#I actually meant to post this yesterday but yeah *life* came up and changed those plans e.e

[n7punk]

“Rain or Shine (Going Postal)” Fic Notes

Rain or Shine finished yesterday so have some short fic notes on it! I'll make a share post tonight, I kinda forgot lol

Playlist:

The playlist for this AU was only 4 songs since it was so short, but here they are:

So What Now — Renee Rapp

Love Me Not — Emei

Flicker — Rina Sawayama

allofthat — ELIO

Epilogue Life:

These girls have had a very weird path but no longer working together is really the best thing that can happen to divorced work wives when they get back together. It’s a little touch and go and Catra is cautious, but her dumbass cat is in love with her new girlfriend so she kind of needs to see her a minimum number times per week or Melog won’t stop hitting the Adora button until he pisses her off.

Catra knows they’ve reached the serious stage when Melog starts letting Adora walk him by herself and that’s when she starts letting go of her fears (as best she can, anyway).

Chapter 1:

⦁ Catra was annoyed whenever Adora acknowledged their past because it felt like Adora wasn’t taking her seriously and she wanted to show off her negotiating prowess.

Chapter 2:

⦁ My dog didn’t handle car rides well as a puppy so I always held her for them and now if she’s in a car she wants to be in a lap. She is not lap size. Melog similarly only handles cars well if he’s being held.

⦁ Catra does not move for a change of pace, she can’t find a place she likes but can’t articulate why because they’re all perfectly fine places considering their expense (none of them feel like home).

Chapter 3:

⦁ .eth is short for “etheria” and is their version of .gov

⦁ I used to hate emails and I still lowkey do but it’s like a third of my job at this point so I’ve kind of gotten over it but this was me dressing them up like paper dolls and it was really fun honestly.

⦁ Formatting here was kind of a challenge? But I think I found something that looks correct/realistic while still being readable. Hopefully.

Chapter 4:

⦁ Catra’s number says GAY-FAGS. Sorry. I think Adora’s is KIS-DYKE

⦁ Chapter title is a reference to that one fic I did in a day lol.

⦁ The space after Hello Adora , in the invitation is a MailMerge error. IYKYK (my pain).

Chapter 5:

⦁ Catra frowns when Adora implies she has been lying to her this whole time because, while she messes around and likes to make Adora play the guessing game, she isn’t trying to actually deceive her or seem scheming, at least not in the way Weaver she is. She wants to be cool and confident and one step head. Cognitive dissonance and Catra go hand-in-hand and she didn’t realize how toying it came across.

⦁ This has become a running theme at this point but it always results in something fun, so once again Metalesbos made a joke about something that became a plot point, in this case “Bunny the dog Melog AU where he’s learned to use those word buttons” which I somehow spun into Melog accidentally wingmanning them via soundboard.

⦁ Actual conversation that happened as some point: Entrapta: and what would the purpose of giving your cat a ‘slur’ button be? Catra: it would be funny (She then had to remove the fag button because Melog started pressing it whenever he really wanted attention while she was working because it would get her attention Real Quick in case someone overheard it during a call)

⦁ Oh yeah, after writing this entire thing I went into my "abandoned" folder for something unrelated and found I already had a fic called Rain or Shine, which upon checking was like 600 words of a postwoman Catra AU I abandoned back in like 2021 because I wasn't feeling it and I thought it was creepy for Adora to be bugging Catra post-fallout via her mailbox since her job meant Catra had literally no choice but to keep dealing with it. This was a much funner use of the post office lol.

Sheratober prompts:

Ch1: Day 4, purring

Ch2: Day 9, workout

Ch3: Day 11, drunk

Ch4: None, just needed to get to the next one, though I was going to use embarrassing for Adora making a fool of herself over email because I realized that came before "drunk" and scrapped that idea.

Ch5: Day 16, kiss

Original Outline:

Kinda unusual scenario where I have the entire original outline still on hand from when I wrote it a full year ago (21/09/23). It would be like half of these fic notes to include, but… I think it would be an interesting peak into the writing process? So I’m just going to include it. The big shift in Catra’s job actually came because I hadn’t read the outline in a while and the new stamp collection thing came to me, which I just liked better even though it changed the context of their negotiation.

Post office adora / sourcing supplier catra who took a job at a Weaver’s company and eventually bounced while Adora went to humble (shitty) office jobs due to a mix of guilt, fear, and impostor syndrome. Weaver was trying to make a golden parachute for herself in the form of two children who would support her in her older years, but she wanted to incur as few costs in the process (children are expensive — she was trying to have them specifically to make money) and they basically lived like orphans in her large house. Weaver supplied for them through college, expecting a “return on investment”, but senior year Adora had a breakdown, she and Catra broke apart, and Catra went on to work for weaver while Adora faded into obscurity. Catra made her way to a minor executive position before leaving to work contract negotiation for a smaller but nicer company. Reconnect when they have to work together, Catra taking over the contract Adora already had with them. It’s a cautious relationship and Catra scares Adora when she starts to negotiate a far worse rate for them, but it turns out to be a scare tactic and even as Adora is stammering they can’t do that Catra cuts her off “we’ll renew at the current rate” Adora gapes. Catra looks up, flashing her a threatening smile. “Just remember what I’m capable of, princess.” They enter a cautious business relationship, interacting on a regular basis and gradually getting more friendly as they do. After a bit Catra starts signaling they might not be able to continue the contract as it was, and it makes Adora nervous, but it’s nothing like she did the first day where she was legitimately negotiating them into a corner. Eventually she comes back to Adora and tells her they’re not renewing the contract, but she doesn’t try to negotiate anything, just gives a new minimum to continue the contract Adora can’t agree too. So Catra suggests a competitor she can go to and rights out the terms of their current contract for adora to show. Adora goes there and gets a worse deal, but better than what Catra was going to offer her. It’s all weird and Adora can tell something is going on, but Catra refuses to answer her questions. Part of her wonders if catra is just trying to get rid of her and this — objectively less favorable — contract in one go.

The rest of the outline was either rough outlines of scenes I ended up writing and thus deleted from the draft document, or in my head. Other aspects of the fic I had stored in my brain:

Adora running into Catra when she’s walking her cat or perhaps them going on a maybe-date at the park and Catra walking her cat as part of that after reconnecting post-contract

The whole LinkedIn interaction — at the time Adora didn’t have Catra’s LinkedIn initially and I later changed that

A “business dinner” Adora can’t tell if it’s a date or not

The rest all came up as I was writing it.

Upcoming:

So I’ve got two more one shots for Sheratober, and there’s going to be an update to Unhinged Instagram Lives Era for the Music day, but the last week of AU-ctober is the canon divergent week, so it’s finally fucking time. The end of October is going to be all ten chapters in secession.

Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Meet

[gffa]

Btw I only got sucked into the prequels fandom a couple months ago, and I was super fortunate to have found your blog rather early on... It meant I quickly realized I had some misconceptions and internalized weirdness from just western / Christian society and growing up on Legend's New Jedi Order stuff. (It's not that I ever disliked the Jedi, but I definitely didn't understand the difference between love and attachment and was otherwise mostly apathetic about them as a Culture... If they weren't Mara Jade, Jaina Solo, Corran Horn, or Luke Skywalker, I didn't particularly care about them at all).

Anyway my point is that I'm super thankful your blog came up soon because I am now very firmly in the Pro Jedi camp and am glad I only got a minimal amount of sw fandom toxicity about the Jedi before having my eyes gently opened to reality.

Best part is tho, I had a friend ask me a week ago for some star wars information. Her brother apparently was assigned to write about the differences between the Jedi, Grey Jedi, and Sith in a class about differing religions and ideologies (which... In and of itself is actually a rather fascinating concept for a school paper). Anyway I had fun linking a whole bunch of your meta posts and going "Respect the Jedi, they're absolutely wonderful! Grey Jedi aren't actually a thing - it's just video game mechanics and misconceptions! Sith are evil and if you write them as anything but I will hard-core raise eyebrows at you and want to throw hands!!" And such... Probably went more than a little overboard but she was appreciative.

My point in all this word vomit (dang my adhd is really prevalent rn isn't it) is that I wanted to offer some encouragement because I've learned the pro Jedi camp is a lot smaller than it should be and maybe sometimes feels like it's the same 20 people on tumblr? Your collective efforts as the Jedi Defense Squad are successful and I know that, personally, my life will forever be changed for the better. Bless y'all and keep fighting the good fight!

You didn’t even know it was my birthday yesterday and yet you sent me once of the nicest things I could get despite that! I admit that the pro-Jedi corner of fandom feels very small sometimes, especially because Tumblr is generally the only place where we’ve gotten together (COME HELP ME LOVE THE JEDI ON TWITTER, YOU GUYS, I NEED PEOPLE TO HAVE SILLY LOVE BOMB FESTS WITH), that sometimes it can feel very overwhelming the second I step one inch off my dash, but also I wouldn’t trade this corner for anything. I hope that I can not just explain why I love the Jedi and why I see them as being perfectly in balance with the core themes of Star Wars, but that I can help make being a pro-Jedi fan a fun experience.  I hope I can make meta about them interesting, jokes about them fun to play with, the pain of their slaughter and the genocide of their culture dig into our feelings the way the best of Star Wars does. If I can help kindle love for the Jedi in you (and I am certain I did not do so alone, there are so many really incredible people, every time I get to reblog Jedi content from more than a dozen people now I get this shimmer of joy in my soul, I didn’t always have that! I get to reblog art and fic and essays! people have such good thoughts and incredible ways with words! they’re coming up with adorable skits and AU scenarios! so many in this fandom work so hard to give us these delightful things and I am so overjoyed to get to reblog them), then I have passed on what was given to me and that makes it worth it. I am further delighted to help provide framework for writing papers about the Jedi, because one of the things that surprised me when I first started really digging into those Lucas interviews and behind the scenes/making of books is: Yeah, Star Wars is often silly, but it has themes and George Lucas stuck to them.  He thought about his mythology and what messages he wanted to convey, and whatever things he tweaked along the way, the core themes have always remained consistent. Star Wars is often imperfect, no creator is ever going to be perfect, but Lucas knew he wanted to tell a story about letting go and about good vs evil and choosing the light made the world work better and that we should care about each other and our communities, not just break the rules and do whatever we felt like, that you’re supposed to love people but you have to accept that life is impermanent, because you’ll suffer if you try to hold on too tightly. And everything of his Star Wars stuck to those themes and I really, really like those themes. My life has been made better by getting to know the story of Star Wars and getting to meet so many kind, thoughtful fans and getting messages like this, and so please know that this is incredibly uplifting and encouraging.  To be able to spark joy in someone else about these silly space psychic wizards, to be able to share that, it makes the whole Being A Fan Of A Thing a great experience.

[5uptic]

here from ur main. why don’t you like him today? 👀

i'm putting a keep reading on this one because this is the most negative i will get about 5up here, just as a way to express myself about how my perception of him has evolved from the last time i touched the subject. i also don't think i'll come around so probably this is also the last time i'll talk about this, at least as candidly as i plan on doing lol. and i do want to make it clear that this is no form of "cancellation", that this isn't me urging 5up to change or do anything, or to say that i will come back once x or y things change. this is just a matter of personal taste and just my opinion on the guy, which comes down only to my likes and dislikes.

but yeah, the wording of my tag post is that yesterday i just fully accepted that i don't like 5up. it was just a buildup of a lot of things... i have my gripes with every streamer i watch, because of course i'm not gonna like every aspect about their online personality and presentation - no one is meant to, that's just how humans work. so i did genuinely love 5up for a long time, while things about him and his community did bother me, because i enjoyed a lot of things on his streams and i had a lot of nice things to say about him. it's just that i no longer see those things that i used to like that much, or it's a case of the bad things outweighing the good ones.

of course there's the case of 5up's ego which is easily my biggest problem. i like other streamers who have a bit of an ego, like punz for example, but there are many instances where punz either accepts he's not performing so well, chat doesn't take him seriously and he plays along the teasing, or actually does something to back it up. and when it came to watching 5up the instances where we could make fun of him became few and far between. just something very memeable, like the whole colors thing, ends up being annoying just because he refuses to let go of the idea of superiority around something that 70% other people in the world experience too. and that's just one example: if you are familiar with 5up's streams, you can name a lot of other things 5up is overconfident about. and if you are familiar with 5up you are aware of the way he deals with those situations and can understand why someone might feel annoyed at the constant ego showcase.

personally, there are a lot of guys around my life who have an ego problem and mansplain me and shit, but in that case i'm able to stand my ground and tease them about it or call them out. but it's just an impossible thing to do with 5up because well, he's not my friend very obviously lol, so that just leaves me feeling powerless and annoyed on the other side of the streamer/chatter interaction.

this is also a big problem when 5up has pretty much branded himself around the idea of being great at every game. of course i don't deny his skill in lots of games he plays, but as someone who is into dbd content creators, the constant gloating when he was playing the game feels unwarranted because he's an average survivor at best, and relies heavily on good perks and killers on the other side of the 1v4. i really loved to see the og core 4 playing dbd because of the interactions and dynamics of 2 of them being complete noobs at the game, but the need to feed 5up's ego when he looped novice killers was so unnecessary and it made me cringe a lot. the phrase "breaking their ankles" is forever tainted because of it. this is just another case of 5up performing averagely and having an ego around it despite so many people being able to do what he does. and also the claims of "i could eaaaasily be rank 1 if i tried hard enough", the overconfidence and lack of self awareness is a big eye-roller. same thing with mcc: again, i don't deny 5up has skill and experience to back up some of his claims, but the overconfidence that he can bring his team to victory every time is annoying when he never does vod reviews or practices on the server. i remember when pogchamps was happening and 5up was going to be in mcc that same week, people were complaining that he never practiced and i was like "how do expect him to do it when he's competing in a chess tournament atm?". but then it turned out he barely did any chess practice outside of his streams with anna, and i had nothing to defend him with. and i know i can't feel crazy about this, because everyone is laughing at 5up's question of "what games does sapnap beat me in?" and just his lack of self-awareness when it comes to his perception of himself.

another criticism that i never voiced before is his inability to commit to let's plays or certain games. you know, stuff like it takes two, resident evil 8, deltarune chapter two, no umbrellas allowed (which was also the last time i genuinely enjoyed watching his stream) that so many people were able to coordinate and play across multiple streams, he just won't do it. if he didn't play "little nightmares" in one stream, i have a feeling he would've never finished it. the fact that he was so spread about his schedule annoyed me because i wanted to see 5up finish certain games, only for him to complete drop it the next stream and then claim that he wouldn't be continuing the game days or weeks later. again, not something i would fault him for, because who knows if there's a real reason why he does it, but it feels baity and i couldn't even get excited about 5up playing certain games because if i got too attached, he could just drop it immediately and forget that it exists.

there's also what i noticed yesterday, although i can't really have the novelty of saying that it's something that only i know. when people were messaging me when i first talked about how i didn't like 5up anymore, i got asks talking about his lackluster interactions when he's on calls with other streamers, and after yesterday's crab game lobby i have to agree. there was such a novelty in seeing so many people interact with each other, mcyts with otv and the crewfu, etc. punz hiding with scarra, steve and celine agreeing that costco chicken is top tier... but every time it was 5up interacting with others, it just felt stilted and awkward, and he just repeats things back and doesn't add anything to the conversation. back then i did pick up on this, although not as explicitly as now, and i didn't love streams where the catch would be 5up and co playing a new game and interacting. but yesterday i was finally able to catch it and that's what made me officially admit that i straight up don't like him.

sigh. it's sad. i'm still somewhat fond of him, and it's a very weird thing i've never experienced with other content creator. part of me wants to be able to like him and let that be the end of it, but i genuinely tried it. in the past months i sometimes watched his streams, no volume and no chat, just to try and have that bond again, but as soon as i turned on the volume he would say something that would make me roll my eyes. it's hopeless and i'm sad that it is, because i do love every other member of the crewfu and i like so many people in the streamer circle around 5up. it feels wrong for him to be the one exception when he was the one that brought me in.

well, all that said, i'll never be antagonistic to 5up on this blog so you won't have to worry about it. it's a me thing so i'll keep it to myself (maybe occasionally vent on my main if i feel like it). but i'll still post as i've been doing it lately and remain active in the community, so if that's what you're worried about, well then, no changes will be made to my blogging in these last few months :)

[probably-haven]

Hello!

So I’m the anon who asked for more Archon War Venti headcanons and I just loved it! I really like reading your headcanons cuz some of them are similar to mine but mostly are headcanons that I didn’t think of so it really is nice to read and see your thoughts about Venti!

I feel like as if I’m asking too much but could you keep doing these types of headcanons? Like it doesn’t have to be Archon War headcanons but like some headcanons about Venti’s relationship with the Ragnvindrs and Gunnhildrs. Because the first Gunnhildr was the first one who prayed to Barbatos and the first Ragnvindr was his friend who left but came back and I really wanna hear your thoughts on that!

And I’ve decided to get off anon cuz you just replied to my texts and I wasn’t expecting that so I’ve got a short confidence boost that I am completely taking advantage of! And thanks for the advice! or uhh comment? observation? I’m not entirely sure but thank you for that! I’ve heard that be said to me a few times and I have been trying to be more, uhh, assertive so thanks for that!

rfouierjkhfkecs i actually came across information on Gunnhildr and the "Red-haired warrior" yesterday when i was doing more research into the rebellion against Decarabian and I was like "wow this would be really fucking fun to research and theorize on, but its too specific/niche to include unprompted no matter how much i want to" but bestie you prompted, and im literally so happy right now because I didn't think I'd ever really get the chance to post about them!

also lmao yeah, i tend to try and reply to as much as I can, since it's a good feeling when someone does and all. but yeah, no problem! I’m glad you felt confident enough to reveal XD. 

This may be structured a bit more like analysis/theory/just citing canon things at first before it gets into a more headcanony format.

ehe i have so much free reign on this it's lovely

More Archon War Era Venti: one two three

spoilers for Venti's backstory and Diluc's(kinda, i think, just in case)

first things first, laying down some canon background because before yesterday i hadn't heard of either of them outside of that one cutscene.

the very reason Decarabian had his storm wall up in the first place was because at the time Andrius had declared war on him- and his tower, and the city of Mondstadt by extent, were basically constantly under attack by Andrius's blizzards, which since he was still alive back then, were a lot bigger and covered basically what seems to be the whole of Mondstadt outside the barrier.

This meant that people had two options. Live in the city under Decarabian's oppression, or live outside the barrier, and brave the blizzards of a warring god... which was not a good idea

but the Gunnhildr clan(not yet called that) tried- and they almost died because of it. In the midst of a blizzard, the clan chief's daughter, named Gunnhildr(which the clan would be named after later) sent out a prayer that was heard by a wandering wind spirit. And the faith of that prayer gave the spirit enough power to create a small shelter to protect them.

When her father past, she became the new leader and also a priestess. She would later lead the clan to fight Decarabian alongside four others. And basically the Gunnhildr Clan ended up as like sworn protectors of Mondstadt

-

as for the red-haired warrior, who is basically assumed to be the earliest known ancestor of the Ragnvindir clan(im gonna refer to as Ragnvindir for convenience sake, even though "Ragnvindir" is technically a different character from Vanessa's era)theres not much information on him, but heres what i have from the various wiki's

- he was a wanderer

- one of the first to use the sign of windblume to find other rebels(so he's intelligent)

- actively propped up the nameless bard so he could watch as the tower was destroyed

there's this little tidbit too from the Windblume Ode bow's description that im probably gonna talk about a considerable amount too: "Atop the ruins of the ancient tower, amidst the cheers, songs, and tears of those who had newly won their freedom. A red-haired warrior turned his back on the newborn god, hidden like a single raindrop in a tidal wave of humanity. He was first among those who passed the secret sign of Windblume, the one who wove threads of dawn throughout the long night. His name has since been lost to time, but his deeds are still remembered in song." followed later by "The fate of this clan will likely never change: they shall ever live in the darkness and bring forth the flame of dawn."

-

Now I'm going to start with the Ragnvindir(geez, why's it spelled like that tho)

My idea of his character is basically formed by a mix of Ragnvindir stereotypes and just generally analyzing text.

So what do we know about Ragnvindir's for sure? they are shady motherfuckers- or at least they rarely operate in the spotlight. also damn, these guys are more cursed than anemo vision wielders- like the only one who didn't canonically lose someone close to them was Crepus, but considering that Diluc doesn't exactly have a mom..... he probably did

so what do we know? - he was close with the nameless bard - he was intelligent - he likely operated primarily from the shadows "ever living in the darkness" - he was a wanderer - he abandoned Venti during the celebration - but his deeds were still remembered in song, so Venti and him were likely still close

now the question of the century: how will i choose to interpret "turned his back on the newborn god"? And honestly, I'm- not sure- at first i assumed he abandoned him completely- but Venti did still make sure to carry on his memory- which could just be Venti being Venti, but for the sake of sanity, this is how I'm interpreting it.

A lot of things happened to the Ragnvindir that day. He lost a friend, saw another become a god to replace the one they had conquered, and he saw his goal, his reason for being in Mondstadt, come to fruition. "see the world through my eyes" the bard had said, and the Ragnvindir had been a wanderer even before. Sure, the people had won freedom, and that was to be celebrated, but he's intelligent to recognize that people would likely see him as one of the key figures in leading the rebellion. And for him this was a solemn time, and ending to a chapter, and not being one to operate in the spotlight, the last thing he'd want is to be swept up in festivities and attention at a time like this.

It also likely didn't help that he's probably smart enough to understand the idea of "power corrupts," and seeing the wind sprite just readily accept the mantle of Archon was likely not the most comforting thing to happen in the given situation after all. But Decarabian was gone, and Andrius had ceased his blizzards, so without a word, he slipped into the crowd and left, a wanderer once more.

-

now back to Gunnhildr

she was the first to receive an anemo vision from Barbatos, no I do not take criticism on this "the power bestowed on her by Barbatos" like please, they basically said it.

It also mentions that she crowned Venti with laurels(symbol of vistory) after the battle- the book Biography of Gunnhildr additionally says "the Gunnhildr Clan will continue honoring the legacy of its ancestors and its duty to the Anemo Archon: to protect Mondstadt, the land and all who inhabit it, forever."

I really like this because it conveniently ties into my past headcanon about Venti granting visions to the people of Mondstadt and having them be the ones to erect wind barriers and defend the city in his absence.

So in the Archon War I like to imagine that the Gunnhildr clan had a lot of people who were actually granted visions and were basically in charge of protecting it from those who would attempt to ambush them.

Mondstadt essentially became known for this- the fact that the mortals within it were strong enough to fend off the force of a god without support from their own.

but regardless, Gunnhildr, as she had before, served as a priestess to Barbatos, the closest thing that Mondstadt had to a ruler, and yet she only took charge of prayer and protection.... i hate to just- equate them to their descendants- but to an extent- her role was kind of like a merge between Jean and Barbara- Except with a whole lot less structure.... i really dont want their characters to just be carbon copies of the descendants but- c'mon, the comparison was right there.

anyways besties- back to Venti so i can tie them in

The Archon War was one of the worst times for Venti in his entire life thus far. And the time immediately after Decarbian's fall, while Gunnhildr and the Ragnvindir were still alive, was the key period of time in which things could have gone very differently.

Venti is the god of freedom. That's a reoccurring theme and I think I've made that abundantly clear. But during this time, Venti was anything but free.

I've mentioned before how he would stay far from the city of Mondstadt so the shockwave of his death wouldn't reach him, should he fall.... well- Venti is new to a lot of things- godhood- humanity- war- freedom- and at this point he was trying hard to figure out how to be Mondstadt's god without becoming Decarabian, and while still being able to survive, and make sure they survived, and see the world for his friend, and carry on his friends legacy.

And this is a lot of stuff for what was once a carefree elemental being, and there were certain things that had to be done for this to happen. He couldn't just stay in Mondstadt, or he would grow weak and his people would be vulnerable to attack, but he couldn't abandon it, because despite being able to fend for themselves, there's always hat just in case. He couldn't stay in any one place outside of Mondstadt for very long or he'd be found and killed. He knew in order for Mondstadt to survive he would have to take an active role in the war, strengthen himself so he could defend Mondstadt, and thats exactly what he did.

He started by going after the less powerful gods, ones he had a chance at beating with the power he got from the Gunnhildr clan and the rest of Mond, and by wiping them out, he would grow stronger, so he kept it up- working his way up the metaphorical ladder.

but he couldn't let anyone near him either, because he knew just what would happen if he was attacked then. Were it not for Gunnhildr's prayer, the early years of the Archon War would have been without contest the loneliest time of his life, and there would be nothing he could do about it, bound by survival and his attachment to the legacy of his friend, constantly fearing for his life and going against his very nature as the god of freedom. Frankly thrust into that circumstance that early on, and having to face it alone, it's likely that Venti would have caved under the pressure and dropped his attachment to either his survival, or to his friends legacy... or just something entirely worse(isolation messes with brains) so I'm attributing the fact that he didn't do that to Gunnhildr's companionship, speaking to him and guiding him through it as he had guided her through the blizzard some time ago.

I also like to think that she's responsible for founding at least a number of the different celebrations that still happen in Mondstadt even now.

Ugh supportive warrior priestess- we stan

anyway meanwhile! we got the Ragnvindir

He hears about Venti taking part in the Archon war during his wanderings and returns to Mondstadt to check in, wary of what he might find.

Venti, who hadn't seen him since the rebellion, is elated to say the least and they do a bit of catching up because they need it

and then the conversation turns more serious, and the Ragnvindir brings up a third thing that Venti needs to hold onto- his humanity.

See, in the early years, just desperate to get a foothold on the world, Venti's first number of targets were just indiscriminately going after those he knew to be weaker than him, and the Ragnvindir points this out, saying that while it's not necessarily bad, if he keeps doing it, it won't be long until he causes his and, by extent, Mondstadt's legacy to be tainted by a reputation for slaughter, no better than any of the other bloodthirsty gods that frequented the war's fields. "Think of what the bard would do, we were both close enough to do that much"

And Venti becomes yet more caged, but recognizes that he's right, and this is another turning point, that in the coming years would keep Venti from losing himself.

also- Gunnhildr, Venti having told her about the Ragnvindir's concerns that he now shared, probably organized some kind of event (not unlike the right of part, but also, yes unlike it) that was deliberately intended and designs to serve as an excuse that Venti could chose to take to visit Mondstadt, something she know he desperately wanted to do, but wouldn't allow himself for fear of putting them in danger. But if she made it an official celebration, then it would give Venti the opportunity to visit his people again, under the guise of it being a responsibility, not having to deal with the moral implications of doing so at a time when he was already dealing with enough of those already.

Also on his travels, the Ragnvindir probably started and spread a number of rumors that could end up working in Venti's favor, not that anyone ever knew it was him of course.

basically Gunnhildr protected the people of Mondstadt and did all she could to keep everyone in as high spirits as possible, Venti included.

And as for the Ragnvindir, he took a more realistic approach, traveling and getting venti followers in far places, spreading false information about him, and just overall making sure that Venti didn't do things he'd regret.

And when they died, Venti would carry their legacy with him as well, not losing his humanity to the tide of war as he very nearly had(though he still often came close), and trying to spreading high spirits where ever he could without fail.

[flourgirl]

Even If It’s a Lie

Part I to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter drags you to one of his frat parties, and you realize something you should have a long time ago.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SO much angst, and lots of pining from Y/N. A couple swear words here and there.

A/N: I liked writing the first one so much that I couldn’t stop when it came to this one! Enjoy :-)

“This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye” -The Last Time, Taylor Swift

“Pete, I don’t know about this…” you said, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. You looked like a completely different person in the short burgundy dress that MJ had picked for you. The shiny satin contrasted with your dirty, white sneakers that hadn’t seen the light of day since you played tennis in the 9th grade.

“Trust me,” MJ had said when she was choosing your outfit earlier that day, “You don’t wanna wear any shoes that you actually like to a frat.”

“Why can’t you go with him again?” you whined, wishing Peter had somebody, anybody else, to accompany him to his “induction ceremony” into Sig Ep. 

“I don’t think I’m what any of those frat guys meant when they said ‘Bring a hot girl’. Plus, you were Peter’s first choice,” MJ replied, nonchalantly biting her nails as you held the dress up to yourself. “That’s the one.”

“I’m not hot,” you sighed as you started to hang the many rejected dresses spread across your floor back onto the rack. “I wore a sweater with a cat on it yesterday. That I hand-knitted.”

“Well... you’re cute. And that’s good enough. Plus, you can keep Parker from getting plastered. You know he’s a lightweight,” MJ laughed, reminding you of the many times Peter had called you to pick him up from a late night of partying.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, still worried about the fact that you did not like parties. Or strangers, or crowds, or really anything that involved socializing with more than four people at a time. Peter had been the same way all throughout high school. That’s what made you guys so close, but... things hadn’t been the same since you started college.

Peter ran from the other room, smoothing the wrinkles out of the gray t-shirt that fit him just right. You saw him grin from behind you in the mirror’s reflection, and he placed his hands on his shoulders, jostling you lightly.

“Y/N! Are you excited! It’s your first college party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around to look him in the eyes. You stared down at your feet, self conscious over how short you felt in your sneakers next to him.

“That’s not true. I’ve been to parties before! Ned’s birthday was just last month,” you reminded him. “Don’t you remember how you watched me bake a cake from scratch and your only ‘contribution’ was eating the buttercream?”

Peter laughed, ruffling your hair like you were his little brother. “No, Y/N, I meant a real party. With booze and music that’s so loud that you can’t hear what someone is saying. That kind of party.” 

Your brows furrowed as you began to fully accept that Peter had changed. So, so much. He wasn’t the dorky kid from Queens that carried your books and watched your favorite animated movies with you just because anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take his spidey-senses for Peter to realize how upset he had made you. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to experience everything college has to offer.”

“I think you do that enough for both of us,” you muttered, plopping dramatically onto the couch. Peter followed you, running his fingers gently across your arm as you pouted into a throw pillow. “Couldn’t you have asked any other girl to participate in your frat’s misogynistic tradition?”

“I didn’t want to ask anybody else,” Peter replied. You sat up to look at him, fixing your hair and smoothing out your dress. “I promise, Y/N. I miss you. We never hang out like we used to.”

You rolled your eyes. “And whose fault is that? You’re always—”

“—it’s mine. I know that. So, just come with me tonight and let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, pulling out his signature puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to. “Come on. All you have to do is say the word and we can leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

----------------

Your nerves worsened the closer you got to the frat houses, not mentally prepared for how loud the music would be or all of the sweaty bodies that would inevitably be pressed against you on the dance floor.

As you approached Sig Ep, Peter gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked deep into your eyes, “Y/N. I meant what I said. All you have to do is tell me that you’re ready to go and we’ll leave.”

“You promise?” you asked, chewing on your lip.

“Promise,” Peter smiled, holding out his pinky to intertwine with yours.

Some tall, buff guy was standing at the doorway and greeted Peter with a fist bump. “Hey, Parker! Good work with the dime! She got a boyfriend?” You recoiled at his attitude towards you. It was as if you weren’t even there.

“Nah, Ryan. She’s off limits.” Peter replied coolly, pulling you inside.

You heard Ryan wolf-whistle from his post, causing you to roll your eyes. “Hell yeah! Didn’t know little Petey had it in him!”

Peter wrapped his arm around you, partly to make you feel better, but also because there wasn’t much space for you two to squeeze your way into the kitchen. “Just ignore him,” he said, handing you a red plastic cup, a bottle of Sprite, and a shot glass of vodka. 

You peered up at him, unsure. You weren’t much of a drinker, but maybe, just maybe, it would help you ease up on your nerves. Swirling the liquids together into the cup, you downed it before recoiling from the burn. Cheap vodka sucked, you remembered.

“That’s my girl!” you barely heard Peter say from right next to you, feeling him patting your back before he did two shots himself, swallowing them as if they were water. “Come on, I have some people who’ve been dying to meet you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. He had called you his girl. You gripped his hand tightly as he led you down the hallway and onto the back patio, where a group of people sat crowded around a bonfire. 

A girl with bleach blonde hair and a dark green dress that hugged her figure came running up to the two of you, practically jumping into Peter’s arms as she greeted him. “Peter! I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, you can sit next to me.” 

She pulled Peter towards the bonfire, patting the empty spot on one of the benches next to her. Peter turned to nod at you, gesturing for you to follow them. Once again, it felt like you were invisible to almost everybody at this party.

The blonde girl leaned close to Peter’s face, giggling with an obvious drunkenness. “So, who’s your little friend?” she asked, waving her fingers towards you like you were some kind of pet.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” Friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him, especially when there were girls like her around.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy. Peter and I met in our thermodynamics class last semester,” she smiled, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “You should’ve seen him! He made everything look so easy.” You already knew that. Peter could do anything he set his mind to.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with her bright, gray eyes, which matched Peter’s shirt. “So, uh, who are you here with?”

“Oh, duh!,” she said before tapping the guy on her left’s shoulder, pulling him out of the conversation he was having with the people next to him. “This is Harry Osborn. We go way back. Harry, this is, uh…”

“Y/N,” you reminded her.

“Right! Y/N. She’s Peter’s friend,” Gwen told him. He nodded his head and offered a small wave before returning to his conversation. Of course, you thought to yourself. Peter had only asked you to come with him tonight because she was unavailable.

You stared back down at your stupid shoes as Peter and Gwen talked about titrations and bond solutions. Things that you knew nothing about. Was this why Peter was always out at parties? To see her? 

You thought about Peter’s promise. Just tell him, you thought. Tell him you want to leave. But you knew that you wouldn’t. You knew that you couldn’t ruin Peter’s fun just because you decided to be a baby and get scared after just thirty minutes into your very first frat party.

Looking back up at Peter and Gwen, who now had her arms draped around his neck, you excused yourself to the restroom, wherever that was. You just needed a break. Peter nodded towards you before turning back to smile at Gwen.

----------------

A banging on the bathroom door startled you. “Hey, uh, could you, like, HURRY UP? I have to take a piss,” a boy yelled from the other side. You got up from the edge of the bathtub that you had been sulking on for the past five minutes to open the door.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N. Didn’t know it was you.” It was Flash Thompson. Flash, the guy who had made Peter’s life a living hell in high school. “God, you look good. Hey, how’s about you waiting out here for me and we could, you know, catch up?” He winked at you and you wanted to throw up.

Your first instinct was to say no. How could you give Peter’s bully the time of day? But you thought about Peter and Gwen. Gwen. Gorgeous and smart and better than you in every possible way, who was probably sitting in Peter’s lap by now and running her fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat quickened as rage rushed through your body. You wanted to hurt Peter, like he had hurt you. “Yes,” you replied, before he slammed the bathroom door in your face.

One minute later, you were pulling Flash down the stairs and towards the backyard. “You washed your hands, right?” you asked, desperately hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Don’t worry, babe. I just peed. Everyone knows that as long as you don’t get it on your hands you’re all good,” he mused. “You use less water that way, too. Save the planet, am I right?”

You dropped his hand, mentally rolling your eyes, and continued trudging towards the bonfire. You watched as Peter turned to smile at your reappearance, which swiftly dropped once he saw who you were with. It seemed like Gwen had backed off when you were gone too. Was this some kind of weird, territorial act that she was putting on to prove that Peter liked her and not you?

Maybe you were overthinking, but it was too late to backtrack. You sat back down on your place next to Peter, the awkwardness thick in the air. Flash had decided to squeeze himself between the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Peter leaned forward and shot you a dirty look, which you immediately recognized as his “What the fuck, Y/N?” face. 

A familiar voice boomed from behind, and you turned around to find Ryan had finally tapped out of bouncer duty to join the festivities. “Who’s ready for Truth or Dare!”

Shit. You hated truth or dare. Peter knew that. Ever since you had been dared to kiss Tyler Rosado in the 7th grade and he laughed right in your face before flat out rejecting you, the game had become a sore spot.

But you looked at Peter, who was cheering alongside the rest of the group, excited as ever to participate in the game that you swore you’d never play again. He doesn’t care, you thought to yourself, not like he used to.

You felt a vibration from your pocket and scrambled to pull your phone out of your jacket. Well, Peter’s jacket. The one he had let you wear on the way here because you were cold. It was a text from MJ. 

“How’s everything going?”

“Not good”, you replied, adding multiple sad face emojis at the end of your message.

“What did that idiot do this time?,” she asked. It was like you could hear her “I’m so going to beat Peter up for this” voice through the screen.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” you sent, before locking your phone and sliding it back into the jacket pocket.

“Alright, alright, alright. So, who’s up first?” You heard Ryan ask, remembering the terrible event that was taking place right before you. “Hey! Gwen, how about you do us the honors?”

“Of course!” she chirped back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I know you are,” Ryan laughed, causing the crowd of people to whoop and holler around you. “So, truth or dare.”

“Definitely dare,” she slurred, taking another sip from her beer.

“Who’s got a dare for pretty, little Gwen here? Anybody?” Ryan asked, looking around the backyard.

Flash raised his hand. Fuck. Why did you think that it would be a good decision in any way, shape, or form to bring him with you? 

“Gwen, I dare you to make out with the hottest guy here!” he giggled, obviously thinking that she’d pick him. What a dumbass.

She smirked, before turning to Peter. “Gladly,” she said as she moved to press her lips against his. You struggled to watch as they made out right next to you, much to both you and Flash’s dismay. It felt like it had been going on for forever when they finally stopped sucking each other’s faces and the crowd’s cheers died down.

That was it. That was the last straw. You got up from where you were sitting and headed back towards the front door, having had enough of frat parties for the rest of your miserable life. Peter probably wouldn’t even notice that you were gone.

You felt hot tears fall down your cheeks as you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, calling MJ as fast as you could. “Could you come get me,” you managed to choke out. “This—this was a mistake. Please, just come get me.”

MJ asked for your address and let you know that she’d be by in a couple of minutes. You plopped onto the front steps, emotionally and physically exhausted from all that Peter had put you through tonight. 

A few minutes later, MJ’s car pulled up in front of Sig Ep, and she ran out to hug you, gently rubbing your back to get you to stop crying. “Where is he?,” she asked angrily, glaring towards the frat house. 

You pulled her back, sniffling at her, “Don’t. I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with him later,” MJ said, before the two of you got into her car and drove back to the apartment that you shared. Upbeat pop music played on the stereo, which you promptly shut off, preferring to mope with your head on the windowsill, staring out at the cloudy night sky.

MJ unlocked the front door, and you were greeted by Ned and Betty sitting on the living room floor around a Monopoly board. Betty was obviously winning, and Ned was almost bankrupt. 

“Y/N!” Betty squealed, getting up off the rug to hug you. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“It was Peter,” MJ muttered, shooting daggers at Ned.

“What!? I can’t control him,” Ned tried to reason. “Y/N, on behalf of my idiot roommate, I’m sorry for whatever he did this time.”

“It’s okay, guys. I just really want to go to bed, okay?” you told them, heading towards your bedroom.

You kicked off your sneakers and threw Peter’s stupid jacket, which smelled just like him, onto the chair in the corner, plunking yourself face first into the mattress. Ned, Betty, and MJ stood in your doorway, watching the entire thing.

“Yeah… I don’t think she’s okay,” Ned whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

Betty hit him on the head. “Ow!,” Ned replied, rubbing his temple from where she had flicked him.

“Will you all just shut up and leave me alone!?,” you screamed, startling your friends.

“Yeah, of course. Just tell us if you need anything, Y/N. We’ll be right outside,” MJ reassured you, before shutting your door behind her.

----------------

You woke up the next morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup wafting throughout the apartment. Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you wiped away the leftover makeup from last night and brushed your teeth, ready to forget about everything that had gone wrong yesterday.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Betty sang from the stove, placing yet another pancake onto the already towering pile before sliding the plate in front of you. “They’re for you. Blueberry, with a little bit of cinnamon, just like how you like ‘em!”

You managed to give her a weak smile, before digging into the breakfast she had so lovingly prepared for you. “Where’s MJ,” you asked, knowing that she would never still be asleep past 7 a.m.

“I’m not supposed to tell you…” Betty answered, obviously trying to deflect from wherever their roommate was. “Apple or orange juice?”

“Apple,” you replied. “No, seriously, Betty. Where is she?”

Betty placed the glass next to your plate of pancakes. A heavy silence hung all throughout the kitchen as you realized the only place that MJ could be right now. She was going to kill Peter.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, scrambling to pull your shoes on and running out the door. Betty mentally cursed herself out for not being able to keep a secret, chasing after you down the stairwell.

“Y/N! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop! Please, MJ is just looking out for you!,” she panted from several stories ahead. Betty had no idea when you had gotten so fast.

“Don’t care! He’s my best friend!” you yelled back, before rushing out onto the sidewalk and running across campus towards Peter and Ned’s dorm room. You hated how much you still cared about Peter after all this time. You hated how much you loved him.

As soon as you reached their door, you frantically knocked on it until Ned opened up. “Oh, Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here. Hey, wait—”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence, squeezing your way past him and into their common room. There, MJ and Peter sat playing a game of chess. Until MJ transferred to your school, nobody had ever been able to beat Peter in chess. You scanned the board as they became aware of your presence, and felt a sense of pride seeing that MJ had his pieces tied up to ensure that she’d have a checkmate in five. He’d either have to resign or let her pick off his queen, two knights, and rook one by one.

“Oh,” you sighed with relief, seeing that Peter was still alive. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting to see what you had to say. 

“Well. I’m going to head home. See you later, MJ. Bye!” You turned on your heels and headed towards the door, where Ned was standing with his jaw on the floor.

Peter scrambled to his feet as he caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around just as he had done yesterday. “Y/N. Let me explain,” he whispered softly, like there was nobody else in the room. Curse those damn puppy dog eyes. You were better than this. You needed to stick up for yourself.

“Goodbye, Peter,” you said, before breaking free of his grasp and walking out the door, doing your best not to cry in front of everybody.

He started to follow you before MJ pulled him back, uttering a simple “Don’t.”

Walking back to your apartment, you realized that you had been right all along. Peter had changed, and nothing was ever going to be the same between the two of you.

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 8

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So this chapter is longer than the previous one and hOpefuLly my writing will get better with each new chapter. One can only hope. And I’m updating this daily cuz I wanna be caught up with all of my chapters so I don’t forget to post one by accident. But the daily updates will unfortunately stop after chapter 13, I guess. For now, enjoy! *totally not debating if I should post chapter 9* also Gabriel, no

Uncle Jagged: Nettie! I got everything ready. Wanna record a bonus track for my new album?

'Oh god'

—————————————————————

Marinette kept rereading the message to make sure she had read it correctly. The message never changed. "Oh Tikki what if my voice sounds horrible? Uncle Jagged will be disappointed and then he won't have me as his designer anymore! He'll probably tell everything to everyone, to Gabriel Agreste, Clara, Chloe's mother and to the whole public!"

"Calm down Marinette!" Tikki flew out the bag and hugged the bluenette's face. "I'm sure you'll do just fine!"

"Thanks Tikki" Marinette said hesitantly. She then approached the hotel doors and towards the elevators. She had felt the gaze of the receptionists and one of them had got up with the intention to talk to her, only to be dragged back down by the fellow receptionist, the one who Marinette talked to yesterday. The bluenette had taken full notice of this but chose to ignore it. She then reached Damian's hotel room and knocked on the door. She heard something metallic drop on the floor followed by a slightly muffled word. Marinette knew exactly what he said but she was confused. She then heard the same voice again though much clearer this time.

"You can come in, the door is unlocked"

~~~

Damian had just finished showering, he was half dressed when he got a message from 'Angel'. He had changed used this nickname as her contact name.

Angel: I got an hour and half till my meeting with Uncle J, you want me to come over?

Damian smiled. Honestly, if he could he would give all his time to her.

Me: Sure, come over whenever you want I don't mind

He was about to put his shirt on when he got an urge to practice with his katana, which he did. He made a mental note about getting dressed soon and he went to the case which his katana was located. He then practiced different stances as well as practicing different motions with the blade. He thought of the bluenette. When he first met her, she struck him as someone defenseless and vulnerable. But he now had the feeling she could take down someone twice her size. Though, that didn't stop him from feeling obligated to protect her. He had become so focused that when someone knocked he tensed. Not that much but enough to loose grip of his katana. The blade sunk into his skin and left quite a deep cut on his upper arm and on the right side of his chest, causing him to drop his katana.

"Scheiße!" He didn't react to the pain, it was the thought of Marinette walking in on this situation. 'Since when do I know German?' "You can come in, the door is unlocked" 'Damn it that's not what I meant!'

Marinette opened the unlocked door to see a shirtless Damian. She probably would've metaphorically died at that point if she didn't take notice to the whole situation. Not only was he shirtless, he was bleeding. 'How did-' she noticed the katana. 'Oh, makes sense now'. The bluenette then sprinted into action. She closed the door behind her, put her bag down quickly but still being mindful of Tikki and turned her attention to the now flustered Damian. She grabbed the arm that wasn't cut and carefully dragged him onto the sofa, she also looked at the katana on her way there while taking some mental notes. 'Looks clean, no rust or scratches that could contain bacteria and seems so have been cleaned thoroughly before use. Great! That makes my job easier'.

"What are you-"

"Hush Shaytan" Marinette interrupted while going to the bathroom, searching for one of those medkits. "Let me take care of you" she said while getting one of the disinfectants in the kit. Marinette then carefully rubbed the liquid into his wounds.

"It stings" he grumbled.

"Awww don't worry little Dami, it will stop stinging soon" Marinette said lightheartedly, as if she was comforting Manon.

"Tt I am not five" he grumbled again. He shifted his body so that Marinette could properly bandage his chest and right arm. After she was done, he flexed his arm. 'She did extremely well' "Thank you, Angel. You really are a life saver". He subconsciously smirked when he saw her face turn a shade of pink.

"Thanks, did I bandage it correctly? I hope I did, oh no what happens if it doesn't heal correctly? What happens if-" she suddenly stopped as Damian had pulled her in close to his chest.

"Honestly you did perfectly Habibti, there's no need to worry" he stroked his fingers through her deep blue hair as a way to calm her down further, but he himself enjoyed it. He knew how Marinette would always think that she's the one at fault and he came up with a way to calm her down. From the looks of it, it was working.

Marinette blushed when Damian had pulled her into his chest, even more so when she felt his fingers brush through her hair. It felt like it had genuine emotion with it, not only just to make her feel better. She took advantage of being close to his chest, his wounds, and used her powers outside the mask to let the wound heal faster. Now knowing that it would heal soon, she enjoyed his embrace, burying herself further into his muscular body. The she remembered something. "So what are we gonna do about your spilt blood?"

"You say that like I deal with this often" he said with a smug looking face. Marinette then had a 'I know you do' face. He jokingly sighed. "I shall clean it and before you object, I feel fine enough to do a simple task such as this." Her giggling brought a smile to his face. "Also have you worked out what Jagged Stone has in mind for you?"

"I'll tell you that after you tell me how you know German" Marinette shifted so that he could get up. "If I recall, you told me that you were fluent in French, Arabic, English and Spanish and that you were learning Japanese. I don't remember German ever coming up" she said in a jokingly serious tone.

"Actually I'm fluent in Japanese now" Damian murmured while getting something from one of his cases, 'Something to clean the blood I suppose' "I was taught an easy way to learn languages, I might have crossed German once before but if so I just forgot about it. Also, how do you know German?"

"Well if you have any interest in learning a new language you'd want to know the swear words, am I right?" She giggled.

"Fair point" he chuckled while allowing his blood to soap into something he brought, a tissue or towel perhaps. "Now, do you know what Jagged Stone's surprise is for you?"

"Yeah, he wants me to record a bonus track for his album"

Damian paused just as he had finished disinfecting his katana. "Wow, that's great Angel!"

"Yes I'm very grateful to Uncle Jagged for organizing all this but what if I sound horrible? I do want to do it for him really, I don't want to turn the offer down but I-"

"Angel, there is no need to worry. If you're not comfortable with it you can tell Jagged, he'll understand. But I'm sure you have a beautiful voice"

"You really think so?" Marinette murmured. Damian nodded. She gave him a thank you smile before saying, "So, what's this quick way of learning a language? I've got 30 minutes"

Damian chuckled. "Well the first thing you would want to know is..."

~~~

'Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only one in class whose been able to stop herself from getting akumatized. She must be very strong, physically and mentally. My point was proven when she became Multimouse, wearing nearly every miraculous that I've ever heard or come across. Ladybug must trust her greatly. I must find a way to akumatize her'

Gabriel Agreste stood in his observatory after recently detransforming. 'She can control her emotions well but when she's angry, it's incredibly strong. This girl could be one of the strongest in Paris, she could be one that senses auras. I must find a way. I will use her to eliminate all of heroes. All I need is time'.

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming (ur the one who wanted to get tagged right? I’m so sorry I forget to write your name down so I’m not sure-), @icerosecrystal

[carrotmakar]

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 23.5k

Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself

A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys​ 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.”  I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!

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Add yourself to my taglist here

Request anything here but be sure to read my guidelines first!

As always, if you enjoy this piece, reblog to share with your friends :))

*

Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.

The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.

There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.

The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself. 

The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.

Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).

And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.

Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.

He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love. 

But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.

There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty. 

The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.

That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.

Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.

Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.

So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.

You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well. 

Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.

Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.

It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.

It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.

It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.

You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.

You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.

So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.

You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.

He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.

He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.

But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you. 

He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two  of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more. 

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.

*

When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.

However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.

To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.

You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.

When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry. 

You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.

Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip. 

They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.

After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.

Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..

*

You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s  going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.

You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.

If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.

By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.

Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.

If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?

You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.

You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.

You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.

The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.

“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).

It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.

You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general. 

You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.

You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.

*

What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you. 

“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.

He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler? 

You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.

You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.

You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.

“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.

“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”

“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.

“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”

Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?” 

He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’ 

You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you. 

The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.

The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.

Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”

“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.

*

The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.

You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.

You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.

Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning. 

Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.

You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.

After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you

*

Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.

“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.

That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.

She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.

Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.

You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.

Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.

You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.

And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls. 

Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way. 

She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done. 

Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.

“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.

“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.

Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy? 

You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.

Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.

*

It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.

We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X

You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.

You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.

When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.). 

You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.

“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.

You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week. 

He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.

The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward. 

“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.

You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.

You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out? 

You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.

You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.

The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same. 

Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.

“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.

“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.

“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.

He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.” 

He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.

For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells. 

So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.

You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.

You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for. 

You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you? 

Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.

It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?

Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.

Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.

“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.

“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying. 

“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible.  The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.

“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?

“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?

“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.

“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.

“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.

“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.” 

“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.

“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?

“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.

You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.

“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence. 

He scoffs, “Yes you are.”

“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,

“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”

After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”

He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.

“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.

“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.

“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.

“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?

“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.

“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”

If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.” 

You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”

“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.

“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care. 

You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”

That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.

Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.

He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.

“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm. 

He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.

For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.

You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.

You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that. 

You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.

Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something. 

You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.

You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.

You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him. 

You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.

You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”

“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.

“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.

“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.

You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”

You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.

You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.

“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.

He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.

“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less. 

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.

His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick. 

You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off. 

Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.

You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.

*

What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.

You rush down to where they are.

“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks. 

You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”

Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.

“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.

“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.

“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.

*

It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.

“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.

“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.

You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”

With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.

After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”

You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”

He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.

You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.

The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.

*

You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms. 

As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.

“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?

“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth. 

“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.

“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.

“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?

“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.

“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell. 

You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.

You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head. 

Could he really care about you?

If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?

How does he expect to make this up to you?

You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry. 

Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends. 

But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.

Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.

Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.

You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.

You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off. 

Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.

*

Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake. 

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.

The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine. 

You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?

“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.

“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.

“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”

“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”

“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.

“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.

“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.

“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.

“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.

“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.

“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.

“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.

“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Alright.” you grin “H.”

The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders. 

 “You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.

“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.

“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.

“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him. 

“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.

“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.

“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.

“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.

You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.

You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.

His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left. 

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.

It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.

After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.

He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.

All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.

He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.

You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.

He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.

“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.

“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.

“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.

Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.

He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point. 

The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants. 

God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.

Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.

He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.

He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.

“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”

“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.

“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”

He sighs, “Never hated you.”

You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”

“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”

You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple? 

“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.

“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.

“Hmm?” he wonders.

You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”

A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.

He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.

You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.

RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.

You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his. 

After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.

He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.” 

You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.

“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.

“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.

“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.

“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him. 

“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.

“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.

“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.

You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating. 

“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.

“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.

“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.

“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.

“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.

It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.

Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him. 

You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.

But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.

Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.

You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.

As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine? 

You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.

When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?” 

He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.

He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing. 

“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.

“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.” You say.

You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.

For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.

*

After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.

Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?” 

“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.

Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.

“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.

“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.

If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.

After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.

As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.

*

When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini. 

Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.

Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.

“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.

“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.

“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”

You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.

After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.

He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”

Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”

*

When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.

“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.

You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.

Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”

He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”

“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”

He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”

You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.

“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”

“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.

“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.

“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”

You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.” 

“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far. 

You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”

You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.

“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.

You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.

You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.

“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”

The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”

The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.

“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.

“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles. 

You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.

“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.

“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”

You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.

Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.

You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.

After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel. 

*

The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.

When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.

They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.

You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much? 

You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.

You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.

Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”

You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.

“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”

You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”

You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.

You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.

You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.

He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.

“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand. 

After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.

You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.

“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.

“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”

“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”

He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.

“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even. 

You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.

You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.

“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.

“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.

Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.

He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.

You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.

You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.

You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal. 

“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.

He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.

“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed. 

Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.

You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.

You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.

Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.

“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.

“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.

“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”

“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.

The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again. 

Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.

You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.

The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.

You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?

Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.

“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.

You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled. 

“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.

“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”

The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.

He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.

You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car. 

After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.

Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.

“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”

He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose. 

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.

“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.

“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.

“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.

All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.

“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.

You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”

You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.

“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.

After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.

“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”

“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.

You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers. 

You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.

You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?” 

“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub. 

The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.

“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”

You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand. 

After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him. 

Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand. 

“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water. 

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.

“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.

“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.

You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.

“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.

“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.

“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.

“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.

After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”

He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”

You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”

You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.

“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”

He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”

“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.

You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”

His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.

“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.

“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.

He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”

Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”

HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”

“I’m getting there.” You admit.

“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.

You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.

He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.

“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.

He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.

Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.

“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.

He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.

Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”

He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead,  “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.

After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”

“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs. 

You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.

But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.

Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep

*

You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.

“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.

“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”

You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together. 

You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.

Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.

“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.

“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.

He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.

“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.

“Which part?” You say, playing coy.

“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”

You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”

You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.

After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.

*

After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.

“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.

On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.

He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.

He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”

You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.” 

He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.

In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.

As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door. 

You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”

“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.

“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”

“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.

“Calm down, H.” You urge.

“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes. 

“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”

“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.

“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”

“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”

“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.

“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.

“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.

“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”

“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.

“Deal.” He says without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.

“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.

“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.

“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.

*

After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.

You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him. 

“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.

He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.” 

“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.

“What?” How are they being so calm about this?

“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.

How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective. 

*

A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins. 

The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them. 

Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.

*

Thank you for reading!! You can come discuss with me here!!

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[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[ashtheshortstack]

beautiful disaster - ch 2

Rating: M Ship: Kyoru Chapter 2/5: “I want to please you.” 

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Learning intimacy, Virgin Dorks, Post-Curse, Manga/Anime Spoilers

Tohru was floating the rest of the evening. There were so many times she had to hide her smile while cooking dinner. Never before had she experienced something like that. Something so… she didn’t even have a word for it. Nice? Pleasurable? Her body had been so warm and tingly from Kyo’s touching and exploration. 

Of course, Tohru knew how sex worked. She was a bit dense, she could admit, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d read books. And Kyoko had explained to her once her period started what it meant to be a woman. The birds and the bees talk had confused her to no end at first, but she eventually understood. Her mother had found her innocence through the conversation to be humorous, laughing behind her palm as she explained how babies were created to her teen. 

Granted, Tohru hadn’t really thought she’d fall in love. Her mother had always been her top priority… the most important person in her life. The one she loved the most. Tohru could never have imagined abandoning her to be with someone else. Even after Kyoko passed, all she could focus on was achieving the goals she and her mother had set for her. Tohru wanted to work. Wanted to earn her way in the world. That’s what they had agreed upon. 

But Kyo changed all of that. Kyo opened her world up to so many more things. Of course, she had planned to find a job when they moved. It would be a little different from the original plan, but not too much. Having Kyo by her side made it better. Made her feel whole. 

Tohru felt her cheeks heat as she thought of their encounter again. She tried to focus on stirring the stew, but her mind kept wandering elsewhere. Into uncharted territory. She never knew just being touched could set her skin ablaze. Could overwhelm her and make her heart pound. The pleasurable feelings that had coursed through her were unexplainable. Would Kyo feel like that if she gave him the same treatment? She wanted to. Kyo deserved to feel those things too. He deserved everything…

“Honda? Are you feeling well?” 

Tohru yelped when Yuki’s voice suddenly yanked her from her thoughts. “I-I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure? Your face is flushed.” 

Panicked, she touched her cheeks. “I-Is it? It must be from the hot stew! Can you watch it for a moment Yuki-kun? I-I’ll be right back!” she sprinted out of the kitchen quickly before slamming the bathroom door behind her. 

She quickly splashed cold water on her face. Breathe. Breathe.  

There was a knock. 

“Tohru? You okay?” came Kyo’s voice from the other side. 

Swallowing, she nodded. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. J-Just needed some cold water.” 

When she opened the door, Kyo was there with a concerned look etched on his features. “I-If earlier was too much for you we don’t have to--” 

“No!” 

Blinking, his cheeks flushed as he stared at her stunned. “What?” 

“I want to. I want to do that again.” 

Kyo swallowed thickly before giving her a tiny nod. “Okay,” he murmured and leaned in to give her a small peck on the forehead. They stayed like that for a moment, Tohru leaving her forehead resting against his chin. The affection he showed her was always comforting. 

The sound of Yuki clearing his throat sent them flying apart. 

“S-Sorry!” she screeched before zipping past both of the boys and back to the stove. 

She needed to calm down. She had to calm down. 

If Yuki suspected anything, he didn’t act like it at dinner. Thankfully. Tohru was grateful he wouldn’t call her out on the public displays of affection. The last thing she wanted was to make Yuki uncomfortable in any way. 

When she finally retreated to her room for the evening, she quickly changed into her pajamas and slipped into the covers of her bed. She snuggled into the warmth, letting the memories from earlier in the day sweep through her thoughts. Tohru rolled onto her back, touching her lips with a small smile, remembering how tender and heated the kisses were that she and Kyo shared. She wanted that again. 

Suddenly, she was very excited for their alone time after school tomorrow. 

  Kyo seemed jittery the following day. She understood… Tohru felt a buzz floating through her as well. The feeling of being with him was addicting. She had already wanted to touch him all the time. Always be close to him, lean on him, hold his hand. But after the day prior, there was so much more of that desire. 

She didn’t know the new feeling was noticeable until Ou-chan pointed it out. 

“Hey, Tohru. You alright? You seem even spacier than usual today.” 

Blinking, Tohru looked up from her desk. “Oh! Um. I’m fine!” 

Ou-chan gave her a look, cocking a brow. “This doesn’t have to do with the fact you and Carrots were home alone yesterday, does it?” 

“Oh my, well this is news,” Hana-chan mused. 

Tohru gave a frantic wave of her hands. “N-No! It’s not!” 

“Hey,” Ou-chan bent down in front of her desk. “There’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I just wanted to know what was up. You can talk to us about it, you know. There’s no judgement here. I just want to help you out.” 

“Are… Are you sure?” 

Hana-chan took her hands. “Of course, Tohru. We want to help you through your first relationship before you leave us.” 

“And if Carrots does anything we don’t like… we can rough him up a bit,” Ou-chan grinned with a crack of her knuckle. 

“O-Oh, um, please don’t,” Tohru murmured as she felt her cheeks heat. 

Ou-chan chuckled and patted her on the head. “Ah, don’t worry. We won’t hurt him too badly.” 

Tohru knew Ou-chan was teasing… but part of her thought she might have been serious. She hoped her best friends didn’t actually beat up her boyfriend for anything. 

“So,” Hana-chan said as she took a seat. “What’s been going on?” 

Feeling the flush on her cheeks, Tohru glanced away as she tapped her lip. “I-It wasn’t much. We--We didn’t, um…” she trailed off. How on earth was she supposed to talk about this? 

Ou-chan smirked. “Things were just a little handsy?” 

Tohru bristled at that. “Uh! Maybe!” 

“Did you touch him?” Hana-chan asked, stoic as ever. How could she ask such a thing so easily?

Shaking her head, she fiddled with her thumbs. “Um, no, actually. Yuki-kun got home so I needed to start on dinner so we… yeah.” 

Ou-chan smiled. “Did he make you feel good?” 

“Yes,” she squeaked. 

Ou-chan stood, stretching a bit. “Then that’s all I needed to know,” she stated before taking her seat. 

Tohru felt her brain frazzle from the interrogation she just received. Kyo was busy chatting it up with his fellow classmates, so she silently prayed he hadn’t caught any wind of the conversation between her and her best friends. That would be so embarrassing! Maybe, that’s what he meant yesterday about girl talk. Would Kyo be uncomfortable if she told Ou-chan and Hana-chan what they did? Maybe she should ask him? 

  As she and Kyo walked hand in hand back home, anticipation bubbled through her. She was so nervous. She didn’t know what to do. What they had done before was rather spontaneous. Would it be different now that they were expecting something to happen between them? 

“Hey,” Kyo’s voice distracted her from her worries as she looked up at him. Clearing his throat, she could see the light flush on his cheeks. “Ya don’t need to worry about us-- doin ’ anything if you don’t want to. Yesterday was really, uh, a surprise for both of us, I guess. I don’t want you thinking that just because we both want to do that again doesn’t mean we have to, ya know?” 

Tohru had never seen him talk quite so fast. Or so rambly either. She appreciated his worry. And it always amazed her how Kyo could read her like a book. How he always knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling or planning. 

“I-I know. But I’m okay. I want to.” 

“Really? You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

His cheeks flushed at her admission. Tohru watched him as he swallowed hard, just as nervous and jittery as she was. Clearly, neither of them had a clue as to what they were doing. Or what they would do when they got home. But Tohru couldn’t help the bubbling excitement of anticipation inside her stomach. Her heart fluttered, chest tight. She wanted this. Wanted to be with him more than anything. Yesterday, she’d given Kyo her word that she’d take care of him. That it’d be his turn. And Tohru had every intention of seeing that promise through. 

  They were on her bed that day. Probably the better option considering that her bed was much bigger than his futon. Kyo hovered over her, his lips melding with hers. Kissing Kyo lit a new fire inside her she hadn’t even known existed. Tohru didn’t know how to want someone. How to desire another person like she did Kyo. There was a pounding heartbeat in her ears that throbbed throughout her veins. The only thoughts her brain could form were about him. How nice he smelled, how soft his lips were, how gentle his hand was on her hip. 

Kyo flattened his body against hers, and Tohru nearly swooned. The feeling of him pressed against her still took so much getting used to. For so long, she was unable to touch him like this. To feel his chest pressed against hers. And now she only wanted it more. The thought was selfish and greedy. She knew she wanted Kyo to herself too much. She hoped that no one would be upset with her for hogging his attention all of the time. 

Tohru shifted beneath him, her thigh brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. Kyo groaned against her lips, a sound she had learned was a pleasant one. She repeated the motion and earned a small hiss from him as he pulled away from her lips. An apology was at the tip of her tongue, but when she opened her eyes and saw him panting with half-lidded eyes, the words swept away from her. There was a fire in his amber eyes, pupils blown so wide they almost resembled the cat-like slits he used to have sometimes. 

His hot breath fanned her face, his cheeks rosy from their heated kisses. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” she sighed. “I want to please you.” 

Kyo scoffed lightly. “You can’t say things like that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

Shifting, he gave her another kiss, soft and chaste that time rather than urgent and hurried as their lip-locking had been previously. Kyo cleared his throat. “I-I, uh, should probably take off--” he trailed off. 

Tohru glanced down a moment and realized suddenly that neither of them had changed out of their school uniforms. What if they wrinkled them!? Her evening would be spent ironing out clothes for sure. Yuki-kun and Shigure-san would be awfully suspicious. 

“Hey.” 

Her eyes locked with his after he spoke. 

“Quit thinking so hard. I’m gonna take them off in case things get, uh, messy.” 

Tohru nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was tight as she watched Kyo lean back and undo the buttons of his pants. She’d felt him through his pants the day previous… but seeing the increased size of his bulge when it was no longer confined in his uniform made her heart leap into her throat. She’d never… seen male anatomy before. Not in person anyway. What was she supposed to do? 

Tohru already felt herself panicking even though his manhood was still covered by his underwear. It looked a little funny, if she was honest. He was still wearing his uniform shirt. Swallowing, she gathered as much courage as she could and gripped the material of his shirt. 

“Can you… take this off too?” 

Kyo’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” 

“Y-You don’t have to! I-I just thought it may make things easier.” 

She was so stupid! Of course, he wouldn’t want to move things so quickly. He’d already taken off one article of clothing, and yet there she was asking for more. 

Kyo gave her a once over… before leaning back on his haunches and slipping both his uniform and undershirt over his head. He tossed them aside onto the pile on the floor with his trousers. There was a light flush kissing his cheeks as he crawled back over her. 

“Better?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. 

Tohru nodded hesitantly. “Y-Yes.” 

There was a gentle gaze in his eyes as he looked over her. With a slight smile, he leaned back in and caught her lips with his own. The kisses were soft at first. Gentle and caring just as he always was. But they once again escalated. Tohru cupped his face as his lips slanted against her own. She really wanted to touch him. Maybe, that was needy of her… but she wanted to so badly. 

Her hands drifted lower, along his shoulders first. They were so built and strong and smooth under her touch. Her fingertips ghosted his skin as she traveled downward along his chest. His skin jumped beneath her fingers, but Tohru found that only to spare her on further. When she reached his abs, she admired the taut muscles that were so firm yet so soft. She’d never felt someone else’s skin like this. Never touched someone so intimately. But Kyo’s tender kisses never ceased, so he didn’t seem to have a problem with her exploring. 

When she reached the v of his hips, she felt the light dusting of hair along his navel as she brushed his knuckle across it. Gingerly, she dared herself to move forward and keep her promise as she dipped a finger beneath the waistband of his boxers. Kyo’s lips stilled against hers, and Tohru momentarily thought maybe she’d done something wrong, but instead he buried his face in her nape taking a few solid breaths as she touched him. 

Tohru continued her journey downward. She brushed past the coarse hairs along his public bone before reaching his length. Cautiously, she took hold of him. 

“ Shit, Tohru,” he gasped against her. 

“S-Sorr--” her grip began to loosen.

“ Don’t apologize,” Kyo grunted. 

Tohru was unsure what to do. She was touching him, but what next? Timidly, she moved her hand along him in slow strokes. His skin was so hot and hard but softer than she imagined. Kyo groaned again before pressing a kiss to her neck, a sensation she hadn’t been expecting at all. The feeling caused her to gasp, squeezing him a little too tightly. He yelped, and Tohru quickly retreated. 

She sat up quickly, nearly knocking Kyo off the bed. “Sorry! I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what I’m doing and--” 

“Oi, stop it,” Kyo retorted quickly. Sighing, he sat up and pushed himself away from her. “Let’s try this another way. Like yesterday?” 

Tohru nodded hesitantly, watching as Kyo shifted and fell onto the bed beside her. 

“I’ll lay on my back and you can reach me easier, aight?” 

“Okay,” she murmured. 

Tohru laid her head on his chest, his skin warm beneath her cheek. Reaching downward, she decided to be just a bit daring and make this easier on both of them movement wise. She tugged his boxers down slightly, revealing his length to the room as it bobbed slightly. Tohru nearly squealed at the sight of it. So strange… Nothing like she thought it’d really look like in person. 

“Oi, don’t stare at it,” Kyo squeaked. 

Tohru quickly looked up at him seeing his face completely red. “Ah! Sorry.” 

“N’ stop apologizin’,” he muttered. 

Tohru wanted to do this for him. So she took him gently into her grasp, rubbing the skin gently so as to not hurt him. She heard him sigh above her, and suddenly his hand clasped over her own. 

“Like this,” he said and used her hand to stroke himself up and down. 

Tohru’s eyes widened at the motion. That wasn’t exactly what she thought was required of her, although, she didn’t know what she expected. He squeezed her fingers around him, causing her to tighten her grip just slightly. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “like that.” 

She continued the movements, stroking him from base to tip, following his motions. He released her hand and she continued on without his guidance. She realized that different speeds garnered different reactions. The little soft groans and moans he let out only fueled her desire to pleasure him. As she increased the speed of her movements with a flick of her wrist, she noticed him breathing harder. He panted and whined, making all sorts of sounds she never would have expected to come from the man she loved. Kyo gripped the sheets, teeth clenching. Tohru swallowed at the sight, somehow it only made heat pool in her own gut. 

“ Fuck, Tohru.”

Tohru nearly yelped when he came as it took her by surprise, taking her out of her own arousal.. He spilled on his chest and some oozed over her fingers. She tried not to be grossed out. It only made her curious, if anything. 

Kyo huffed a breath, sitting up on his elbows. “Sorry, shoulda warned you about that,” he blurted. 

“No, no! It’s okay. Wait here, let me get you a towel!” 

Tohru quickly left the room, careful not to touch anything with her soiled hand. She washed her hands before grabbing a cloth and soaking it with warm water. When she returned, Kyo hadn’t moved just as she instructed. His amber eyes watched her as she cleaned his essence from his skin. She’d have to wash that cloth carefully. The last thing she wanted was for their housemates to know of their slowly budding intimacy. 

When Tohru returned after placing the cloth with the dirty laundry, Kyo had righted his clothes and had apparently gone and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his room. He lounged on her bed, making Tohru smile as she reentered the room. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” she replied as she slipped onto the mattress beside him. 

“You okay? Not scarred for life or anything?” 

Tohru giggled at that. “No.” 

Kyo pursed his lips for a moment, cheeks pinking a little. “You, uh, need me to touch you too?” 

Tohru’s face went hot. “No, no! This was about you, Kyo.” 

Snorting, he shook his head. “This isn’t about taking turns, Tohru, it’s about the feelings, right?” 

“I guess you’re right… b-but I should get started on dinner soon. But I…” she trailed off, glancing away shyly. “I really liked this. I want to continue, if you don’t mind.” 

Kyo smiled slightly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | epilogue

authors note: I truly cannot thank you enough for your support, love, kind words and overall interest throughout this story. Writing this whole thing has really changed my life in a lot of ways, both through my characters and through proving to myself that I can actually bring something like Mixtape to fruition. I love you all, loud, from the bottom of my heart. I hope this epilogue is all you hoped it would be, and now we can finally start with post-fic concepts. Enjoy!!!

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

“Four… Five… Seven!”

“Six babe. Five, six, seven.”

“Five seven.” 

In Beks smile, all Grayson could see was Indiana. As far as the rest of his daughter, she looked just like him. Brown hair, brown eyes, even the same little dimple. But her smile, and the feeling it gave him in his gut? That was all Indiana. His wife, who was unfortunately still pacing a bit in the terminal, a coffee in her hands. 

As soon as she realized that they were back from their walk, she perked up, putting on her brave face for Beks so she didn’t think anything was wrong. 

“Mama! Hi mama!”

“Hi sweet girl.” She held her hands out for her daughter, smiling when she gleefully reached for her. Grayson passed her over without a hesitation. As little as their almost three year old was, she was her mom’s biggest anchor when things got hard. 

“You okay?” He asked it quietly while Beks was distracted, twirling a piece of her mom’s hair around her little fingers. 

Indy looked at the clock. 5 minutes till boarding. 

Her face was enough of an answer for her husband, and he frowned.

“Nauseous?”

She nodded. 

“We’ll be okay,” he offered, reaching out for her free hand to squeeze it and trace a heart. It relaxed her a tiny bit, but she still bit her lip.

“My whole world is about to be in a plane, out of my control.” She turned her head to kiss Bekah’s hair. “She’s so small. Nothing I could do if…”

“Hey, hey none of that. You know what Bethany says about the doomsday stuff.”

“Unhelpful, unlikely and unproductive.” Indy whispered her therapists words back to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She’d gotten better about flying, accomplished things she never thought she would. Charlie and Devin’s wedding in Oregon, her own wedding in Maui, flying back and forth to see Lisa, trips to Australia even. But things changed when she got pregnant. Now, her heart lived outside of her body, in a tiny almost toddler who was as content as could be on her hip. The flight to Jersey had been decent, but the way home seemed like an impossible hurtle.

“It’ll all be over in a few hours. And then we’ll be home, back to our bed and our house.” Grayson wished he could fix it, wished he could take it on himself. But all he could really do was squeeze her hand and stay calm.

Indy nodded, but when the gate attendant came over the intercom she felt like she could vomit right there. She silently passed Beks over to Grayson and fumbled for their boarding passes with shaky hands. 

“Plane daddy! There’s a plane!” Bekah smiled, pointing out the window as another aircraft taxied by. 

“Yeah! It’s big, isn’t it,” Grayson tickled her belly and kissed her cheek as he readjusted the diaper bag over his shoulder and headed into the boarding lane behind Indy. They made their way down the jet bridge and into first class, Indy moving to the window seat and immediately holding out her hands for Bekah. They’d been blessed with a very happy baby who was content most of the time as long as she had a familiar face with her. She sat on Indy’s lap and played with the necklace she had on, rubbing at her eyes with the other hand. 

“You tired bubba?” Grayson sat down and ran a hand over her back. Beks nodded slowly. “Here, c’mere, give momma a break.”

Indy passed her back over, melting like she always did when Bekah leaned forward onto Grayson’s chest, relaxing fully in the safety of his arms. She loved nothing more than seeing the father he was to their little girl. It was more than she could have ever asked for, and she watched as he moved her just enough to get his seatbelt on, knowing she would be asleep in a few minutes.

He hummed to her quietly, moving a hand over her ear to quiet the inevitable announcements from the flight attendants, and Indy watched as her eyes fluttered closed, long eyelashes resting on pink cheeks. 

“Is she out?” Grayson dared to ask after a few minutes.

Indy nodded, her eyes burning a bit as she fought back tears. Bekah just looked so small, and fragile, and the plane was moving and she felt like she couldn’t control anything, not even her emotions. 

“Do you want to hold her? Would that help?”

“No, she’s comfy it’s okay, I don’t want to wake her up,” Indy whispered, shaking her head. Even still, she stretched a hand over into Grayson’s seat, trying to catch her breath and focus on the feeling of his hand in hers, his wedding ring cold against her fingers. She looked at him, tried to lose herself in him the way she always had. He looked the same as that first day outside of Frazier, with a healthy amount of scruff. His hair was a bit shorter than it was then - Lisa always gave him a good haircut when he was in town. But his smile was still the same, and his eyes just as warm when he looked back into hers. 

“Breathe baby. I’m right here, we’re gonna be there before you know it. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She willed herself to believe him and put a headphone in her ear, started her playlist and closed her eyes as the plane moved towards the runway and her daughter slept. 

Things were slightly better once they got into the air. It didn’t surprise her that Grayson fell asleep within the first hour. She could tell he was fighting his eyelids as he tried to stay awake in case she needed him, but the warmth and weight of Beks was enough to lull him off. The way she knew for sure was when his thumb stopped rubbing against the back of her hand. Indy didn’t mind - if he wasn’t awake he wasn’t worrying about her at least She took the time to look at them - really look at them for a while. Bekah was so active, always exploring and getting into things. It made moments like these rare, especially as she got older. She’d never understood what her mom had meant, when she said her heart had grown two sizes to accommodate her and Charlie. 

In all those months after they got back together, she had thought it was impossible to love someone as much, or more, than she loved Grayson. She proved herself wrong after he became her husband, and again when they found out they were having a baby, a girl. Her love for him grew even more while she was pregnant. And then Bekah Nicole Dolan had entered the picture, and their lives had never been the same. It felt like just yesterday that she was watching Grayson cry in the hospital room, holding his baby girl for the first time. Since then there were two birthday parties, almost three years of watching her grow into herself, watching her learn, watching her develop her own little personality. She was Indy’s new favorite thing to study, and she kept herself busy for most of the flight looking through old pictures on her phone. It calmed her more than she thought it would, and kept her occupied until Beks woke up from her nap. 

It was a nice distraction for her to focus on keeping her daughter entertained and happy once she maneuvered her out of Grayson’s lap. They colored after Indy fished the coloring book and crayons out from her bag, and they looked at pictures, and watched out the window, Bekah asking “what dat?” over and over again at all the things she could see on the ground. 

The flight attendants message to prepare for landing was what finally woke Grayson up from his slumber, and his bleary eyes were immediately guilty. 

“You should have woken me up,” he pouted, already looking her over for any sign of her anxious habits. 

“We’re okay. I got a handle on it. Glad you’re awake for landing though,” she reassured him, reaching a hand out for his again. He happily took it, and smiled when Bekah leaned over to put her hand on top of theirs, always wanting to be involved. The landing was smooth, and Indy took her first truly relaxed breath in hours once the plane stopped moving at the gate. Bekah felt it, felt her chest rise and fall so dramatically that she turned and smiled up at her.

“Breathe mama,” she said, just like her dad always did. “Big breaf.” Her ‘th’ sounds were still f’s, and Indy selfishly hoped they stayed that way for a while longer. She over exaggerated her next breath so Beks could feel it. It satisfied her enough it seemed, and she held Grayson’s hand as they walked off the plane and into the airport. Grayson’s back hurt by the time they made it to baggage claim from the way he was crouched over to keep his hand in hers, but she was determined to do it herself and keep him close. 

All that went out the window when she saw who was waiting for her by the baggage carousel. 

“UNCLE ETEE!” 

Ethan smiled his widest smile and crouched down with his arms open, ready to catch her as she ran as fast as her little legs would take her. He caught her and tossed her up in the air just to hear her giggle. 

“Hi bug! How was Jersey?”

“Good! I saw Grandma Lisa and daddy showed me a waterfall and we stayed in the other house and momma made pancakes. Where’s Miles?” Her attention jumped around like a pinball in the machine, but she looked down to Ethan’s left side where there was usually a very cute five year old.

“He’s home taking care of Aunt Eden, making sure little Maisie isn’t giving her too much trouble.”

“Is she still in her belly?”

“Yeah bug, for a little while longer. But, she missed you so much that she wants everybody to come out to the beach for a little while before it gets dark. And if mommy and daddy are too tired, you can just come with us.”

Indiana wanted to cry. She knew what her brother was doing - giving her an out in case the flight had gone badly, a chance to recuperate if need be. Truth be told, she was still nauseous, but her nerves had settled and the thought of seeing Eden and her nephew were too good to pass up. She’d missed them despite only being gone for a few days. 

“We’ll all go, just gotta get changed at the house first,” Indy said, and she felt Grayson perk up beside her, somewhat surprised by her answer. 

“Alrighty then, let’s roll.” Ethan led the way with Beks on his hip, Grayson managing most of the bags on the way out to the car. Things had gotten better since they’d traveled with Beks as an infant - less equipment required for a toddler, especially one who was easily entertained by her parents. 

Before they knew it Beks was in her car seat, thrilled that her dad climbed into the backseat to ‘hang out’ with her while he gave his wife shotgun. Ethan played Cudi, the clean versions, and everyone in the car sang along, even if Bekah was mostly just humming and kicking her feet. 

It took about 30 minutes to get to the main gate of the houses. Indy could still remember the first time she’d been in a car pulling up to the same spot. Things were a bit different now - they’d bought out their neighbors house when it went up for sale, tore down the fences and made it all one big backyard with each of the couples in their own space. E squared kept the original house - it’s where they’d raised Miles after all. Indy had enjoyed getting to make the new house her own. It wasn’t lost on her that it was the bigger of the two, with Grayson’s dream of a big family always at the back of his mind. 

It was on Indy’s too, especially when she saw Eden waiting on the porch of their house, her bump on full display, framed out by her bikini and cover up. Maisie Rae Dolan was due in two months, and the whole crew was counting down the days until her arrival, none more so than her mother. 

Miles came around the corner at full speed once the car stopped, running around the car to find the only one he ever looked for. Grayson couldn’t get her out of her carseat fast enough, but as soon as Beks was on the ground Miles was hugging her.

“Hi best friend!” Bekah said as soon as her face wasn’t buried in his shirt.

“Hi! I missed you! Daddy helped me make a countdown and I counted all the days until you came back and now you’re here! Do you wanna see it?!”

“Yeah!”

Grayson had to catch the two of them before they went barrelling towards the house.

“Hold on guys, if we wanna make it to the beach early enough to get into the water we all need to get changed and packed up. We’ll see you there Mi, okay?”

Miles nodded once, then immediately turned to Ethan.

“Dad, can I ride with Uncle Grayson and Aunt Indy?”

“They just got back babe, gotta give them a minute to settle in. But, if mom’s up for it we can go early and look for some shells, okay?”

He threw a wink to Grayson as he unloaded the bags. Meanwhile, Indy was on the porch, catching up with Eden. 

“Any changes? Contractions or anything?”

“Other than her kicking my spleen every five minutes and sitting on my bladder like a throne, we’re golden.”

She didn’t look golden. In fact, she looked exhausted. 

“Miles wearing you out?”

All she had to do was look at her and Indy was laughing.

“Whenever you need us to take him, just send him over.”

“You act as if you too do not have a child that wears you out.”

The pair looked over at their husbands, and their kids. Miles was attempting to climb the tree in the front yard, which was his new found mission he’d been working on. Ethan stood guard below, shifting back and forth to catch his son in case he lost his balance trying to maneuver the first main branch.

Meanwhile, Beks was picking flowers one by one and holding them in her fist. Indy watched as she carried her mini bouquet over to Grayson and held it out proudly. They watched as she stuck her tongue out in concentration while she tucked one behind her dad’s ear.

“Yeah… so whenever you need us to take him, just send him over,” Indy repeated with a laugh that Eden quickly joined in on, holding her bump with her hands. 

“Go get settled, if Beks gets ancy we can load her up with us.”

“She should be fine, we hate unpacking night of anyways. We’ll see you in a little while.”

She was halfway across the lawn before Eden called after her.

“Oh! Before I forget, I had some extra stuff lying around that definitely won’t fit for a while, or ever, after this one -” she pointed to her stomach. “I left them and some other stuff for you in your closet. Anything you don’t want just bring it back and I’ll throw it in the donation pile.”

Indy threw her a thumbs up and rounded up Beks, headed back to their house. She could breathe easier as soon as she was inside the familiar walls. Their house was modern, but every space was warmed by something personal, most of which was made by Grayson. With the transition away from social media and into behind the scenes production, he had more time to build and perfect his craft. Family touches were everywhere as well, from the picture frame on the coffee table from last christmas to the booster seat in the kitchen table chair where they all sat to eat dinner every night. Indy’s work badge was still on the counter, with the nemo sticker that covered her last name so no one could look her up and realize just who she was married to. But below it you could still read the name of the pediatric hospital she called home.

All those thoughts were fleeting though, considering Beks was on a mission to get to the beach. 

“I’ll get her ready if you pack the beach bag?” Grayson offered. Indy smiled and nodded, heading back into the bedroom to get changed herself. When she got to her closet, she found the pile of things from Eden - some of her tighter dresses, jean shorts, bikinis, a few bottles of perfume with a note scribbled, smell makes me sick now. Fml. Beside that was a box with a note; pregnancy tests, won’t be needing these anytime soon… hopefully lmao.  

Indy rolled her eyes and laughed to herself, putting everything away in its right spot and pulling out a nice bikini from the stack to throw on. She grabbed one of Grayson’s long sleeve shirts to put on over it before she headed back out. The bag was mostly prepped already with the essentials - the beach was a common Dolan outing after all. All she had to add was towels and a sandwich for Beks in case she got hungry. 

Food was the last thing on Bekah’s mind it seemed when she came down the hall, already asking if it was time to go. Indy wasn’t one to brag, but her daughter had to be up there with the cutest babies of all time, especially in her custom 2T sized spread positivity hoodie over her bathing suit and tiny chaco sandals. Her hair was still in the tiny space buns that Indy had put them in earlier, only adding to the way she was making her melt. 

Indy loaded up the car while Grayson threw on a speedo and regular shorts to cover up with, not bothering with a shirt. Indy preferred it that way - she enjoyed the view, which she had plenty of time to admire from the passenger seat once they were on the road. Grayson held her hand, looking like a Raybans model in his sunglasses, tattoos on full display as he drove. Her favorite was still the forever scribbled out across his ribs, especially with the script right below it. Bekah Nicole. His daughter's name. 

It still amazed Indy how lucky she was, to have the life that she did, to have found the love that she had. It took her breath away at times, made her stomach feel like it was floating when she remembered that the man beside her was hers, forever. She turned around the check on Beks, who was telling a story that made no sense, although Grayson was acting like he understood every single word. Their perfect little girl. Even then, she would still tear up if she looked at her for too long. 

The secret beach, somehow, still seemed to be their little secret. There were a few couples, but it was mostly empty apart from the other Dolan family that had beat them there. Grayson followed close behind Bekah as she ran through the sand towards Miles. 

“Now remember, you have to flip them over and if you even think there might be a hermit grab in there, you put it back because that's his home,” Ethan was informing his son when they reached the group. Eden was already lounged out in a chair, feet buried in the sand and hand absentmindedly rubbing over her bump. She peeked an eye open when she heard Indy start setting up beside her, looking to check on her son before she relaxed back down. 

“Momma? You take me in the waves? Pleaseeeee,” Bekah asked before Indy could sit. 

“Sure babe,” she smiled, pulling her shirt off quickly before scooping up her daughter and heading towards the water. Grayson wasn’t far behind them, ever the protector, wanting to be close by in case they needed anything. 

The water was chilly against Indy’s toes when she got into the break, and she bent down to let Beks stand in the frothy tide. As soon as the water got her feet she squealed, spinning around and reaching up.

“S’cold momma!” 

Indy laughed and picked her back up, unsurprised to see Miles and Ethan headed down the beach towards them, undoubtedly with the same idea. She was glad Eden was getting some much needed rest time, so she grinned and bared the cold water on her stomach as she got deeper in, jumping dramatically as the waves came through just to get a giggle out of her daughter. Grayson joined in on the fun, taking his turn to toss Beks up into the air and catch her with a splash and kisses all over her cheeks. They kept playing until the dad’s arms were sore, seeing that Miles wanted in on the fun, and the sun was beginning to set. Beks was cold by the time they made it back to the chairs, and Grayson immediately wrapped her up in a towel and snuggled her up against him, resting his cheek on the top of her head as she curled into his chest. 

Indy put her own towel over her shoulders, and the warmth of it was almost enough to have her lulling off to sleep. She fought it off, catching up with Ethan while Eden got Miles ready to go. The kids were wiped, and with a day of travel under her belt Beks was asleep on her dad’s shoulder before they even made it to the tesla.

“Watch this,” he whispered, showing off his skills of placing her in her seat without waking her up. It was impressive, truly, but even more so was the fact that he drove carefully enough through all the traffic on the way that she was still dreaming peacefully when they got home. 

“We have to wake her up to get her changed,” he pouted, not wanting to disturb her after the day she’d had. 

“I got it. You start on dinner, I’m fucking starving.” 

“Deal,” he grinned, leaning across the console to kiss her quickly before getting out. Indy exited the passenger side, opening up Beks door and talking to her quietly until her eyes opened, blinking wide and confused.

“You’re okay babe, we’re home.”

Indy soaked up the cuddles from her groggy daughter on the way into the house. She didn’t bother with anything else - they’d do a bath first thing in the morning. Instead, she moved to the ocean nursery, changing Beks quickly into a fresh diaper and pj’s before laying her down in her bed underneath the jellyfish Eden had helped design for the wall. She kissed her forehead and rubbed her back until she lulled back down, exhausted from the excitement of the day. 

Indy felt salty, her skin tight from the water, but she didn’t have the energy to shower. Instead, she headed into her room and grabbed another one of Grayson’s shirts along with some running shorts, taking them into the bathroom with her to get changed. 

The cabinet was still slightly open, and she reached down to close it when she saw it. A box of tampons - unopened. It took a minute for her to do the math, and she wasn’t 100% on if she was late or not, but that familiar knot tied in her stomach when she was unsure. Quietly, she locked the door and rummaged around for the pregnancy tests she’d just hidden away.

In the kitchen, Grayson was humming to himself as he strained the noodles for the mac and cheese - two boxes in fact, considering how hungry Indy said she was. The fridge was low considering they’d just gotten back, but he managed to scrounge up some fresh-enough fruit to cut up and put on a plate on the counter. 

Indy came back into the kitchen so quietly that he barely noticed as he was stirring in the vegan cheese.

“Jeez Dee, you scared me,” he teased, pulling her in for a hug. “How yah feeling?”

“Exhausted,” she mumbled, relaxing in his hold and melting into his chest. He loved when she did that, let him hold her after a long day. He didn’t pull away until she did, the smell of mac and cheese luring her away. 

Grayson took her hips with his hands and helped boost her up onto the counter, passing her the bowl he’d made for her. They ate quickly and quietly, the idea of curling up in bed more and more appealing as the carbs started to settle into their systems. When they’d cleared their bowls Indy moved to the sink, only for Grayson to shake his head.

“I got it. Go get in bed, you had a hell of a day.”

She sighed, kissing his bare shoulder once before getting up on her tiptoes to ask for a real one. He obliged her, bending down to catch her lips with his. “Love you,” she murmured, running her fingers over his back as she walked towards their room. She peaked in on Beks to make sure she was still out before she headed back to the bedroom, pulling out the test that she’d tucked away in her waistband. 

She blinked three times, hard.

Two lines. Two very dark lines. 

“Holy shit.” 

Emotions raced through her so fast she couldn’t catch a single one to give it a name. She barely had it together enough to hide it behind her back when Grayson walked in a few minutes later seemingly unfazed.

“I’m gonna shower real quick, you wanna join?” He offered, looking down into his dresser drawers for a pair of boxers.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I’ll join but can you do me a favor really quick?”

“Hmm,” he asked, turning towards her.

She held out the test in her shaky hand.

“Can you add this to the shelf?”

The shelf itself was on the wall beside him. All the old pictures had made their way over to the new house with some new additions, including the positive test that had told them they were having Beks, her ultrasound, her first birthday party. 

It took Grayson a moment to process, and then his hands were shaking too as he took the small stick and looked at it through his blurry eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“We’re having another baby.”

“Yep.”

“Another Beks.”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yep.”

“Holy fuck!” The excitement finally broke through the shock, and before she could move Grayson’s arms were around his wife, spinning her around as he buried his face in her neck.

“You’re pregnant. We’re having another baby.”

“It doesn’t feel real yet. I just took the test before dinner.” Indy’s eyes were watery, her hand automatically going over her stomach.

“It will. It’ll fly by, just like with Beks. Holy fuck, I’m so excited. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” she whispered, pulling him to her again for another hug.

“Not possible,” he said, shaking his head and kissing her shoulder. 

“Well, I love you forever then. I love our family, forever.”

Grayson couldn’t find the words. Instead, he just kissed her, forever grateful for every moment that had led him to right there, his whole world and future under one roof - everything he’d dreamed of within his hands.

[pipes-loves-writing]

second fic I’ve posted! I’m so sorry for being so inactive… with no new content I’m feeling very unmotivated. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and support me! I’m here if you ever need to talk. I love you all! :)

There is absolutely no problem with Seb and Carlos working together.

Nope.

No problem at all.

Oh, except for the fact that Seb has been in love with Carlos since before he even met him.

But that’s not important.

Not at all.

He didn’t mean to fall in love with Carlos, truly he didn’t. But, honestly, how couldn’t you?

Mr. Cilli clapped his hands together rhythmically. “Alright everyone, today we’ll be ending our civil war unit. We’re going to be doing a project, it being the end of the year and all. You will work with a partner to create a fake episode of a tv show based around the idea of the civil war. Any questions?”

`Natalie Bagley shot her hand into the air. “Will we get to pick our partners?”

“Unfortunately not. You’ll work with whoever is sitting next to you.”

Seb turned his head to the side and realized that no one was sitting next to him. How had he not noticed that earlier?

Carlos Rodriguez came running through the history door and dropped a few pieces of paper and pencils.

Every other group had started working on the project already. No one even noticed that Carlos was here.

Well, almost no one.

“Mr. Rodriguez, that’s the third time this week. Next time I have to write you a detention slip.”

“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”

Seb’s legs started moving before his mind did, and before he noticed, he had gotten up to help Carlos.

“Here. You dropped a few things.” Seb handed Carlos a pencil from the ground.

“Thank you,” Carlos paused for a second before saying, “Pencils, you know? They’re slippery.”

Seb smiled at Carlos. “Yeah, I guess.”

Carlos quickly nodded and went to sit down in the chair next to Seb’s.

Mr. Cilli scribbled something down in his notebook and said, “Carlos, I assume that means you and Seb are working together.”

Seb’s eyes widened. Carlos? Working with him? He had to stop himself from smiling too wide.

“I mean,” Carlos started, “is that okay? With you I mean?”

Seb allowed himself to smile. “Yeah that’d be great.”

Carlos took a notebook out of his backpack and set it in front of him. “I’m Carlos. By the way.”

Seb smiled a little wider. “Oh I know. I’m Seb!”

“You.. know?” Seb couldn’t entirely read Carlos’s expression.

Seb widened his eyes. “I meant,” he searched his mind for an excuse, “I know your name. Like the name Carlos. It’s a- it’s a pretty name.” Well played. That didn’t sound too creepy. Probably.

Carlos looked almost flattered? Seb still couldn’t entirely understand. He could definitely understand the blush running to his face right now though.

“Thank you.” Carlos hesitated for a moment. “You have a pretty name too.”

Seb finally broke free from eye contact. Wow. Carlos had really pretty eyes. They were almost… distracting?

“But also,” Seb started, “I’ve seen you on the color guard. You’re really good!”

Carlos didn’t answer for a moment. “You really think so?”

Seb was surprised that Carlos would doubt his talent even for a second. “I know so. My older sister was the captain of the color guard before you, and she’s very impressed with their new leader.”

Carlos furrowed his eyebrows. Then he lightly gasped. “Your sister is Georgie Matthew-Smith?”

Seb thought Carlos looked like a lost puppy when he looked confused. It was so cute, that he almost forgot to answer the question. “The one and only! I’m not as talented in the dance department though.”

Carlos laughed, “Maybe you’ve just never had the right teacher.”

Seb just hummed in response. “So what are we thinking for this tv episode project?”

“Hmm.” Carlos thought for a moment. Then he gasped, “We should do something similar to a Glee episode! Like maybe they have to do a week where they have to sing songs that talk about the civil war? Or something similar to that?” He looked over at Seb, who was looking at him in a way he couldn’t exactly place. Carlos blushed and looked away. “Sorry. I was just being a gleek. Please ignore the last 30 seconds of your life.”

“I love glee. It’s my favorite show.”

Carlos smiled wider.

“That’s a great idea, Carlos. Let’s do it.”

..

The next day, Seb walked into the classroom with a smile on his face. He had spent his entire class time with Carlos yesterday, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Sure, they were both a little awkward, but Seb found it almost endearing.

Carlos ran into the classroom again and put his papers on the desk next to Seb. The bell rang and Carlos texted something to someone. Seb got a glimpse of his wallpaper before he closed his phone.

“Hey. I like your wallpaper on your phone!”

Carlos looked at him. “You like Broadway?”

Seb scoffed, “Are you kidding? Who doesn’t?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised to know how many people did ‘Brigadoon’ and didn’t actually care for theatre.”

Seb pretended to look surprised, “You were in ‘Brigadoon’?” Of course he knew that Carlos was in this year’s spring show. He had been dying for a chance to have just one scene with him so they could talk.

“Yeah! I was ensemble.”

Seb smiled and said, “I was ensemble too! And I totally agree. If you don’t like theatre, why do the shows?”

Carlos smiled. “I didn’t even want to be in the show either. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love performing. But,” he trailed off for a second. “I actually wanted to be choreographer.” Carlos squeezed his eyes shut, fully prepared for Seb to start laughing.

“And they didn’t let you be one? That’s awful. You’re the best dancer in this school. In this city even! Anyone would be crazy not to make you a choreographer.”

Carlos looked at Seb for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

“Okay everyone! You did some brainstorming yesterday. Today you’ll start the slideshow for the project. Then tomorrow we’ll present to the class.”

Carlos finally broke eye contact with Seb and looked down at his paper.

“So? What about you?” Carlos asked subtly.

Seb raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Do you have a dream role?”

Seb hesitated. “Don’t laugh.”

“Seb. I’m not going to laugh at you.”

Seb looked up at Carlos. “Sharpay,” he says quietly.

“Sharpay? Like from High School Musical?”

Seb couldn’t look at Carlos. He was too scared to see his reaction. Would he change his mind and laugh at Seb?

“Wow. You’d be great as Sharpay!”

Seb listened for sarcasm, but he didn’t seem to hear any. He looked at Carlos.

Seb didn’t really know what to say, so he just blushed and hoped Carlos didn’t notice.

Carlos was too busy blushing to notice the other boy’s red face.

…

Today was the big presentation day. Seb was a little nervous, but he was a performer! He could do anything.

Mostly anything that is.

“Okay,” Mr. Cilli announced, “Today is presentation day! I’ll give you guys 10 minutes to review, and then we’ll start with Natalie and Kaden, Ashlyn and Steph, Seb and Carlos,” the teacher went on and on about the order of groups presenting, but Seb had been distracted. Carlos still wasn’t in class. He wouldn’t ditch on the day of presenting.

Right?

Seb took out his phone and texted Carlos.

‘Hey is everything okay?’ He sent the message and waited for a response. He checked his phone after two minutes. No response.

Seb shot up his hand and asked to go to the bathroom.

He ran out the door and speed-walked down the hall.

When he threw open the bathroom door, he saw Carlos pacing back and forth across the small space. He looked so panicked, it made Seb kind of want to cry.

Carlos heard Seb open the door and looked over at him. Seb’s eyes were filled with so much worry and another emotion Carlos couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Carlos stopped against the wall and slid down to sit. He could feel his breathing getting faster, and he tried to slow it down.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Seb said in a hushed voice. He walked over next to him. “What’s wrong ‘Los? Why are you pacing?”

Carlos threw his head back. He was so scared that he didn’t comment on the cute nickname. “I’m scared, Seb. The last thing I read in front of people was a report in February. And it was a group project with four people. I barely had to talk.”

Carlos’s hands were fidgeting so much that Seb reached over and grabbed both of them with his own.

Carlos was so nervous that he barely noticed.

Okay, that was a complete lie.

Seb’s hands holding Carlos’s and his pretty blue eyes made Carlos forget all his worries. Seb’s hands were warm and soft. You would think they’d be rough from all the farm work, but they weren’t for some reason. Carlos would have to ask him about them one day.

“That’s not true Carlos. You memorized all the songs in Brigadoon in under a week. You were the first one in the cast who was off book.” Seb thought for a moment. “Just imagine it being a performance. You’re really good at those.”

Carlos looks at Seb. But this time, he really looks at him.

Seb has a bit of acne. His eyes are a little darker blue than he’d noticed before. His hands are a little sweaty. And his hair is messed up a little.

And honestly?

Carlos thinks he’s so beautiful.

Before either of them notice, about 15 seconds has passed.

Carlos is about to say something, but Seb speaks up instead.

“We should probably get back to class. Our project isn’t going to present itself.”

When they get back in the classroom, they’ve been gone about 6 minutes. Mr. Cilli has always been lenient towards his students, so they only get a warning.

When it’s their turn to present, Carlos can’t stop looking at Seb. All he can think about is what he said earlier. And also, just him in general.

Seb isn’t looking at Carlos. He’s too worried that he’ll get lost in Carlos’s eyes, so he just avoids eye contact. Which pains him a little bit, but it’s alright.

In the end, their presentation gets a B.

They get points off for being distracted during the presentation.

And they’re both more than okay with that.

-pipes 🤍

[ladyalienist]

Health, size, and honestly fuck everything.

I wouldn't want to write this post, but here we are. I mean, this is the most anonymous I can get.

In January 2020, before this whole Covid mess started, my head started spinning at random.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but I could do stuff while slightly uncomfortable. I'm used to doing stuff while in pain.

In March 2020 I received an endometriosis diagnosis - after thirteen years of pain and bathroom gore one week a month, five different oestrogen pills that worsened the situation (to this day, I haven't spent ONE DAY in my adult life without taking some hormonal pill) and TWO YEARS OF ME SAYING "I have endometriosis, I have every symptom, PLEASE HELP ME!".

Finally I had a therapy that made me feel better - no more The Shining blood-in-the-corridor scene! No more pain! Just follow religiously the regimen of progesterone and supplements for the side effects and you'll be fine! Still fatigued as fuck, still suffering from dyspareunia, but who cares.

My head kept on spinning at random. I didn't bother.

I don't go to the doctor unless it's extremely necessary. It's not a matter of money - my country has free healthcare, thank you very very much - it's about how I was treated. Not listened to, my problems overlooked, diagnosed at best with "fat" and at worse with "maybe it's all in your head, sweetie", the very few time I was in for somethig that couldn't possibly be reduced to "fat" the exams were invasive and painful and included screaming at me for flinching. And then a "lose weight, anyway".

I won't go on and on with rambling about my misfortunes with doctors, but anyway, in late June my head spins a lot and it's not just being slightly uncomfortable, it's "I'm risking to fall and hit my head every morning when I get up and I can't do shit". I go to my doctor this morning.

This woman who had me as a patient for about a decade makes her visit and assumption - not that important, it's not the point - prescribes me more in-depth exams and one medicine that should help, and then proceeds to tell me "you must really be sick to come, you're not the type who ever goes to the doctor". Yeah ma'am, maybe if you had listened to me when I came the first two times I'd trust you better. Then she sends me to a very kind nurse who needs some information to make a new file about me. Including height and weight.

Based on BMI I am obese. And I am fat. Like, I'm a really big and intimidating sturdy woman. But I have unbreakable bones and a strong build and even when I'm not doing any sports I can still lift most of my friends up and spend a whole day marching. I am undeniably fat and I'd need to lose weight, but I'm far from being the kind of obese most people imagine when saying the word. Like, many people including males in seeing me genuinely don't think I'm in any way medically problematic.

BMI is shit. It's shit on so many levels. Everyone knows that. Yet the nurse kinda frowns, she didn't expect those numbers.

I go out from the doctor. It's a nice, sunny day.

I am thinking about killing myself once again.

I think about all of the desperate work I put into learning how to take pleasure from food and still eating healthy - once a week I have pizza. Once a week I might have a sandwich with a bit of mayo or a sushi lunch. No soda of any kind. Some biscuits at breakfast because in my culture breakfast is carby and sweet - but my breakfast is overall not that big deal. I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I try to be intuitive and follow the needs of my body. I take long walks whenever I can - if I can't it's because university is a fucking full time job nobody ever recognizes and I get TIRED.

I'm fat and no amount of salad can change that. My weight stayed the same for seven years after school no matter what and how much I ate. Science is telling us that size is 90% genetics and epigenetics and diet culture is killing people.

I tried to learn how to enjoy eating and how to do it in front of other people and how to share. But now I'm having thoughts about how much I need to lose and how to do - no more weekly pizza? No more sushi? Never again? A sad sad life of counting calories and going back into massacring my body in sports the way I did when I was a teenager? Or maybe I could finally fit (haha) the criteria for bariatic surgery, so I can have exactly one slice of pizza per week and be satisfied with it for the rest of my life. Still a bit sad but fine, I guess. I wasn't meant for pleasure anyway.

I think about how people were grossed out by my body and mocked and ridiculed me and whoever looked like me. Thin was the price to pay for being free to exist, for being at least a girl/woman - not even a person, misoginy still counts, but a girl/woman. A fat girl, a fat woman, is less than that, she's scum.

I think about how the men (boys actually) I partnered with were delighted with the fact that they could hit me and be rough - I could take the pain and no serious damage was ever done. But fucking me and hitting me did not make me their girlfriend. Their reputation could be ruined, God forbid. The very first male friend who didn't actually bother about being seen in public spaces with me... well I met him at 20, exactly 20, it was my birthday.

I think about the repulsion I feel in the morning when I shower and I see and feel my naked body.

Yesterday a friend of mine, a friend of mine who says I'm beautiful, who calls me "hottie" on a regular basis, and I were drinking a cocktail. She took a picture of me for Instagram and I was OK with it. Now I think about how people might see me and feel the same repulsion. I get them.

I think about a woman my age who just died in my country because of bariatic surgery. She went under and never woke up. She was just like me, big and sturdy but healthy, happy. She had a boyfriend and friends - one friend in common with me indeed - but the job market wanted her to be skinny. So she died.

I raise my gaze and see a man, his lower abdomen so bloated it hurts to watch, slowly walking to somewhere. I don't want to blame a guy who has done nothing but exist, but... has he ever thought about his body in the same terms I think of mine? Look at his slow slow walk... entirely different from my fast and nervous pace, the one that has my acquaintances and friends screaming "where the fuck are you running please wait for us short-legged people you valkyrie", fast and nervous not only because I have places to go but mostly because I have calories to burn. Does he know that fast walking makes you healthier? He doesn't seem to know. Health for him is a non concern.

I'd deserve a healthcare system that does something for me. What I have is ineffective measures for serious problems and a useless culture that would rather have me die in an unnecessary surgery than just reconsider it's priorities. Tell that woman that it was for her health. Please, go on her grave and tell her.

I get to a bar.

"Good morning, may I have a coffee cream, please?"

My head has not stopped spinning yet.

[onlyonekenobi]

this was a half-formed idea I’d imagined for them for years, but after reading a post from @good-things-do-happen-dean​ yesterday, I was inspired to actually write it out! just some good old fashioned post-canon domestic fluff, 1.9k - link to read on ao3

Dean’s fingers held lightly to the crystal vial around his neck.

It was almost cool to the touch, he thought, like just the idea of a breeze. He remembered when Cas had given it to him, only a few weeks after Dean had gotten him back from the Empty. The angel had turned to him one night, right smack in the middle of Tombstone, and said, “Dean, I need to tell you something.”

Words had rushed out of him then about wanting to be human (and was that okay with Dean or would it bother him, because “I don’t want it to change anything for you, but-”) and Dean had simply replied, “Cas, I- of course you can be human if you want to be human, that’s your call, all the way, but why in the hell would you want to do that?”

The depth of Cas’s eyes had seemed infinite then, in the dark, as he worked up to what he had really wanted to say all along.

“I won’t lose you again.”

Dean remembered how his whole body had seemed to melt in that moment as the sincerity of Cas’s words-- mostly simple reasoning, though with an undercurrent of self-imperative gravity-- washed over him.

“Okay,” was all he had said in response, and then Cas had twisted his knees underneath himself to lean forward across the little space between them. It wasn’t their first kiss, but from the way Dean’s heart had tripped over itself, it could have been. Even now, when he thought of how Cas’s hands had felt that night, so careful at the nape of his neck, it threatened to fall out of step again.

He hadn’t known at the time what Cas’s intentions for his grace were. Truthfully, he just hadn’t really thought to ask-- which seemed deeply misguided in retrospect, but at the time just felt respectful.

So, it had come as a shock when Cas returned home one afternoon a few days later (he had left in the morning with an implication-heavy “I’m going for a walk.”) and marched right up to Dean with his fist clenched tight and a sheepish smile on his face. He had looked different, somehow, Dean thought. Softer, maybe. Or like his eyes had gotten brighter, as if that were possible.

“I was wondering,” Cas had said, presenting his hand, “if you might want to wear this. You might hear it ringing a bit sometimes, but just think of it… think of it as me telling you I love you.”

-

Now, Dean worried a thumb over the vial while, in his other hand, he cradled a small band of stainless steel. It had seemed only fair, he thought, to give Cas something back. And while he didn’t have anything as deeply personal as his own actual given-up-to-be-with-you-for-as-long-as-we-both-shall-live angel grace, he did have a box of old, thrifted rings from when he had wanted to be Mick Jagger back in his early twenties.

So, he had rummaged it out from the drawer of his nightstand last week, carefully moving a newer photo of Sam and Mary out of the way, and tried each band on again for reference. He had then been very careful, over those next few days, to compare his fingers with Cas’s every chance he got. (Cas had discovered him once, as he stared with what must have been bizarre intensity at their clasped hands, but Dean thought he had successfully played that off as an “I’m just still so overwhelmed with this great new thing that is happening” moment.)

Eventually, after what was almost definitely a great deal of overthinking, Dean had decided that this ring was his best bet. It was mostly unadorned, but care had been taken to crimp slightly raised edges running along each side. Looking at it had always reminded Dean of a road.

A road, he thought now, that would always lead home.

-

He heard a door close in the distance and knew Cas must be getting home from his new routine of sunrise walks. Dean’s heart accelerated wildly at the sound, and he took a steadying breath, laughing at himself. It’s not like Cas would turn the ring down, he reassured himself. Sure, he was still maybe a little embarrassed at the inequality of his offering, but he knew that Cas would recognize the meaning behind it. And anyway, if the grace was from Cas’s past life, the ring was from Dean’s just the same. They could give each other these pieces of their old selves for safe keeping while they made their new selves together. And in that way, at least, it would be a fair trade.

He held his breath to listen, and he was just able to make out the sound-- so much closer than the approaching footsteps, but magnitudes softer-- from the pendant hanging at his chest.

I love you, I love you, I love you, it rang softly.

Dean let out his breath.

When he looked up, Cas was standing in the doorway, tufts of dark hair sticking out wildly from under the new beanie Sam had given him. The lobes of his ears and tip of his nose were just slightly pink, and he wore a smile that radiated up through his crystal-bright eyes. Mornings always suited Cas.

Dean couldn’t help but let up a smile of his own at the sight of it all, but then he remembered the ring in his hand and practically jumped from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed.

Cas’s eyebrows drew up in shock, but the smile stayed in place. Great start, Dean thought to himself. You probably just looked like an idiot. He tried not to let the creeping embarrassment slow his momentum, but Cas had already stepped toward him, his smile now replete with one of those quizzical head tilts Dean loved so much.

“Is everything okay, Dean? You seem… startled.”

When Dean opened his mouth to speak, he found that only a very small choking sound came out. Get it together, man! he screamed at himself, but Cas was laughing again. The former angel stepped lightly toward him until their chests were just barely not touching and his eyes were locked up on Dean’s. How anyone could look at him with such wonder-- such open adoration-- Dean might never understand.

“All well?” Cas asked gently, and he meant it, no teasing. He was always so earnest in his wanting to know every detail about Dean, and the softness in his voice was relaxing enough that Dean could breathe out a “Yeah,” and mean it back. He tried to maintain his hold on his words.

“It’s just, uh,” he stammered on, “I have something for you, and I’m not real good at this part of things, so I just, um…” His mind was going blank again, despite having rehearsed this roughly a dozen times while Cas had been out walking.

“Here, sit down,” he ventured next, and Cas graciously allowed himself to be turned around and nudged gently into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His face was expectant, but he was practically leaking patience into the air. He was always being so goddamn multifaceted that way; Dean remembered being intrigued, actually, to realize that this nuance wasn’t an angel thing, but rather… just an endearing Cas thing. With that thought back in his mind, a fresh wave of resolve settled over Dean’s heart.

“This is for you,” he gushed, thrusting his hand toward Cas to reveal the ring sitting on his now open palm.

Cas’s mouth partled slightly in surprise, but he didn’t otherwise move or speak. He just stared at the ring, frozen. Dean felt a heat creep over the back of his neck. Had he misjudged this?

But no sooner had he let the doubt cross his mind than Cas had sprung back up and swiped the ring from his hand in an astonishing blur of motion. And then he was kissing Dean, still-cold fingers a relief against his flushed skin.

Dean’s hand had been clenched shut so tight for so long, it felt good to let it rest open against the small of Cas’s back. Well, it would have felt good no matter what, but it felt extra good now, like this.

After several moments, Cas finally drew back. There was an expression of heartbreaking tenderness on his face.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

“I know it’s not much-” Dean started, but Cas cut him off, already fiddling to see which finger it would fit on.

“It’s perfect.”

Dean caught Cas’s eye then, and Cas leaned up to brush another soft kiss across his lips.

“It’s from when you were young,” he said fondly, no hint of a question.

Dean was taken aback. “How do you know that?”

“Well,” Cas answered, all tilted smiles once more, “I didn’t. I inferred.” The ring, Dean’s heart swelled to see, was now placed snugly on the middle finger of Cas’s left hand. He kind of liked that it wasn’t quite the “traditional” placement. It added another layer of balance to the symbols; this was for them, and no one else.

“But you told me about your rings once, do you remember?” Cas went on eagerly. “We were driving back from Sun Valley, and, er, ‘Gimme Shelter’? ….came on the radio, and you told me about how you used to sneak away from your father to go look for them at second-hand stores. You said that in the end you had more than enough for one per finger, because you wanted ‘options.’”

Always, always the details.

“I do hope you paid for this, once, though,” he added, a note of cheek in the afterthought.

Hands raised in mock defense, Dean asserted, “Course I did.” (It was anyone’s guess.)

“But anyway,” he went on, the hint of a tease in his voice, “I guess I don’t really need options anymore.”

Cas smiled lightly again, and Dean felt him twine their fingers together. He instantly loved the new sensation of the ring pushing into his hand.

(Sometimes, when Cas held him, he was afraid it was a dream. Or a trick of the light, like if he blinked wrong, Cas would disappear. Dean knew he wasn’t alone in that, though. They had been through so much, it was really no surprise that they now took turns waking up in cold sweats, clutching for each other, murmuring, “I’m here, I’m here,” until they could fall back asleep.)

So, as the metal bit gently into his finger, he relished the bracing feeling.

It’s real, it said.

Dean mused that he might have to get them matching rings after all, just so Cas could have that feeling, too, if he wanted it.

“I guess not,” Cas answered playfully, and his voice was so full of love, Dean knew he could never have dreamt it. He turned to rest his forehead against Castiel’s and felt his hand get squeezed gently in return.

He would savor this moment. Let it anchor him, overwhelm him, do anything it wanted to him.

He tried to breathe steadily, listening for the soft ringing emanating from the vial around his neck.

I love you, it said.

He shifted his focus down to his hand, where he could feel Cas’s fingers wrapped in his, the edge of the ring pressing into his skin.

It’s real.

[mythopoeticreality]

Dark

((written as part of this challenge))

I don't know how long we'd been walking when we found the place. All of the day before and a good portion of that day as well. Ibarra  was against the entire thing from the start. “Were your brains knocked free when you fell off the side of the ship, Velasco? What do you think we'll find if we move further inland besides more English?” He'd said. He wasn't wrong of course, and a moment passed where all was silent. Zabala and I exchanged a look, and all three of us cast a glance towards the shattered shell of La Isabela looming over the shore. Her hull was torn half-off and she'd burried herself  halfway in the sand. I thank God every day that I was allowed to survive that wreck, and I did so at that very moment as well. My lips thinned into a line, a long breath pressing through my nose as I looked at her, reaching up and tangleing my fingers back through my hair.

Driftwood sparked, cracking and snapping in the flames. “We can't stay here.” Zabala was the one who finally spoke. He bowed his head down, warming his fingers by the fire. It's light carved dark hollows where his eyes shold have been.  “There is no repairing her. We either move on, or starve and freeze to death here.”

No one said anything more, but by the next morning we'd mixed the ashes with sand and were gone.

It isn't the cold that sticks most in my memory of that day (though the earth was crusted with frost and my feet were moving with all the weight of two blocks of ice), nor is it the difficulty of the road (if a road it could be called. A series of broken dirt paths across the rocks and scrub, the hills and heather fields of the English countryside. Better that then to encounter anyone. We dare not go near any village.) It was something else. I...I am not sure how to explain it. A weight in the air? A prickling on the back of my neck? An...awareness that something was there. Watching us. Waiting. Like a wolf watching a shepherd and his sheep.

There were ravens circling overhead. Even as it grew darker I could see them, their caws echoed over the endless moors.  

“I don't like this...” I murmured, managing to tear my eyes from them, and turn back to my companions once more. “Don't you feel it? Like there is some out there? Zabala? Ibarra?”

Ibarra snorted. “You sound like an old grandmother.”

“All I feel,” Zabala said, “is the frost biting through to my bones.”  He glanced around, “Is there nowhere we can stop for the night?”

We all began looking then, and I am the one who saw it. In the distance, atop a hill, a shadow like a cracked box stood. “Over there!” I pointed, and all of our paces picked up as we began moving towards it, renvigorated by the prospect of rest.

It was a barn, long since abandoned. Crumbling stone and a dust covered floor were what we found. The earth outside was barren of all save for a thick coating of hoarfrost. As the moon rose it all gleamed silver. There was something about the building – small and dark as it was, empty and abandoned – that made us slow in our pace. We stood outside for a moment, hesitating and glancing at one another. Zabala was the first to walk inside.

It would have been pitch black, were it not for the light that crept in though the narrow openings high on the walls all throught the room. Zabala slipped off, saying something about gathering kindling for a fire and calling first watch. Weary from the road, both Ibarra and I could only manage a short grunt,  dropping to the floor. We sat in silence, glancing up only as Zabala stepped into the barn again, and set about getting a fire going. It was not long, as I watched this, before I fell asleep.  

I dreamed that night of a man I had never seen before. Tall with sharp, handsome features, pale with dark hair, if the band of silver he wore on his head did not speak to his place as a King, his bearing surely did. He stood, silently, no word spoken, no action made. And he watched me. Despite myself, I edged bakwards, and my eyes darted towards the ground, unable to keep his gaze. Again that same feeling I'd gotten that morning rose up, prickling at the back of my neck. Like a wolf watching his prey...

I groped at the empty air, bolting upright, my eyes snapping open as my heart pounded in my chest. The air tasted of snow and ice and the wind was a keening whistle in my ear. The light was faint and at first I struggled to remember where I was, even if I was indoors or out. As my eyes adjusted to the grey light spilling into the room I began, slowly, to remember. I forced my breaths to slow. Behind me I heard snoring. I stopped, twisting around to find Zabala nearly half folded over on himself and fallen asleep. With a long sigh I shook my head, and turned around once more.

That was when I saw him.

The coming dawn outlined a raised spot on the floor, like a large step made of stone. As the light grew I saw more and more of it: A black throne, upon which he sat. Unmoving, unblinking. From his long black hair to the robe he was wrapped in, he was the very same man from my dream. My heart stopped still, my breath catching in my throat.

“Ibarra! Zabala!” I spun around, shaking the other two awake. While Ibarra swiped a hand at and pushed me off, I only pointed back to the other end of the room. The two others froze still. They glanced between the man and me.

“Who is he?” Ibarra asked, his voice a low undertone.

“Why is he there?” Zabala, this time, “Where did he –”

“I don't know! Only I – ” I cut myself off, unable to bring myself to say it. I saw him in my dreams? And what would they make of me then?

Our eyes all traced back to the man. If he were carven of stone he could not have been more still. And his eyes never left us. There seemed almost a warning there, and again that idea, of the wolf and the sheep came to my mind. Only, it occered to me now that we were the intruders, we were the ones who did not belong here. We were the wolves, and this...this was the shepherd come to make us flee.

“Zabala! Ibarra!” I hissed, not taking my eyes from the man, “We need to leave. Now.”

Without another word, the three of us were on our feet again, stumbling out the door and onto the moors.

I am the only one who survives now. Zabala died within that very week from cold and a sick heart. Ibarra still longed for home and what became of him I can't say. I remained here however, in Cumbria, finding work as a servant to a family of farmers and marrying my Lizzy, who worked on a farm nearby. I learned later who the man on that black throne was. John Uskglass, they said, The Raven King, the ruler of Northern England, and it made sense to me. A King, after all, does not generally tend to appreciate those who  threaten his own Kingdom.

I never found that barn again – I am not sure that I truly wish to, if I am being honest – but I know out there in the Dark, there is always the possibility that I will again meet the King. In every dark place I enter, I find myself repeating the words that I have been taught since coming here: “I greet thee, Lord, and bid thee welcome to my heart.” I am no threat, no wolf that needs to be slain, and I wish him to know that.

[artificialqueens]

Rollerskating Into My Life (Symone x Gigi) - Strawberry

Summary:

“You’re really pretty, too. But I don’t really know how to skate. Balancing is so hard!”

“Let me get a soda and then afterwards I can help you out?” The curly haired girl offered, and Gigi grinned.

Or, Gigi is at Jaida's birthday party and doesn't know anyone else there. Symone changes that.

A/N: Hi! I originally wrote this for the Rare Pair challenge earlier this year, but I never ended up submitting. I reread it yesterday and was like "Wait, I don't hate this!" so I decided that posting it months later was better than never!

Being at a roller rink with half of her grade was not where Gigi wanted to be.

It was her best friend Jaida’s birthday, and she wanted to go roller skating to celebrate. Being fairly popular, she ended up inviting half of their grade to the party, and Gigi, who was not popular in the slightest, knew absolutely no one well enough to want to talk to and she didn’t want to change that.

However, that meant Gigi would spend most of the night by herself as Jaida went around the rink, talking to everyone. Of course, she didn’t blame Jaida, it wouldn’t make sense to invite so many people and then only hang around the redhead. It also didn’t mean that it didn’t suck.

The two arrived together, meaning that Jaida was her ride back home where they would have a sleepover, just the two of them. Just that made showing up to the big party worth it in Gigi’s opinion, but the minutes were dragging on so slowly. She would’ve been out skating to make the time pass faster, but Gigi was incredibly clumsy and could only stay upright for a maximum of twelve seconds. Skating was not her thing.

Sitting at the bar, Gigi’s eyes wandered from watching Jaida and Nicky skate around, to Rock making a fool of herself in front of Jackie and Jan, to two girls that Gigi didn’t think went to their school.

One was a taller brunette and the other was a slightly shorter girl who had curly black hair. Both of the girls were stunning, but Gigi couldn’t take her eyes off of the shorter girl. She was the prettiest girl the ginger had seen in a long time, and she wished they had the confidence to get up and (slowly and carefully) make her way over to her.

Gigi watched as the brunette slipped and fell after attempting to dance to the Dua Lipa song that was playing and instead of helping her friend up, the pretty girl stood there and laughed.

Her smile was so beautiful.

“Whatcha looking at, G?” Jaida’s voice scared the shit out of her, Gigi placed her hand over their heart as she turned to face her best friend.

“Those girls don’t go to our school, I was trying to figure out if they did. But they don’t!”

“Mhm. You should go talk to the one you think is cute.” Jaida always saw right through Gigi.

“Oh, fuck off. You know I won’t.” She rolled her eyes. Gigi was never one to just go up and start conversations with complete strangers, especially ones that she thought were cute.

“Anything is possible! You actually showed up even though I know you would rather be in bed right now.” Jaida reminded her.

“Of course I would go to my best friend’s birthday party! I’m not a monster.”

“I know! It just really means a lot that you showed up. I know being with large groups of people isn’t your cup of tea.”

“Anything for you, but I think Nicky is waiting for you at the soda machine.”

After trying to convince Gigi to get up and say hi to Nicky, Jaida went off to go see her friend by herself. Gigi pulled out her phone, deciding to see if any of the celebrities she followed on Instagram had posted anything within the two hours they had at the roller rink.

“Hiii,” a voice she didn’t recognize said, and Gigi looked up to see that the pretty girl with curly black hair was right in front of her.

“Oh! Hi,” Gigi let out a nervous giggle. The ginger always laughed when she was nervous and absolutely hated it.

“I saw you looking at me earlier, and my friend just ditched me for a questionable boy, so I’d thought I’d come and say hi. I’m Symone.”

What a gorgeous name.

“I’m Gigi. And where are they? The boy probably goes to my school.”

Symone pointed to where her friend was currently trying to dance with a guy Gigi had history with. “Yuck. Your friend better not hit it off with him. He’s gross.”

“Noted. Is there a school event going on or something?” She asked, looking around at the rest of Gigi’s classmates.

“Oh, it’s my best friend’s birthday. She invited like, half of our grade,” the redhead rambled on while Symone nodded, “I think you and your friend are the only people here who aren’t from school.”

Gigi was never up to talking to strangers, but they wanted to keep talking to Symone. Everything about her was perfect and they were not going to fuck it up by being cold.

Symone made her way to the empty seat next to Gigi, “It feels so nice to sit down. I’ve been on my feet all night.”

“You should definitely rest up then.”

“I haven’t seen you on the rink all night though, I’m starting to think that you don’t know how to skate.”

“So you were watching me too?” Gigi questioned, grinning.

“Yeah. You’re pretty cute, Strawberry Shortcake.”

Gigi didn’t know why, but she liked being called that. It wasn’t new or creative in the slightest, but it gave them butterflies. “You’re really pretty, too. But I don’t really know how to skate. Balancing is so hard!”

“Let me get a soda and then afterwards I can help you out?” The curly haired girl offered, and Gigi grinned.

“Sounds amazing.”

____________

Gigi and Symone did a little more than grabbing a soda. They ended up getting pizza too, and spent a little too long sitting there and chatting.

They might have only met Symone an hour prior, but they really liked her. She was kind and funny and actually seemed very interested in getting to know the redhead a little bit more. The darker girl was an extremely slow eater, so they were there for quite a while, engaging in small talk. They both were interested in fashion and hated boys, it was extremely refreshing for Gigi to meet someone that appeared to be similar to her.

When Symone finally finished up her pizza, she got up and reached out to grab the ginger’s hand. Gigi gladly accepted it, and together they made their way to the edge of the rink.

“Okay, I’m gonna let go of your hand and you’re going to try to balance.” Symone explained, and Gigi hesitantly let the girl take her manicured hand away.

They did not stay up for long. After a few seconds, they had to grab the half wall that separated the rink and cafeteria in order to stay upright. “This is hard!” Gigi yelped, blushing when she saw the amused look on Symone’s face.

“You’re not standing right. You’re putting all of your weight on your heel which is why you can’t stand up for very long.”

Gigi tried balancing their whole foot, and Symone adjusted their body so the ginger was leaning slightly forward. “Try that now. You should have an easier time balancing.”

Symone was right. Gigi had completed the first step of learning how to skate, something they probably wouldn’t have been able to figure out on their own.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to skate.”

“Hold onto me, Strawberry Shortcake. I don’t trust you to not fall quite yet,” Symone giggled, holding her hand out and waited for Gigi to grab it.

They went slow at first, carefully watching Gigi as they went around the rink. Halfway around they passed Jaida who was now skating with Dahlia, and Jaida nearly fell over seeing that Gigi had actually talked to the girl she thought was cute.

After two laps, the redhead was fairly confident in her ability to skate around without holding onto Symone; not that she would tell her that. Gigi was enjoying holding Symone’s hand and she did not want to let go anytime soon.

If the dark haired girl felt the same, she was definitely prioritizing teaching her new acquaintance (what were they? Gigi had no clue.) how to roller skate.

By their fourth lap, Symone was starting to catch on, “I don’t think you need my help anymore. I think you just want to hold my hand.”

Being called out flustered Gigi, but they were proud of what they responded, “Am I wrong for not wanting to let go of a pretty girl’s hand?”

Her new love interest pondered for a moment, “I guess you might have a point.”

____________

They ended up spending the rest of the night side by side, skating around and dancing to music. Gigi was much better at roller skating than they were a few hours prior.

Eventually, Symone’s friend made a reappearance and the people who showed up for Jaida’s party slowly started to empty the rink. Gigi knew that it was time to part ways.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“Depends. Will you pretend to be bad at skating so you have an excuse to hold my hand again?” Symone teased, getting out her phone and opening up the contacts app, pressing ‘new contact’ before handing it to the redhead.

“I’m never living that down, am I?” Gigi giggled, typing in her name and number into the phone that was now in her hand.

She shrugged, “I’m not complaining about someone as cute as you holding my hand, but I also found it amusing.”

After saying their goodbyes to Symone and her friend Rosy, Gigi made their way over to Jaida who was sitting at the bar, typing away on her phone.

“Hey, stranger.”

Their best friend looked up, smiling at them. “You had a lot of fun tonight, huh?”

“I really did. I’m really glad I came.”

Gigi couldn’t wait to see them again.

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 16 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Super short transition chapter but a majorly important one. Here comes the fluff. It’s technically Saturday now which was when I had planned to post and I could use some serotonin so...guess that means you get it 12+ hours early. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,546

~~~~~~

5 days. It had been 5 days since you’d seen Cale at your Canada Day party. It was silly and stupid, but this was the longest you’d gone without seeing him since he came home in May and you were going crazy. 

Your parents had left yesterday, but with work you hadn’t gotten the chance to see him yet. Having spent your entire day in meetings with clients, now you were wrapping up a three hour open house and you were exhausted. Just as you were about to pack up, you heard the door open again and you sighed, ill wishes for whoever decided to wait until the very last moment to show up flooding through your mind. 

Pasting a professional but ingenuine smile on your face, you turned to greet whoever had come through the door. When your eyes landed on a familiar broad figure and a set of rosy cheeks you gasped, your true smile quickly taking over your face. 

“What are you doing here?” You reacted, heart pounding at the sight of Cale standing across the room from you. 

“Thought my girl could use a friendly face to end her night.” Cale hummed. “I have ice cream in the car...wanna take a drive?” 

“Could definitely use a friendly face.” You agreed. “Let me lock up.” 

It only took you a few minutes to finish up, grabbing your things before heading out, the door locked behind you. Cale’s car was parked in front of yours and after dropping your things in your backseat you locked that as well before moving to where he was standing, waiting for you. 

His hands fell to your hips as you pressed up to kiss him, air filling your lungs as you felt like you could breathe again for the first time in days. 

“Let’s go before this ice cream melts.” Cale murmured against your lips before finally pulling away. Knowing that you could safely leave your car here until later, you climbed into Cale’s passenger seat, smiling at the cooler on the floor. As he drove, Cale talked about his day until he eventually pulled into a local park. You’d come here many times as children and the views were more appreciated now than they had been then. Grabbing the cooler, you let Cale lift you onto the hood of the car before he hopped up beside you. 

Handing you a pint of your favorite ice cream, Cale pulled out a second pint for himself. Chocolate...shocking. Giggling to yourself, you uncapped your ice cream and grabbed a spoon from the cooler.

“What?” Cale asked, his expression making you giggle even more. 

“You’re so adventurous when it comes to ice cream flavors.” You stated sarcastically. “I bet I couldn’t even get you to try mine. You hate strawberry.” You knew it wasn’t typical but you’d loved strawberry ice cream ever since you were little. Cale on the other hand, insisted that he hated it. There was no way he’d even taste the strawberry banana shortcake ice cream he’d brought for you. 

So when Cale’s spoon swooped over and pulled a large spoonful from your container, your jaw nearly dropped in surprise. Intrigued, you just watched as him he ate the bite, trying to read his expression. After he swallowed he seemed to be pondering and you waited patiently for some reaction. 

“Okay...maybe I was wrong…” Cale admitted after a moment. “That’s actually pretty good.” A triumphant grin spread across your face and you leaned back a little, basking in your tiny win. 

“Is it now?” You teased, popping another spoonful into your own mouth. “I’m so telling your mom about this.” 

“No need to be a braggart.” Cale pouted. 

“What?! This is a momentous occasion. I have been trying to get you to do this for 20 years! And every time you said you hated strawberry!” Cale snuck another bite from your container, just shaking his head at you. 

“I just can’t believe it took girlfriend status to get you to give in.” You declared, stealing a bite from his as well. Though you absolutely didn’t need to be eating a pint of ice cream, especially when you hadn’t had dinner, you relaxed on the hood of Cale’s car stealing bites back and forth until both pints were gone. And when Cale kissed you again after tossing the trash in a can nearby, you could taste the combination of strawberries and chocolate on his tongue. 

“I really needed this.” You murmured, hands sliding down along his sides as he stood in front of you. 

“I know.” Cale replied. “I did too.” He added, pulling you closer, your thighs spreading around his body. For a few minutes, you sat with him between your thighs just enjoying being together. But eventually, he stepped back, offering a hand out to help you slide down from the hood. 

Once you were on your feet, Cale pulled you across the parking lot to the closest playground. There he guided you onto the swings before starting to push you. 

“I remember when this was the other way around.” You commented, peeking over your shoulder at him. “And the time you tried to push me because you felt bad you were the only one getting to swing and you landed promptly on your ass because you were not prepared for impact.” Cale’s groan told you he remembered as well and you giggled again. “It was cute. You’ve always just wanted to take care of me.” 

Cale didn’t respond, instead just continuing to push you higher and higher on the swing, wind blowing across your face. When you finally got tired of swinging, you let your feet drag along the ground until you had slowed enough to hop off. 

“Do you want a turn?” You questioned, certain you knew the answer but asking anyway. When Cale shook his head, you turned to head back to the car, leaning against the side as you waited for Cale to unlock it. 

“That hasn’t changed you know…” Cale whispered, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck as he stood just a few steps away from you. 

“What hasn’t?” You asked, shivering as you felt the shift from a playful energy to a more serious one. 

“Wanting to take care of you.” Your tongue swiped over your lips as a soft ‘oh’ spilled from your throat. “Lately I’ve kind of been thinking I wouldn’t mind taking care of you forever.” 

Forever was a big word and you worked hard to keep your breathing steady as Cale crowded you against the car. 

“I’m ready to say it if you are.” He murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I don’t fully know why we’ve been waiting...but I’m ready. We’re not in Iceland anymore. This is our normal world. This is real life. And the way I feel isn’t changing...at least not in the wrong direction. 

“Cale…” You gasped out, tears pricking at your eyes. You honestly weren’t sure how long you’d dreamed of this moment but it was somehow something you hadn’t expected but everything you had all at once. “I’m ready too.” 

“Good.” Cale breathed, his lips teasing over yours lightly. “I love you, Y/N. I really truly love you. Not as just my best friend, but as someone I kinda wanna spend the rest of my life with.” 

“I love you too. Like I’m head over heels in love with you. This is a million times better than I ever could have dreamed, being with you.” You responded, your tears not falling far before Cale’s fingers swiped them away. 

“Think we maybe should tell our parents now?” He chuckled, the look in his eyes that you’d seen before now making complete sense. 

“Soon.” You breathed. “Give me a couple days to process the fact that you love me.” 

“Of course.” Cale agreed. “There’s no rush. After all...we’ve got forever for them to learn don’t we.” 

“Because you love me.” You whispered giddily. “And I love you.” 

“Yeah sweetheart...I love you. You’re never going to get sick of those three words I don’t think…” He teased. 

“Not falling from your lips. Directed at me.” Kissing him again felt different. Steadier, easier, open. There was nothing to hide from now. No holding back. 

A honking horn was the sudden reminder that you were very much in a public place and you buried your head into Cale’s chest as he laughed. 

“Our timing just continues to be spot on doesn’t it?” Cale sighed. 

“Eh...we can work on that...if that’s all we need to improve I think we’re doing pretty good.” You shrugged. 

“We’re doing great.” Cale replied, kissing you one more time before opening the car door for you. 

Somehow with Cale, all the little moments were also the big moments. An ice cream date had led to your first ‘I love you’s’ just like a night in with takeout had led to your first kiss. It was a reminder to never take a single day for granted because they were all important, they all meant something. 

And now you had a forever filled with little moments to look forward to. All with the love of your life by your side.