teacher told me i was disabled bc someone in my family from 300 years ago jacked off 👍]

[lyriumrain: #unfortunately i have no weird stories #because i was raised as a Jehovah's witness - which meant i sat in the hallway for every "religion" class]

[garbagecannon: When I was in primary school (many many many) years ago, we had a lady come in with her guitar and sing us songs about all the things we should thank Jesus for. Knickers being the only thing I can remember from it.]

[raeraesmentality: #like one teacher said that the devil brought dinosaur bones from another dimension too trick people into not believing God]

[auntytim: The pastor who decided the memorialise ANZAC Day by silently re-enacting the battle of Gallipoli by himself, complete with his own hand-made grenades,]

[writtenwordiseversotrue: #mine was taught by a guy named Shane-O #who wanted to badly to be one of the guys #but he couldn't handle it when our year 12 boys cross-dressed and wore the girls uniforms]

[cannibalmukbang: I only remember the one who told us flat out that dinosaurs weren't real.]

[electricpurplelamp: #oh every Easter at my high school we had a special assembly about why chocolate eggs are hollow #it's bc they represent the tomb jeezy was buried in #and you have to make a hole in your eggs before you eat them to let him out]

[i-post-posts: #but my dad (jewish) had to spend that time picking up rubbish in the playground with the other jewish and muslim kids]

[infernal-insect-shaman: #the one i really remember was that our class decided to make our own religion during this class #centering on one of our class mates being the messiah of this religion #needless to say he was not happy about this and refused to come back to our class after this]

[andromedasummer: #i got detention for insisting that the dinosaurs exist]

[merspots (comment): I remember when the teacher we had in high school rubbed a picnic bar so it looks like poo and put it in a glass of milk to make a point about stuff getting tainted (I can't remember the specifics) and how grossed out we were when he drank the milk before revealing to us it was chocolate.]

[lost-in-the-desert-tonight (comment): We kept pressing ours to "prove it" and this poor old lady was nearly in tears by the time she promised to move a mountain because she had "the strength of god inside her "]

[goblette (comment): When we entered the class, the Christian "teacher" put on a quiz for prizes and made a huge show of it when none of the kids from the Buddhist class could answer the questions about the bible correctly.

She used that as evidence that we were all going to hell and that Buddha was a liar.]

[sonic-euphonium (comment): Our religion teacher brought a cow tongue to class. A cow tongue! Can't for the life of me remember why.]

[banachtarskiparadox: #one of mine told a kid at my school that he was going to hell because his parents were divorced]

[I-archaeologue: #bruh #I had one RE teacher #ms Morgan #yeah I still remember her name #she had a full on mental breakdown one day in class and started crying #because she genuinely thought we'd all go to hell #and she told us that IVF babies didn't have souls #which made the IVF baby girl burst into tears and run from the room #same lesson she said that she thought we should kill all buddhists]

[elliementalnightmare: #he overheard this and presumed my name was Nigel and called me such for the rest of his time teaching me #I tried to tell him my name wasn't Nigel but he got upset and gave me an angry speech about how lying is a sin]

[chronicgoth: My year 1 scripture teachers (a duo) had us light tealight candles while we prayed for half the year until someone actually checked what they were doing and told them "Holy shit you absolutely cannot give 20 6 year olds LIT FUCKING CANDLES and PAPER"]

[the-perks-of-neurodivergency: My scripture teacher once told my friends parents she needed an exorcism because she had been 'acting out' recently. Her parents were getting a divorce. Her mother was just looking for advice.]

[dropattackbear: the guy who tried to get my class to lick the carpet to prove that we weren't too proud to accept God's love (and also he'd give us a mintie).]

[sydneysageivashkov: #anyway at one point the teacher told us the only survivors of the nuclear bombs were the people praying in a church in hiroshima]

[mapleschmaple: #admitted to arson #multiple times]

[menacingmetal: #not anything interesting on my end but the older students got the jesus manga which exists apparently]

[bravestlittlegirlintheworld: #it was just some kid in our class's grandma #but she also made us yodel]

[bluuscreen: #i have a very vivid memory of one of my scripture teacher talking about when she used to get boils on her ass #i have no idea what the relevance of this was in regards to jesus]

[whythou: #re teacher in year 2 decided we should do some role play about uhh kids being given money by their father #she played the father and got really into her role of yelling at children and made 2 of them cry]

[sheikofthesheikah: I was told I was left handed because the devil lives inside me, and that's also why I couldn't read at the same level as my peers. The devil was blocking my ability to absorb the good word of the lord.]

[lemedy: #but i'll always remember her telling us that thinking about doing a crime was the same as doing it]

[scribeofpnakotis: Oh, oh boy. Once had an RE teacher scream at the class for saying 'happy Easter' because 'it's a very sad day']

[captainfilthrat: Had a woman send 4 kids out of the room, pull a rose from her bag, eat the rose (the flower bit), then called the 4 kids back in the room. Then she told us to tell the 4 kids what she did with the rose. We told them that she ate it, they didn't believe it. She said: this is what happened when Jesus came back to life.]

As a holdover from when churches used to run schools, many states in Australia legislate that the local church can come into schools to teach religion classes for an hour each week.

These 'scripture teacher' roles generally do not require any formal education training, and can be filled by just about any random off the street, which means that for one class a week Australian students are subjected to some of the most unhinged people on earth teaching them all kinds of made up stuff with zero supervision.

Aussies: This is a free thread to reply with the stories of the funniest things your scripture teachers said or did when you were a kid.

[cabaret19860520]

💮 Holy Grounds

One of my favorite things to do in Saint Augustine, Northeastern Florida, the oldest city in the US and 2nd oldest here ever was to walk around the holy grounds, which stretched around the city.

I tested an easy test and got in the oldest parish's school, and we went to church there, too.

There was a big sorta empty grounds with some areas with sidewalks. The festival was held there for the school. It was far away, not sure if walking distance but if so possibly up to like almost an hour.

I remember walking to maybe a rectory pretty far from the school maybe in that other grounds to ask about alter serving, but I was in choir and onto "bigger and better things." I was an alter girl and choir member at my old school in Southeastern Florida, though.

It sorta reminds me of Orlando, Florida, where I went to church sometimes 2 or 3 times a weekend and a few times a week but even just taking the bus. I liked to sing at mass. I found my way into violin then and with a spiritual director personally. I heard a CD in the car and then played finally and as my only or primary instrument.

So, I remember a few times walking on the holy grounds. It had this 1 huge cross to mark the first mass in this country, the USA. It was so nice. It was a nice experience. It was also very nice when they had the festival every Memorial Day then. I went to 3. I remember getting there early on and seeing the petting zoo and wore a jean jumper with a white T shirt underneath maybe each of those years. There was choir and I worked cotton candy at age 12 in 6th grade so fun! It was the start being a very romantic feeling festival... reminded me of the twilight-y feel of festivals maybe 3 a year in Southeastern Florida when I was 7 and 8. They probably had them in another area of Northeastern Florida when I was 5 and 6. My dad did the kiddie games, too, in the 2nd 2 places, and I remember picking out stuffed animals and for me. It was a lotta fun and to finally have a commercial dad in with something that for some reason was big.

[thechronicchihuahua]

Tipple Toff Terfery

So as someone with a history of trauma, caused by the fact that at various points in life, certain Patriarchial hierarchies were used to relegate me and people like me to "maybe next time", let me describe something I call Tipple Toff Terfery.

Background: I was born during the tail end of Operation Banner.

Drawing a blank?

This was the longest military operation in British history.

Still not familiar with it?

Well it was the military operation that saw British governments impose martial law on the citizen's of Northern Ireland. British texts will imply it was to defeat the IRA, but that active branch of the IRA, the PIRA, was not formed until the British Army was already inside Northern Ireland.

The military operation was in response to people marching, for their Civil Rights and the authorities of NI attacking these marches, but doing so, out of uniform.

The Catholic community, in fact, welcomed them because they believed they genuinely wanted to help. They were also marching because they were also discriminated against in housing and remember, poverty is the biggest cause of Chronic Illness. Chronic Illness kills more than anything else, they saw this as a way to continue their marches peacefully protest as is their democratic rights.

Martial Law is not peaceful, they all soon learned, a familiar Black and Tan behaviour, in a new uniform.

But there's two million people in Northern Ireland and not everyone has the same experience as me so I guess it's better to say that my primary school, that I attended from aged 4-11 was Holy Cross Girls, Ardoyne Road, Belfast. A quick google search will help you learn what 9/11 drowned out after a while.

That's my home.

I was lucky enough not to be one of those girls by a single year.

But I still had to use that road to travel from the school I was then attending and the uniform was Bright Green and very proudly Catholic (very heavy in the summer and smelly when wet). Exhausting that time, GFA signed and everything.

Warning, when people are pissed at you for existing different to them, don't fall asleep against a bus window, you might get woken by a brick being thrown at you from the outside. Who knows if that person hated me, but the brick wasn't the alarm I needed for the next stop, that was, indeed, mine, as the bus fled that corner.

Covered in a shower of glass and a throbbing noggin.

Would it shock you to know that when that happened, to a thirteen year old girl, the adults on the packed bus just sat there, some emoting quietly, at most, to themselves, as I carefully dragged, (I was going for a slide), myself to the front of the bus and off, that not one adult stopped to help? Or ask if I was ok?

The life of an undesirable.

A mixed bus with some hating me and others not wanting to out themselves and put themselves in the firing line. So I rushed for my stop, with my heavy bags (gawd I hate meritocracies) and uniform and shoes that were cudding shards of glass from the bus window, just wishing the experience to be over as soon as possible.

The driver did get off the bus and get pissy at the window but nobody did anything for me.

Don't get me wrong "my side" of adults, when I managed to walk home with what dignity I had left, and pretend it hadn't happened, were all over me in my ears, demanding I sue the bus company into oblivion or at least get a claim out of it.

I should have, really.

Odd though, because that's not the event or an event that really sticks with me even though I remember feeling absolutely humiliated. The Catholic side of my brain had me internalise that shit as "they know not what they do".

How fucking Narcissistic of me.

It's not my job to fix them.

But it is my job to speak my authentic truth.

No matter who it makes uncomfortable.

Because poverty and its existence should make you uncomfortable.

Going to England for University was a lesson in learning to digest that no matter how much trauma the military operations impart on people, there's always some fed and buffered toff ready to justify the experiences your children experienced, because they feared we might do the same. OK, but we didn't and you still did it and that needs addressed.

Again, Longest Military Operation In British History.

Our times at home were spent having it drilled into us that you do not look at someone the wrong way, you do not speak bad English you do not so anything that gives them an excuse to come to your door.

That's ok though but don't imply someone chose to continue that military operation. When you see that your actions are escalating a situation you back off.

But do not suggest someone made that choice to put my people under Martial Law.

Feel free, to just sit back, and get distracted judging other people, for free. Sorry no no, it's called "people watching" where we judge people by how poor they are....no, no, where we make polite and jovial comments on peoples appearance, and who is genuine, by out thorough investigation, like labels on clothing and stuff. We can spot real labels a mile away you know....

The We Like To Judge, Not Be Judged Brigade.

These are the Tipple Toffs.

Those who understand there is a class system of oppression happening but who have spent so much of their lives socially dominating others, to break into the next hierarchy, they fear falling back, and the shit that happened to you, would happen to them so you need to join in with them or they will feel judged.

Hell they are so averted to feeling judged that even saying "is this a healthy action" feels like a judgement instead of an expression of how the current social situation is making a participating person feel. You must submit to the traditional masses, lest you think yourself better than them, even when the context is judging the masses, join in dammit! Now you have me lowering myself to your level, I mean, to swearing...

Unsurprisingly, the Patriarchial/Colonial/Imperial Enablers, the Tipple Toffs, have also revealed themselves to be Transphobes. It started out with them giving into the "men and women are just different" impulses, instead of, perhaps, Human Beings Are Diverse, but they don't like that there are some people in the world who were just too traumatised to healthily develop certain skills and thus they could not conform to certain structures, successfully.

Because all hierarchies are abusive.

How do you make a hierarchy?

You draw a line.

Or as we Feminists say, you make a Glass Ceiling.

You try to find away for you to cull the amount of people you feel are entitled to having their needs met.

They do not say it like that, they sugar coat it and we eat it. But as with all Added Sugar, it comes with a crash.

As we speak, people like me, a cishet white woman with endometriosis and CPTSD, are wondering if it is moral to compartmentalise human beings, when they are only learning how to breathe.

That is the scary reality the Tipple Toff Terfs are Terrified of.

That being a woman is no longer being a victim badge, but acknowledging that we are more likely to be victimised, based on this designation, but that we are also more likely to be conditioned to just force ourselves to submit to oppressive, polite ideas like, the Three Obligations in Confucianism.

They say good times create weak men but what actually happens is that the women allow themselves to accept a Glass Ceiling to their identity.

Nobody in the world saying that women, the group, don't want to be mothers.

Women are also diverse and autonomous.

What people are saying is that currently, the system is stacked against women because of the demand that parents raise potential mothers first.

Kids are kids, they aren't meant to be worrying about parenthood.

Yet we give little girls toys that are literally training them for the consequences of sex when they don't even need to know what it is.

And its so they can groom little girls into accepting a neutered autonomous role of Mama/Grandma/Dowager MacGuffin because Young MacGuffin is only fulfilling for so long.

Any Novelty he initially sees in you, because that is what men want in my experience, to tame the "shrew", better be tamed soon or he will pretend the qualities he adored about you, are somehow now toxic and shameful.

Recently I opened up to a cishet male friend that I was finally being honest with myself so there's some things they will need to get used to, like I won't apologise for my opinion anymore and he just cannot take it.

"Men are not allowed to talk..."

"I understand that this is going to appear rude but I am not going to let you move on to a new assertion without clarifying that one."

"See what I mean?"

"I'm not silencing you, I am asking for clarification, the Patriarchy tells men Emoting is shameful, sorry, certain emoting is shameful, yes, go on. Women, the other half of the planet, are busy lamenting to each other that they cannot get their men to talk."

"Doesn't matter."

"Ah, did my overies blink at the same time I had an opinion or was it my refusal to accept collective responsibility for the choices of the patriarchy?"

"You had your chance."

"When you live you life through purity tests, yes I suppose I did. But I fail those by default because I'm always a substitute man."

As the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement draws to a close, I don't know if they will mark Twenty-Five years for the end of Operation Banner but I do know the Tipple Toff Terfs sit quietly as the Tory Government try to get amnesty for people who murdered children and disabled people.

Children like Majella O'Hare, who had two bullets sunk into her back because she was an expendable undesirable, despite only being twelve years old.

Vulnerable men like John Patrick Cunningham, shot as he fled unarmed, forgotton over their long-lived murderers who lied about what they did and got a long life for it.

Poverty is a big cause of Chronic Illness.

Misogyny is another.

Invasive Military Operations, another.

Sectarianism, another.

Transphobia, another.

That's what dysphoria, of any kind, is. When your body is always reacting to a neurotag that has rewired itself to be constantly, or chronicially, switched on/off/whiplashing, in some capacity, when it should be doing something else, in another individual, that might allow them a higher degree of health and freedom.

Every single Disabled person is made disabled by a system that does not facilitate them to the same levels, of freedom, that it facilitates the correct type of people.

Typical people.

Who don't like being called Typical.

Or Able-Bodied.

They prefer to identify as "Normal".

Or a "Good Law-Abiding Citiizen".

Well, we Authentic and Autonomous people are done giving you your "people watching shows" without loudly observing what the act is and that is what probably annoys you the most.

That the Minorities are done being your fun/hated/novel Energy Sponges quietly or politely or, indeed, comedically or dramatically, anymore.

Segregation is how they stop us uniting, by dividing up our needs when a Universal Basic Income would solve a lot of issues with Chronic Illness, the biggest killer, so that would be enough of a reason, but it would also lower crime levels and lesson what we need to spend on our prison system which could become a rehabilitation system instead.

Oh but they need to find their undesirable.

As an Irish woman is NI, I have been learning the uncomfortable truth of how the Catholic community allowed itself to treat our Travelling Community and it is disgusting.

Self reflection and improvement is the key but also compassion and authenticity.

Certain elements will keep trying to draw a line, to demand some people take the toll of societys trauma, when the toll should be paid with those with a large DISPOSABLE INCOME.

It's in the name and never distract from that.

I am sorry, as a cister, that my NB, trans brothers and mostly trans sisters, are taking a massive psychological hit at the moment along with women of colour, again, because "biology".

There is just one constant, those with Social Power Oppress or Neglect us in too high a number to be quiet about it, really. And thats the one truth the Tipple Toff Terfs want you to ignore or at least let them divide, segregate, and conquer.

The Tipple Toff Terfs will need to learn to feel comfortable with the outcome of their choices because Authenticity, is not the game of Last Word that they think it is.

The Competitive mindset gets left at the door.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[pulsar-1919]

Raised Irish Catholic here, and warning as I have so so much beef with the church

Honestly we weren't taught too much about other religions in school. Some basic things about Judaism, Buddhism and Islam, but I honestly couldn't tell you what protestants get up to despite them being probably the second largest religious group in Ireland. So it's a little hard to compare, but I suppose the general guilt, shame and abundance of saints is a big part of it.

Catholic coded things are stuff like little shrines to the virgin Mary and other saints. Usually on a high corner shelf in some people's homes/in Catholic primary schools. Sacred heart pictures with red lights underneath them. Mostly in older people's homes. I would probably feel uncomfortable if I them in younger people's homes if I know it's not their parent's house.

Most people have a statue of the infant of Prague (a little red dude) and he will always have his head broken off and glued back on. I didn't learn this until maybe a year ago until my mom made a joke about it but apparently people put them out in the garden the night before a big event you want good weather for, i.e. a wedding.

White holy communion dresses are a big thing here. Bunch of 8 year old girls walking around looking like mini brides/meringues. It's so normalised here but it must look so fucking weird to other cultures. Boys wear mini suits usually with ribbon badges. Kids are given their own set of rosary beads for it and if you're like me they will never be used again. Not exactly religion related but girls will usually get their ears pierced around the time of their communion, so earrings are a common communion gift. My dad wouldn't let me till I was twelve, and by that time I had no interest in wearing the diamanté cross earrings I was given for my communion.

In Ireland since most primary schools Catholic (unfortunately) prep for communion and confirmation is done in school when we should be yknow, learning useful things instead of receiving prayers we have no idea of the meaning of. Communion prep is done in 2nd Class (around age 8), and confirmation is done in 6th (around age 12/13). I am vehemently against this, but alas. I distinctly remember being 12 and sitting in confirmation rehearsal in the church with my classmates (during school hours), listening to the oath or whatever, and thinking 'yknow. I don't believe in any of this.' I couldn't say anything, of course, and had to go through with the whole shebang so I wouldn't disappoint my family. Said all those prayers and sang the songs without any sincerity.

It was probably around that time I was learning of all the horrific abuse carried out by the Catholic Church in Ireland, with the state being complicit, so I massively associate Catholicism with abuse, particularly mistreatment of women and children. Not all priests are pedophiles and not all nuns are abusers of course, but by Christ was there a lot of them. Even though our parish priest is a fairly nice guy (he joined the priesthood after his wife died and already had kids) I still feel uncomfortable around clergy.

Mass graves of small children and babies have been uncovered in former mother and baby homes for 'fallen women.' The last of these homes closed in the 1990s. Children were illegally adopted - sold - to 'good Catholic families' often in the U.S. All of this abuse is very much within living memory. Not mine, but definitely in my parents.

Catholicism is also the reason abortion was not made legal by referendum in Ireland until 2018! It was illegal already, but made even more illegal in the 1980s by a referendum to introduce the 8th ammendment, and incredibly strict law that caused the deaths of so many people. I fully believe that law passed because the Church had everyone so fucking brainwashed.

Another big thing is Irish Catholic funerals, which arw quite unique! Irish people are very weird about death. People love reading death notices in the paper/listening to them on local radio/checking the death notice website rip.ie. 'Did you hear who's dead' is such a common phrase. A friend of mine who was raised Polish Catholic finds it all very very strange.

Private family wakes are usually held in people's homes, and if they don't have the space the public wake will be held in a funeral home. In homes, the coffin will usually be placed in the middle of or the top of a room, almost always open, with the deceased hands clasped together, often holding rosary beads. I have seen the corspes of all four grandparents, three neighbours, two parents of friends, various other people's grandparents. I have seen many dead bodies. I have kissed my grandparent's foreheads goodbye, which completely freaked out my Polish friend.

Anyways at these wakes people will circulate around the room, shaking hands with the relatives of the deceased and muttering 'sorry for your loss.' The spouse/next of kin will usually sit on the end closest to the coffin. Attendants will then pause by the coffin for a moment, silently pray or bless themselves, or if you're me, awkwardly stare at a corpse, pretend to pray and then bless myself. The first time I met one friend's family was at his mother's funeral! I went in with my mom because I didn't want to go in alone. It was not a great experience.

While the body is in the family's house someone will usually stay in the room with the body overnight. My cousins slept on the floor in the living room with my grandmother's body. When the body is moved to the church the night before the funeral Mass nobody needs to stay because they're in the company of God or whatever. Idk.

OH MY GOD FUNERAL SANDWICHES. Right so when someone dies people make food and bring it to the family's house. This is either baked goods or sandwiches. My mom will buy like, proper deli stuff to make top notch sandwiches and will do a variety of different kinds. They are cut into four triangles and there will be plates upon plates of them. I have seen entire tables filled with sandwiches. So many weird salad ones get left over because all most people want is a simple ham and cheese or chicken and stuffing. Of course, the whole idea is that families don't have to worry about making food while they organise the funeral and grieve, and it works. On my dad's side I have 20 first cousins and my grandparents on my dad has six siblings. Everyone plus spouses and partners were kept well fed for several days.

And obviously there is some alcohol involved. I played my first drinking game with my cousins in a marquee tent we had hired for the day, in view of our grandmother's coffin which had been placed in the conservatory of her house. She was 95. Her death wasn't tragic or sudden, so we didn't feel too bad about it.

After funeral masses the family will invite people back to a reception often at a pub or hotel for dinner and drinks. People use the time to catch up with each other and talk about the deceased.

Edit: not sure if people still do this but people who otherwise wouldn't have bothered baptising their kids would do so in order to get them into Catholic schools! Super fucked. I am personally against baptising babies because I think kids should y'know, get a choice in that. Not a popular opinion. In my friend's church (I have no idea what Christian denomination it is) people only get baptised when they decide they want to. She got baptised last month in a river biblical style along with her boyfriend.

Another thing about Irish Catholics is that most of them are extremely lax about it. Very few people actually follow the teachings of no sex before marriage, no contraception, no divorce, etc. Divorce is still somewhat stigmatised, which isn't surprising considering it wasn't made legal until a referendum in 1995! People might call themselves Catholic but rarely if ever attend Mass. Young people openly calling themselves Catholic will make their peers raise an eyebrow, because we were raised in a time when all of the abuse was common knowledge.

Catholic morals were (and some still are) enshrined in our constitution, and we as a nation are thankfully removing them bit by bit with each referendum. I think we will be having a referendum sometime soon to get rid of the archaic 'a woman's place is in the home' crap.

Calling All Catholics!

Weird thing for a Jew to post I know I know but hear me out here.

I would like to hear from Catholics (current and ex/raised),

what do you feel separates your religion from others (both other sects of Christianity and other religions as a whole? what feels unique or specific to you/your culture/your beliefs/your church? this can be theological beliefs, practices, or even aesthetics

what things feel "inherently Catholic" or "Catholic coded" to you?

if you don't mind, would you also include what subset of Catholicism you are/were raised in (Roman, Byzantine, Irish, Opus Dei, etc)?

As you may have guessed, this is for research, and I personally only have experience with Roman Catholicism (and limited experience at that, more cultural than truly religious). I would love to hear from a larger subset of people. My family is extremely Italian Catholic but that's just one very specific version, and I don't have much/any experience with any others. I'm curious to see what the common ground is.

Reblogs/signal boosts are appreciated as I doubt I have like a SUPER broad Catholic following myself lol!

[13uswntimagines]

Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way. 

@sleep-deprived-athlete​

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet. 

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years. 

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch. 

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect? 

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.  

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious. 

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school. 

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home. 

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen. 

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?” 

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence. 

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell. 

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again. 

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were. 

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,” 

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,” 

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage. 

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed. 

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top. 

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all). 

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,”  You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats). 

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options. 

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,” 

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line. 

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi. 

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine. 

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer. 

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face. 

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air. 

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you. 

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery. 

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position. 

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it. 

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.” 

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again). 

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth. 

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!” 

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting. 

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you. 

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” 

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats. 

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any. 

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go? 

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend. 

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently. 

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it. 

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one. 

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!” 

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field. 

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket. 

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend. 

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,” 

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too. 

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week. 

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name. 

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring.  They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah. 

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest. 

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,��� Lindsey snorted, shaking her head. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks. 

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes. 

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah. 

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room. 

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team. 

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.” 

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills. 

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.” 

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.” 

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe). 

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.” 

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Stand In Chapter One

Masterlist

Being an assistant on the witcher set is a dream come true for you, helping bring to life the books and games you were brought up with. But when the project is threatened to be cancelled completely your called in to save the day! But can you really fill in for an actress?

Warnings: swearing

A/N: hello! So this was wrote on a whim sort of. I don't know if Keira is in the books honestly and I have no idea if she will be in season two but I wanted to write somthing different. Got a few ideas of where I can go with this but like I said just wanted to write something a little different. Hone you enjoy xxx

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @thatgirly81​ @angelofthorr @iloveyouyen​

logo divider is by @writeyourmindaway​ other one is by me xx

You moved through the hustle and bustle of the set your trusty clipboard what was you doing? Well the people needed feeding so you were taking orders, some people onset would eat at the food tent some would want to order in today it was your turn to take the orders and deliver them to the chefs. You grunted looking at your watch you needed to move quicker they'd be filming soon and expect the food to be ready by the time they finished...sounded easy but the guys were cooking meals for nearly one hundred  people and that took time... especially out here... You jogged up to the tent with an apologetic smile"Sorry guys had to round em up you know how it is!" You got a few chuckles. Yes they did know how it was having to take turns doing it themselves. You were just a regular onset dogs body, you help in any way shape or form and that’s that.

You smiled at them hanging the clip board on the hook for them to see clearly then They began barking orders to one another down the line  getting to work. You left them to it weaving in and out of everyone to get back to set incase someone needed anything again. Once you reached half way across the site your name was called turning you saw Mathew one of the other assistants.

"Hey y/n your needed in the directors tent chop chop!"

"What? why?" He shrugged then through his hands out wide walking backwards away from you he seemed in a hurry.

"Don't know was just told that you had to be there asap" You sighed and quickly turned on your heal towards the tent...If this was another coffee run you were gonna scream! It took forty five minutes to drive down this god forsaken mountain and you didn't really want to be bitched at by camera crew about delivering a cold fucking coffee again.

Henry and Joey panicked looking to each other Cancelled? They could be cancelled after all the fans and money the show had pulled in? They stood in the tent with Tomasz,Lauren and Talitha or 'Tee' as she prefers.

"So she just decided not to do it? A week before she was meant to be here? She had all the time over lock down to tell you and she left it till now?" Tomasz nodded stiffly to Henry who spoke, Henry and Joey were angry. Hell they all was, but them more so because they were actors and this was something you just didn't do. No integrity or respect. Lauren piped up.

"To be fair its a huge blockbuster role she was offered its no surprize she dumped us in favor of it... But now everything is up in the air she was a big role in this season and we can't start casting for it now, the two other back ups can't come and fill in either, one is recovering from covid and the other has a contract for another role." Joey placed his hands on his hips

"Well what about her contract? She sighed one didn't she? Surely she should honor that?" Lauren and Tomasz shared a look.

"Yes but two things one imagine forcing her to play a role she no longer wants...Could be very awkward and two the contract had dates...We couldn't stick to the them so she managed to wriggle out of it." They each huffed Henry spoke up

"Can't we put it on hold for a few weeks rush through the casti-" he trailed off at Tomasz' severe look and shake of his head.

"No we aren't being given an extension we have to find someone...Preferably here on set so we don't have to navigate the covid travel restrictions, we can't afford two weeks quarantine for whoever it is we bring in" Tee looked up to her bosses.

"So?...You need someone on set to take the role? I suppose they can't be a major part of the crew?" Lauren nodded to her and smiled

"You up for it?" Tee shook her head

"Fuck no but there is someone that could do it...Y/n shes a general assistant, the one you like! the one that picked up the wardrobe the other day when the truck couldn't get up the hill" Lauren's face lit up as she put a face to the name

"Oh! lilac bob? Green eyes?" Tee smiled nodding

"Yeah! Her she isn't to busy really just runs errands, shes an extra pair of hands" Tomasz tilted his head it sounded viable, it would be a god send he crossed his arms.

"But she would have what a week? To read up on the character, learn lines and go through costume...It would be a hectic rush would she agree to it?" Tee smiled knowingly

"Yes..She hasn't done acting before...well not properly she had a part in bugsy malone play at primary school but that was about it...But I have no doubt that she would do it she loves the witcher. As for reading up on the character you don't have to worry I dread to think how many times shes re-read those books and played the games...She even based her gcse textiles project on the witcher making a screen print tapestry! Trust me she will know Keira metz' personality so half of the job is already done!" Tomasz nodded secretly getting excited over the prospect of having another fan in the mix,  yet he covered it well not wanting to get anyone’s hopes to high."Okay call her in get her to read some lines...Lets not tell her what its for first see if theres some chemistry between the three of you first then go from there" they all nodded it was the best way to go about it.

When you got to the tent you instantly knew something was up. First person you noticed was your best friends Tee it was her who'd got you the job here. She had been working on the first season and was one of the directing assistants she was always around the producers and directors making sure everything was running smoothly and when they top dogs changed things it was her who made those changes get through the grape vine to everyone who needed to know. Then you noticed Henry  and Joey were here ,how you didn't see them first is a mystery as they were both fully kitted out in the characters costumes.

Holy shit! He was so fucking hot! So so fucking yummy you wanted to jump him and run away and hide at the same time 'Okay breath don't fucking squeal bitch be cool that's it calm down don't make it obvious you want to hump his leg!...If he offers though ride tat thigh like a fucking pony!...No! Stop your going red! Calm it! There we go...Nice and calm well done give yourself a pat on the back' and breath.

You took a calming breath after your little pep talk the fan-girl locked up tight inside you relaxed slightly. Could you help it? No Henry is like your celebrity crush and has been since your little virgin eyes saw him fucking on Tudors. You'd seen him around set obviously you can't really ignore the huge man in the silver wig. You’d wanted to get his autograph and a photo but couldn't trust yourself not to do something stupid so you kept your distance. But damn he was much finer up close in person. You gulped just praying to god you did not squeak at him you'd never ever live it down.

Everyone looked on edge even the director Tomasz and producer Lauren? none of them noticed your arrival speaking in hushed tones to one another like they didn't want anyone to overhear what was happening. You cleared your throat placing a hand on one of the metal supports by the entrance of the tent unsure if you should enter with them all looking so serious you didn't want to hear anything you shouldn't.

"Err knock knock? you wanted to see me? If its a bad time I can come back..." they jumped a little obviously caught up in their conversation. You shrunk under everyone's gaze as the sets of heavy eyes rested on you.

Henry's eyes widened a little at you he swallowed dryly peering at you from his spot in the tent. You were beautiful he suddenly found himself hoping you would be the one to take the role. Not only could he then have a reason to be around you without you running off. But there were sex scene between the two characters and as ashamed as he felt he had already spent a considerable amount of time envisioning just that, alone at night in his trailer with nothing but his fist to ease his needs. He couldn't help it he had never spoke to you but he wanted you. So selfish or not he would thoroughly enjoy enacting those particular scenes, the image of you below him was just to much.

Joey prodded him slightly making him snap his gaze away and turn to the 'bard' He raised his brows at him nodding to the lilac haired woman as if to say 'look who it is?' Henry flushed a little and blinked yes Joey knew.

It started when Henry had seen you around set, capturing glimpses of you he had wanted to go and talk to you. Each time he saw you around he would excuse himself from whatever he was doing and turn to make his way over to you. But every time he turned and took a step in your direction you flushed and bolted.

He did like you. He liked very much. He found out you were an assistant someone to run errands and Tee had got you the job he was meant to ask her about you but you both seemed close. What if Tee told you? What would you think if you found out he had been asking about you?. So no instead he bit his tongue and kept trying to catch you out and have a chat. He couldn't put his finger on it you just appealed to him, you looked sweet and sexy all in one.

He wanted so desperately to talk to you but you seemed scared of him for some reason so he in the end he settled for admiring you from afar. He'd never got more than six feet near you and that six feet was close enough to make him swoon. You had been diligently taking coffee orders around the set and was taking a list from the directors tent and he was waiting to speak to Tomasz and Lauren queuing behind you in a sense one person separated you.

You were so caught up in trying to take names and coffee orders you hadn't noticed him hovering behind you. He had leaned to the side taking full advantage enjoying eyeing your behind admiring the taught cheeks hugged by your zebra print workout leggings, you must have been in a thong because they snuck up your ass a little making him groan. He'd give anything to be up there himself! He sighed smoothing his hands over his face trying to push away the teasing thoughts, it was not the time to imagine drilling your perfect little ass, fucking you roughly on all fours until your little body sucked the cum out of his balls and he left you with a fully stretched freshly fuck little pucker.

No it was not the time, not when he had another few scenes to shoot. But they were just there! Teasing him a few quick shuffles of his feet and he could be right behind you, he could accidentally graze your pert full bottom. But no he held himself back he groaned when the wind changed and caught a scent of your hair mango and passion fruit.

He had been on a high all day after that. That’s when Joey was certain Henry was getting a little crush on the lilac haired beauty that had gained the nick name Tink's. To Joey you looked like a real life colorful little fairy and he had named you after Tinkerbell. Henry bit his lip trying to contain his excitement, as you cleared your throat nervously today was going from really really bad to absolutely fucking incredible.

You eyed Henry carefully he was..staring well until Joey prodded him then he snapped out of whatever it was flushing. You didn't have much time to consider it as Lauren moved waving you over smiling like nothing was wrong. Okay? Weird.

"No no! Come in your just the woman we needed to see." You walked in slowly still uneasy but managed to cross the threshold. There was a pause and they looked like they were appraising you? What the fuck? Tomasz cleared his throat and nodded giving Lauren the go ahead for something apparently.

"Y/n I was hopeing you could go over some lines with these two, they haven't got anyone to practice with and we really need to start getting rehearsals in. Flights are running few and far between so the actress who was supposed to be here last week, can't get here until we are actually filming the scenes!" You blinked huh? Read lines? You began going shy and shaking your head

"I don't-" but before you could get anymore words out Tomasz spoke up.

"And with covid setting us back we can't afford delays we could be cancelled" you froze at that...Cancelled? You looked to Henry and Joey who both gave hopeful puppy eyes you sighed a shaky breath.

"O-okay I suppose I could...Help out... It is what I'm here for.." You missed the looks all four shared as Joey handed you a sheet from the script. You skimmed it as quick as you could and your face instantly lit up with a bright smile.

"Holy shit keira? I didn't realize you were doing that-" quickly realizing you may have been fangirling you shut up. Tomasz head lifted smiling

"You know the character?" You chuckled nervously well aware of The witcher still eyeing you from the side. Joey smirked at him and gave a chuckle making Henry freeze and look away flustered. You hesitated whilst talking to Tomasz.

"Hehe well Yeah sort of....I know the book's and the games sooo yeah..Sorry...Got excited there..Can't help it" he grinned shaking his head.

"No no its perfectly fine...I do always love seeing people et excited over our work! But you know her so can help the guys immensely. If you could try and portray the character that would help a lot as well, so we can see how these lines and dynamics will work" you blinked looking at the page going blank. Try to in act the scene to? Okay keira what do you remember shes...Playful catty and a little manipulative.Petty but confident yet can switch to cold bitch on a dime. Your not sure our up to the task.

"So? You want me to try and act properly? but...But bare in mind I'm not an actress...Never done any acting or anything so if I'm shit I apologize."

"Its fine, just try your best...We don't want a carbon copy of the games we want a believable character, just create your own Keira for the time being as I said we just want that feeling for the scene and the relationship that's all. If you could read from half way down..'Seriously I mean this is it?' Okay? don't mind the blank we just haven't settled on the last few bits of dialog just keep going...Go with the flow as it were" you nodded taking a breath really out of your comfort  zone  but it literally  said 'help when needed' in your job description so you didn't have much choice. You took a peek at the lines it the scene was based around the camp at night.

Henry and Joey sat on stools you followed their lead really nervous trying not to steal glances or stare at the witcher before you even if he didn't seem to care himself, his gold eyes not leaving you for a second, he wasn't even blinking.

You pulled at the page slightly forcing back the anxiety but sucked it up when were you ever going to get the chance to do this again. To read lines with your crush on set in full delicious Witcher get up.You decided to throw caution to the wind and give it your all if you looked a tit well atleast you had fun and you'd never have to again!

You gulped you were supposed to start. You took a breath and pulled some confidence out of your ass, she was a fierce woman that was almost childlike. You used a sarcastic un-amused flat tone.

"Seriously....I mean this is it? this is the great adventuring? Wandering the continent aimlessly for contract's that may or may not be actual monsters..." you tilted your head to the side blinking slowly as you looked between Henry and Joey. Both seemed to be caught unaware as you transformed from a frightened quivering ball of nerves to a catty confidant sorceress.

Henry smiled cheekily at you  knowing that with that transformation you'd already bagged the role, you were his keira.

"Well you are welcome to return to your healing house" Henry drolled in Geralt's deep voice sounding unimpressed tilting his head at you slightly with a bored expression. Joey hummed.

"Yes I second that witch you don't have to be here you can just go your own way" he waved his hand near you and you leaned in giving him a wicked warning grin making him pull back and lean towards Henry, a typical Jaskier move...Well for the moment he was Jaskier.

"G-go and curse children poison or cattle or whatever it is you do" you scoffed rolling your eyes pulling back a little and tilted your head looking at Henry.

"Geralt your Jester appears to be in a foul mood would you like me to help? I'm sure I have a remedy that can silence him for a while...Permanently if you'd like" you smirked as Joey snpped his head looking between the two worriedly.

"JESTER I-YOU I am a bard! And I have made Geralt here the famed white wolf! Tell her Geralt! " Henry rolled his eyes ignoring Joey's out burst

"The Jester is right you don't have to travel with us you can leave, return home if our adventures aren't exciting enough for you. And I'd warn you keep the potions to yourself"  you paused the page was now empty. You too a breath and spoke anyway.

"What? Me leave? and go back to treating the lords son and his frequent bouts of cock rot..." the two men bite back a laugh managing to stay in character...Just. You blinked leaning forward placing your face on your palm

"That’s not as thrilling as one might think loses its charm on the third and forth round...Much like the boy himself" Joey sputtered trying to hide his giggles. But contained himself to make an insulting Jaskier quip.

"Cock rot...begs the question do you cause it or cure it?" he twitched waiting for your reply. You hissed at him then calmed yourself and fluttered your eyes at him and continued in a sultry tone.

"Your welcome to find out for yourself Jester" he stuttered going red

"I-i a no hah thank you for the offer but noooo...Had enough of witches for a life time.. Thank you very much!" he said almost choking on his words you leaned back huffing

"Hmm...Shame you almost look like fun could have livened up the trip...I do always enjoy the loud ones..." Joey chuckled and looked to Henry with a face saying 'help me out here buddy' Henry was finding it very hard to keep himself together, was he jealous of you flirting with joey? Yes did he want to turn the tables? Yes could he think of a way to do it? Fuck no.

He settled for shaking his head, he was certain you had the role already and if not he was definitely going to vouch for you,you were good and portrayed Keira well enough to make Joey's Jaskier fidget which Keira did.

"I'm sure you can find fun where ever you find yourself Keira" Henry piped in wanting to see where the scene can go, wanting for you to give him your sultry voice and flirt with him. But you stuttered a little his gaze was intense hot and hooded.

"Y-yes you'd think that!..But there is no fun to be had at home anymore!...Well that's not strictly true there is this one acquaintance a deaf eunuch " Henry spoke up needing to hear the end of this one, trying to fight off his disappointment that you hadn't given him the same treatment as Joey, didn't you like him? Was Joey more your type? No there must be more to it.

"And this deaf eunuch is fun? How so?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him

"Well Witcher he only had one way to show me his gratitude...Any man who only has his hands to speak develops a very....dexterous set of fingers~" Joey slipped out of character confused as Henry burst out laughing. Despite his sour feelings over your non-flirting he couldn't deny that was a funny and well thought out bit of improv.

"Deaf eunuch? F-fingers?..I don't get it-OOHHH!HOLY SHIT YOU DIDN'T! OHH OH MY FUCK" he then started roaring with laughter with Henry making you go shy blushing.

"Oh my god yes...She is definitely the one we need...Defiantly my Keira!" Henry wheezed through his laughter leaning over slapping his knee.

"huh what?" You looked between everyone what do the mean need? It was Tomasz was nodding smiling and spoke up clarifying what Henry had meant.

"That was....Well...It was an audition and you got the part. You became the character very easily it was natural and flowed nicely and you were nervous once relaxed you will make a perfect Keira!" you blinked at him. An audition? For a part in the show "Are you having a laugh? I can't act for shit...Like that was...It was err" Henry smirked lifting a brow

"Acting? Maybe?" You  blushed at him as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. You leaned back sitting upright then pulled a face. He was right technically.

"Okay it was kind of acting....But why are you doing this here now? Surely you already have someone? this don't strike me as normal." Lauren sighed

"No your right its not normal...The actress who was playing Keira has pulled out we have a week to find a replacement or will are probably getting cancelled they won't let us delay again" you sat up pin straight

"Wait what? An actress bailed on us last minuet...That’s a bit of a dick move... That's like a big dick move not in a nice big dick way either... Like a dick dick move" Henry and Joey snorted at your statement and Tee creased up. Tomasz moved over to you

"I'm afraid so...I know its a big ask but were were supposed to start filming her scenes the middle of next week and we need a replacement. Fast. Sooo what would you say to stepping in and saving the day? you fit the bill and your here now and from what I've just seen you can do it...You gave her a cheeky, petty vibe which in all honesty was missing from who we selected...We can get you ready I'm sure Henry and Joey can help you, teach you the tricks of the trade so to speak" he lifted his head to the both of them. They nodded Henry speaking up

"I can even mentor you if you want, to get you more comfortable... Me and Joey will look after you I promise" you gulped then looked back to Lauren and Tomasz. You'd never even thought of acting or anything and it was daunting prospect.

"Look...We have run into a problem that could potentially bring production and filming to a halt...Something that could cancel season two completely....But you can help us. We can continue as planned but we understand its a big thing to spring on someone .We can afford to give you a few days to think it over if you need to..." you took a breath it sounded incredible,  like one of those talent scout tales...Could you do it? You didn't want to see the show go down the pan you loved the first season as a viewer and was over the moon when Tee got you the job onset. You loved the witcher as a whole...Maybe helping bring it to life could be fun? A lot of work and you didn't know shit but you could give it a go. But then you’d be working close with Henry who pretty much turned you into a fucking trembling mass of girly hormones "...But I'm not an actress...I doubt I'd be any good.." Tee snorted

"Fuck off 'not an actress', acting is a big expensive game of pretend! And no offense but you've been pretending to be an adult since we left school! You've got this besides everyone will know your situation so if things go pear-shaped or you get confused we can all help sort you out, we wont scream at you over it..." she moved standing between Joey and Henry squishing their faces

"Come on loooook! Look at there poor little faces! Don’t let Jaskier and Geralt die! If we get cancelled that’s what will happen! These charters will die! I will take them out back and shoot them myself! Never to be seen again!" You giggled at her antic as both men in her grasp tried their hardest to pout up at you with there scrunched up faces. You sighed you were gonna regret this.

"Okay okay fine I will try... But don't say I didn't warn you.." everyone took a deep breath relived. Henry and Joey shared a grin now super excited to carry on with the show. Henry more so then Joey he was ecstatic! He can't wait to start getting close to you.

Lauren moved over to you with some long ass looking scripts.

"Here...These are for you! Start reading through these today...Do one episode at a time for now you'd have more chance learning the lines and you need to go to costume.  Tee could you tell them whats happened and get her over there today? let them measure her up luckily it's mostly lace up so shouldn't have to change much" Henry stood up quickly making you jump.

"I will take her and introduce her to everyone...I’m finished for the day so I’m going there anyway" he explained a little sheepish realizing he may have seemed eager. Joey chuckled at him Standing beside him patting the mans back Tomasz shook his head

"Thank you for the offer Henry but we still need you were going to re shoot one of the scenes again, we think there is a better angle we could get" Henry pouted chest deflating a little and nodded to the director

"Right so Tee you escort her , oh where are you staying by the way? In the hotel in town? Well we will need to move you into Keira’s trailer so you'd be onset. Tee could you show her the trailer first then wardrobe and then finally I will pop over with a contract for you this afternoon..." you froze. Contract?. What the fuck? You don't know anything about contracts! Henry caught on to your panic and lit up like Christmas finding another way he could spend time with you.

"Hey its okay...Just a bit of paper saying you've got the job and a bit of legal jargon...I can look over it with you and have my agent look over it if you want? just to be sure everything's good okay? don't worry we will take good care of you I promised didn't I?" You smiled shyly and nodded. 'Holy shit he's looking at you, speak girl stop fucking staring! SPEAK! BREATH!' You took a breath avoiding his gaze a little trying to forget who he was wanting to act cool when you did finally speak it was in a quiet voice.

"I-I Suppose so...I mean yes I'd appreciate someone sorting that out..I get the feeling there are a lot of big words involved" Joey laughed you liked Henry, he could see it and something told him you would both become very close. Well close he estimated you'd be fucking within two weeks. He noted the fact you had both gone quiet Henry's eyes boring into you again as you fiddled with script in your hand. He rolled his eyes you were blushing squirming under the witchers staring gold orbs and he didn't seem to care he was just quite happy to gawk at you. Joey finally decided to cut you so e slack.

"Your not kidding...But like Henry said nothing to bad just a you got the job! And how your being paid really" you chuckled rubbing your neck.

"Fuck! haha you know I didn't even think of that" Tomasz chuckled and nodded. Breaking his silence, he to had noticed the tension between the two of you but would say nothing it wont be a problem after all there was a sexual atmosphere between Geralt and Keira so it would do well on screen.

"Well your an actress now, so of course you'll be paid as an actress, it will be in the paper work, I suggest you go and start reading the scripts Keira is heavily involved in this season she is travelling with Geralt and Jaskier for a while... And a word of advice I'm going to have to take your name to a few higher ups with the video of your audition and names on official websites for the cast will be changed, probably in a day or two...You may want to go and clean up any social media ect that you might have...It could blow up a little bit its...What we are doing is pretty much unheard of" you frowned at him

"You...You filmed that? What? who?" Tee waved her phone up at you gaining your attention.

"Its fine y/n just need it for the records and for a few others to see..." she turned to Lauren

"Might be an idea to put this up somewhere to just to introduce her as the character..." Lauren shook her head

"Not yet get her in costume then a few photos we can film a short teaser scene with them...That can be her debut" Tee nodded and began making a list of things to do then snapped her head up looking at you.

"Seriously change your face book to friends only...And get a fucking twitter on that thought get a bloody snapchat and Instagram to! Okay? life will be easier trust me on this" Henry frowned at you stumped.

"You don't have twitter, Snapchat or Instagram?....No what? How have you? What do you do all day on your phone?" You shrugged and smiled impishly at him.

"I read...Write...Scroll tumblr for hours on end and play games...Never bothered with that social media crap don't know how to use it...Was on tumblr for years before I ever got the courage to post something" Joey smiled taking a step forward and patted your back

"Well at least you have Tumblr which I will want by the way! But never mind about the others I will show you cos your gonna need it!" You smiled at him giggling maybe this wont be so bad? You nodded at him feeling more at ease, it sounded like they were going to help you with all this shit, the only thing you had to do was keep the inner Cavill fangirl at bay, which was gonna be a hell of a job now that you weren't going to be able to avoid him but it was that or watch this show be cancelled and that was not going to happen!. You looked over to Lauren who was still giving Tee a list of jobs and people to contact.

"Okay...So where do I start?" She smiled and quickly stood in front of you as you stood between Joey and Henry both pointing out on the scripts certain things explaining what things meant and how things would work when filming. You nodded trying to take it all in. You took a breath looks like you were doing this.  

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Such Selfish Prayers

Warnings: Blasphemy, Catholic high school setting, teasing, inappropriate use of a chapel AO3

Friday morning mass had to be the most boring part of the school day. Listening to the priest go on and on about some bullshit parable made you want to run into traffic. You had zoned out until your head of year got up to make an announcement. “Ladies, those of you in Mr. Jones’ theology class are expecting some new students. Due to timetable clashes, some of the boys from Holy Cross will be joining your lesson until your exams. Please do give them a warm Sacred Heart welcome, and do not forget we are good catholic schoolgirls, so behave.” You rolled your eyes and tried not to huff. That was your theology lesson that was about to be invaded. The boys of your brother school were known for their abhorrent behaviour. Of course, the girls in your school weren’t angels, but you knew when you needed to behave; you had a reputation to maintain. You hoped they wouldn’t be too disruptive; you were already re-sitting final year and could not afford any fuck ups. //// Catholic theology; final period. The last hour between you and spending the weekend stoned or drunk, whichever came first. You were stopped by Sister Catherine on your way up to the lesson. “Y/N if I have to tell you one more time to pull your skirt down, that’s two weeks of afterschool detention, you know the rules.” You rolled your eyes and muttered a quick ‘yes sister’ and pulled your skirt down. As you walked into the classroom, you noticed that your friends were sitting in different spaces than usual. Mr Jones explained that he had rearranged the seating plan, to immerse the new boys into the classroom, and prevent a divide. You knew what he meant, you Politics lesson had a clear split between boys and girls, hurling insults at each other across the central aisle. You would be sat one boy and one girl; your seat being in the back corner, just behind your best friend Claire. You sat down and began to chat to the girl in front of you, the lesson couldn’t start without the boys and they were late. 15 Minutes had passed before they decide to show up. “Ah gentlemen, I’m glad you could make it,” said Mr Jones. “We’re sorry we’re so late sir, we got lost,” said the boy. The conversation in the room stopped at hearing his honey like voice. An American accent? Rare in your small English town. There weren’t any official government offices here so he couldn’t have been a diplomat’s son. Strange. His blond hair was perfectly styled, his uniform pressed to perfection. He looked so much more put together than the rest of his peers. You should know, it was the same school your younger brother went to, they never enforced uniform rules. You were surprised the boy wasn’t bullied for how nice it looked. “Well, don’t let it happen again, I can enforce detentions,” finished Mr. Jones. He started reading names and assigning them seats. The American boy was the last one standing and the seat next to you was the only empty one. You knew already he would be difficult; you weren’t here for it. “And finally, Mr. Langdon you will be sitting next to Miss. Y/LN. She just has a resting bitch face but I’m sure shell take good care of you,” said Mr Jones. The boy smirked at you and sauntered over. He sat down and unpacked his bag, taking over almost the whole desk. He finally turned to you, holing out his hand for you to shake. “Michael Langdon, nice to meet you.” You stared at his hand before shaking it, it was surprisingly soft. “Y/N,” you replied, tuning your attention back to the teacher, taking back your half of the desk by pushing his things to the side. You felt him staring at you. This was going to be a long lesson. //// Finally, the lesson was over. Michael had spent the whole time elbowing you and loudly bantering with his peers. If it wasn’t for you being in class, you would have hit him. You began to pack your stuff to leave, Mr Jones mentioning homework for Monday. Fuck, you’d have to see them first thing on Monday too. You resisted the temptation to leap through the window. The boy sat next to Claire turned to you,” your brother said you’d be a colossal bitch.” You furrowed your brows, “I haven’t even said anything to you, where’s this coming from? Also, my brothers in year 10 what the hell are you doing talking to him?” “You’re sat next to boy wonder over here and you haven’t said a word, he can pull conversation out of anyone,” replied the boy. You shook your head, “this is by far the stupidest conversation I’ve had in this classroom. Even stupider than the ‘is the anti-Christ sexy?’ one that we had last week.” It was Michaels turn to speak, “and what was the conclusion of that one.” Claire replied, “okay so, we thought ‘yes’ because he’s supposed to lead people into sin, right? So, you have to be sexy if people are lusting after you. Also, Satan was an angel so there’s that factor too.” “Girls!” shouted Mr Jones, “do not start that debate again we wasted a whole lesson on it already, go home its Friday I have shit to do.” You both laughed and left the classroom, not paying any mind to the boys behind you. //// Monday had arrived; the worst day of the week. To say you were hungover was an understatement. You walked in just before the lesson started, saying your good mornings before taking a seat. “you look like shit,” said the new boy. “I didn’t ask,” you replied. Mr Jones started talking to the class, “as the boys were late last week, we didn’t get to do introductions properly, so turn to your partner and tell them three things about you. Not including your name.” You rolled your eyes. “If you keep rolling your eyes, they’re gonna get stuck to the back of your head.” “again Langdon, I did not ask,” you huffed. She shot you a sarcastic smile, clearly annoyed by your short answers. “well then, what three things do you want to know about me?” “preferably nothing, but to make it go faster, where are you from?” “Los Angeles,” he replied. “ooo, California beach boy, are we? What brings you to this little catholic school in England then?” you asked. “My father sent me here, as for what he does, that’s classified.” “I wasn’t going to ask. Anyway, what’s your favourite food then?” “French toast,” he smiled. These three answers told you nothing about him, you didn’t want to admit it, something made you want to know more. “what do you want to know about me then?” you asked, not really wanting to give him any personal information. “what’s your favourite food?” “fettuccini alfredo.” “here’s what I really want to know,” he started, moving closer to you. “Who shoved that pole up your ass?” You raised your eyebrows and blinked slowly. Who did he think he is? “Why? Do you have something better?” “I might,” he replied, trailing his tongue over his teeth. “sorry. I’m not into blonds,” you finished. Turning back around to face the board. “I’m not finished asking questions,” said Michael. “I’m done answering them.” Mr Jones interrupted the class before he could argue. You hoped the class would fly by. You sat resting your chin on your hand, trying to listen to Mr Jones. Suddenly, your arm was elbowed out from beneath your chin, making you smack your chin off the table. Michael had elbowed you. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” “MISS Y/N!” “Michael elbowed me!” you said. “actually sir, her hand slipped,” Michael interjected. Mr jones looked pissed, “You know what? I really don’t care. Both of you are going to clean the chapel after school on Friday.” You sat there; gob smacked. You really did not want to spend any more time with Michael at all, but this was your final behaviour warning. Michael seemed surprisingly giddy; he was enjoying this far too much. //// Throughout the week, it seemed that Michael was doing anything he could to piss you off. Pushing you in hallways, taking your usual seats at lunch and in the library, even sitting behind you in mass, kicking your seat. “listen here you little blond bimbo bitch, if you don’t stop kicking my seat, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you,” you seethed. “Y/N! turn around were in the middle of mass!” your head of year whispered to you, trying not to disturb the priest. Michael kicked your seat even harder for the duration, even pulling your hair on occasion. How old was he? This wasn’t primary school. //// You were dreading the theology lesson today; it was the beginning of the two hours you would have to spend with the boy wonder. You took a breath to calm your nerves before walking into the classroom. ‘Revelations’ written on the board in red ink. You thought this was the most exciting book in the bible. Michael was already seated, grinning at you as you made eye contact. You moved to the other side of the aisle so he couldn’t attempt to trip you over. “Are you excited Y/N? you get to spend the next two hours with me you lucky thing.” “As soon as I see you outside these school gates it’s on sight mickey,” you replied. “Mickey?” “You look you’re an intellectual property of Disney,” you argued. “so, you think I look like a Disney prince then. I’ll keep that in mind princess.” “More like a prince of darkness, you’d be the villain actually.” He looked at you like you’d told him the funniest joke in the world, “you’re not far off,” he finished. What the hell did he mean by that? You decided not to press any further. “How do we think the world will end? Using biblical references,” Mr Jones’ voice broke through the silence. Michael had a glint in his eye, as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t. “how about Y/N? what’s your answer?” Had God decided that you were going to spend the rest of the year getting picked on? It seemed like it. “Erm well, the revelation about wormwood could easily refer to a nuclear bomb or something, looking at it in a modern context,” you gave your answer. “That’s a really good answer, nice to know your listening,” Mr Jones turned back to the class, leaving you be for the rest of the lesson. //// The lesson had ended. Mr Jones was walking the pair of you to the chapel in the convent that was connected to the school. It was silent. Just before you could walk in, Sister Catherine had spotted you again, “Y/N! SKIRT! PULL IT DOWN!” she shouted at you. You looked her in the eye, and slowly pulled it down, finishing with a smile. “This is a catholic school, I don’t know where you girls got the idea that short skirts were now acceptable,” she huffed, before leaving you alone with Michael and Mr jones. The chapel was beautiful. It was all white marble, stained glass and hardwood pews. Fresh flowers and statues of the virgin decorated little alcoves. Above the alter, the image of the crucifixion. You felt judged under his sombre gaze. Mr Jones handed you both the materials and gave you instructions on the cleaning. He’d be back in an hour. You were left alone with Michael. He made his way to the pews and sat down, putting his feet up and his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes and got to dusting your side of the chapel, no way in hell were you going to do his work for him. You could feel his gaze on you as you dusted away. You stopped briefly to remove your blazer. You bent over to pick up a prayer card dropped by the alter. The prayer to Saint Michael. Unfortunately, the Michael in the room was anything but. “wow, your skirt really is short,” he said. You tried to get up to pull it down, but he was behind you. “Don’t be a perv and do your tasks!” He pulled you back against his chest, his arm around your waist and you head on his shoulder. “what the fuck Langdon!” you shouted. “You are far too mouthy princess,” he brought his hand around your throat, squeezing as a warning. He started to trail his fingers up from your knee. “You know,” he started. “I never got to ask that third question last week.” His fingers reached the hem of your skirt, slowly making their way underneath, making you shiver. You swallowed. “w-what did you want to know?” He had bunched your skirt up around your hips, exposing your legs. His fingers started to trace the hem of your panties. “I want to know if you’re a virgin y/n? Is he the only man you’ve ever gotten on your knees for?” he asked, nodding to the image of Christ. You had had ‘almosts’, but never the whole nine yards. His palm came across your ass and you squeaked. “Answer the question princess.” “Y -yes,” you replied, your skin heating up. He let go of you and you breathed a sigh of relief; reaching to tug your skirt back down. He gripped your wrists before you could, turning you around to face him. “I’m not finished with you yet.” His face was so close, you could smell the mint gum he liked to chew loudly. Something made you want to lean in a little further and kiss him, but you hesitated. “I’m going to be your new messiah from now on Y/N,” he said, pushing you onto your knees. His thumb stroked your cheek, before putting it in your mouth. “Don’t bite, or there’ll be consequences,” he warned. He ran his thumb along your tongue, before replacing it with two of his fingers; thrusting them in and out your mouth. You were too captivated by his eyes to respond. The low lighting of the chapel illuminating his golden hair like a halo. He finally pulled his fingers out, connecting to your lips with a string of spit. “Keep your mouth open,” he ordered. He reached for his belt, unbuckling in. You started to shift around, the marble hurting your knees and your arousal begging for attention. He said a quick ‘sit still’ before finally pulling his cock out. It was actually really nice to look at. He gripped your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth even further, before slowly sliding it in. He hissed at the sensation of your warm mouth. “This is the best was to shut you up.” He pushed until you gaged, the sensation so foreign to you. “C’mon princess, use your hands, I’m not here to do all the work,” he said. You took the base of his cock in your hands, moving it in time with your mouth. Michaels moans echoed throughout the chapel, adding fuel to your own arousal. You felt him twitch in your mouth. He grabbed your head and pulled you off, panting. You watched his wet cock bob against his clothed abdomen. “Get up” he ordered, so you did. He pushed you back, so you were lying on the alter, looking up at the frescoes on the ceiling. The image of God looking at you in disgust. Michael put his hand around your throat, “Look at me, I’m your god now.” He peeled your panties off, pocketing them. Pervert. His hands held your thighs apart, inspecting the wetness of your folds, before running his finger through. The sensation made you jolt and whine. “Keep quiet or they’ll hear you.” You nodded. He brought his fingers up to show you your arousal, you tried to turn your head away in embarrassment, but he had gripped your throat again. He continued to toy with your clit, bringing little gasps out of you. You cried out as he thrust two fingers inside. It felt so good, his touch was electric. “You’re so tight, I think I might break you,” he grinned. He noticed the prayer card still in your had, getting an idea. “Read that little prayer out while I defile you on the alter, your final prayer to your old god,” he commanded. “I- I can’t,” you managed to squeak out. Tears were welling in your eyes. He pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean before humming. “You will,” he stated. He lined himself up, looking at you, waiting for you to start. "S-Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us i-in battle.” He pushed in, groaning as he did so. “Be our protection against… against the wickedness and snares of the d-devil.” He began to move, thrusting into you, making you forget your words. “You’re so tight, like you were made for me,” he panted out. “May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,” you managed to get out. Michael squeezed his hand around your throat. “And do thou, O Prince of the H-Heavenly Host.” He gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, picking up the pace. “By the power of God,” you couldn’t think anymore. The only thing on your mind was him. He slapped your ass, “by the power of god? Finish it.” He brought his hand down, rubbing circles around your clit, you squeezed around him. “Thrust into hell S-Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the r-ruin of souls.” Michael grinned, his eyes turned black and his skin pale. You were too far gone in your pleasure to scream at his demonic face. He reached under your shirt collar, yanking your gold crucifix off your neck. You could feel your release coming on fast, Michael could too. “Let’s finish the prayer together hmm?” “Amen,” you both moaned at the same time. Your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Michael wasn’t too far behind, coating your insides with his seed. Slowly pulling out of you, watching your mixed fluids drip onto the alter. Coming out of your haze, you finally realised where you were and what you had done. “What are you Michael?” you whispered. “You read about me an hour ago,” he said, tucking himself back in, his face back to its normal state. Your eyes widened, it finally clicked. The Anti-Christ. You looked up to the crucifix above you, the statue crying blood. The faces in the stained glass twisted in sorrow. The statues of the virgin weeping blood. A wave of nausea hit you. Michael pulled you up, putting your skirt back in place. He smirked at you and pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. He took your hand and placed your necklace in your palm. The cross had been inverted. “I’ll be over tomorrow, just introduce me as your boyfriend. You still have some more repentance to do.” With that he left you in the chapel. Leaving you clean up the mess, alone.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 25 February:

#OTD in Irish History | 25 February:

1570 – Elizabeth I is excommunicated by Pope Pious V. Pope Pius V issued a papal bull in 1570, called Regnans in Excelsis, declaring ‘Elizabeth, the pretended Queen of England and the servant of crime’ to be a heretic and releasing all her subjects from any allegiance. 1852 – Death of popular poet and editor of Irish Melodies, Thomas Moore, who was born in Dublin. 1891 – Edward ‘Ned’ Daly is born…

[jomnki]

hey! are you stalking me? are you for tons of oversharing from a stranger on the internet? well do i have the perfect list for you my buddy. maybe ill give you my address next ohh boy, wouldn't that be funny. i just like listing and sorting things.

☄️constant fixation

🌞love

☀️past love

🌤️obsessed on one character specifically (blorboised)

🌠nostalgic

☁️enjoys casually

🌩️made ocs for

-(tip: a lone ☀️ means a long gone interest i no longer feel much for)

-(repeats in different lists means that the interest has a comic/show adaptation that ive consumed and like a lot!)

creator based content

scp universe 🌞

aphmaus mystreet and other rp series ☀️☁️🌩️🌠

nijisanji vtubers ☀️

tma ☁️

hermitcraft ☁️

games/franchises

pokemon (mainline and sideline games) ☄️🌞🌩️🌠

omori 🌞

ace attorney series 🌞🌤️

fe3h (just the one game) 🌞🌤️

sonic (lore>games) ☀️🌤️🌩️☁️🌠

danganronpa ☀️🌤️☁️

fnaf ☀️🌤️🌩️🌠

persona 3-5 ☀️☁️

animal jam 🌞🌩️🌠

furby ☁️

minecraft ☁️🌩️

digimon ☁️

yakuza series ☁️

animal crossing ☁️

strawdew valley ☁️

cookie run kingdom ☁️

legend of zelda ☁️🌤️

deltarune ☁️

undertale ☀️🌠

moshi monsters ☀️🌤️🌠

faith ☁️

cotl ☁️

inscription ☁️

hypnospace outlaw ☁️

shows/ their respective comics

case closed 🌞🌠

(fei ren zai) 非人哉 🌞

开心超人联盟 (happy heroes) ☀️☁️🌠

take my brother away (快吧我哥带走）🌞🌠

saiki kusuo 🌞

mob psycho 100 ☁️

card captor sakura ☁️

trigun ☁️

barakamon ☁️

chainsaw man ☁️

nozaki sensai ☁️

toh ☁️

kaguya sama love is war ☁️

miraculous ladybug ☁️

recovery of an mmo junkie ☁️

tawog ☁️

spy x family ☁️

welcome to demon school iruma ☁️

peepoodo ☁️

gintama ☁️

full metal alchemist ☁️

hunter x hunter ☁️🌞

hetalia (sorry) 🌠

su ☀️🌠

fairy tail ☀️🌠

mha ☀️

ouran highschool host club 🌠

comics /novels

oh holy! 🌞

junji ito's works 🌞

lookism ☁️

youtsuba&! ☁️

heaven's official blessing 🌞

(硬核一中) ☁️

(快吧我哥带走) 🌞🌠

(头条都是他) 🌞

(非人哉) 🌞

(小心被梦魔吃掉哦) ☁️ uhm.

(别对我表白) ☁️

(她们的故事) ☁️ girl likes girl they kiss

omniscient reader's viewpoint ☁️

fanmade creations i like

kings maker ☁️

rusty pectorior ☁️ fanfic centered on notyx and psyborg, felt like i was watching an entire show

in which sunny can't name things ☁️ textfic based post true ending omori. they're just being silly and goofy.

stuff im kind of interested in learning more about

splatoon

unrelated general hobbies and likes

🍰drawing, sculpting, animating, writing- just making stuff in general

🎾i love seeing people be unapologetically cringe. i love your sans au where he's god go you.

🥩 kidcore, horror, primary colours, horror, sunflowers, retro, soft sunshine

🐙 paleontology, anthropology, history, biology, learning about as much stuff as i can and being annoying about it

🍨thrifted items, collecting, trinkets, wonky toys with the felt and plastic, plushies of many shapes and sizes preferably not full of fur, erasers, stickers, magnets, badges, keychains

🥞sorting things out by different categories, the rough texture of a washed hung out and dried towel, rain, cold weather, the blanket ive used for ages, organising belongings, playlist of animation memes and songs i play while i run around pretending in my head that im super awesome, running around without said playlist, going through old stuff

🍄the video game grinding, hoarding and organising in games, strategy games, bullet hells, rpgs

🍮 my boy, dogs n cats n rats, reptiles, birds, t-rex, dragons, animals I love animals

🍩 burgers, small bits of shredded chicken, apples, round grapes, cold cereal with plain cereal and granola, fruit juice, red roasted beef noodles

🥑 whatever music i can imagine my funny oh cees move to

✖️ hot weather die die die, the feeling of hair tickling my face, smell of my own sweat, nose itchy sneezy makes me want to kill, oily textures, my nails against the plaster wall, the plaster wall itself, the feeling of certain pens against paper, not having something to chew on, running around when i trip on something invisible and give myself the third bruise that week, hair going karen mode, remembering names and numbers,

the blorbos (not ordered)

dimitri fire emblem. i love depressed traumatised men that can kill me.

herlock strangler

cait sith meow

kiibo drv3 is my son in law

i desire bowser carnally.

yoshi is my other son in law.

the dogs from sanrio. all of them

the dawg. you know the one.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 9.3 (after 1900)

1914 – William, Prince of Albania leaves the country after just six months due to opposition to his rule. 1914 – French composer Albéric Magnard is killed defending his estate against invading German soldiers. 1914 – World War I: Start of the Battle of Grand Couronné, a German assault against French positions on high ground near the city of Nancy. 1916 – World War I: Leefe Robinson destroys the German airship Schütte-Lanz SL 11 over Cuffley, north of London; the first German airship to be shot down on British soil. 1925 – USS Shenandoah, the United States' first American-built rigid airship, was destroyed in a squall line over Noble County, Ohio. Fourteen of her 42-man crew perished, including her commander, Zachary Lansdowne. 1933 – Yevgeniy Abalakov is the first man to reach the highest point in the Soviet Union, Communism Peak (now called Ismoil Somoni Peak and situated in Tajikistan) (7495 m). 1935 – Sir Malcolm Campbell reaches a speed of 304.331 miles per hour on the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, becoming the first person to drive an automobile over 300 mph. 1939 – World War II: France, the United Kingdom, New Zealand and Australia declare war on Germany after the invasion of Poland, forming the Allied nations. The Viceroy of India also declares war, but without consulting the provincial legislatures. 1939 – World War II: The United Kingdom and France begin a naval blockade of Germany that lasts until the end of the war. This also marks the beginning of the Battle of the Atlantic. 1941 – The Holocaust: Karl Fritzsch, deputy camp commandant of the Auschwitz concentration camp, experiments with the use of Zyklon B in the gassing of Soviet POWs. 1942 – World War II: In response to news of its coming liquidation, Dov Lopatyn leads an uprising in the Ghetto of Lakhva (present-day Belarus). 1943 – World War II: British and Canadian troops land on the Italian mainland. On the same day, Walter Bedell Smith and Giuseppe Castellano sign the Armistice of Cassibile, although it is not announced for another five days. 1944 – Holocaust: Diarist Anne Frank and her family are placed on the last transport train from the Westerbork transit camp to the Auschwitz concentration camp, arriving three days later. 1945 – A three-day celebration begins in China, following the Victory over Japan Day on September 2. 1950 – "Nino" Farina becomes the first Formula One Drivers' champion after winning the 1950 Italian Grand Prix. 1954 – The People's Liberation Army begins shelling the Republic of China-controlled islands of Quemoy, starting the First Taiwan Strait Crisis. 1967 – Dagen H in Sweden: Traffic changes from driving on the left to driving on the right overnight. 1971 – Qatar becomes an independent state. 1976 – Viking program: The American Viking 2 spacecraft lands at Utopia Planitia on Mars. 1978 – During the Rhodesian Bush War a group of ZIPRA guerrillas shot down civilian Vickers Viscount aircraft (Air Rhodesia Flight 825) with a Soviet-made SAM Strela-2; of 56 passengers and crew 38 people died in crash, 10 were massacred by the guerrillas at the site. 1981 – The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, an international bill of rights for women, is instituted by the United Nations. 1987 – In a coup d'état in Burundi, President Jean-Baptiste Bagaza is deposed by Major Pierre Buyoya. 1989 – Varig Flight 254 crashes in the Amazon rainforest near São José do Xingu in Brazil, killing 12. 1997 – Vietnam Airlines Flight 815 (Tupolev Tu-134) crashes on approach into Phnom Penh airport, killing 64. 2001 – In Belfast, Protestant loyalists begin a picket of Holy Cross, a Catholic primary school for girls. 2016 – The U.S. and China, together responsible for 40% of the world's carbon emissions, both formally ratify the Paris global climate agreement. 2017 – North Korea conducts its sixth and most powerful nuclear test.

[crashdevlin]

Another Second Chance 1- Black Hole

Another Second Chance Masterlist,  Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: It's been five years since Jensen broke Y/n's heart and she's avoided him completely, but avoidance only lasts so long.

Pairing: past Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2302

Story Warnings: past cheating, little bit of background angst, mostly no warnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things change. Either gradually or in catastrophic leaps, things change. Fact of life, unfortunately. Songs have been sung, books have been penned, movies have been made, all centered around that single inarguable fact.

When I was a younger woman, I thought that nothing really ever changed, that the facts of my life were that I was weak and stupid and I was always going to be in love with people who didn’t want me and were too good for me, that I was going to be miserable and alone forever. I was certain that I was the same person at 26 that I was at 16 and that’s just how things were always going to be.

I can honestly say, at 34 years old, I’m a different woman than I was at 16 or 26 or 30...and I may be alone, but I am not miserable.

I’m successful. I’m happy. I have friends and I have fans. I am well-rounded and, despite a hundred things working against me, well-adjusted. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be dating someone to be happy. In fact, without all the drama surrounding me whenever I do date someone, I’m happier. I have my children and I have my friends and I am happy. 2025 is shaping up to be one of my best years yet and I am ecstatic to see where it leads.

I’m sitting at my computer when my phone goes off. I don’t recognize the number so I Google it. King Woods Private School, the school Jensen wants to send Mav to. Weird that they’d call me when Jensen has primary custody. I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n? Maverick Ackles’ mother?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hi, Ma’am. I’m Caroline Smith, Dean of Admissions for King Woods Private School. Your son’s father applied to our institution for the Fall semester for Kindergarten.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me. Said his father is very excited to get him in there.”

“His father didn’t tell you?”

“Mav’s nanny mentioned it, too, but...Jensen and I-”

“Had a very public falling out a few years ago, we’ve done our research,” she interrupts me. “But the thing is, King Woods is a very family-oriented institute and we need both parents to participate in all activities like monthly PTAs and volunteer nights. We need to make sure that both active parents can work together amicably. On that note, we have an admissions interview with little Maverick on Friday and we require your presence. Can you make it? 10:30 am.”

“Ten-thirty on Friday? Y-yeah. I can...I can totally do that. I will...see you then, Mrs. Smith.”

“See you then, ma’am. I’m looking forward to meeting you and your son. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I set my phone to the side of my laptop and take a deep breath. Jensen and I haven’t been in the same room since NolaCon 2020. We’ve emailed a few times, but haven’t even spoken on the phone...in several years...and that’s better. It’s better for everyone if we don’t talk because then we don’t argue and we don’t fall into patterns that leave us in bad shape.

But for Maverick’s future, for Maverick’s good, I will have to do it.

I call Misha. He encourages me and tells me it’ll be okay. He supports me. He’s an amazing friend, has been for years, one of the few I got in the breakup. Most of our friends specifically didn’t take sides. Kim and Briana and Misha, they sided with me...the girls a little more vocally than Meesh, but it ended up a small rift between Misha and Jensen. I put an end to J2M and it hurts a bit when I think about it. They still talk sometimes but nothing like they used to.

Jared still talks to me every once in a while, but he sided with Jensen. Of course he did. Jensen’s his brother. But Jared tries to keep me involved in his life, he tries to stay a friend...but he’s Jensen’s first, always has been.

“It’s gonna suck,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yeah. But still. You gotta do it, right?” Misha says and I chuckle. To the point with Mr. Collins.

“Yeah. I gotta do it. It’s just...I haven’t seen him in years. I mean...except pictures on Instagram. It’s gonna be weird.”

“You know what I say about weird, right?”

“Yeah. But this isn’t the GISH and Random Acts kinda weird, this is...a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball and a fear of reversion to the person I was in the past kinda weird.”

“You’ve grown too much to revert and that bowling ball will go away when you get comfortable again.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. What happens if I get comfortable with him again, Misha?” I’m scared of it. “He’s like this black hole that sucks me in every time and the only way I’ve been able to stave off the destruction of my universe these last five years is to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do when I’m in close proximity to the black hole.”

“You can do this, Y/n. You won’t have any problems...and maybe Jensen’s grown over the last five years, too.”

“Well, you’ve talked to him more than I have. You’d know how much growing he’d done.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re spending all our time together anymore.”

I nod. “So...hope for the best, that he’s grown and things will be okay, and keep my distance from the dark vortex.”

“Exactly.” Misha smiles and looks directly at the camera. “You got this.”

Yeah, I do. I got this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wear an embroidered black silk Joanna Mastroianni dress to the interview. Not a lot of makeup, but enough to accentuate my features. I keep my hair out of my face and I wear sensible, cute shoes. I look good, but not like I’m trying to look good. I look like I’m trying to look presentable and classy for the people in charge of my son’s education.

I make it to the school first and I sit in a plush chair in the waiting room and wait with my legs crossed neatly to the side. I pull out my phone and start playing a game of Solitaire.

“Mommy!” Maverick’s voice pulls my attention away from the Seven of Hearts that is stuck behind the Six of Diamonds that is arresting my forward momentum in the game. I smile as he runs at me, full-speed, and I slip my phone in my purse as he throws his arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mav!” I exclaim. I lean back and look into the beautiful green eyes he inherited from his father. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“Yes! All the time!” Mav says.

He turns his head to look at the door to the lobby as Jensen walks in. Holy shit. He let his hair grow out a bit...little longer than when he was playing a demon. It's multi toned, what would be called 'Salt and Pepper' in any other man, but it looks more like 'Walnut and light Roux' on him. He's rocking his ginger beard and it has some actual salt in the color. He's wearing a blue suit...a masterpiece tailored to take away your breath. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He's still gorgeous...and I’m still stuck on him. Fuck.

I stand and take Mav’s hand as Jensen steps closer. I focus on his forehead. I can’t look at those eyes. I can’t look at those lips or those freckles on his cheeks. Forehead is safe. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and licks his lips. “Hi,” I greet him, and my voice sounds awkward, too high-pitched.

“Hey,” he responds and oh, God, that voice.

Breathe. Stay away from the singularity, avoid being pulled into the black hole. “You doin’ good?”

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Just fine.” Dying, being sucked into a vortex in space.

He opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else when a tall brunette woman in a smart pantsuit walks out of the office. “Mr. Ackles? Miss Y/l/n?” We nod as she drops to kneel in front of Mav and me. “And this must be little Maverick.”

Mav turns and hides his face in my skirt. “Sorry. He’s a little shy around new people. He’ll warm up to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s natural.” She stands and extends her hand to me and then Jensen, shaking our hands. “Good to see you both here. So, we’re going to take Maverick in and watch him play a bit, get a sense of his social and developmental placement and if he’s a good fit for King Woods, then we will make that happen.”

Jensen and I nod, then I gently pull Mav away from my legs. “You’re gonna go with the nice lady and play with some toys, answer some questions, okay? You can rock that, right, buddy?” Mav nods and smiles at me and Jensen.

“And you two will be just fine out here together, right?” Mrs. Smith says. She’s making sure we won’t freak out on each other. Freaking out on each other is not the problem.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answers. “We’re gonna park ourselves right here in these chairs and wait for you to tell us how brilliant our boy is.” He winks at the woman and she swoons a bit...I have to stop myself from doing the same as I step back toward the chair I was sitting in before. She offers Maverick her hand and he looks back at me before he takes it and follows her as she leads him away toward a playroom. I play with the hem of my dress for a few moments as Jensen takes the seat next to me, his bowlegs stretching out in front of him a bit. “So...listened to that cover album you did...with, uh, Rob, Rich, and Mark. It came out real good. ‘A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega’ was perfect.”

I look down and my cheeks heat up. “Thanks. Uh...you and Steve are working on Volume Four, right? How’s that comin’?”

“Pretty good. Not bad at all, actually.” There’s a moment of silence and I sneak a look at him. He’s biting his bottom lip. Black hole, black hole, black hole. “Oh, and how’s that Shakespeare thing goin’?”

My eyes light up and I look over at him. “Midsummer! Yes. My pet project! It’s coming. Rich has signed on to direct a few episodes and Matt signed up to be my Puck. I’m really excited to see what we can do with that universe. Fairies are so my jam!”

“Are you just producing and writing it, or are you gonna be acting in it?” he asks, leaning forward, showing interest, active listening.

“I’m Hermia, actually. It’s coming along very well.”

“That’s really good. I’m...happy for you.” He smiles and I bite my tongue. God. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I look away from him. “So, uh, I heard that you RSVP’d to Padalecki’s July Fourth barbecue, but you never showed up.”

I shake my head and sigh. Of course Jared told him I flaked on Independence Day. “Yeah. I was, uh...I was gonna go but-”

“But then you heard my shoot in Georgia got rescheduled and I wasn’t gonna be in Atlanta like I planned so you decided not to risk runnin’ into me?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod and look over at him. “It was fine. I ended up watching fireworks with Nova over Skype.”

“You know...it’s been years. You don’t have to avoid me. We can be adults. Jared misses you.”

I lick my lips and nod. “It’s just hard for me to be around you. I miss Jared too, but I can’t be around you. It’s too hard.”

“This is hard?” he asks. I open my mouth to respond ‘Unbelievably’, but he keeps talking. “Because it’s not hard for me. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, settling back in the chair to lean away from him. “This is why it’s hard.” I open my eyes and pull my phone out to finish that game of Solitaire.

He doesn’t say anything else until Mrs. Smith walks out with Maverick fifteen minutes later. “They had a lot of toys in there!” Maverick shouts.

“Indoor voice, Mav,” I say as I stand up. I focus on Mrs. Smith. “So?”

She smiles brightly. “He’s a brilliant child. We would absolutely love to have him here at King Woods.”

“That’s great news!” Jensen exclaims.

“Indoor voice, Jay,” I joke before it hits me that I just called him ‘Jay’ and teased him. Slippery slope. Don’t get comfortable. “Uh, a-anyway. That is great news.”

“We’ll send you the information for tuition and supplies. It was wonderful to meet you both,” Mrs. Smith says.

I bend down and give Mav a hug as she walks away. “You’re awesome, kiddo. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

He runs to his dad and I pick up my purse, stepping toward the door. Jensen puts his hand out as he picks Maverick up to hold him on the other side. He pulls me into a half hug and I go stiff as his hand lands on the small of my back. God, he smells so good...and his hand is so big and…

I pull away and lick my lips. “You and Daddy have fun, Mav!” I almost run out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[auroras-blend]

I Hate It Here

Summary: Vittoria gets used to her new church in Garland City and Leonardo finds he not as welcomed as he once was.

Note: Occurs after chapter 33

“Vittoria, step out of the car,” Papa demanded as he held the car door open for her.

Vittoria shook her head. “I don’t like this church.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Papa reasoned, “Stop embarrassing me and get out.”

“I want Sg.ra Giordano,” she protested, crossing her small arms.

Papa sighed heavily, “We’ll return one day and you can see her, but for now, this is our church.”

“No.”

“What do you think God will think of you if you refuse to go to church on His day?”

Vittoria frowned and a potential offense to God made her step out of the car. She’d never want him to think she didn’t love him. Her little black mary-janes pattered onto the asphalt as she slid off the leather seat. She had resisted the entire time, decreeing that the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin was not her church. Then Papa told her no church belonged to her, but to God and that shut her up. Still, I miss our old one. People were nice to me. I liked our priest.

Papa held her hand as she smoothed out her dark navy blue dress, afraid the wrinkles would offend God and Christ. Papa had dressed her up, pinning her hair into a braided bun and clasping the diamond cross around her neck even though it brought up painful and bitter reminders of Sg.ra Bianchi. Whenever she thought of something sad, she talked to God. She talked to him a lot more now, the only voice she heard at night when she was left alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes drifted up to the imposing building. Like her church back home, it was grand and opulent, a marvel of architecture. It was a sterile white with statues carved into the face of the marble, a true sight as it towered over the buildings around it. Churches should be bigger than other buildings. The domes and spirals were erected so high, it looked like they were trying to reach God and heaven itself. Of course, like the cathedral back at home, the inside was as marvelous.

Rows of polished redwood lined the inside of the church, the number of pews taking up enough space to seat the massive amount of congregants filing inside. The pulpit is so big, but, “Where are the pictures?” she asked.

“The what?”

“The one at home had pictures of Jesus behind it? Where are the pictures-,” she began before a glittering light caught her eye.

Her green eyes widened in awe at the stained glass containing vivid colors, some portraying biblical scenes. Oh, there they are. They cast brightly over the wooden floor, which felt warm and like she was basking in holy light. It’s warmer than the one back in Italy. Vittoria noticed that her hands and legs weren’t cold. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Papa led her to a pew as she was distracted by the grandness of the church, so distracted that she didn’t notice some women sliding away from him with wary eyes. But Papa noticed. He pulled her closer. “Principessa,” he whispered with a friendly and fatherly smile, “It’ll be in English today, except for the usual Latin.”

He handed her a Bible as she pulled out her favorite red rosary, “Really?”

“Yes, so you better pay attention because I’m going to ask you plenty of questions when I’m done,” he said in good nature.

She smiled back at him. “Sg.ra Lisi said I’m really good at answering questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said before gesturing to the dark-haired priest who came out to begin the service.

Vittoria, for some reason, felt her ears were mildly shocked by the English the priest was speaking in. It was her first language, but for some reason, it felt harder to follow along. Usually, at this time on Sundays, she was straining to hear some familiar words and heard herself thinking in Italian, as she desperately tried to program her brain to recognize his English. Eventually, she did and was as transfixed on the priest as her father was.

During the service there were eyes on her and Papa, making her squirm nervously in her seat. One young woman, in particular, had her eyes analyzing her body, as if trying to find something wrong. Papa didn’t notice and she dearly wished she had because the young woman glared at him with repulsion and distrust before she corrected herself with a smile when she saw Vittoria look back at her. As if she was trying to say, you’re not the problem. Vittoria shyly averted her gaze back to the pulpit and priest, trying to ignore the congregants who were as nosy as the ones in Summerfield.

Thankfully, the service seemed to go a lot faster and it ended as quickly as it began. Perhaps because it didn’t take her as much work to follow along and it kept her interest. Well, as much as a service could do for a nine-year-old. Papa helped her out of the pew before offering his hand and a friendly smile to an older woman who huffed and moved past him anyways. This is why I didn’t want to come back. American people are rude. What do they have against single parents?!

Vittoria frowned at her Papa who stepped out of the way and led her from the pews before smiling again as he caught sight of someone whom he must’ve known before. “Ah Mr. Howard,” he grinned, “It’s so nice to see you!”

The man pulled a face and looked ready to turn before he caught sight of Vittoria and decided to put on a facade of politeness. “Mr...Mr. Borghese,” he stuttered before being forced into a hug, “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Papa smiled, “And Mr. Borghese? When did you become so formal? You can still call me Leonardo.”

The man shifted on his feet uncomfortably, tugging at his collar that Vittoria could hardly believe was choking his skinny neck. The man was small, well smaller than her Papa, and only reached up to her Papa’s shoulders. He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes that reminded her of Pastor Marks. “Yes...well…” he glanced down, “You have a child.”

Papa smiled down at her and pulled her front and center. She wished he hadn’t. She hated strangers. “I do. Would you like to introduce yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Not principessa? “Hi,” she said in a small voice, giving a tiny wave.

The man, or Mr. Howard, gave a strained smile. “Well hello,” he greeted, his demeanor becoming less stressed and friendlier, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Vittoria,” she said shyly.

It didn’t escape her Papa’s attention that prying eyes were on her, the little girl who walked in with the formerly beloved by all, Leonardo Borghese. There was something entirely innocent and non-threatening about him having a daughter. “Well, that’s such a pretty name. And how old are you?”

“I turned nine in December,” she said, wishing she could already leave.

“Wow, so you’re a big girl now, huh?”

“Not as big as Papa. He’s a giant,” she said quietly.

Mr. Howard and her Papa gave low laughs. “Leonardo,” an older woman approached with a thick accent that she couldn't recognize except she knew it wasn’t Italian, “You come back and you don’t introduce the girl?”

Papa smiled at the woman who had previously snubbed him. After all, how could he be terrible if he had a small daughter who loved him? Who looked at him with religious reverence and complete undying trust. Then there were the others who glanced over at the child with wariness, protectiveness, and apprehension. Fearful that she was in a monster’s presence, but she found they didn’t linger too long or approach her at all. Apparently, the young woman from before didn’t care enough to check on her; she’s probably going to gossip about us later.

The longer she and Papa stayed, the more people crowded her and asked her questions. Mainly the elderly who had much more faith in her father than the younger churchgoers. Old women spoke with Papa in Italian and Vittoria adorably responded in the same language, earning her pinches and smothering hugs into their breasts. WHY?! EVERY TIME?!

“It’s so nice to see you settled down,” a white-haired woman cooed, “She’s so sweet.”

They always talk about me. Never to me. “She was such an angel during the service. Some parents here just can’t control their children,” an old man scoffed.

“Well, she’s a good Catholic,” Papa praised.

That made her feel a little better. I try to be. “If you’re interested, St. Agnes’ is a lovely Catholic school for primary-age children. Well, girls. It’s an all-girls school,” a woman with a breathy accent smiled, “My nieces went there.”

“I’d consider all girls,” he smiled, “She hates boys.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said defensively, causing everyone to laugh.

Her face reddened in embarrassment as dread filled her chest. I wanna stay home with him forever. I don’t wanna go to another school. Vittoria liked being close to her Papa, and only with her Papa. I wish he’d hurry up so we can go home and play kingdom together. He promised we could play kingdom!

It was her very favorite game where she was the princess and he was the king. He’d build a castle fort with her, they’d sit for tea, go up on the balcony to wave, and dance. They didn’t do everything, but the game made her feel special. Vittoria tried focusing on planning the agenda and what they’d do for the kingdom game while he kept talking because he’s taking foreverrrrrrr!

***

The trip to the car was long. She felt relieved when they left the church, but all they did was move to talk outside. And she dearly wished they had gone home because they finally asked about the one topic that brought her agonizing pain and memories. Mama. “She passed away,” Papa said, softening his eyes as if he were devastated.

Light gasps sounded and she could feel her nose begin to sting. Vittoria retreated back behind her father. “Well bless you, for doing it all by yourself. I can’t even imagine,” an old woman exclaimed, her hand pressing against her chest.

Mama did it by herself and no one was nice to her. “How are you going to balance work and fatherhood?” one woman asked, “Childcare is a financial nightmare. I remember this one time…”

Oh my gosh, I just wanna go home! Vittoria grew restless and was about to sprint to the car before Papa was finally able to bid them all farewell. Well, not before they pinched her cheeks as a goodbye. Why do strangers think they can touch me? She had gotten used to it after a while in Italy, but it was always odd that everyone was so physical with her. Papa never minds!

The whole ordeal sent her into a distressed state and after her Papa inspected the car and buckled her in, she began to weep. Papa sighed when he sat in the driver's seat. “They touched me,” she cried, “Please don’t make them babysit me, Papa.”

I never want a babysitter again! Her Papa sighed, “Principessa...I’m going to have to go back to work eventually…”

“Then let me come with you,” she begged, “I’ll be quiet and good. I can even help.”

I can decorate his office and sort papers into folders! I can do all types of things. “I’ll even do it for free!” she offered.

People like free things.

“That’s very sweet Vittoria, but I can’t take you to...work with me. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

Papa had already decided she wasn’t going to a real school yet. Vittoria could hardly handle a grocery store; it’d be a nightmare at a school. No, he was hiring tutors again. That worked so well last time. He started the car and he began the drive home while she continued to cry.

“We’ll have lunch when we get back, but after that, you’ll take a pill,” he said in a ‘no arguments’ voice.

“You worked from home before. Why can’t you do it again?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Things are different now…” he explained without explaining.

“I hate it here,” she pouted, “I hate Garland City and I hate America.”

“Vittoria,” Papa hissed, “Never say that again. I don’t care what you think, but you’ll keep those thoughts to yourself. Do you understand?”

A pout was stuck to her lips but she begrudgingly agreed. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate it here...