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mononijikayu · 11 months ago

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polaroid love ─ nanami kento.

His beloved could not help but squeeze his hand gently, her eyes filled with unspoken affection for him. It was the feeling of being bathed in the sun, when she looked at him like that. It was the feeling of being able to enjoy the delicious flavors of newly baked bread, fresh from the oven. It was as though he had just drank a cup of good, warm coffee that woke him up to life. In that moment, Nanami Kento knew that he had indeed won at life with such a love, a love that felt like coming home after a long journey. She was home. His home.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i think i played polaroid love numerous times to finish this today!!! i like listening to the music that inspired the work to get down the vibe!!! in any case, i got to finish it well because of my semester break!!! i hope you enjoy it well!!! please always take care of yourselves!!! i love you!!! happy early valentines day!!!

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HE WONDERED IF IT WAS TOO LATE TO TURN BACK. But as he looked at her, smiling to herself with the giddiness that could only come from pure joy— he felt like he was going to combust from all the warmth he felt. Nanami Kento took the time to observe her excitement in detail. He could not help but marvel at the way her eyes lit up with pure delight, reflecting the sunshine that seemed to radiate from within her.

Her infectious happiness transformed the mundane into the extraordinary, turning the passing footsteps of strangers into a symphony of life. It was in these moments that he realized how he had become captivated by her spirit, a force that effortlessly pulled him into her world.

Her humming, a melodic backdrop to the scene outside, resonated in harmony with the rhythm of the city. Kento found himself enchanted by the simple act of her appreciating the beauty in the everyday, finding joy in the glimpses of life unfolding beyond the window. Her happiness, in turn, became a magnetic force that drew him closer, eroding any inclination he might have had to resist her wishes.

With each skip of his heart, Kento acknowledged the unique beauty she possessed in those rare moments of unbridled happiness. It was as if she had borrowed the sunlight from the streets of Copenhagen, infusing it into her being, and radiating it back to the world. She became the living embodiment of the city's warmth, casting a glow that transcended the physical space around her.

Kento recalled the countless times he had found himself unable to refuse her, recognizing that saying no to her was like denying himself the pleasure of witnessing her unparalleled joy. Whether it was exploring hidden gems in the city, trying new culinary delights, or embarking on unexpected adventures, he found himself willingly swept into the currents of her enthusiasm.

As she eagerly anticipated the meeting with his grandparents, Kento couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for having her in his life. Her patience in awaiting this moment, the eagerness in her eyes, and the genuine excitement etched on her face were testaments to the significance she placed on meeting the people who had shaped him.

As Nanami Kento continued to watch her immersed in the sunlight of Copenhagen, a sense of gratitude and realization enveloped him like a warm embrace. The radiant beams streaming through the window seemed to accentuate the vividness of her joy, as if the very essence of the city's sunshine had found a home within her. In that moment, Kento felt an unspoken acknowledgment resonate within him — he had discovered an irreplaceable treasure in her happiness, a treasure he was unwilling to part with.

The echoes of life outside the window, the rhythmic cadence of footsteps and distant laughter, served as a poetic backdrop to the profound connection he shared with her. It was as if the vibrant pulse of the city synchronized with the beats of their intertwined lives. Kento marveled at the beauty of this synchronicity, where the external world mirrored the harmony they found in each other.

In her presence, he found solace and rejuvenation, a stark contrast to the self-imposed isolation he had once chosen. Copenhagen's sunshine and her infectious joy had become potent antidotes to the shadows of his past, dispelling the remnants of solitude that lingered within him. It was a transformation he hadn't expected, a reawakening facilitated by her entrance into his life.

The acknowledgment that he wouldn't have it any other way echoed not just through the room but through the corridors of his heart. Her joy had become an integral part of his world, intertwining with the fabric of his existence in a way that felt both natural and extraordinary. He wanted to protect that joy, to safeguard it as if it were a delicate bloom that thrived under the nourishment of their shared experiences.

As he continued to observe her, a silent promise formed in the recesses of his thoughts — he would cherish this newfound connection, nurture it, and safeguard it from the storms that life might bring. The extraordinary beauty she brought into his life was a revelation he hadn't anticipated when he had distanced himself from the world and the people he once cared about.

In the warmth of Copenhagen's sunshine, amidst the echoes of life unfolding outside, Nanami Kento embraced the beauty of connection and rediscovered the capacity to welcome joy into his life. The journey with her, filled with laughter, sunlight, and shared moments, became a testament to the transformative power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

“You’re staring way too much, Kento–kun.” Her voice came out so teasingly, vibrant eyes bubbling at his own. He gulps silently, cheeks suddenly warm. “You see something you like?”

Nanami Kento felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a half-smile, a blend of intrigue and amusement. She was the sun itself like this, piercing through him with teasing light that beams through no matter what. Kento supposed he is but a man, a man who cannot deny his need for the sun. He would not be alive without it. He would not feel warmth without it. Just as he couldn’t be without her. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and her playful tone only heightened the allure of the moment.

"Well, you know, it's hard not to stare when you're lighting up the whole room with that smile," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath the playful banter. He let out a chuckle, one that only hears from someone too in love. “Can’t a man stare at his partner?”

She arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her gaze. "Oh, is that so? Then this partner should carry a warning then – may cause distraction with excessive smiling."

Kento chuckled again, feeling a newfound ease settle between them. "I don't think any warning would have prepared me for this."

Her laughter echoed through the room, a delightful melody that wrapped around them. The exchange, born out of a teasing remark, evolved into a shared moment of light-hearted banter.

She leaned in slightly, her eyes holding a subtle glint. "Well, Kento-kun, if you can't help but stare, maybe you should join me in enjoying the view."

He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Are you inviting me to admire myself?"

A playful smirk played on her lips. "Maybe, or maybe I just want some company in appreciating the beauty of life outside this window."

Kento chuckled, realizing that beneath the teasing exchange was a genuine invitation to share a moment together. "I suppose I can spare a few moments to appreciate the view."

As their banter unfolded, Kento found a soothing rhythm in the exchange of words. The ease that emanated from her presence seemed to permeate the room, casting a gentle calm over his usually composed demeanor. Being with her had that effect—like a comforting balm for his worries, an anchor in the unpredictable sea of life. Everything had seemed to be like calm waves in the drifting sea in the wonder of dawn. Nothing was hard with her. Everything had become so easy with her by his side. Her love was like that. Her love was everything that made life worth living.

Yet, in spite of the reassurance her company brought, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness lingered in Kento's thoughts. It was the first time his grandparents would meet his partner, a momentous occasion that stirred a mix of emotions within him. Maternal bonds ran deep in him, and Kento felt a special closeness to his grandparents, having shared a part of his life under their care. The summers, the holidays, and the everyday moments had woven a tapestry of memories that made the prospect of introducing his beloved to them both exciting and nerve-wracking.

His thoughts wandered to the times spent with them, the laughter echoing through the house, the comforting aroma of his grandmother's warm cooking, and the wise words imparted by his grandfather. The warmth of a smile and the touch against a scrap cut. Those memories were precious, and he couldn't help but wonder how his partner would fit into the wider narrative of a family that meant the world to him.

A deep sense of vulnerability crept abstrusely into Kento's heart as he tried to grapple with the uncertainty that came with this introduction to a new chapter of his life. He’s never brought a girl home before. He’s also never known how to conceptualize the idea of a lover into the broader workings of his universe. He kept going back and forth at what his grandparents' reaction could be.

‘What if they didn't like her?’

His lips quipped into a nervous line. The question lingered, carrying the weight of the unspoken fear that mirrored the hesitations he had faced with his parents about his love for her. It was swell that his mother and father loved her already, they knew her as his dear friend for a long time. But his grandparents hadn’t.

And it was a lot of pressure, because it mattered. It mattered that she was loved by everyone around him. She deserved to be loved. Because she was everything that made life a wonder. He needed the world to see that too. He needs them to see her as he does. To feel her be the sun that bathes the world in the wonder offered by sunlight’s warmth.

He stole a glance at her, her eyes filled with a comforting reassurance, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for her presence. The banter, the laughter, and the playful moments they shared became a source of strength, a reminder that he didn't have to face this moment alone.

"I hope they like you," Kento admitted, the vulnerability in his voice belying the composed exterior. "As much as they mean the world to me, you mean the world to me more than anything. I want them to see what I see in you. I want them to love you too.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "They'll see how we love each other, Kento. Don’t worry too much about it. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."

The words lingered in the air, settling like a gentle breeze that swept away the remnants of nervous anticipation. With her reassuring touch and the promise of acceptance, Kento felt a renewed sense of calm enveloping him. As they continued their journey towards his grandparents' home, the weight of uncertainty seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet confidence in the love they shared.

The streets of Copenhagen unfolded around them, a picturesque backdrop to the evolving narrative of their relationship. Kento found solace in the belief that the warmth of their connection would act as a bridge, spanning the gap between the familiarity of his grandparents and the new chapter they were embarking upon together.

In the quiet moments of the journey, he reflected on the beauty he saw in her—the laughter that echoed in the corners of their shared experiences, the kindness that radiated from her gestures, and the genuine joy that lit up her eyes. It was a beauty that went beyond the surface, a reflection of the love and understanding they had cultivated in their time together.

As the car rolled along the cobblestone streets, Kento couldn't shake the image of his grandparents' home in his mind—the cozy familiarity of the living room, the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals, and the memories etched into every corner. He hoped that, in introducing his partner to this cherished space, the love they shared would become as evident to his grandparents as it was to him.

With each passing moment, Kento found strength in the belief that genuine connections could withstand any uncertainties. Love, he realized, had a unique way of transcending differences and building bridges between generations. The nervousness that had accompanied him earlier began to transform into a quiet optimism, a hope that his grandparents would see the depth of the bond he had found with her.

He leaned towards her, his eyes shining with nothing but love. "I love you. Very much."

She grinned at him, echoing his love. "I know. I love you too."

Nanami Kento let his lips rest on hers.

And soon enough, she reciprocated too.

He did not care whoever stared at them.

Nanami cared more about loving her well.

KENTO COULD REMEMBER MEMORIES OF HIS YOUTH AS THEY WALKED. The walk to his grandparents' home felt like a journey through the corridors of nostalgia. Each step echoed with memories of laughter, warmth, and the comforting embrace of familial love. Kento's grip on his partner's hand tightened, a silent reassurance that together they could face whatever lay ahead.

Approaching the well-worn doorstep of his grandparents' home, Kento's heart quickened its pace, a symphony of emotions playing within him. The scent of familiar flowers in the garden, the creaking sound of the opening gate, and the distant hum of the city outside created a sensory backdrop to this significant moment. As his hand reached out to grasp the doorknob, he felt a blend of anticipation and affection coursing through him, like the pages of a cherished novel about to be reopened.

The door, weathered by the passage of time, swung open, and there she stood—his grandmother, a paragon of kindness and familial love. Her eyes, soft with years of wisdom and tender memories, lit up with recognition and unbridled joy as she beheld her grandson standing at the threshold.

"Kento, min kære dreng!" Her voice, a soothing melody, carried the resonance of countless echoes of his boyhood.Kento smiled as the door opened. Wrinkles etched with the passage of time framed her warm smile as she enveloped Kento in a comforting embrace. "It's been too long, min lille kærlighed!"

As Kento melted into his grandmother's embrace, the past and present seamlessly intertwined, creating a tapestry of emotions that transcended time. Her arms, like the comforting notes of a familiar melody, wrapped around him, evoking memories of days long gone. The scent of her familiar perfume, the softness of her embrace, all stirred echoes of childhood visits that played like a nostalgic symphony in his mind.

In that tender moment, the walls of the living room seemed to fade away, transporting Kento back to a time when he was a child seeking solace and joy in the sanctuary of his grandmother's home. The creaking sound of the rocking chair, the gentle hum of her lullabies, and the whispered secrets shared in the quiet corners of the house—these were the building blocks of the unbreakable bond they had forged over the years.

His heart swelled with gratitude, a profound appreciation for the constancy of her love that had weathered the storms of time. The wrinkles etched on her face, like the lines of a well-worn novel, told the story of a life filled with joy, challenges, and unwavering support for her grandson. As he returned the embrace, Kento felt the weight of the years momentarily dissipate, leaving only the warmth and reassurance that came with the love of a matriarch who had been a pillar of strength throughout his journey.

The embrace held an unspoken language—a language of shared laughter, silent tears, and the countless unvoiced expressions of love that had woven the fabric of their relationship. As they stood there, locked in that tender embrace, Kento marveled at the resilience of family bonds, the ties that connected generations and stood the test of time.

It was more than a hug; it was a timeless connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. In the arms of his grandmother, Kento found not just a physical embrace but a sanctuary of love—a place where he could always return, no matter how far life took him.

“Mormor, I've missed you," Kento admitted, his voice betraying the depth of his emotions. “It’s been a while since I’ve come up to visit. Where’s farfar?”

She held him at arm's length, her eyes searching his face as if deciphering the stories etched in the contours. "And I've missed you, min kære dreng. Oh, he’s reading his newspaper in the back. But who is this lovely lady you've brought with you?”

Kento stepped aside, his hand gesturing towards his beloved, who stood with a genuine smile that mirrored the warmth of the familial scene. His grandmother's eyes shifted from him to his beloved partner, and in that moment, the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the introduction of this new chapter in their shared story.

His grandmother’s face brightens up, her smile widening.“Don’t tell me, is this what I think this is?”

Kento couldn't help but return her smile, the sight of her instantly bringing back a flood of fond memories. "Mormor, this is my partner. I’ve been wanting to introduce her to you, so she can meet my wonderful mormor and farfar."

His beloved offered a respectful bow, her own smile mirroring the genuine warmth that radiated from the older woman. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, frue. Kento has told me so much about you."

His grandmother's eyes twinkled with amusement as she exchanged a knowing glance with Kento who seemed flustered about that. "Oh, has he now? That’s good to know! I’m too certain that half of it is flattery now, is it?”

His beloved laughs. “Oh not at all, frue! He’s said nothing but fond things about you.”

“Oh it better stay that way!” She says teasingly, turning to her grandson. She laughs delightfully. He purses his lips, his cheeks flustered in scarlet “Do come in, you two. It’s pretty hot out. Skat! Come here! Our dearest grandson is here!”

The trio moved into the living room, a space that held the echoes of countless shared moments. Kento's grandfather, seated in his favorite armchair, looked up from his book, a gentle smile forming on his lips. The older gentleman puts his book away, neatly tucking it into the folds of the coffee table and gets to his feet, walking towards the crowd of three. He smiled so tenderly, so kindly as he stood beside his wife.

"Kento, min dreng! It’s good to see you.”

Kento looked at his grandfather and moved towards him to give him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “It’s always my pleasure to see you, farfar.”

“Oh you and your flattery, dreng.” His grandfather warmly laughed.

He shakes his head, gently smiling. “I never lie about that, farfar.”

“He’s definitely his mother’s son, alright.” His grandfather jokes, looking towards his wife. “You remember, how min lille always flatters her poor old far.”

His wife laughed, her face softening in the nostalgia of memories. “Hm, the blood is definitely strong!”

“And who is this charming young lady?" His grandfather inquired, turning to Kento and his partner.

“This is my partner, farfar.” Kento turns to his partner, his eyes clearly shaking timidly as he watches his grandfather’s eyes turn wide. His grandmother smiles at him, and then her husband.

“Our Kento’s fallen in love, honning!”

His lover stepped forward, extending a hand with a smile as she spoke her name. “It's a pleasure to meet you!”

The older man's handshake was firm but warm. But it was obvious that he was pleased. His eyes were as clear as day. They always tell. "The pleasure is ours, kære pige! Kento finally fell in love and introduced us to the one who holds his heart! I never thought this day would ever come!”

Kento’s face turned bright red at his grandparents and their elated responses to the news. His partner looks flushed in scarlet too, smiling at the thought. Kento never really expressed any desire to have a crush or even a lover ever so outwardly before. His grandparents often asked, as much as his parents did. Yet this was the first time he’d ever have a lover so boldly introduced. He was certain his grandparents could see the love in his eyes as he looked at his partner.

“I’ll go make us some tea and snacks.” His grandmother says, still smiling from ear to ear as she kissed her husband’s cheek. “Do get them settled here, honning.”

His grandfather dutifully nodded with a smile. “Of course, honning. You two, come, make yourselves comfortable!”

As they settled into the familiar surroundings of the homely four walls, Kento couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly his beloved was able to blend into the essence of his grandparents' home. It was as if she always belonged there, how easily she was a fixture in everything that echoes his fondness. His eyes warmed as he stared at her. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of ease, and the anxiety that had accompanied him earlier melted away. All was well, he thinks in relief.

Kento sat near beside his lover in the settee, comfortably leaning towards one another. His grandfather sat on his chair, marveling at the joy that emitted from his grandson. His beloved looked at him, blushing joyously. Kento returned it as he took her hand into his own. She squeezed it back, which made his heart burst into joy.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Kento's grandmother returns, tray in hand. One could see the bright varieties of cookies his grandmother had brought out. Kento jumped slightly, but kept his hand on his lover’s own. She smiled at his grandmother and graciously accepted.

As his grandmother set the cups on each of their sides, Kento found himself stealing glances at his lover, who engaged in easy conversation with his grandparents. The smile on his face was no longer tinged with nervousness but with the quiet certainty that he had made the right choice in bringing her here. The love they shared, he believed, had the power to illuminate even the most hidden corners of the heart, and as the evening unfolded, it became evident that this shared promise was already weaving itself into the fabric of his grandparents' home.

As they all gathered around the coffee table, Kento's grandmother, with her gentle smile and twinkling eyes, poured tea for everyone. His grandfather, dearest farfar, sat back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach, a contented expression on his weathered face.

"So, tell us, Kento," his grandmother began, her voice soft and inviting. "How did you two meet?"

Kento glanced at his dearest beloved, a shy smile playing on his lips. "We met at the jazz festival," he replied, his voice a little nervous but filled with affection. "She was one of the singers.”

His grandfather’s eyes brightened. “Oh, so you were that girl he danced with!”

“Oh yes, min kære søn, Kento’s father – he spoke about how you took Kento dancing!” His grandmother clapped at the memory. “Wasn’t there also a video, honning?”

“Yes, yes. It was shown to me.” Kento nearly groaned at the thought that the video still existed in his parent’s possession.

His partner nodded, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. "I remember thinking how gently he held me throughout the dance," she said, her gaze never leaving him. "We met again after and then became friends. But we realized that something blossomed between us and we were just happy to explore it.”

His Farfar leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with interest. "And what is it that you do, my dear?" he asked, directing his question to Kento's partner.

"I work as an editor for a publishing company." she replied, her voice gentle yet confident. "It’s a tough job, going through manuscripts. But it’s always a treat to know what sort of universes exist in people’s lives with how they write and think.”

“That’s a lovely thing to do!” His dearest mormor clapped her hands excitedly, she had always loved those who are passionate in life. That’s why she married farfar, who was a jazz musician. Kento supposes its why he fell for her too. She had a passion for life. “Just as hardworking as our dear Kento.”

Farfar nodded approvingly. "A noble pursuit indeed," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. He then looks at his grandson. "And what about you, Kento? What are your plans for the future? I heard you quit your corporate job recently.”

They finally know, he thinks. Kento hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to his partner before returning to his grandparents. "I'm still figuring things out," he admitted, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He doesn’t tell them that he has returned to the Jujutsu world. He did not want to concern them. "But having her by my side makes everything feel a little less daunting."

Farfar smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks at his wife, with a love that could burn the world in the warmth of endless affection. "Love has a way of making the path clearer, my dearest Kento. But I hope when you realize that you’ve won at life with such a love, you let yourself close to that love. You keep it. Embrace it, cherish it, and never let it go."

Kento felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to his farfar's words, words that carried the weight of a lifetime of wisdom and love. Mormor smiled, looking at her husband with affection. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Farfar grinned at her act, looking back at her and doing it too. The laughter of his grandmother didn’t exist for a moment. He could not help but abandon the world for the sake of knowing only his beloved’s world for a moment. He glanced at his partner, his heart swelling with emotion at the thought of the depth of their connection.

"I promise, farfar," Kento said, his voice filled with determination. His hand tightly squeezing at his lover’s own. He could feel her look at him intensely. "I will never let this love go. I will hold onto it with everything I have, and I will cherish it for as long as I live."

Farfar's smile widened, and he reached out to pat Kento's hand affectionately. "That's mit kære barnebarn," he said, his voice filled with pride. "And remember, love is not just about the big moments. It's about the everyday moments, the quiet moments, the moments when you simply hold each other's hands and know that you are exactly where you're meant to be."

Kento nodded, his eyes misty with depth to the love that echoes within him at this moment. He knew that he had a lot to learn about love, but with the love of his life by his side, he felt more confident than ever that they could weather any storm together. He would learn, he would grow better in the knowledge of love. Everything about her was built in love, he thinks. His farfar knew that well enough. He would not be here without mormor’s love.

As the day unfolded, the tea kept being refilled and the cookies kept getting eaten. It was safe to say that the atmosphere in Kento's grandparents' home was filled with warmth and genuine connection. With each passing moment, the barriers between his beloved partner and his family melted away, replaced by a sense of belongingness in the space that Kento had loved so deeply. He had never felt more alive than in the room, being four all together.

Seated around the cozy living room, adorned with cherished family heirlooms and memories, the four of them engaged in animated conversation. Stories from Kento's childhood intermingled with tales of his grandparents' youth, creating a rich tapestry of shared experiences and laughter. His partner’s every story, every echo of likes and dislikes, interests was reciprocated in kind with the warmest of receptions. He had seen it in his partner’s eyes. She had never felt more at home than in this moment.

As they delved deeper into conversation, they stumbled upon a common passion – jazz music. It was a revelation that sparked a palpable sense of excitement in the room, igniting a shared enthusiasm that transcended generations. Kento's grandmother, her eyes twinkling with delight, recounted fond memories of attending jazz concerts in her youth. How she met her dearest husband at one of these concerts. She spoke of the mesmerizing rhythms and soulful melodies that had captivated her heart, transporting her to a world of pure bliss.

Farfar's face lit up with nostalgia as he shared anecdotes of his days as a young man, exploring the vibrant jazz scene of his hometown. He reminisced about late-night jam sessions in smoky clubs, where the music flowed freely and friendships were forged over a shared love for jazz.

Kento's partner listened intently, her curiosity piqued by their stories. She shared her own experiences with jazz, describing how she had stumbled upon the genre during a chance encounter with a street musician. From that moment on, she had been captivated by the raw emotion and improvisational spirit of jazz music.

The day wore on and no one had realized that the sun had left them. It had turned into night and it had come swiftly with all the enjoyment that they found in each other’s company. They now spoke about how there could be a possibility that his partner would get promoted as one of the chief editors of one of her authors soon enough. Kento's grandmother, with a mischievous glint in her eye, excused herself from the conversation for a moment. Kento nodded at her and continued listening to the conversation between his partner and his farfar. He saw that she returned a few minutes later, carrying a dusty photo album in her hands.

"Ah, I couldn't resist," she said with a chuckle, settling back into her chair. "I thought it might be fun to take a trip down memory lane."

Kento's partner smiled warmly, her curiosity piqued as the photo album was opened to reveal a treasure trove of memories captured in faded photographs. Most of them had been polaroid pictures, echoing in the array of sizes and colors. Each page of the photo album echoed the many lives lived in the blossom of the monochromatic tints to the colored ones.

Nanami Kento purses his lips, feeling himself wonder what he was in for. His grandparents had always captured a day in his life when he was with them in his youth. He was their beloved daughter’s only son after all. They poured as much love as they did their daughter. But he couldn’t help but look away, as his grandmother announced to the world, one of his first photos.

"Oh my goodness, Kento, look at you!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she caught sight of a picture of Kento as a young toddler, his face smeared with chocolate from ear to ear as he grinned at the camera. Kento hugged a stuffed bear on his side, he was pretty certain he named it ‘blåbjørn’ — because it was blue. Kento was certain that it was one of his earlier visits to Denmark, when he had tasted Kiksekage for the first time.

“You look so small compared to the stuffed animal. And god, your smile!”

Kento blushed, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he studied the photograph. He sighs, trying to play it off. "That's me during my first or second birthday party," he said with a fond smile. "I remember that cake. Mormor makes the best Kiksekage. It was my favorite."

“And it still is!” His grandmother grinned, looking at her grandson fondly. “On your last visit, you devoured the whole thing. Your mor definitely did not like that.”

His partner laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You look so adorable," she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

As they flipped through the pages of the weathered photo album, each turn revealed a new chapter of Kento's life, narrated with heartfelt anecdotes and cherished memories by his grandmother. With each photograph carefully placed, Kento's grandmother's voice filled the room with the gentle cadence of storytelling, weaving a tapestry of moments that had shaped Kento into the person he was today.

She pointed to a snapshot of Kento as a young boy, his face illuminated with pure joy as he clutched a toy car in his tiny hands, and recounted the story of how he had spent countless hours racing around the backyard, his imagination soaring to distant lands. Another photograph captured Kento on his first day of school, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, his grandmother recalling how he had bravely marched towards the school bus, a small backpack nearly swallowing him whole.

With each memory shared, Kento's girlfriend felt herself being drawn deeper into the rich tapestry of his life, gaining insight into the experiences and influences that had shaped him into the kind-hearted and resilient person she knew and loved. And as they continued to journey through the pages of the photo album, enveloped in the warmth of storytelling and the echoes of cherished memories, Kento's grandmother's words became more than just a recounting of the past – they became a celebration of life. And even love.

"There's Kento on his first day of school," His mormor said, pointing to a picture of a shy-looking Kento standing in front of a school stop, his backpack nearly as big as he was. He stood in between his parents, while his grandparents flanked him on the side. “Do you remember when he bowed to us and then all the things on his backpack fell?”

“I think I took a picture of it!” Farfar enthusiastically replied to his wife, grinning at his embarrassed grandson. “I think his mother has it. I’ll have to ask our min lille for it.”

"And here he is at his middle school graduation," she continued, her voice tinged with pride as she showed them a picture of Kento wearing his middle school uniform, trying hard not to smile. His grandparents came all the way to Japan to witness him graduate and celebrate. “I think this was the beginning of his emo phase, honning.”

Farfar looked at the picture closer, then looked at his grandson.“Min kære dreng, was that eyeliner on your eyes?”

“N-no. it was not!”

“You don’t have to be shy about it, Kento!” His partner laughed, ruffling at his hair. “You can totally see the passion in your eyes!”

“But it's not eyeliner!”

“Hmmm, whatever you say!”

His beloved partner was captivated by each photograph, her eyes lingering over every detail as if trying to decipher the essence of Kento's soul captured in each frame. With every turn of the page, she felt as though she was peeling back the layers of his past, uncovering hidden facets of his personality and the moments that had shaped him into the person she adored. In the early snapshots of his childhood, she saw a carefree innocence reflected in his laughter and playful demeanor, a reminder of the joyful spirit that had always radiated from him.

As they progressed to his teenage years, she observed the subtle changes in his expression – a hint of determination in his eyes as he navigated the challenges of adolescence, a touch of vulnerability beneath his confident facade. Yet, amidst the transformation, there remained a constant thread of authenticity and warmth, a spark of mischief and kindness that had drawn her to him from the very beginning.

She marveled at how he had grown and evolved over the years, yet beneath the layers of time, there was still that same twinkle in his eyes, the same genuine smile that had captured her heart. And as she traced the contours of his journey through the pages of the photo album, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and affection for the man he had become – a man whose essence transcended the boundaries of time and space, resonating with a timeless charm that had ensnared her heart.

As they reached the end of the album, Kento's grandmother smiled at them both, her eyes shining with affection. "You two make such a lovely couple," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "Even without a picture, you can see so much love just by looking at you.”

Kento squeezed his partner's hand, feeling a rush of gratitude for the love and acceptance of his family. And as they basked in the warmth of their memories and the love that surrounded them, Kento knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be, with the woman who held his heart in her hands.

The evening air was filled with a sense of nostalgia as Kento's grandmother closed the photo album, her smile lingering as she glanced at Kento and his partner. "Thank you for indulging an old woman's desire to reminisce," she said, her voice soft with affection.

Kento's partner leaned forward, a gentle warmth in her gaze as she spoke. "It was such a pleasure to see these moments from Kento's life," she said sincerely. "It feels like I know him even better now."

Kento's heart swelled with gratitude for the understanding and acceptance his partner showed towards his past. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers as he spoke. "I'm so grateful to have you here, sharing these memories with me," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You mean everything to me."

His partner squeezed his hand in response, her eyes shimmering with unspoken love. "And you mean everything to me," she said softly.

Kento's grandmother watched the exchange between the young couple with a knowing smile, her heart brimming with happiness at the sight of their love. "Remember, love is a journey," she said, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "It's not just about the destination, but the moments you share along the way."

Kento smiled at his lover.

She coyly smiled back at him.

Mormor and farfar smiled back.

Love was truly in the air.

THEY THOUGHT ABOUT GOING HOME BEFORE DINNER. But his grandparents did not want to send them on their way without having their bellies full. Farfar took charge of the kitchen with a sense of purpose, a twinkle in his eye as he busied himself preparing a traditional Danish dinner. He thought that mormor had worked enough keeping them happy with all her cookies and baked goods through the day and acting as their host. He said he had to do his fair share too. So he had made his dear wife sit and rest while he cooked. It was after all the least he could do.

With skill honed over years, he expertly assembled smørrebrød, the iconic open-faced sandwiches, with generous portions of frikadeller, tender meatballs bursting with flavor, delicately placed on top. Each slice of dark rye bread was meticulously adorned with a colorful array of toppings – pickled herring, creamy remoulade, crisp lettuce, and tangy slices of cucumber, creating a vibrant tapestry of flavors.

Meanwhile, the aroma of boller i karry, a comforting dish of meatballs in creamy curry sauce, filled the air as it simmered on the stove, infusing the kitchen with the tantalizing scent of spices and herbs. Farfar's skilled hands worked with precision as he lovingly shaped the meatballs, each one a testament to his culinary expertise and dedication to his craft.

For dessert, Farfar prepared a refreshing lemon fromage, a light and airy mousse bursting with zesty citrus flavor. The dessert was a perfect balance of sweetness and tanginess, a fitting end to the hearty meal.

As they gathered around the table, spreading food before offering them a feast for the senses, Kento's partner marveled at the array of dishes before her, each one lovingly prepared with care and attention to detail. The smørrebrød, with its vibrant colors and bold flavors, spoke of Farfar's pride in his Danish heritage. The boller i karry, with its rich and creamy curry sauce, was a testament to his skill in the kitchen, a dish that had been passed down through generations of his family.

And as they savored each bite, washing it down with sips of Carlsberg beer from the fridge, Kento's partner couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the warmth and hospitality of Kento's family. It was a meal that transcended mere sustenance – it was a celebration of family, tradition, and the bonds that held them all together.

As the evening wore on and the laughter and conversation flowed freely, Kento was certain that his partner felt a sense of belonging wash over her. In the comfort of his grandparent’s kitchen, surrounded by the love of Kento's family, she knew that she had found a place where she was welcomed with open arms, a place where she could truly call home.

And as they raised their glasses in a toast to love, family, and good food, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple joys of life and the moments that brought them all together. Today was everything to Kento. He was so certain about that. And he would never trade it for anything else.

After a little bit of banter, Kento was certain that he and his partner had to go. They planned to go to a museum in the morning. He didn't want to impose further onto his grandparents this late. And so, they began the process of bidding farewell. Kento and his partner were in the kitchen, getting some of the leftover curry for the morning from mormor.

It was then that farfar excused himself from the table for a moment. Kento thought that his grandfather would start to go read his book again. Instead he had disappeared for a few moments, rummaging through forgotten corners of the house until he emerged triumphantly, clutching a weathered polaroid camera in his hands. He grinned at all three of them from the door way.

"Ah, look what I've found!" he exclaimed, holding up the vintage camera for all to see. "It's been ages since I've used this old thing. Let's capture a moment to remember, shall we?"

Kento's girlfriend smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with excitement at the prospect of capturing a memory with Kento's farfar's beloved camera. "That sounds wonderful," she said eagerly, rising from her seat to stand beside Kento.

With a flourish, Kento's farfar adjusted the settings on the camera, a look of concentration on his face as he peered through the viewfinder. "Now, let's see... Smile!" he called out, pressing the shutter button with a satisfying click.

The room was filled with anticipation as the polaroid picture began to develop before their eyes, the image slowly emerging from the blank canvas like a magic trick unfolding in real-time. Kento's farfar carefully cradled the polaroid in his hands, a smile spreading across his face as the picture came into focus – a perfect snapshot of Kento and his girlfriend, their smiles bright and their eyes sparkling with joy.

"Ah, what a lovely picture," Kento's farfar exclaimed, his voice filled with pride as he carefully placed the polaroid on the table to join the other cherished memories in the photo album.

His partner could not help but just beam with delight, her heart swelling with gratitude for this unexpected moment of connection with Kento's farfar. "Thank you so much," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "This means the world to us."

Kento's farfar chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wrapped an arm around Kento's shoulders. "It's my pleasure, kære pige," he said warmly. "Just a small token to remember this beautiful evening by."

And as they gathered around the table once more, the polaroid picture nestled among the other cherished memories in the photo album, Kento's heart overflowed with gratitude for the love and warmth of his family, and the timeless bond that connected them all.

Nanami Kento felt gratitude.

He also felt endless joy.

He cherishes the moment.

Framed in polaroid love.

facts about nanami and his beloved partner this chapter:

she was first an editor in denmark for a while before she got transferred to a japanese one because she wanted to be nearer nanami.

nanami inspired his wife to quit her job and start writing. her first book was about him, a salaryman trying to figure out life.

nanami was very close to his maternal grandparents because his paternal grandparents passed away before he was born.

his grandparents started a new volume of the photo album after nanami introduced his partner to them. the new photo album is called, 'our grandchildren'.

the first time nanami introduced (by accident) his partner to gojo, it was gojo who told her about the fact that nanami DID in fact use the eyeliner. nanami swore to never show his partner to gojo ever again (this did not happen, gojo's wife became friends with nanami's partner)

this chapter inspired nanami's partner to want to buy a polaroid. but nanami kept halting her about it until her birthday because he planned to buy it for her as a present.

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 2 years ago

Text

Home.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - i saw harry at wembley on wednesday with my boyfriend and both our little sisters and it inspired me to write this cutesy blurb, which turned out a lot longer than i expected it to be, that’s for sure…anywho, i hope you enjoy <3

word count - 11.7k

in which, you and your husband harry have finally arrived home and is performing at wembley stadium later that week and you and the family tag along for the ride. a ride that will forever live in your memories.

As you and your husband Harry Styles enter the bustling airport, the air is filled with a palpable sense of excitement.

You were flying home so that your husband could play four nights at the iconic Wembley Stadium.

The stadium of dreams.

And for some reason, he had come up with the idea of travelling back home on a commercial flight, saying that he liked the thrill of flying home surrounded by other people.

As much as you and Jeff had told him that that probably wasn’t a great idea due to the amount of fans he had, he had assured you that he had booked first class tickets so that it would be a lot quicker.

Suitcases in tow, you make your way to the check-in counter, where a friendly attendant greets you with a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, how can I assist you today?" she asks.

With a grin, you hand over your travel documents. "We're here to check our suitcases in for our journey," you reply.

Harry places his hand on your back, offering support and a reassuring smile.

The attendant efficiently tags and weighs your suitcases, ensuring they meet the airline's requirements. As she attaches the final tag, you feel a rush of anticipation.

"All checked in and ready to go," she says cheerfully. You thank her, feeling a sense of accomplishment as you and Harry take hold of your boarding passes.

You took the boarding pass from him knowing for a fact that he couldn’t be trusted with looking after it himself.

That man lost everything.

With the suitcases safely checked in, you proceed towards the security checkpoint. As you wait in line, Harry wraps his arm around your waist, providing both comfort and a sense of togetherness.

"We're almost there, love," he whispers, his voice filled with reassurance. You lean into his embrace, grateful for his presence amidst the bustling crowd.

He knew that you got anxious in busy crowds which you signed up for when you started dating him, but he always knew how to make you feel better.

He was your medicine.

It was soon your turn to go through security. After waiting in the queue for around twenty five minutes you proceeded to move forward.

You gather your belongings, Harry takes the initiative to organise the stroller and any loose items, ensuring a smooth process.

The stroller belonged to your eleven month old baby boy, Thames Harry Styles.

His name was inspired by the city he was born in, a city you and Harry adored and the name simply fitted his face the second you laid eyes on him almost 365 days ago.

His birth story was a funny one that’s for sure.

“Let's Make sure we have everything," he says, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

With a nod, you double-check the contents of the diaper bag, feeling grateful for his attention to detail.

Once through security, a sense of relief washes over you both. It was as smooth as can be.

You find yourselves at the gates, with a few hours to spare before boarding.

Now it was simply a waiting game.

The enticing aromas of food from nearby restaurants catch your attention, reminding you of your growing eleventh old baby that would need some food, and the fact you had heard Harry’s stomach rumbling.

"Shall we grab a bite to eat, sweet boy?" you suggest, hunger evident in your voice.

Harry's eyes light up with enthusiasm. "Absolutely, let's find something delicious,I’m wasting away over here.”

Together, you explore the airport's array of culinary options, browsing menus and making a decision.

Eventually, you settle on a Wetherspoons, an airport classic, a restaurant that you couldn’t not go to when at an airport.

You make your way to the bustling pub-style restaurant, the clinking of cutlery and the lively chatter of fellow diners filling the air. Harry takes a moment to adjust Thames in his arms, ensuring his little body is comfortable and secure.

"Shall we grab a table, love?" he suggests, his voice filled with warmth. You nod, eager to satisfy your hunger and enjoy a moment of relaxation.

As you approach a vacant table, a friendly server greets you with a smile.

"Table for three?" she asks, glancing at Thames in your arms.

You smile back and reply, "Yes, please."

With a swift movement, she brings over a highchair, placing it at the table with care.

As you settle into your seats, Thames begins to squirm with curiosity, his wide eyes taking in the bustling surroundings. You gently place him in the highchair, fastening the safety belt and ensuring he's comfortable.

Harry leans over, his voice soft and playful. "Looks like our little explorer is ready to take on the world," he says, affection evident in his tone.

With menus in hand, you and Harry peruse the diverse options offered by Wetherspoons. The enticing aroma of pub classics and international flavors heightens your anticipation.

"What are you in the mood for, love?" Harry asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You ponder the choices before replying, "I think I'll go for the fish and chips, and maybe a side of onion rings."

Harry nods, his own cravings aligning with yours. "Sounds perfect. I'll go for the same," he says, his voice filled with agreement.

As you place your order, the server nods, jotting down your selections. Thames, captivated by the colorful surroundings, babbles happily, his tiny hands grasping at imaginary treasures.

Harry chuckles, his eyes never leaving Thames. "He's already a charmer, isn't he?" he remarks, a proud smile on his face.

You nod, a mix of joy and exhaustion washing over you. "Absolutely. He's got both of our best qualities," you reply, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

Moreso of Harry’s qualities, that was for sure.

He looked like his father in both looks and personality.

As you wait for your food, conversation flows effortlessly between you and Harry. You discuss plans for the journey, reminiscing about past adventures, and revelling in the simple pleasure of being together.

The minutes tick by, the restaurant gradually filling with the aroma of sizzling dishes.

Finally, the server arrives, skillfully balancing trays laden with steaming plates. She places your fish and chips and the accompanying sides before you, the golden batter glistening under the warm lights.

Harry looks at the food, his eyes widening in anticipation. "Looks incredible," he exclaims, picking up his fork.

You follow suit, savouring the crispy exterior and succulent fish beneath.

Fish and chips was definitely one of your favourites.

Between bites, you steal glances at Thames, who now claps his tiny hands in delight at the sights and sounds around him. You share a knowing smile with Harry, grateful for these precious moments as a family.

The ambiance of Wetherspoons, the taste of delicious food, and the laughter that fills the air create a tapestry of memories that will forever be cherished.

As the last morsel is devoured and satisfied smiles adorn your faces, you bask in the contentment that comes from a fulfilling meal shared with loved ones.

With Thames growing tired, you carefully lift him out of the highchair and cradle him in your arms, pressing a soft kiss to his mop of brown curls. Harry reaches over to help clear the table, his actions a testament to his attentiveness and willingness to share the responsibilities of parenthood.

As you make your way towards the exit of Wetherspoons, the journey ahead beckons. Thames's eyelids grow heavy, and he nestles his head against your shoulder, lulled by the comforting presence of his parents. You exchange a glance with Harry, both of you silently conveying the deep love and gratitude you feel for the life you've built together.

It wasn't long after you were out of the pub that you heard your gate getting called over the overhead speakers.

As you approached the gate, the final call for boarding resonated through the speakers. Harry knelt down in front of Thames, who was now resting in his stroller, which you knew he would have to get out of in a second, a mix of excitement and tenderness in his eyes.

The stroller that he had was one that folded up and could easily slip into the overhead lockers.

"Hey there, little buddy," he said, his voice gentle. "We're about to hop on a plane and go on an amazing adventure. Are you ready?"

Thames clapped his hands, his face beaming with anticipation.

Harry’s smile widened as he lifted Thames into his arms, giving him a playful spin."That's my little adventurer!" he exclaimed, eliciting giggles from Thames.

It wasn’t long before you were all settled into your seats on the plane, the anticipation of the journey ahead mixed with a touch of nervousness.

Your husband sat beside you, and your eleven-month-old son, Thames, was cradled in your arms. The hum of conversation filled the cabin as passengers settled in.

During the take off part of the flight, Thames was a dream, he was growing tired so he was a bit out of it which you and Harry were grateful for, but when the flight was just nearing halfway through was when things took a turn for the worst.

Thames appeared to be showing signs of restlessness.

His tiny face scrunched up, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. You rocked him gently, trying to soothe him, but his cries grew louder, catching the attention of nearby passengers.

One passenger glanced over, annoyance etched on their face, while another exchanged a frustrated look with their travel companion. You could feel the weight of their disapproval, and a pang of guilt washed over you.

Harry leaned closer, concern etched on his features. "Is everything okay, love?" he whispered, his voice filled with care.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think Thames is feeling a little overwhelmed. The noise, the unfamiliar surroundings... it's all getting to him."

Thames had been on many flights during his eleven months of life, it wasn’t like it was his first flight, but you couldn't help but think it was due to the fact he didn’t have the usual people around him that he usually would on Harry’s jet.

There was no Sara, Mitch, Jeff or Pauli.

You couldn’t help but think that the unfamiliar faces were starting to get to him a little bit.

Harry's eyes softened as he reached out to stroke Thames's cheek. "Hey, little buddy," he cooed, his voice gentle. "We're here with you. It's okay."

He really was the best dad ever.

Thames's cries began to subside, his tiny body relaxing in your arms as he felt the comfort of his father's touch. The tension in the cabin eased slightly, but the disapproving glances still lingered.

Feeling the weight of the situation, you decided to address the concerned passengers. Taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to speak up.

"I'm sorry if Thames's cries have been bothering you," you said, your voice carrying a hint of apology. "He's just a little overwhelmed with the new surroundings. We're doing our best to comfort him."

The passenger who had shown annoyance earlier softened their expression, realising the effort you were making.

"Oh, it's alright," they replied, a touch of understanding in their tone. "Babies cry, and it's not your fault."

Another passenger chimed in, offering a smile. "Children can be unpredictable. We understand."

Phew.

As the plane continued its journey, you and Harry took turns soothing Thames, singing softly and playing with him to distract him from his unease. The cries turned into intermittent whimpers, and Thames gradually settled into a more peaceful state.

Throughout the flight, you could feel the empathy and support of the passengers around you. Some even offered kind words of encouragement, acknowledging the challenges of travelling with a young child.

Harry glanced at you, his eyes filled with admiration. "You're doing an amazing job, love," he said, his voice laced with gratitude.

You smiled back at him, grateful for his support. "We're in this together, Harry. Our little family will always come first."

As the plane prepared to land, Thames's cries had long subsided. You exchanged relieved glances with Harry, appreciating the understanding shown by your fellow travellers.

As you disembarked, a passenger approached you, their expression warm and friendly.

"You're doing a great job as parents," they said, their voice filled with sincerity. "Travelling with children can be challenging, but it's all worth it. Take care."

As the plane touched down and came to a stop, a wave of relief washed over you. The journey that appeared to be a lot longer than it needed to be was finally over and that meant you were one step closer to getting off of the plane. The doors opened, and the announcement to disembark filled the cabin.

With Thames cradled in your arms, you made your way down the aisle, grateful for the support and understanding you had received from the crew due to the fact Thames was a little terror. As you reached the exit, the sight of the stairs leading down to the tarmac greeted you.

Harry smiled warmly, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. "We made it, love," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Home at last."

You returned his smile, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. "It's going to be incredible seeing you perform at Wembley, sweet boy," you replied, your voice tinged with gratitude. "Touring with you and experiencing all those incredible moments together—it's something we'll cherish forever."

As you descended the stairs, the cool breeze of home caressed your faces, and the familiar surroundings welcomed you. Thames gazed wide-eyed at the scene, his little hand reaching out to touch the railing of the stairs.

"Home!" Thames babbled, his voice filled with excitement.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Yes, Thames, we're home," he affirmed, his voice tender. "Our cosy sanctuary where we can relax and create beautiful memories."

Thames's eyes darted around, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. "Home, Mama!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight.

You kissed the top of his head, the love for your family swelling in your chest. "Yes, Thames, this is our home," you whispered.

One thought lingered in the back of your head that led to a smile forming onto your face.

Harry was home.

The sun gently peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you quietly tip-toed towards the bedroom. With a tray of delicious treats in hand, and your eleven-month-old son, Thames, wiggling in your arms, you were ready to surprise your husband, with a special breakfast in bed.

As you reached the bedroom door, you whispered to Thames, "Are you ready to wake up Daddy, my little helper?"

Thames giggled, his bright eyes twinkling with excitement. "Dada!" he squealed, his tiny hands reaching out.

You carefully placed Thames on the bed, allowing him to crawl towards Harry. His chubby fingers gently brushed against Harry's cheek, and his giggles filled the room.

Harry stirred, slowly opening his eyes to find his two favourite people eagerly awaiting him. A smile spread across his face as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Well, good morning, my loves," he greeted, his voice still laced with sleepiness.

The morning voice of his never failed to cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

You grinned, the love in your heart swelling. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you replied, playfully tousling Harry's hair. "We thought you deserved a special treat today."

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the tray filled with his favourite breakfast items. "Breakfast in bed?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight. "You two are spoiling me."

And he should expect nothing less.

Thames clapped his hands, his smile mirroring Harry's enthusiasm. "Dada!" he babbled, pointing at the tray.

Chuckling, Harry scooted up, propping himself against the headboard. "Alright, Thames, let's dig in," he said, his voice full of excitement.

You settled next to Harry, Thames wriggling happily between the two of you.

As Harry took a bite of the fluffy pancakes, his eyes widened in delight. "These are amazing, love," he exclaimed, his mouth full.

You blushed, a mix of pride and joy filling your heart. "I'm glad you like them. Thames and I wanted to start your day off with something special."

Thames reached out, his tiny fingers grabbing at a slice of fruit from the tray. "Yummy!" he giggled, taking a bite.

Harry chuckled, his eyes filled with adoration. "Looks like our little chef approves too," he said, his voice filled with pride.

As you enjoyed the meal together, the room filled with laughter and playful chatter. Thames clapped his hands, eager to join in the conversation. You looked at Harry, a warm glow in your eyes.

"Harry, you bring so much joy to our lives," you whispered, your voice filled with love. "Thames and I are grateful for every moment we spend with you."

Harry's smile softened, his gaze locked with yours. "And I'm grateful for you two," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "You make every day feel like a gift."

As the breakfast came to an end, Harry leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on your lips, Thames giggling in between. "Thank you for the delicious breakfast and for being the most amazing partner and mother," Harry said, his voice sincere.

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his. "Thank you for being the incredible husband and father that you are," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude.

Thames crawled into your lap, his little arms reaching out to embrace both of you. You wrapped your arms around him, creating a tight-knit family embrace.

Together, you basked in the warmth and love of the moment, cherishing the simple pleasures of togetherness and the joy that filled your hearts. Breakfast in bed was just the beginning of a beautiful day filled with love and adventure. With Thames nestled between you and Harry, you discussed the plans for the day.

"You’re going to go and see Nana in a minute, are you excited?" you asked Thames, brushing a strand of hair away from Thames's face.

Last night, Harry had informed you that he had booked for the two of you to take part in a quick session of pilates before the show so that he could stretch out his muscles. Anne was already in London and didn’t hesitate to accept the offer of babysitting for her grandson.

Thames clapped his hands in agreement, his eyes shining with anticipation.

▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌ ▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕

After dropping Thames off round Harry’s mother’s house, the two of you got ready to head to the pilates studio together.

You and Harry walked hand in hand into the bright and airy studio, ready for your first Pilates class together of the week.

As the instructor greeted you with a warm smile, you couldn't help but exchange a mischievous glance with Harry. This was going to be a fun and flirty experience.

It always was whenever you did anything gym related with him, he always had that smirk on his face, that you fell in love with all of them years ago.

You found a spot in the back row, unrolling your mats and settling in. The soft music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. The instructor began guiding the class through a series of warm-up exercises.

Harry leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look absolutely stunning in those leggings, love," he whispered, his voice laced with playful admiration.

You were wearing a pair of light grey Nike leggings, followed by a black crop top, Nike trainers and some running trainers.

You giggled, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks. "Well, you're not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Styles," you replied, playfully nudging his side.

He was wearing a black shirt, with matching black shorts and a pair of red trainers hugging his feet. His curls clipped atop his head by a spider clip.

He looked really good.

You could only imagine what he would look like with sweat dripping down his body.

As the class progressed, you both couldn't resist stealing glances at each other during stretches and poses.

Your eyes locked, and a playful competition emerged, each of you trying to outdo the other's flexibility and grace.

During a particularly challenging exercise, Harry struggled to maintain his balance. You couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter, causing the instructor to pause and give you a curious look.

"Everything alright back there?" the instructor asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Just trying to keep up with my incredible partner here," he replied, nodding toward you.

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and delight. "He's right," you added, flashing the instructor a playful smile. "We can't resist some friendly competition."

The instructor chuckled, clearly amused by your antics. "Well, as long as you're having fun and staying safe, carry on," she said, resuming the class.

Well that wasn’t embarrassing in the slightest.

As the session continued, Harry couldn't resist reaching out, subtly intertwining his fingers with yours during a challenging core exercise. The touch of his hand sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making it hard to concentrate on the routine.

"Focus, love," Harry whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I don't want you getting distracted."

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Says the one who can't keep his eyes off me," you retorted, your voice filled with playful flirtation.

The class came to an end, and as you lay side by side on your mats, cooling down, you couldn't help but exchange satisfied smiles. Sweaty and slightly out of breath, you both felt invigorated and closer than ever.

You could see trails of sweat rolling off of his forehead and some specks had dripped onto his neck, holy moly.

Your husband was fit.

"That was an incredible workout," Harry said, his voice filled with admiration. "But I must say, the highlight was getting to flirt with you the entire time."

You chuckled, your heart swelling with affection. "Flirting with you is always a highlight, Mr. Styles," you replied, playfully poking his tattooed arm. Specifically the mermaid tattoo.

The instructor approached, a knowing smile on her face. "You two certainly brought some extra charm to the class today," she commented, her voice filled with amusement.

Harry flashed her a charming grin. "We like to keep things fun and flirty," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌ ▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕

The grandeur of Wembley Stadium greeted you as the three of you arrived at the iconic stadium. The vast space seemed even more immense without the presence of the usual throngs of fans. Tonight's performance was going to be a big one, that was for sure.

As you walked through the empty stadium, Thames cradled in your arms, a sense of awe washed over you. This iconic venue held so many memories and had witnessed countless legendary performances. And tonight, it would become a backdrop for Harry's music and the love you shared as a family.

Harry's hand found yours, his fingers interlacing with yours. "It's just us, love," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I'm so glad we get to experience this moment together, as a family."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a surge of warmth and love. "Me too, Harry," you replied, your voice filled with adoration. "Thames and I are so proud of you, and we're honoured to be here with you tonight."

Thames squirmed in your arms, his eyes wide with curiosity. His tiny fingers reached out, as if trying to grasp the magnitude of the space around him. "Dada?" he babbled, his voice filled with innocence and wonder.

Harry chuckled, bending down to kiss Thames's forehead. "Yes, little man," he said, his voice laced with affection. "Dada is going to perform on that stage tonight, just for you and Mommy."

You couldn’t help but reminisce the last time Harry had performed at the stadium, it was June 18th, 2022.

Aka, the best day of both your lives for a totally different reason.

You stood backstage at Wembley Stadium, watching with pride as your husband electrified the crowd with his captivating performance. The energy in the air was palpable, and you couldn't help but be swept up in the magic of the moment. Little did you know that another kind of magic was about to unfold.

As Harry sang his heart out on stage to Watermelon Sugar, you felt a sudden rush of warmth between your legs.

Panic coursed through your veins as you realised your waters had broken. You glanced around, spotting the midwife that Harry had insisted that you hire for reasons exactly like this. Her name was Mary and so far, she had been touring Europe with you and Harry in case anything were to happen.

So far, nothing had happened.

That was until now.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm amidst the chaos. You didn't want to interrupt Harry's performance. You wanted him to finish his set and bask in the glory of the moment before breaking the news. It would be a memory he would cherish forever.

His manager, Jeff, noticed the concern on your face and approached you. "Everything okay, love?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine care.

You tried to maintain composure as you whispered, "My waters just broke, Jeff. But I don't want to distract Harry. Let him finish his performance."

Jeff's eyes widened, his concern mirroring yours as he watched as a contraction rippled through your body, not so much a painful one, just a little bit more painful than your braxton hicks.

"Right, okay," he replied, quickly assessing the situation. "We'll get the midwife closer, and as soon as Harry comes off stage, she'll be there to help."

Anne, Harry's mother, joined you, sensing something was amiss. She placed a hand on your shoulder, her eyes filled with concern.

"Darling, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with motherly love.

You bit your lip, holding back tears of both fear and excitement. "My waters broke, Anne," you whispered, your voice shaking. "But I want to wait until Harry finishes his performance."

Anne's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded understandingly. "We'll do as you say, love," she assured you, her voice filled with support. "We'll make sure everything is ready for when Harry comes off stage."

That moment couldn’t come fast enough.

As the minutes ticked by, Harry's performance reached its peak. The crowd's roars echoed through the stadium, electrifying the air. You watched with bated breath, your contractions intensifying, as Harry poured his heart into the final song.

Kiwi was always a banger.

The moment the last note faded away, the stage erupted into applause, signalling the end of an incredible show. Harry's breathless form emerged from the stage, a mixture of exhaustion and elation on his face.

Just before he had come off of stage, another contraction coursed your body. They were picking up now, and your heart was starting to beat just that much faster.

You took a deep breath, knowing the time had come. The midwife stood by your side, ready to assist as soon as Harry was off stage.

Harry approached, his eyes searching yours for answers. "What's going on, love?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

A mix of emotions swirled within you as you looked into his eyes, you were eager to tell him, but also slightly out of breath.

"Harry, my waters…broke," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "But I didn't want to interrupt ….your performance. I wanted you to finish."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice filled with astonishment.

The midwife stepped forward, a reassuring smile on her face. "Congratulations, Harry," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "You're about to become a father."

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I can't believe it," he whispered, his voice trembling with overwhelming joy. "We're having a baby. Our baby."

The labour portion of the birth had apparently been moving a lot faster than either of you had anticipated, and Mary had informed the crew working at Wembley and Jeff that you would have to deliver the baby here.

You were going to have a baby at Wembley arena.

"We'll need a private area, away from the noise and commotion," Mary spoke, raising her voice as she locked eyes on crew members. "Let's find a suitable space backstage."

Together, you and Harry made your way through the labyrinth of backstage corridors, supported by the crew. Harry had picked you up bridal style and you wrapped your arms around his neck as pain coursed through your body, often making you arch your back.

Finally, you reached a secluded area, transformed into a makeshift delivery room. The crew had done their best to create a calm and sterile environment amidst the backstage chaos.

As the midwife prepared the space, you were carefully lowered down on the pillows that the crew had laid down for you. Harry stood by your side, his face a mixture of awe and concern. He took your hand in his, providing a steady anchor amidst the intensity of the moment.

You had never needed him more than you needed him now.

The contractions surged, each one demanding your full attention. The midwife guided you through breathing exercises, offering words of encouragement and support.

Harry's voice joined in, whispering soothing words and reminding you of your strength.

His words consisted of.

“You’ve got this, love.’

‘You’re doing absolutely amazing.’

‘They’re almost here,’

Time seemed to blur as the intensity of the contractions increased. Waves of pain washed over you, but you focused on the profound connection between you, Harry, and your unborn child.

With each push, you felt your body working in harmony with the natural rhythm of birth.

Harry's love and support fueled your determination, and the midwife provided expert guidance, ensuring the safety of both you and your baby.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity and yet a fleeting moment, your baby emerged into the world.

A cry filled the air, a beautiful symphony of life and love.

Tears streamed down Harry's face as he looked upon the tiny, fragile being in your arms. "Our baby... our miracle," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of overwhelming joy and awe.

You marvelled at the perfect little human you had brought into the world, the culmination of your love and shared journey with Harry. In that moment, the backstage chaos faded away,and all that mattered was the miracle of new life that lay before you.

The midwife carefully placed your baby on your chest, skin-to-skin, fostering the precious bond between parent and child. You gazed into your little one's eyes, overcome with a profound sense of love and gratitude.

Your baby boy.

As the cries of your baby filled the intimate space backstage, a hush fell over the room. The crew and staff, who had been bustling with energy, stood in awe, witnessing the miracle unfold before them. The noise from the stage faded into the background, replaced by the tender sounds of a newborn's first cries.

Amidst the emotional whirlwind, the door swung open, and in walked Jeff, Harry's manager, and Anne, Harry's mother. They had been alerted to the situation and rushed to your side, their expressions a mix of concern and joy.

Anne's eyes brimmed with tears as she approached you, her voice filled with tenderness. "Oh, my darling, you've done it. You've brought this beautiful life into the world," she said, her words carrying a weight of pride and love.

Jeff, too, was in awe of the scene unfolding before him. He stood beside Harry, both men moved beyond words. The connection between you, Harry, and the new addition to your family was a testament to the strength and love that bound you all together.

As the midwife attended to the final steps of the delivery, ensuring your well-being and that of your baby, Harry leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible, love," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration. "I'm so proud of you."

Tears of joy streamed down your face as you basked in the overwhelming emotions that flooded your heart. You had overcome the unexpected circumstances, bringing your baby into the world backstage at Wembley, surrounded by love, music, and the support of those closest to you.

Your little Thames Harry Styles.

“What’re you thinking about, love?”

You snapped out of your daydreaming and turned to smile at your husband who now had your baby boy settled on his hip, sucking his dummy innocently as he peered around at the empty stadium that would soon be filled up.

“June 18th, 2022.” was all you said, and it was enough for him to nod his head in understanding.

“The best day of our lives.”

You nodded your head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The best day of our lives, our boy’s a dramatic one just like his father.”

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As the anticipation built inside Wembley Stadium, you found yourself standing beside Anne, both of you eager to soak in the energy of the pre-concert atmosphere. The air crackled with excitement as fans began to gather, eagerly awaiting Harry's show.

Thames was playing with Harry who was with Jeff and Pauli, trying to tire him out so that he would have a nap before the show.

You and Anne decided to take a moment outside the stadium, away from the bustling backstage area as per your husband's idea.

As you walked hand in hand, a smile graced your lips, knowing that this time with Harry's mother was precious and rare.

Anne wasn’t just Harry and Gemma’s mother. She was a mother to you as well.

When you and Harry first started dating, the two of you were twenty. He was just coming out of his teenage years and when he first introduced you to his mother, the two of you instantly had this huge connection.

You could go to her about absolutely anything.

You and Harry got engaged at twenty five, and married when you were both 27. You had Thames at 28.

The sight that greeted you outside Wembley was a breathtaking display of fandom and dedication. Fans had gathered from all corners of the world, adorned in Harry's merchandise, waving handmade signs, and exchanging stories of their love for his music.

Anne's eyes twinkled with delight as she surveyed the scene. "Look at this incredible support," she marvelled. "It's truly remarkable."

It really was.

You nodded in agreement, appreciating the devotion and passion of Harry's fans. As you strolled along the line of fans waiting patiently, you stopped occasionally to chat, share smiles, and take photos.

One fan, a young girl with a beaming smile, who was queuing up with her father, approached you and Anne.

"Can I have a picture with you both?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

"Of course," you replied, your own smile matching hers. You weren't one to turn down a picture, only when Thames was with you. You and Harry were very private people when it came to your baby boy.

You posed with the fan, doing your husband's classic peace sign, capturing a moment of connection and shared joy. In that instant, the bond between artist, fans, and loved ones was palpable.

The young girl then extended her wrist, revealing a stack of colourful friendship bracelets. "I made these for Harry and his loved ones. Would you like one?"

Your heart swelled with gratitude for the fan's thoughtfulness. "That's incredibly sweet. We would love to have one," you said, carefully selecting a bracelet for yourself and another for Anne.

Your bracelet was light blue, and had the word ‘HSLOT’ written on it. It was truly unique.

With a simple exchange of bracelets, a connection was forged—a symbol of unity and appreciation. It was a reminder of the unbreakable bond that formed between Harry, his fans, and those who supported him.

As you continued to mingle with the fans, you encountered stories of personal growth, healing, and shared experiences. The love and impact of Harry's music became even more evident, as fans poured out their hearts and expressed their gratitude for the way his art had touched their lives.

In the midst of the conversations, Anne shared anecdotes of Harry's journey as an artist, revealing moments of vulnerability and dedication that had shaped him into the person he had become. Her stories painted a vivid picture of Harry's relentless pursuit of his dreams and the unwavering support he had received from his loved ones.

You listened intently, captivated by Anne's words. She spoke with a mother's pride, sharing how Harry's passion for music had blossomed from a young age. She recounted moments of determination and resilience, highlighting the countless hours he had spent perfecting his craft, and the sacrifices he had made to pursue his dreams.

As the stories unfolded, you gained a deeper understanding of the person Harry had become. It was clear that his artistry was not just about creating music, but about connecting with people, making them feel seen and understood. His songs had touched hearts and inspired countless individuals around the world.

Amidst the conversations, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for being part of this journey. You thought back to the early days, when you first met Harry, and how your lives had intertwined. The support and love he had shown you throughout your relationship mirrored the unwavering dedication he poured into his music.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd, you and Anne decided to capture a few more moments together. Fans approached, requesting photos, and you happily obliged, feeling a sense of camaraderie and unity. The shared love for Harry created an instant bond, as if you were all part of one big extended family.

The sound of laughter and excited chatter filled the air as the anticipation for the show grew. The stadium lights illuminated the night sky, casting a magical aura over the scene. You marvelled at the way music had the power to bring people together, to transcend boundaries and create a sense of belonging.

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As the lights dimmed inside Wembley Stadium, you found yourself nestled beside Harry, eagerly awaiting the performance of Madi Diaz, the talented artist who was set to be his opening act.

The air was charged with anticipation, and the energy of the crowd was palpable.

Harry had insisted that you watch her perform, even though you had watched her before, but the puppy dog eyes he provided had the deal sealed and here you were, watching from the tunnel as she performed to the fans awaiting your husband.

Taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere, you glanced at Harry, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I can't wait to see Madi perform," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration for the talented singer.

A soft melody began to drift through the speakers, signalling the start of Madi's set.

The crowd erupted in cheers as she stepped onto the stage, her presence commanding attention.

As Madi's ethereal voice filled the stadium, you found yourself captivated by her soulful performance. Her music seemed to weave a spell, enchanting everyone in its path. The audience swayed to the rhythm, their enthusiasm growing with each passing song.

Glancing down the row, you noticed your eleven-month-old son, nestled contentedly in Harry's arms. His wide eyes reflected the vibrant lights and the pulsating energy of the crowd.

"Looks like Thames is enjoying the music too," you remarked, a fond smile gracing your lips.

Harry chuckled softly, his voice barely audible over the music. "I think he's got great taste already," he replied, his adoration for your little family evident in his eyes.

The songs flowed seamlessly, drawing you deeper into the musical journey. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Madi's talent, knowing that she was setting the stage for Harry's own performance.

During a particularly soulful ballad, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you. It was the kind of music that touched your heart, reminding you of the power of melody and lyrics to evoke emotions and connect people.

As the final notes of Madi's last song resonated through the stadium, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause, expressing their appreciation for her mesmerising performance. You joined in, clapping enthusiastically, feeling a sense of unity with everyone present.

The intermission provided a brief respite before Harry's grand entrance. You took the opportunity to steal a moment alone with Harry and Thames, savouring the warmth of each other's presence.

"I'm so proud of you," you whispered, your voice filled with love and admiration. "I can't wait to see you take the stage."

“Get in this photo with me quickly, love.” Harry mused, reaching for his phone that was in his pocket of his shorts, he brought your son closer to his chest as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He did his peace sign, whilst you just smiled at the camera, Thames was too busy staring at his father to take notice of the camera clicking.

“I’m gonna send it to the group chat, tell her how much we enjoyed her set.”

What a cutie.

It wasn't long until You found yourself backstage at Wembley after watching Madi perform, in your husband's peaceful dressing room where you could tend to the needs of your precious baby boy. Harry was off talking to Sarah whilst Wet Leg took to the stage.

Settling into a comfortable chair, you cradled Thames in your arms, his tiny fingers grasping onto your shirt. A soft smile played on your lips as you looked down at him, your heart overflowing with love.

He was your everything.

The love you had for him was ever growing.

"Time for a little snack, angel baby," you whispered, gently shifting him into a position that would allow him to nurse.

His hungry cries were replaced by a contented sigh as he latched onto your breast, his tiny mouth working in rhythm with the soothing beat of his suckling.

Breastfeeding him was a good way for you to connect with him.

Feeling a sense of peace wash over you, you close your eyes, relishing the intimate connection you shared with your son. The backstage noise faded into the background, replaced by the comforting sound of Thames' soft slurping.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted the tranquillity, and you opened your eyes to see Harry's mother peeking in.

"May I come in?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth and concern.

"Of course, mama," you replied, grateful for her presence. "Thames is just having his feeding."

Anne stepped into the room, her eyes filled with tenderness as she approached you and Thames.

"He's growing so quickly," she remarked, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're doing an amazing job, dear."

A mixture of gratitude and fatigue washed over you, and you smiled wearily. "Thank you, mama. It's been a journey, but it's all worth it."

It wasn’t easy to get pregnant with your darling boy. No matter how many pregnancy tests that you seemed to take, they simply would not show the result you both desperately wanted.

But then, one morning, you got the result you had always wanted.

Anne took a seat beside you, her gaze fixed on the baby in your arms.

"It truly is," she agreed, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "The bond you're forging with him is something truly special."

As Thames nursed, you and Anne engaged in a heartfelt conversation. She shared stories of motherhood, recounting the joys and challenges she had experienced when raising Harry and his sister. Her words were a soothing balm to your weary soul, reminding you that you were not alone on this beautiful yet demanding journey.

"You're a wonderful mother, and I couldn't be prouder to have you as a part of our family," Anne said, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Touched by her words, a tear welled up in your eye. "Thank you, mama. Your support means the world to me."

As Thames finished his feeding, his eyes fluttered closed, a satisfied smile gracing his little face. You carefully cradled him against your chest, his warmth and soft breaths providing comfort.

Anne rose from her seat, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Rest up, dear. We'll be here for you every step of the way."

That was nice to hear.

With a nod of gratitude, you watched as Anne left the room, leaving behind an aura of warmth and encouragement.

Once Anne had left, Thames had slowly stopped his sucking and had closed his eyes, just as Harry had walked into the room.

You placed your angel baby in his stroller, covering him with a soft blanket and giving him his dummy before walking back over to the sofa where your husband was now sitting, legs spread wide and you plonked yourself down on his lap, legs straddling his waist.

“What’re you doing?” He asked you as his breath hitched in his throat, the feeling of you sat on his lap never failed to get him excited.

“I know for a fact that you're nervous about performing here tonight,” You told him, smiling at him as you pushed some of his curls off of his forehead. “So I thought I’d help you see as Thames has gone down for his nap.”

“And how can you help me?”

“I thought we could have a little makeout session,” You shrugged your shoulders. “Just like we used to do when we first met, it can take your mind off of things.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his lips were stuck onto yours. The kisses started out soft before they slowly built up their speed.

He slipped his tongue gently inside your mouth after you granted him access and it had you moaning slightly at the feeling.

His kisses never failed to make you weak.

You tugged on his curls to bring his face closer to yours, and this time he was the one to let out a moan at your actions.

He was the first one to pull away and moved his hands down so that they were grabbing at your arse, making you squeal slightly.

“God I love you.”

You took a look at his swollen lips before pressing one last peck to them. “And I adore you.”

There was nothing like a little backstage make out session at Wembley Stadium.

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It wasn’t long before Harry made his way onto the stage.

You stood near the side of the stage, so that Harry could see you and his family at all times. Thames was fast asleep in your arms, ear protectors over his ears so that the loud music did not affect his hearing.

As the lights dimmed inside the grand arena, a collective hush fell over the crowd.

Excitement crackled in the air, anticipation palpable as everyone waited for the moment they had been eagerly awaiting. You found yourself among the thousands of devoted fans, heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, the stage erupted in a burst of dazzling lights, and a surge of electricity coursed through the audience. The unmistakable sound of Harry's voice resonated through the speakers, sending waves of euphoria through every fibre of your being.

"He's here!" you heard someone exclaim in front of you to the person beside them, unable to contain therejoy. "Harry here!"

The roar of the crowd intensified, the air filled with a fusion of deafening screams, heartfelt cheers, and unabashed adoration.

The energy was electric, a testament to the unwavering support and love of Harry's fans.

As the opening notes of his first song reverberated through the stadium, the crowd erupted into a chorus of elation.

You joined in, your voice blending with the voices of thousands, all singing along to the lyrics that had touched their hearts and souls.

Daydreaming was a banger.

The atmosphere became a symphony of emotions—a mix of tears, laughter, and sheer awe. Every fan's face was illuminated by the radiant glow of the stage, their eyes fixated on the mesmerising sight before them.

"He's even more incredible in person," a fan exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. "I can't believe I'm witnessing this moment!"

Neither could you.

Around you, fans were captured in a collective trance, their attention solely focused on the man who had captured their hearts. The connection between artist and audience was undeniable, an unbreakable bond that transcended time and distance.

"I've been waiting for this my whole life," someone whispered, their voice filled with a mixture of reverence and gratitude. "It's a dream come true."

The air was thick with raw emotion, an outpouring of love and appreciation for the music that had become the soundtrack to countless lives. It was a shared experience, a moment of unity where strangers become allies, connected by their devotion to Harry and his art.

As Harry's voice soared, filling the stadium with its power and vulnerability, you felt an overwhelming sense of pride. This was the moment you had been waiting for—to witness the impact of his talent on such a grand scale.

"He's a legend," a fan declared, her voice filled with conviction. "And we're all here to witness his greatness."

The cheers echoed, reverberating through the walls of the stadium, as Harry commanded the stage with his magnetic presence. The fans were transfixed, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, their admiration for him radiating from every corner of the venue.

In that moment, as the music swelled and the crowd erupted in applause, you realised the power of unity and shared passion. Harry had created a world where strangers become friends, where music brought people together, and where the magic of his performance created an unbreakable bond.

The night had been amazing so far, that was until Harry had decided to start singing ‘Fine Line’.

He had not told you that he would be performing this, it was a shock to not only you but the whole stadium.

The song had a special meaning to the two of you, he had written it when the two of you were going through a bad patch in your relationship.

‘Put a price on emotion, I’m looking for something buy’

You stood in the dimly lit living room, the tense silence enveloping the air like a suffocating fog. Harry, your husband of ten years, stood across from you, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. The lines etched on his face told a story of countless arguments and sleepless nights. This was just another page in the tumultuous novel of your relationship.

"I can't keep doing this, (Y/N)," Harry said, his voice strained. "We need to figure out a way to move forward."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "Move forward? How can we move forward when you're never here? When every word we exchange feels like a transaction?"

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "It's not about money, Sarah. It's about providing for our family, giving them the life they deserve."

Your heart ached at the mention of your children, the innocent casualties of your constant clashes. "I don't want you to buy me things, Harry. I want you to be here. I want you to listen, to understand."

Harry's frustration boiled over, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I work day and night to give you everything, to provide stability. Isn't that enough?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. "No, Harry, it's not enough. I want your time, your presence. I want to feel like a priority, not just someone you provide for."

You and Harry had gone through a tough bout in your relationship, you had got engaged four months ago and ever since then it was as if Harry was never there.

You felt alone.

You just needed his love and affection.

‘You’ve got my devotion but man I can hate you sometimes,’

He had forgotten date night:

Again.

"I just don't understand, Harry," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You have my unwavering love and loyalty, but there are moments when I can't help but despise you."

He stared back at you, his brows furrowing as he searched for an explanation. "I never intended to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was best for us."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of disdain. "Your version of 'what's best' seems to conveniently align with your own desires. What about considering my feelings, my needs?"

Harry's face contorted with a mix of guilt and confusion. "I never meant to disregard you, I promise. But sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own world that I forget to take a step back and see how it affects you."

You shook your head, feeling the weight of disappointment pressing down upon you. "Forgetting is one thing, Harry, but repeatedly making the same mistakes is another. It's hard to believe that my devotion to you is reciprocated when I constantly feel neglected."

His eyes softened, a glimmer of understanding creeping into his gaze. "I don't want you to feel that way, I truly don't. I need to do better, to be more aware of the impact my actions have on our relationship."

A mixture of frustration and sadness welled up inside you, threatening to overflow. "Words are empty if they're not followed by actions, Harry. I need tangible proof that you value our bond, that you're willing to fight for it."

‘I don’t want to fight you, I don’t want to sleep in the dirt’

The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken apologies, regrets, and unmet expectations.

Everything was turning to shit.

"I don't want to be at odds with you, Harry," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anguish and longing. "I don't want our love to be reduced to this constant battle."

He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, his voice filled with a tinge of desperation. "Neither do I. I hate the way we hurt each other, the way we tear each other apart."

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of understanding. "Then why do we keep finding ourselves in this never-ending cycle? Why can't we find common ground?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of his admission evident in his slumped shoulders. "I don't have all the answers, love. But I know that I don't want to sleep in this metaphorical dirt. I want us to find a way out of this darkness."

‘We’ll get the drinks in so I’ll get to thinking of her’

You found yourself entangled in yet another heated argument with Harry. The atmosphere was tense, thick with unspoken frustrations and mounting anger. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing the fragile fabric of your relationship.

"We always find a way to escape, don't we?" you muttered, your voice tinged with bitterness. "But in the midst of our indulgence, do you ever think of her?"

Her.

The name of the girl who dated Harry before you, the name of the girl who he had to do part of a show with:

Kendall Jenner.

Harry's expression tightened, his eyes clouded with defensiveness. "I'm trying to forget, to let go of the past. Why can't we focus on our present?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, laced with a tinge of resentment. "The present is tainted, Harry. How can we move forward when the past still haunts our every interaction?"

He took a step closer, frustration etched upon his face. "I made mistakes, but I'm here, trying to make amends. Can't you see that?"

You looked away, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill over. "I see your efforts, Harry, but it's hard to ignore the scars left behind. The wounds run deep."

His voice wavered, a mix of pleading and remorse. "I want to heal those wounds, to build a future together. Can't we leave the past where it belongs?"

‘We’ll be a fine line’

The room echoed with the weight of unspoken words, a battlefield of emotions waiting to be unleashed.

"I don't know if we can find our way back from this," you said, your voice laced with a sorrowful tone. "We've reached a breaking point, Harry."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and determination. "I refuse to believe that. We've faced challenges before, and we've come out stronger. We can do it again."

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "But what if this time is different? What if we've crossed that invisible line, and there's no going back?"

Harry's voice cracked, his voice pleading. "We'll find a way. We have to. Our love is worth fighting for."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the ache in your heart threatening to consume you. "Love isn't always enough, Harry. We need more than just words. We need understanding, trust, and a solid foundation to build upon."

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air as if searching for an anchor. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I don't want to lose you."

A heavy silence settled between you, filled with the weight of unspoken fears and doubts. The fine line between hope and despair seemed more fragile than ever. You looked into Harry's eyes, searching for a glimmer of the love that had once bound you together.

"But what if we're just fooling ourselves?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "What if we're destined to be nothing more than a shattered line, forever separated?"

‘Test of my patience, there’s things that we’ll never know’

"I can't do this anymore, Harry," you said, your voice strained with a mix of weariness and disappointment. "Our arguments have become a constant test of my patience."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his furrowed brows. "I never wanted it to come to this. But there are things we'll never know, no matter how hard we try."

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, tinged with a touch of resignation. "It's those unknowns that weigh on me, Harry. They eat away at the foundation of our relationship."

Harry's eyes searched yours, a hint of desperation shining through. "I wish I had all the answers, but I'm just as lost as you are. All I know is that I don't want to lose you."

A surge of anger coursed through you, mixed with the ache of unmet expectations. "Saying you don't want to lose me is not enough, Harry. We need to confront these uncertainties together, to find a way to bridge the gaps that separate us."

His voice softened, a glimmer of remorse crossing his features. "I understand your frustration. I'm willing to work on it, to find a way to navigate these uncharted territories."

‘You sunshine you temptress, my hands at risk, I fold’

"You always have a way of shining light into my darkest moments, Harry," you spat out, your voice laden with both admiration and frustration. "But sometimes, that light blinds me, blurring the lines of what's right and wrong."

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of bewilderment and defiance. "I never intended to lead you astray. I'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame, but my intentions are not always clear."

A sharp pang of hurt coursed through you, the realization of the risks at hand sinking in. "You temptress, Harry. With your charm and charisma, you lure me in, but the consequences of your actions leave me vulnerable."

He stepped closer, his voice pleading, yet tinged with regret. "I never wanted to put you in harm's way. But my hand is shaky, and sometimes, I make mistakes that hurt us both."

Anger flared within you, the frustration of being caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I can't keep playing this game with you, Harry. My heart is at risk, and I'm tired of constantly folding under the weight of uncertainty."

Harry's gaze softened, remorse evident in his eyes. "I understand your weariness, your need for stability. But please know that my intentions are rooted in love, even if they are imperfect."

You knew that he loved you.

There was no doubt about it.

His love was the one thing that never failed to grow, but your constant trust issues always made it hard to actually see what was happening right in front of you.

You had the perfect man and yet you couldn’t help but wish you didn’t deserve it.

‘Crop’s trepidation, I’ll try to shake this soon’

Tension hung heavy in the air as you found yourself caught in yet another argument with Harry, your husband. The room felt suffocating, suffused with a palpable unease that mirrored the crisp trepidation running through your veins. Emotions clashed, sending tremors through the fragile foundation of your relationship.

"I can't keep living like this, Harry," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. "The constant arguments, the uncertainty, it's eating away at me."

Harry's face hardened, his jaw set in determination. "I know I've made mistakes, but I'm trying to change. I can't shake the feeling that I'm losing you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of resignation. "Trying isn't enough, Harry. I need more than just words. I need actions that reflect the promises you make."

He took a step closer, his voice filled with a mix of pleading and remorse. "I don't want to lose you either. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

And he did everything he could.

Hence the reason you were Mrs.Styles.

‘Spreading you open, is the only way of knowing you’

"I don't understand why you keep shutting me out, Harry," you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice. "How can I truly know you if you're not willing to be open with me?"

Harry's face tightened, his eyes clouded with a mix of apprehension and fear. "Being open is not easy for me. I have my own demons, my own insecurities that I struggle with."

You took a step closer, desperation lacing your words. "I get that, Harry. But shutting me out only creates distance between us. We need to be able to share our fears, our vulnerabilities, to truly connect."

He sighed, the weight of his guardedness palpable. "I've been hurt before, and it's hard for me to let my guard down. But I don't want to lose you either."

You knew he had trust issues.

You both did.

But at the time, you were his fiancé and he just wouldn’t tell you about what was bothering him.

It was if you didn’t exist to him.

‘We’ll be alright’

Voices escalated, emotions intensified, and it seemed like the world around you was crumbling. But within the chaos, a glimmer of hope lingered.

"I can't believe you said that, Harry!" you exclaimed, frustration etched on your face. "How could you think I would ever do something like that?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of remorse and desperation in his eyes. "I'm sorry, love. I let my insecurities get the best of me. I never meant to doubt you."

Anger simmered within you, but love fought its way to the surface. "We've been through so much together, Harry. Can't you see that? We're supposed to trust each other, support each other."

Harry's voice softened, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "You're right, sweetheart. I've let my fears cloud my judgment. I know deep down that you would never betray me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of sadness and relief washing over you. "I just want us to be okay, Harry. I want us to trust each other and be there for one another."

He reached out and gently cupped your face, his touch comforting and reassuring. "We will be okay, love. We'll work through this, together. I'll do everything I can to make things right."

Everything did turn out alright.

You were at a party with the rest of the band and had been chatted up by some random man that you had never seen before.

Harry was drunk, and instantly accused you of trying it on with another man, making you realise that everything with Harry wasn’t all that it seemed.

You hadn’t realised that you were crying until you felt Gemma wrapping an arm around your shoulder and wiping away the tears that fell down to cheeks.

So many arguments between the man you loved and you was what caused the song to be written, and as much as it pained you, it needed to be done.

Arguments over petty little things.

You getting jealous due to the fact he was working with his ex, who was insanely pretty.

Hun forgetting date night again and again.

So many stupid little things led to the two of you almost ending things for good.

The family knew how important this song was to not only you but Harry, and hearing him singing it live always hit different:

But it felt a lot more different to see him performing it at Wembley.

You’ll always be alright.

▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌ ▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕

As the final notes of the Kiwi faded into the air, you stood backstage, a proud smile adorning your face.

Your heart swelled with joy as you anticipated seeing your husband, after his electrifying performance. In your arms, your eleven-month-old still, slept soundly, soft snores falling from his parted lips, he looked just like his father when he slept, unaware of the excitement unfolding around him.

The backstage area was a whirlwind of activity as crew members rushed about, dismantling the stage and packing up equipment. But amidst the chaos, you patiently waited for Harry, knowing that your presence would provide the anchor he needed in the midst of the commotion.

Finally, you spotted him, his tall figure emerging from the crowd of people.

The moment his eyes locked with yours, everything else seemed to fade away. He grinned, his dimples deepening, as he made his way towards you.

"Hey, beautiful," Harry mused, his voice filled with warmth and exhaustion. He carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"You were amazing, sweet boy!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with admiration. "The crowd absolutely loved you."

He chuckled, a hint of modesty in his tone. "Thank you, love. I'm glad they enjoyed it. But you're the one I perform for, you know."

Gently rocking Thames in your arms, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's lips. "We're so proud of you, Daddy. You're the best."

Harry's eyes softened as he gazed at his sleeping son. "And I'm the luckiest man alive to have you and Thames by my side."

As the backstage area began to clear, Harry took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. "Shall we head home, love? It's been a long day."

Nothing seemed better than climbing into your bed right now.

Together, you made your way towards the waiting car, hand in hand. The familiar routine of packing up and departing after a show had become second nature to you both.

The cool night air brushed against your skin as you settled Thames into his car seat, ensuring his comfort and safety.

As you climbed into the back seat next to Harry, exhaustion from the day began to wash over you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed contentedly. "I'm so grateful for these moments, Harry. Our little family, together."

Harry wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. "Me too, love. These are the moments I live for."

You looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Hey, Harry, remember when we used to go on spontaneous adventures?"

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a playful gleam. "Oh, I remember. Those were some of the best times. What's on your mind, love?"

You had gone to paris,

Flown to Italy where he proposed,

Taken a trip to Amsterdam to place a padlock on the iconic bridge,

And had even flown to New York to see Beyoncé in concert.

A smile danced on your lips as you began sharing your idea. "Well, Thames is growing up so fast, and I was thinking, maybe it's time we start creating some fun memories with him too. What do you think about taking a family trip when tours over? Maybe we could spend some time in Italy or something like that or even in Holmes Chapel?”

Harry's face lit up with excitement, mirroring your own. "That sounds amazing, love! Any other suggestions? We could travel wherever our heart desires?”

You paused for a moment, pondering the possibilities. "How about a beach getaway? We can build sandcastles, splash in the waves, and introduce Noah to the joy of the ocean."

Harry's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I love that idea! The beach has always been a special place for us, and I can't wait to share that with our angel baby."

The car continued to carry you home, but your thoughts were already whisked away to the anticipation of the family adventure that awaited. With each passing mile, you and Harry excitedly discussed the details of the trip—finding the perfect beach destination, planning activities for Thames, and envisioning the joy on his face as he experienced the wonders of the seaside.

As the car pulled into the driveway, you exchanged a knowing smile. The seed of a beautiful family memory had been planted, and the anticipation filled the air with a delightful energy.

One thing was for sure.

Harry was home.

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writerinloves-blog · 1 year ago

Text

First chapter of my Kit Tanthalos x OFC. Enjoy!

For 150 moons, the passage of time within the castle walls marked the silent journey of Lyra Calloway. The magic that once shimmered in her veins had retreated, dissolving into the recesses of her memory, becoming as elusive as the tendrils of a half-remembered dream. In the daylight hours, Lyra was a composed lady's maid, her laughter ringing softly within the castle's halls. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, the echo of forgotten spells and lost incantations whispered in the corridors of her mind.

The soldier, Ballentine, was a consistent presence in her life, a stalwart guardian who not only saved her but also brought with him a sense of warmth and belonging. His visits, sprinkled across the years like stardust, were cherished moments of respite for Lyra. In the depths of his eyes, she saw reflections of the love her parents once showered upon her, a connection to a past that felt both distant and vivid, like the pages of a cherished storybook.

However, as time flowed like a river, Ballentine noticed the solitude that sometimes wrapped around Lyra like a shroud. A child surrounded by adults, her laughter occasionally rang out in the corridors, echoing with a longing for companionship. Sensing her need for a friend, he orchestrated a meeting that would alter the course of Lyra's life.

On that pivotal day, Ballentine led Lyra to another girl, a young soul who had also found sanctuary within the castle's embrace. A blonde-haired girl named Brunhilde, whose laughter bubbled like a spring, brought an effervescent energy into Lyra's world. She was a whirlwind of curiosity and enthusiasm, her eyes reflecting the same sense of wonder that Lyra had once possessed.

In the tapestry of fate, their friendship was woven with threads of shared secrets and endless giggles. Lyra, on the day they met, tried valiantly not to burst into laughter at the peculiar sound of Brunhilde's name. Yet, in that moment, something magical happened. The laughter that Lyra had held back for so long bubbled up, spilling into the air like musical notes, echoing the beginning of a friendship that would last a lifetime.

The sun cast a gentle morning glow through the castle windows, illuminating the cozy kitchen where the two friends sat, breaking their fast in the midst of their duties. The aroma of freshly baked muffins hung in the air, a testament to Brunhilde's culinary skills, which had become the heart and soul of the castle's kitchen.

Brunhilde, affectionately nicknamed Bruni by Lyra, was a lively whirlwind, her eyes alight with excitement as she chatted animatedly about the prince. "He is so dreamy, Lyra, you know," Bruni gushed, her words laced with starry-eyed admiration. "Yesterday, he told me thank you while I put some muffins on the table, and then later that night, he came down here, and we kissed, he is so perfect Ly." Her voice was filled with the kind of reverence usually reserved for celestial beings.

Lyra, ever the pragmatic soul, rolled her eyes playfully, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. "Well, I would hope so," she replied, her tone teasing. "He is a prince, after all, and those are basic manners, and you let him kiss you, so..." Her fingers delicately plucked a muffin from the plate in front of her, savoring the warmth that still lingered within the freshly baked treat. "Your muffins are just so good," she added genuinely, her words punctuated by a contented sigh.

This compliment elicited a hearty laugh from Bruni, a sound that echoed with the joy of companionship. "Lyra, you're too kind," she said, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and happiness. "But really, you should see the way he looked at me. It was like... I don't know, like he saw me." Her eyes glittered with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Lyra, ever perceptive, observed her friend's expression, a fondness blooming within her heart. "Maybe he did see you, Bruni," she said gently, her tone soft. "You have a way of capturing people's attention, not just with your muffins, but with your spirit. It's... enchanting. He is lucky to have you, I hope he knows that." The word slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and she inwardly chided herself for the slip, hoping Bruni wouldn't notice the odd choice of words.

But Bruni, in her own spirited way, simply grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, if I'm enchanting, then you, Lyra Calloway, are positively magical," she declared, raising her muffin in a mock toast.

The head of the kitchen's sharp voice cut through the warm camaraderie like a dagger, reminding the girls of their responsibilities. With practiced efficiency, Bruni and Lyra hurriedly untangled themselves from the moment they shared, exchanging a quick but affectionate hug before parting ways. Bruni darted off to prepare the morning meal, her footsteps echoing with purpose in the bustling kitchen.

Lyra, ready to begin her temporary duties, had one foot out of the kitchen door when the head cook's voice reached her ears once more. "Oh! Lyra, I almost forgot, Ballentine is looking for you," the cook said, her tone softened by the warmth of their shared workspace. Gratitude painted Lyra's lips as she uttered a sweet "thank you" before setting off to find the soldier.

It didn't take long to locate Ballentine; he was often found in the castle's training ground, honing his skills with the determination of a seasoned warrior. Today was no exception. As Lyra approached, she observed the intense training session taking place between Ballentine and a fierce-looking girl named Jade. Lyra knew better than to interrupt; she had narrowly escaped a sword's edge the last time she inadvertently intervened in their training.

She settled a respectful distance away, content to watch until their spar came to a close. The clash of swords, the sound of metal meeting metal, reverberated through the training ground until finally, there was a pause, and the blades ceased their dance.

"You still favored one of your sides, but you are going to do great. You've worked so hard for this," Ballentine said, his voice a mixture of pride and encouragement, his eyes fixed on Jade. Gratitude glimmered in Jade's eyes as she replied, "Thank you, Ballentine," her tone laced with determination.

Seizing the moment, Lyra stepped forward with a warm smile, her presence heralded by the soft rustle of her skirts. "Hello, Jade," she greeted, her voice gentle, acknowledging the other girl's efforts. Jade's fierce expression softened into a smile, a rare sight that warmed Lyra's heart. "Morning, Ballentine," she added, acknowledging the soldier whose guidance had become a beacon of strength for them both. After this, they said their goodbyes.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the castle grounds as Lyra and Ballentine walked together. Lyra, her eyes alight with curiosity, finally couldn't contain her question any longer. "You wanted to speak to me?" she inquired, her voice a delicate melody beneath the vast expanse of the open sky.

"Yes, I do," Ballentine began, his tone soft but firm, radiating a sense of pride. "Everyone is very pleased with your work as a lady's maid. Every guest you've served has spoken highly of you, and that makes me very proud, of the young lady you are becoming." His words, like gentle waves, washed over Lyra, leaving her heart warmed by their sincerity. It was a stark contrast to the past, where praise had been scarce and often barbed.

A genuine smile curved Lyra's lips, a rare sight that spoke volumes. "Thank you," she replied, her voice soft-spoken, gratitude filling the gaps between her words. The affirmation, so earnestly given, felt like a soothing balm to her soul, healing wounds she hadn't realized were there.

Ballentine, sensing her vulnerability, continued, his voice unwavering. "And we... I think you are ready for a more important role. You've been chosen to be the lady's maid of the princess. This is..." He paused, searching for the right words to convey the magnitude of the honor.

"What?" Lyra interrupted, her voice escalating with disbelief. Her eyes widened, mirroring the astonishment in her voice. The prospect was beyond her wildest dreams, a surreal twist of fate she hadn't dared to imagine.

Ballentine, the epitome of calm in the storm of her emotions, raised his hand in a gesture meant to quell her sudden outburst. "This is an honor, Lyra," he assured her, his eyes warm with reassurance. "You were hand-picked for this."

"But... I thought that her royal highness already had a lady's maid," Lyra stammered, her nervousness palpable. Doubt crept into her voice, uncertainty clouding her eyes.

"Yes, but she is advanced in age," Ballentine explained patiently, his words measured and calm. "The queen thought that perhaps someone closer to her age would be better suited for the job." His explanation, though logical, did little to ease Lyra's apprehension.

"You know I am not good with new people..." Lyra confessed, her voice a quiet murmur, her vulnerability laid bare before him.

Ballentine's eyes softened with understanding. "Jade knows her," he said, offering a lifeline of familiarity in the sea of uncertainties.

"Really?" Lyra's eyes widened with a mix of hope and trepidation. Before Ballentine could say anything more, Lyra dashed off towards Jade, her heart pounding in her chest. The courtyard seemed to stretch endlessly before her as she ran, her breaths coming in short gasps.

With each hurried step, Lyra closed the distance between herself, Jade, and the answers she desperately sought. "Jade! Wait!" Lyra's voice, laced with urgency and hope, cut through the crisp castle air. At the sound, Jade, her footsteps momentarily stilled, turned around, her eyes widening in surprise as she waited for Lyra to catch up. Ballentine, ever the steadfast guardian, trailed close behind, his expression a mix of curiosity and quiet support.

"What happened?" Jade questioned once Lyra was in front of her, her tone a blend of concern and confusion, her eyes flickering between Lyra and the soldier behind her.

"We are friends, right?" Lyra began, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. The question hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of anticipation.

"Of course, we are," Jade replied, her voice soothing, sensing the gravity of the moment. She shot a quick glance toward Ballentine, silently seeking confirmation of the seriousness of the situation.

"So, you'll tell me the truth," Lyra stated, her eyes unwavering as she locked onto Jade's. A pause hung between them, pregnant with the intensity of the unspoken question that followed. "What is the princess like?" she finished, her voice barely louder than a whisper, yet laden with a profound earnestness.

"Kit?" Jade asked in a confused voice, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. Lyra's confusion mirrored Jade's, unable to comprehend the casualness with which the princess was referred to.

"You call the princess by her given name?" Lyra questioned, her brows furrowing in bewilderment, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Jade, her posture shifting slightly, held her head high, a subtle but unmistakable pride in her voice. "We are friends. We trained together almost every day."

Recognition flickered in Lyra's eyes, and a calm settled within her as the implications of Jade's words washed over her. "Oh... so she IS nice," Lyra breathed, her voice laced with relief. In that moment, the princess transformed from a distant, intimidating figure into a tangible, approachable person.

"Yes, indeed, she is... why?" Jade asked, curiosity knitting her brows together.

Lyra turned around, her gaze meeting Ballentine's, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of pride and assurance. A gentle smile curved her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken support he offered. With newfound confidence, she turned back to Jade. "Well," Lyra began, her voice filled with quiet certainty. "You are looking at Her Royal Highness's new lady's maid." The words hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of possibility and change.

"Oh! Lyra, that's great!" Jade exclaimed, her eyes alight with genuine happiness. She enveloped Lyra in a warm, spontaneous hug, the shared excitement between them binding their friendship even tighter. In that embrace, amidst the castle courtyard bathed in the golden hues of the fading sun, Lyra felt a surge of confidence and purpose.

"Just one more thing," Jade said, her tone suddenly serious as she gently released Lyra from the hug. Lyra, her eyes filled with both anticipation and confusion, nodded in response. "Yes?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a sweet smile.

"Be patient with her," Jade advised, her words hanging in the air like a quiet plea. With those cryptic words, Jade abruptly turned and began walking away, her steps quick and purposeful, leaving Lyra standing there, her mind swirling with questions and a sense of foreboding.

"What? What does that mean? Jade!" Lyra called after her, her voice a mix of confusion and frustration. But Jade, now a distant figure, merely glanced back, her laughter carried on the wind as she disappeared from view. Left alone, Lyra turned to seek answers from Ballentine, her trusted confidant.

"What does she mean by that?" Lyra inquired, her eyes searching Ballentine's for any hint, any clue to unravel the mystery that now clouded her path. But Ballentine, ever enigmatic, merely smiled at her, his expression a blend of reassurance and quiet understanding. He remained silent, leaving Lyra with nothing but his cryptic smile.

Just as Lyra was about to press further, a sudden, resonant bell echoed through the castle halls, its chime reverberating like a command. The sound cut through the tension in the air, signaling the start of their duties as castle staff members. Lyra took a deep breath, the weight of Jade's words lingering in her mind, and with a newfound resolve, she turned away from Ballentine and began making her way toward the princess's chambers.

The corridor stretched ahead of her, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the castle's storied history. Each step echoed with a sense of purpose and trepidation. Lyra's heart beat steadily in her chest, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the anticipation and uncertainty of the path she was about to tread. With every footfall, she steeled herself for what lay ahead, knowing that the cryptic advice from her friend would soon reveal its meaning in the enigmatic world of the princess's chambers. As the grand doors loomed before her, Lyra took one final deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of anticipation, and pushed open the door, stepping into the unknown with courage in her heart and determination in her eyes.

The soft morning light filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a gentle glow upon the figure of the princess, still lost in the embrace of sleep. Lyra, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation, approached the ornate bed, her footsteps echoing softly against the chamber's grandeur. With a steadying breath, she reached for the curtains, her fingers gentle yet firm, and pulled them open in a swift, purposeful motion.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Lyra greeted her voice a perfect blend of firmness and sweetness, carrying the weight of her newfound responsibility. Time hung in the air, each second feeling like an eternity as she waited for the princess to stir from her slumber. Seconds turned into minutes, and when the stillness became too much to bear, Lyra's eyes fell upon a book resting on a nearby table.

An internal battle raged within her—a war between caution and necessity. Her mind warned her of the consequences, and the potential trouble of her actions, yet the urgency of her task spurred her forward. If she did not rouse the princess in time for breakfast, the repercussions could be just as dire. With a decisive breath, she approached the table, her fingers wrapping around the book. It felt weighty in her hands, the knowledge that her actions held consequences both daunting and invigorating.

In a split-second decision, Lyra allowed her instincts to guide her. The book met the floor with a loud thud, the sound shattering the quiet of the chamber. The princess jolted from her sleep, and sat up in bed with sudden haste, her expression a canvas of confusion.

"Good morning, Your Highness. I am so sorry for the noise, how clumsy of me," Lyra apologized, her voice genuine and laced with remorse for her abrupt disturbance. The princess, still disoriented, turned her head, her eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

"You are not Mrs. Crain," she observed, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Indeed, I am not," Lyra affirmed, her voice unwavering as she retrieved the fallen book, her movements graceful and composed. "I am your new lady's maid, my name is Lyra, Your Highness." As she stood before the bed, she executed a perfect curtsy, her demeanor poised and respectful, embodying the grace that her position demanded.

In the quiet expanse of the princess's chamber, the atmosphere hung heavy with both anticipation and tension. Lyra, her movements purposeful and deliberate, approached the closet where the princess's attire was kept. Her eyes, keen and observant, scanned the array of clothing, a thoughtful frown marring her brow. Thanks to the insight Jade had provided, she anticipated finding an assortment of trousers and blouses instead of the expected dresses. Undeterred, she set about selecting an ensemble that balanced both comfort and practicality.

Meanwhile, Kit observed the young maid with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Lyra's hands moved deftly among the fabrics, her choices made with a quiet confidence that intrigued Kit. As Lyra deliberated over the outfit, Kit's thoughts flitted between the impending discussion about her clothing and the growing thirst that had settled in her throat. An idea formed in her mind, a momentary escape from the oncoming battle about dresses and courtly attire.

With purposeful grace, Kit swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, her movements fluid despite the haze of sleep. She padded toward a nearby table adorned with a jug of water, her steps silent on the chamber's rich carpet. Pouring water into a delicate cup, the cool liquid soothed her parched throat, momentarily distracting her from the impending conversation.

"So, Your Highness, I was thinking about this for the day," Lyra's voice, polite and respectful, cut through the room. Kit, her thirst momentarily sated, turned her attention back to the maid, her expression one of guarded anticipation. She braced herself for the upcoming debate about her attire, a challenge she was prepared to meet head-on.

But as she turned, her eyes met Lyra's and she was met not with the expected resistance, but with something else entirely. The young maid stood before her, holding out a selection of clothing.

Trousers, a soft green blouse, and a vest were displayed with a kind of quiet confidence that took Kit aback. It was as though Lyra had read Kit's mind, understanding not just the princess's daily routines but also her desire for comfort and practicality.

"I thought that perhaps this would be comfortable for the day, in case Your Highness decides to do some training today," Lyra explained, her tone gentle yet firm. Kit, for the first time, found herself at a loss for words. The battle she had mentally prepared for had not materialized. Instead, there stood a maid who not only anticipated her needs but respected her choices. With a tentative smile, she nodded, a silent acceptance of the outfit offered to her.

As she began to change into comfortable attire, Kit stole a glance at Lyra, a newfound curiosity blossoming within her.

The air in the chamber hung with a subtle tension as Kit, made casual conversation, attempting to bridge the gap between their roles. "So... how old are you? You seem around my age," Kit inquired, her voice soft, her gaze lingering curiously on Lyra as she handed her the vest, the fabric cool and smooth in her hands.

"We are the same age, Your Highness," Lyra responded, her voice calm yet guarded, a faint hint of hesitation underlying her words. As Kit began to put on the vest, she noticed Lyra's meticulous efforts to smooth out any creases, her fingers moving with a practiced ease. The unspoken tension between them seemed to dissolve in the quiet rhythm of dressing.

"You're all set, Princess. Would you like me to do your hair?" Lyra offered her eyes briefly meeting Kit's before she took a step back, granting Kit space and autonomy in her decision.

Kit, feeling a sudden impulse to assert her independence, declined the offer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed herself in the mirror. "I do not think that would be necessary; I can do it myself," she stated, her voice tinged with a hint of determination as she started to walk toward the vanity where her brushes lay.

"I could braid it," Lyra persisted, her voice gentle, a subtle insistence underlying her offer. The maid's gaze held a quiet intensity as if she saw something more in the princess's request—a chance to connect beyond the boundaries of their roles.

Kit hesitated, her fingers absently combing through her hair as she considered Lyra's offer. For a moment, she pondered the idea of allowing this stranger, who seemed to understand her desires before she voiced them, into this intimate part of her daily routine. Yet, the pull of familiarity and self-sufficiency won her over.

"No, it's okay. I would wear it down today," Kit decided, her voice firm, her eyes meeting Lyra's in the mirror. In that brief, reflective moment, Kit noticed the color of Lyra's eyes—vivid blue, reminiscent of the sky just before dawn.

Kit, lost in her thoughts, was abruptly pulled back to reality by the sound of Lyra's voice. "So, I was not notified of any duties Your Highness would have to attend today, but for now, Her Majesty..." Lyra's words trailed off as Kit raised her hand, a silent plea for a momentary respite from the formalities that encased her life.

"Please, could we be, at least a little bit less formal, please?" Kit pleaded, her voice carrying the weight of both exhaustion and longing. In a fraction of a second, Kit swore she detected a glimmer of relief in Lyra's eyes, a shared desire for an escape from the rigid protocols and the gilded cage of royalty.

"Well, your mother and your brother are waiting for you to break their fast," Lyra continued, her voice softening, a genuine smile touching her lips. Kit found solace in the simple warmth of that smile, a respite from the usual stiffness she encountered in the castle's halls.

"Alright, that is great because I am really hungry right now," Kit replied, the sincerity in her voice betraying her weariness. With newfound determination, she started walking toward the door, the prospect of a meal a small yet significant comfort in her day.

As she stepped out, she realized Lyra hadn't followed. Confusion clouded her features, and she turned back to find the young maid standing in the opulent corridor. "Oh, I have to finish your chambers first, then I'll come with," Lyra explained, her voice soft and apologetic. Kit's eyes softened with understanding.

A pang of resentment surged within her. She hated the formality, the endless rituals, the suffocating expectations. The casual grace with which Lyra moved through the world, unburdened by titles and false smiles...

"Princess!" Kit's steps faltered, and she turned around at the sound of Lyra's voice. Lyra was hurrying toward her with an air of urgency.

"I forgot to let you know something," Lyra began, her words hinting at an important revelation. Kit's brows furrowed inquisitively. "Jade is going to start..."

"Jade? You know her?" Kit interjected a curious note in her voice. The fact that Lyra seemed to be acquainted with Jade intrigued her. Jade had never mentioned a connection to this girl before.

"Yes, we are acquaintances... friends, actually," Lyra replied with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting a genuine fondness for the subject of their conversation. Kit, on the other hand, wore a slight frown, her mind racing to process this newfound piece of information.

"As I was saying, Jade is going to be training in half an hour," Lyra continued, her words coming in a steady stream of consideration. "However, considering that you are only about to have food, I would consider waiting at least half an hour before starting your training."

Kit was about to interject with her own thoughts, but Lyra pressed on, her voice a mixture of sincerity and a trace of personal experience. "Because from personal experience, I once ate and then had to run, and I ended up throwing up..." Lyra trailed off, her expression contorting briefly with the memory of the unpleasant incident. "I think I just overshared, but that's my honest advice, Princess," she concluded with a graceful curtsy before stepping back.

Before Kit could formulate a response, Lyra turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Kit stood there, a whirlwind of confusion and intrigue swirling within her.

Who was this girl, and where had she come from?

#kit tanthalos fanfiction #kit tanthalos #Kit Tanthalos x OFC #Kit Tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos x jade claymore #Ruby Cruz #Ruby Cruz fanfic #hazel callahan

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warabidakihime · 1 year ago

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Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Reader | College AU

Synopsis: Love, as unpredictable as the changing tides, swept into our lives like an enchanting story waiting to be written. In the quiet moments, amid stolen glances and playful banter, it whispered its secrets, weaving a tapestry of emotions that neither of us could deny. And when our hearts finally dared to speak, they painted our friendship with the colors of passion, turning an ordinary tale into an extraordinary love story, destined to be told for eternity.

Content warning: none

A/N: satoru has been making his way up my ranks hence the birth of this piece. hope you like it!

Oh, shit.

Since when did it all begin?

Or, to be more precise, when did you finally acknowledge it?

You have absolutely no clue. So now, you're desperately sifting through your memories for answers, or at the very least, some elusive hints as to when and how it all started.

When did your heart start to race and ache for Gojo Satoru?

As far back as you can recall, there were no standout moments that triggered your heart to flutter or inspired any inkling of affection toward him. It's not as if you don't find him attractive; you certainly do. But it's not the kind of attraction that leads to a headlong tumble into love. If anything, Suguru seemed to align more with your ideal type, and you could have sworn your crush was centered on him, not his white-haired best friend.

So, when and how did it happen?

And why is it only dawning on you now?

You entered Satoru's world through the gateway of a mutual friend, Shoko Ieiri. You were the latest addition to their tight-knit friend group. Shoko, your classmate in medical school, played matchmaker by introducing you to Satoru and Suguru when they decided to pay her a visit. You and Shoko were pursuing careers in the healthcare sector—your sights set on neurology and Shoko's on cardiology—the boys had taken different paths.

Suguru had graduated from culinary school and was embarking on a journey to open his own restaurant, while Satoru was gearing up for his licensure exam in education.

Meeting Suguru and Satoru for the first time left you feeling slightly intimidated. To be honest, you weren't the type to seek out new acquaintances willingly. Your introverted nature and minor case of social anxiety made new encounters a bit daunting. However, the boys were incredibly warm and accommodating, and their welcoming nature made it easy for you to seamlessly integrate into their group.

As previously mentioned, while you were getting to know your new friends, you developed an adorable crush on Suguru. You found him incredibly attractive, both in terms of his physical appearance and his personality. He embodied your ideal type—dark-haired, captivating eyes, a soothing voice, incredibly kind, a true gentleman who could also be cheeky and mischievous at times. Shoko even tried to play matchmaker and set you up with him. However, a shared moment with Satoru made you change your course. It happened while the two of you were waiting for Shoko and Suguru at a cafe, the designated meeting spot before heading to the beach getaway you had been eagerly anticipating for weeks.

As you and Satoru waited for your friends, you engaged in a lively conversation about a myriad of topics, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. It wasn't that you and Satoru weren't close before, but this was one of the first times you had the chance to spend quality time together, just the two of you.

Curiosity led you to ask Satoru why he had chosen education as his profession. He playfully responded, "Yeah, I know, someone as handsome as me pursuing a teaching job seems unlikely," earning a playful eye roll from you. He followed it with an endearing chuckle and then delved into his reason.

During high school, when Shoko, Suguru, and he were classmates, there had been some distressing hazing incidents. One particular event had deeply affected him, igniting his anger not only at the school's negligence but also at their heartlessness for not taking action to prevent such incidents from recurring. It had happened repeatedly, and Suguru had nearly become a victim himself.

The revelation shocked you. You learned that your kind and gentle, dark-haired friend had endured a tumultuous time at the tender age of 16, finding himself trapped in a dark and perilous environment. Satoru had nearly lost his confidant during those harrowing days, and as a result, a dream had taken root in his heart. He aspired to become a teacher who would be a reliable mentor for his students, providing them with a safe and nurturing environment.

Listening to all of this made you reflect on his earlier statement. While he said it in a playful manner, what he expressed actually made a lot of sense. It wasn't that you held a low opinion of teachers; in fact, you held them in high regard. It's just that, considering Satoru's exceptional abilities, it seemed fitting for him to pursue a grander path, perhaps in law, astronomy, or even a career in medicine, much like you and Shoko. Hearing someone of his caliber passionately speak about his dreams caused your heart to flutter.

From that day forward, you began to notice and appreciate every aspect of Satoru, from the most significant aspects of his character down to the smallest details. All of it appeared incredibly beautiful to you.

And then, the inevitable happened: you had fallen hopelessly and irrevocably for Gojo Satoru.

As days turned into weeks and your newfound affection for Satoru continued to blossom, you found yourself in a bewildering internal struggle. It was a stark contrast to your previous crush on Suguru. With Suguru, you could effortlessly be yourself. The two of you would exchange playful and flirtatious remarks without a care in the world, and it felt completely natural.

But with Satoru, it was an entirely different story. You were a mess around him. Whenever he entered the room, your heart raced, your palms got sweaty, and your words seemed to tumble over each other like clumsy acrobats. You tried your best to play it off, to act as if nothing was going on in your heart. It was like trying to hide a wildfire with a paper fan.

One day, during a group outing to a cozy beachside cafe, the contrast between your interactions with Suguru and Satoru became painfully apparent. Suguru, sitting across from you, flashed his signature grin and made a witty remark about the quirky seagull that had just stolen a fry from your plate. Laughter erupted from both of you, and you couldn't help but feel a familiar warmth in your chest.

Then you glanced over at Satoru, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with Shoko. His usual nonchalant and playful demeanor was on full display, but there was a tenderness in the way he looked at Shoko, like the affection shared between close friends. It was a side of Satoru that you cherished but also longed for—an intimacy that transcended mere friendship. The way he gazed at Shoko, with those gorgeous blue eyes sparkling, made your heart ache with longing. If he could bestow such warmth upon a close friend, you couldn't help but wonder how he might look at someone who held an even more special place in his heart—someone who could be the love of his life.

It was as if a veil had been lifted, and you began to notice every stolen glance, every accidental brush of your fingers, and every subtle smile he bestowed upon you. Each of these moments sent your heart into a frenzied dance.

As you continued to observe Shoko and Satoru as subtly as you could, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy mixed with longing. Your feelings for Satoru had grown so intense that irrational thoughts sometimes crept into your mind. Thoughts of what it would be like if he looked at you with the same affection; thoughts of being the one who made his heart skip a beat. You knew these thoughts were irrational, and you quickly berated yourself for even entertaining them. You didn't want to jeopardize your friendship with Shoko or cause any discomfort to your friends.

But when he caught you staring a little too long or blushing under his gaze, you quickly averted your eyes, feigning indifference. It was becoming a constant battle between your head and your heart, and you weren't sure which one would emerge victorious.

Deep down, you knew you had a decision to make. You had to confront your feelings, grapple with the uncertainty of potential rejection, and weigh the consequences it might have on your tightly knit friend group. But for now, you continued to navigate this treacherous emotional terrain, desperately trying to keep your heart's tumultuous secret locked away.

The evening had settled comfortably into Suguru's cozy living room, where the soft glow of fairy lights danced on the walls. You and Suguru had arrived earlier than everyone else, taking the time to prepare for the movie night while awaiting Satoru and Shoko.

As you busied yourself with setting up snacks and drinks, Suguru's perceptive gaze followed your every move. He couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your behavior over the past few weeks. With a teasing smile, he leaned in closer, his voice low. "You know, y/n, I couldn't help but notice that something's different these days."

You paused, glancing at Suguru, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "What are you talking about, Suguru?"

He chuckled softly, sipping his drink. "Oh, come on now. Don't think you were so slick in your actions; you weren't."

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your confusion apparent.

His playful tone took on a hint of mock hurt as he continued, "Lately, it feels like our playful banter has lost some of its charm. You've been a little distracted, haven't you? I reckon Satoru has something to do with it."

As if on cue, the door to Suguru's apartment opened, and conveniently, Satoru heard what his best friend said. He stood frozen in his tracks, doing his best to stay silent, and listened to your conversation. Fortunately for him, none of you noticed his entrance.

Your eyes met his, and you knew it was time to confide in your best friend. "Suguru, about that..."

His playful demeanor softened into genuine concern as he leaned in, his eyes locked onto yours. "What's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and began to lay yourself bare before one of your most trusted friends. You confessed the deep, romantic feelings you had developed for Satoru, the turmoil it had caused within you, and your fear of potential rejection. You spoke of your worries about the impact on your friendship, your tight-knit friend group, and the uncertainties that had kept you from revealing your emotions to Satoru.

As Satoru remained frozen in the hallway, his heart raced at the revelation unfolding before him. He had entered Suguru's apartment just in time to overhear your conversation.

Listening to you confess your profound feelings for him sent a rush of emotions coursing through him. He was caught in a whirlwind of surprise, curiosity, and an undeniable warmth that spread through his chest. For so long, he had believed that your heart belonged to Suguru, convinced that the playful banter you and Suguru shared would inevitably lead to something more.

Now, the truth stood before him, and it was a truth he had never dared to hope for.

He couldn't help but reflect on his own feelings and the love he had quietly harbored for you. It was a love he had kept hidden, convinced that he was not the one who held your heart. But as your words washed over him, he realized that the connection between you two ran deeper than he had ever imagined.

Satoru remained hidden in the shadows, wrestling with a mix of emotions—joy, relief, and a tinge of regret for not having revealed his feelings sooner.

Suguru listened attentively, offering a sympathetic ear and supportive words. "You know, y/n, I can't promise you how Satoru will respond. But I do know one thing—your feelings are valid, and you deserve to be happy. I approve of you and Satoru; the both of you complement each other. I never thought there would be another person that could match his energy, but lo and behold, you appeared right before our eyes."

Suguru's words of understanding and support washed over you like a comforting wave. You appreciated his unwavering friendship and the warmth he had always shown, especially now when you needed it the most.

"Thank you, Suguru," you sighed, a mix of gratitude and anxiety swirling within you. "I just... I needed to get this off my chest. It's been eating at me, and I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

Suguru gave you an encouraging smile. "You did the right thing, y/n. And trust me, Satoru can be a handful at times, but he's got a good heart. I've known him for years, and I've seen how much he cares for his friends, and I've also seen the way he treats you. I'm not saying you should confess your feelings to him right away, but maybe it's worth a shot, don't you think?"

As you continued to chat with Suguru, sharing your fears and hopes for what lay ahead, neither of you noticed the shadow in the corner of the room slowly stepping closer. Satoru had decided it was time to reveal himself, his heart pounding with a mixture of emotions. He couldn't bear to stand hidden in the shadows any longer, not when your confession had stirred something profound within him.

Just as you were about to respond to Suguru, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. Startled, you turned to find Satoru standing there, a mixture of surprise and something more complex in his expressive blue eyes.

"Satoru," you gasped, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Suguru, too, turned to see his best friend, his eyes widening with realization.

Satoru cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his usual nonchalant demeanor, but his voice held a hint of vulnerability. "Uhh, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, hehe."

Your heart raced as you met Satoru's gaze, wondering what he would say next, how he would react to your confession, and what it might mean for your future.

As the room fell into a brief, charged silence, Satoru's gaze remained fixed on you, his blue eyes reflecting a whirlwind of emotions. You saw a hint of surprise, curiosity, and something more profound—something that made your heart skip a beat.

Suguru, ever perceptive, gave a knowing smile and patted you gently on the back before excusing himself with a playful wink. "Well, I think I'll leave you two to chat. Catch you later!"

With Suguru's departure, you and Satoru were left alone in the room. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and neither of you knew quite how to start.

"Well, this is awkward," you said with a nervous chuckle, which Satoru mirrored, something he rarely did. His usual confidence was momentarily replaced by a touch of shyness that you found endearing. It almost made you forget how you had carelessly let him know of your feelings.

"Well, I do have a knack for arriving at the right time," Satoru finally said while scratching his nape, his playful nature returning. Then he looked at you, his eyes holding a glimmer of hope, and asked, "Is it true? You love me?"

His question knocked the air out of your chest; your voice almost croaked when you tried to speak, but you managed to remain composed. There's really no use in denying them any longer, so you might as well be honest with him.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady and sincere.

Satoru bit his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress a grin, but his efforts were in vain.

"Since when?" he asked again, his curiosity evident in his gaze.

"For a while," you confessed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you now that your feelings were out in the open.

Satoru's grin grew wider as he took in your confession. He stepped closer, the playful twinkle back in his eyes. "Well, I must say, y/n, I'm quite flattered. It's not every day someone as incredible as you admits to having feelings for me."

His lightheartedness put you at ease, and a small smile played on your lips. "You're not going to make me regret saying that, are you?"

He chuckled—a warm, melodious sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I promise, I'll be on my best behavior... for now."

The two of you settled into a more comfortable conversation, discussing your feelings and the uncertainties that came with them.

"Actually," Satoru began, his voice taking on a more serious tone amidst the playfulness, "I've known about your crush on Suguru for a while now."

You blinked in surprise. "You have?"

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I figured you two were meant for each other with all that flirting. I didn't want to get in the way. And I honestly think you two would look good together too."

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words settled in. It was a revelation that left you feeling both stunned and strangely relieved.

"But," he continued, "when I heard your confession tonight, it took me by surprise. I never would've guessed you felt the same way about me." he confessed, his eyes locked onto yours.

You met Satoru's gaze, your own eyes conveying the sincerity of your words. "Satoru, what I felt for Suguru was real, but it's different now. I've known him for a long time, and we had a great connection. But what I feel for you is... it's something more. It's deeper, stronger, and it's been growing for a while."

Satoru's playful demeanor gave way to a softer, more genuine expression. "I see," he said, his voice tender. "So, you've had your eye on me all this time, huh?"

You couldn't help but blush, but you nodded. "Yeah, I have. And it's been driving me crazy, not knowing how you felt about me."

Satoru stepped even closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Well, now you know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. "that I'm crazy about you too."

Anticipation hung in the air as he drew nearer, and you bridged the gap between your lips by gently pulling him closer, your fingers gripping his shirt before you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Time seemed to slow down. It was a moment you had imagined countless times—a culmination of desire and longing that had built up over months. The kiss was everything you had hoped for and more.

Satoru's playfulness was momentarily set aside as he leaned into the kiss with a seriousness that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was determined to convey the depth of his feelings through this single, passionate act. His lips were soft and warm, fitting perfectly against yours.

Tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss. It was a gentle yet fervent exploration, a dance of tongues and sighs that spoke volumes. The world around you seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was the connection you shared, the emotions that surged between you, and the unspoken words that filled the space.

When you finally broke the kiss, you both were left breathless and wide-eyed, the weight of your emotions hanging in the air. Satoru's eyes bore into yours, and you could see the sincerity in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor.

As you basked in the warmth of the moment, Satoru's signature smile brightened the room. His playful demeanor had returned, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his question.

"One more?" he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

You pretended to consider it, with your finger tapping your chin in mock contemplation. "Hmm, I suppose one more wouldn't hurt."

With a grin, Satoru leaned in once again, his lips capturing yours in another sweet kiss. This time, it was lighter, a gentle affirmation of the connection you had forged. It was a promise that there would be many more kisses to come, each one filled with the depth of your feelings and the joy of being together.

When you finally pulled away, Suguru cleared his throat rather obnoxiously, "I'll take it as we're over, y/n?"

Suguru's abrupt interruption had both you and Satoru turning to look at him, breaking the tender moment you had just shared. There was a playful yet mischievous glint in his eyes, and his lips curled into a teasing smirk.

"Unfortunately," you said, playing along with his theatrics. "Sorry, Sugu."

Satoru couldn't resist joining in, his tone mockingly possessive. "Back off, buddy. She's mine now."

Suguru responded snarkily but in a playful way, "She's all yours. He then turned to you with a pout, "Don't even bother soothing my broken heart." Suguru said while "clutching" his heart to emphasize how "hurt" he was.

"How about I treat you to your favorite coffee tomorrow?" you offered him with a sisterly smile.

"Well, that works too." Suguru responded with a chuckle, but it was interrupted by a rather loud bang.

The three of you whipped your heads towards the sudden noise, which was Shoko dropping the snacks she brought for movie night. She obviously missed a whole lot, judging from her shocked expression: "Did I just witness y/n and Gojo exchanging saliva?"

Satoru couldn't resist the opportunity to playfully exaggerate. "Oh, it was much more than just saliva, Shoko. It was a declaration of eternal love, sealed with a kiss."

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but it was all in good fun. The four of you shared a hearty laugh, and the tension from earlier completely dissolved.

Shoko, recovering from her initial surprise, joined in the teasing with a playful smirk. "Well, it's about time, you two. We've been waiting for this moment."

Suguru chimed in, "Yeah, it's been like watching a romantic comedy with slow-burn tension."

As your friends continued to tease and banter, you couldn't help but feel a warm sense of belonging. It was a night filled with confessions, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

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hard-boiledreviews · 3 days ago

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Review #1: You Again

Name a better movie to start my review journey with, you can't! In my humble opinion, this is a fantastic movie with a star-studded cast that left me laughing every other line. For this first review, I thought it would be best to merely provide my notes while watching the movie as I found them pretty funny if I do say so myself. I strongly recommend reading these notes alongside the movie and laughing with me, but, either way, I hope this is an enjoyable read. In short, You Again is a 10/10 movie and will forever be one of my favs. Enjoy the notes:

great start, hot Kirsten being not hot grabs your attention right away along with the instant mean girl performance of we are the champions

I remember now why this is one of my fav movies

Huge cast, all hot

Cheer tryouts scene scratches an itch in my brain

I love when movies can somewhat make their adult characters into the child version of them and its convincing

Adult Marni reveal is goosebumps worthy

Bring back the airplane phones, why’d they go away?

"Titi" also scratches an itch in my brain

The rock. Star studded cast fr

What I would give for The Rock to feed me pretzels

Brother calling sister gorgeous is not right.

Why’d Jamie Lee have to say culinary so crisp like that

Why are all the character reveals so iconic

I think I just like this movie too much

I want to live in their house give it to me pls

“Nobody gets through high school unscathed” and “everybody deserves a second chance” spitting facts the. whole. movie

How have I never noticed the groom is such a cheese ball

The playing of the we are the champions cd gives me anxious butterflies

TIM. what a king.

Is this movie one of the reasons I see everything as a competition?

AND NOW KRISTEN?? We are so blessed

Ugh and that toxic transition

“Did you take a shower?” Another iconic line

“I love RUNNING” so true Marni so true

Marnis throwback look was such a good concept, this wedding is the sequel to high school indeed!

The moo necklace as a bridesmaid gift is savage and I kinda love it?

“Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?” SAVAGE

“There is nothing safe about you Olsen” stop I’m gonna melt I love Charlie

“Are you a Tim?” My new daily quote

“I don’t know where the Charlie’s are” why is this movie so good

I know I need to stop just writing the one liners but THEYRE TOO GOOD

Should’ve said this sooner but Ben is such a necessary character

Why is the wedding rehearsal performance too realistic to modern weddings. It kills me every time

I’m sorry but all the details of this movie are so on it

Tims speech delivery is top tier I could never be him

Wow just seeing that JJ looks just like Megan fox

The whole crowd being there for the bride and grooms fight is wild, clear the room people shits going down!

Game recognizes game fr gotta respect the competish between Marni and JJ

Beefing while in the same dress is also iconic

KITTY LIKES TO SCRATCH AHAHAH

I need to start calling people emotional terrorists

Back in the pool, gotta love the reverting back to high school

All I can think of when I hear Ramona is her and her sister beezus

The girl world frightens and confuses me too dude

Joanna on the floor eating spray cheese from the fridge is me every night

Neither of them are worried about the fridge being open the whole time huh?

Fridge was open for so long I started naming all its contents

Can we stop wearing capri pants forever? Not a personal fav but maybe that’s just me

Marni with bangs eats idc

Wait I guess I missed the part where the dads a doctor? Seems like a conflict of interest for him to be their doctor but that’s just me

Glad to see JJs dress got cleaned in record time for their hospital wedding!

Yoo you think JJs aunt is jealous Marni is walking her down the aisle ??

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend your funeral last year” ice cold.

Iconic movie. No notes. 10/10

How are even the credits iconic.

#movie review #movies #you again

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deliciousfoodstories · 2 months ago

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Marinated Tuna Steak: A Journey of Flavor and Forgiveness

On a sun-drenched island off the coast of Hawaii, a quaint seaside restaurant named “Tide’s Catch” served the freshest seafood. The owner, Leila, was a gifted chef known for her marinated tuna steak, a dish that had become the star of her menu. It was a recipe she had perfected over years of experimenting, combining the rich flavors of soy sauce, ginger, and sesame with the freshness of the ocean.

Leila’s restaurant was not just a place to eat; it was a sanctuary for the soul. Locals and tourists alike would gather at the outdoor tables, where the sound of waves crashing against the shore mingled with laughter and conversation. But for Leila, the restaurant was also a place of healing. A few years earlier, she had faced a personal crisis that left her feeling lost and disconnected from her roots.

One quiet afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the ocean, a young man named Kai stepped into Tide’s Catch. He was a local fisherman with a troubled past, searching for a fresh start after years of making poor choices. He had heard whispers about Leila’s legendary tuna steak and hoped to find solace in the flavors of the island.

As Kai settled into a corner table, Leila noticed the weight on his shoulders. With her instinct for reading people, she felt compelled to reach out. “What brings you here today?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting.

Kai hesitated, then replied, “I just moved back after some time away. I’m trying to find my way again.” His eyes flickered with a hint of vulnerability.

“Sometimes a good meal can help with that,” Leila said, smiling. “How about you try my marinated tuna steak? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Sure,” Kai replied, intrigued.

As Leila prepared the dish, she carefully marinated the fresh tuna steaks in a mixture of soy sauce, ginger, and a touch of honey. The aroma filled the kitchen, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Cooking was her therapy, a way to connect with her past and the love of her family, who had inspired her culinary journey.

When the tuna steak was ready, Leila plated it beautifully, garnishing it with sesame seeds and thinly sliced green onions. She served it with a side of coconut rice and a vibrant mango salsa that brightened the dish. As she placed the plate in front of Kai, his eyes widened in appreciation.

“Wow, this looks incredible,” he said, his stomach rumbling.

As Kai took his first bite, the flavors exploded in his mouth. The marinated tuna was tender and savory, the sweetness of the honey perfectly balancing the richness of the fish. He closed his eyes, savoring each bite, and for a moment, all his worries faded away.

Leila watched from the kitchen, pleased to see Kai enjoying the meal. After a while, she approached his table. “How do you like it?”

“It’s amazing. This is the best tuna I’ve ever had,” Kai admitted, his eyes brightening. “It feels like… home.”

In that moment, Leila saw something in Kai’s expression that mirrored her own journey. She sensed his desire for redemption, just as she had sought her own after her struggles. “Food has a way of connecting us to our roots,” she said softly. “It can also help us heal.”

The two began to share their stories, and as the sun set over the horizon, they opened up to each other. Leila spoke of her grandmother, who had taught her the art of cooking and how it had been her refuge during difficult times. Kai shared his regrets, the choices that had led him astray, and his longing to make things right.

As their conversation deepened, Leila felt a bond forming. She saw potential in Kai—a spark that reminded her of herself. Inspired, she offered him a chance to learn from her. “If you’re interested, I’d love to teach you how to cook. It might help you find your path.”

Kai’s eyes widened with surprise. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Leila replied, smiling. “Cooking is a journey, just like life. And sometimes, we need someone to guide us.”

Over the next few weeks, Kai became a regular at Tide’s Catch, working alongside Leila in the kitchen. He learned to prepare the marinated tuna steak and other dishes, discovering a passion he never knew he had. With each slice of fish and every marinade mixed, he found a sense of purpose and belonging.

As the seasons changed, so did Kai. He began to mend relationships with his family and friends, using his newfound skills to bring people together over shared meals. The island community embraced him, and he felt their support as he transformed his life.

On a warm summer evening, Tide’s Catch held a special event to celebrate the island’s culture. Leila and Kai prepared a feast that showcased their journey together. As guests savored the marinated tuna steak, laughter and joy filled the air.

Standing at the front of the restaurant, Leila raised her glass. “To new beginnings and the power of food to heal and connect us!”

The crowd cheered, and Kai felt a surge of gratitude. He had found not just a mentor in Leila but a sense of family. Together, they had created something beautiful—through the simple act of sharing a meal, they had stitched together the frayed edges of their lives.

As the sun set on another perfect day in paradise, Kai knew he had finally found his place—both in the kitchen and in his heart. And it all began with a marinated tuna steak, a dish that had brought him home.

#cooking #delicious #recipes

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amayaonly1 · 3 years ago

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A Lil’ Oopsie - Lesson 9 (Obey Me x Female!MC/Reader)

@strawberry-moonpies So... I was planning to finish this chapter a few moments ago... until it was that time of the month for us ladies, and I nearly passed out from excruciating pain. Not fun. 🙄 Anyway, we're so close to the end of toddler MC's journey. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Take care. 💕

Other work: Diavolo's Cousin from Hell

A Lil' Oopsie mini-series:

Angelic blue eyes with a yellow gradient blinked.

A pair of inquisitive eyes blinked back.

The blond angel adorning a white apron smiled slightly as he stiffly greeted, "Hello."

The toddler standing in front of him nodded in response. She then turned around, hugging the crow plushie tightly, and walked towards Barbatos who'd been waiting at the edge of the dining table where a high chair was placed.

Simeon, who looked very amused by the curt exchange, let out a chuckle. "Luke," he called in a playful tone. "This is MC. It's not like you're meeting her for the first time, so you don't need to be so formal."

A light shade of pink dusted the embarrassed angel's cheeks. "I-I know that!" he stammered. "I'm just not sure how to talk to her now that she's in this state."

With Luke trailing behind him, the tall angel trod towards the toddler. There she sat with a look of content as Barbatos dabbed her messy cheeks with a napkin while she gleefully ate some omelette prepared by Simeon. Since Luke was busy baking some pastries for the guests, he had to prepare something suitable for a human child; but he wasn't going to have her risk of getting food poisoning caused by another human with rather questionable culinary skills. So what better way to prevent that than researching simple human food recipes with ingredients available in Devildom that were - hopefully - safe for MC?

Simeon stood on the other side of her and gently brushed her hair. "But to think that we would come to see MC as a toddler," he commented. Another chuckle left his lips before he teasingly added, "I supposed that's the reason why all of you took your time coming over after Solomon announced that the antidote was finally done."

Mammon, who was sitting at one of the dining chairs having breakfast, was in denial. "It's not like that-"

"Of course!" Asmodeus, on the other hand, wasn't shy about that fact. "I mean, just look at her. Supple skin, soft cheeks, exuberating innocence; how can you resist such an adorable being? Had you been in our shoes, you would feel the same, Simeon."

"Maybe not in such way," responded the said angel sheepishly. "But I do admit that MC is an adorable human child."

"Isn't she?" bragged the champagne-haired demon, adorning an expression that one could mistake him as MC's parent. "Maybe it's because of that daily moisturiser I put on her skin. Or maybe it's just MC herself being so effortless. No wonder she's so beautiful in her original state~"

"When will you stop being such a creep around MC?" chided Leviathan. "We get it that you're fascinated with her, but now that she's a child... it just sounds so wrong..."

"But I can't help it now that MC is just so vulnerable and adorable~♪"

"Quit it, will ya?!" The Avatar of Greed hissed. "Ya gonna make me lose my appetite!"

"Aw... You're no fun, Mammon. But it's okay. I understand that it's your nature to be jealous that MC didn't get to spend much time with you."

"Why you-!"

By the Lucifer was about to say something, it was already too late for the squabbling to cease. "Here we go," he sighed exasperatedly.

Meanwhile, after Barbatos had wiped off the last smear on MC's cheek and took the plastic plate and cutlery away, Diavolo cut a piece of strawberry shortcake and scooped it with his fork.

"MC," he called before leaning over, immediately grabbing her attention. "Would you like to try some of this strawberry shortcake that Luke made?"

"St-ah-bewry?" The confused toddler repeated.

"Yeah." He nodded. "It's really delicious, so I'm sure you'll like it. Say "Aaah"."

"Aaah..."

MC eagerly opened her mouth wide to which Diavolo fed her the shortcake, being careful to not poke her with the fork. Once her lips clamped down, he gently slid the silverware out before she started chewing. She must be enjoying herself, he thought, judging by the pair of round pink blushes on her puffy cheeks.

"Is it good?" he asked, to which she nodded. A chuckle left the amused Prince's lips. MC was just too adorable. Raising his free hand, he rubbed the back of her head before he returned to feeding her with more of the pastry.

"My Lord," called the demon butler who returned from the kitchen. "Do be mindful of the amount of dessert you are feeding MC. Too much sugar would not be healthy for her."

"Aw..." Diavolo pouted. "It's just a few pieces."

"I might be mistaken, but it seems that you have fed her almost half of the cake." The young Prince looked down at his plate. True to the butler's words, there was less than a quarter of what's left of the said treat.

With a sheepish closed-eye grin, he said, "Oops, I didn't realise that. But as long as MC enjoys it, then I guess it wouldn't hurt to let her indulge once in a while."

But Barbatos begged to differ, although not so deliberately. "My Lord, I'm sure MC has been indulging herself since her unprecedented transformation."

And he wasn't surprised about getting ignored by the young Prince, who resumed feeding the toddler with the rest of the cake.

"Come to think of it," mentioned Beelzebub, who then turned to look at Simeon approaching MC with a small plate of pie. "Where's Solomon? I thought that he'd be here since he was the one who called us here."

The angel placed the pastry on the tray and looked up, leaving Diavolo to gladly feed the toddler who was all too happy to eat another scrumptious treat.

"He said he'd like to do some finishing touches," he replied. "I think he is concerned about the antidote for MC's toddlerisation."

"No surprises there," Satan remarked. "MC has already missed a number of classes, and the teachers are starting to be suspicious about it. It's best that he settles this once and for all before this prolongs any further."

But Asmodeus wasn't so keen on that. Getting up from his chair, he dashed to the other side of the dining table where MC was. He lunged in to hug her by the side, rubbing his cheeks against her chubby ones; all the while being very careful of the drips of sauce.

Quite an amazing skill, one might think.

"Aw..." he whined loudly. "I'll miss this version of MC so much! Not that I'm saying I don't like her in her original state, but this one is just so... irresistible!"

"Asmo," called Belphegor, looking equally annoyed. "Stop taking advantage of MC's current state and jumping on her."

"Hey!" Mammon shouted. "Get ya' hands off her!"

"You're not being fair!" argued Leviathan. "Since the time she transformed, you're the one who hung out with MC the most!"

"Now that they mention it, you've been coming in swiping her off whenever you get the chance." Satan pointed out accusingly. "Even when it was your turn to look after her, you'd take your sweet time which took up to an hour or two, then let us take over before you swoop in and take her away with the excuse of giving her a bath. I can't help but wonder if all this is a coincidence, or there's an underlying intention."

"As if all of you are the only ones to talk about being jealous!" defended the Avatar of Lust dramatically who'd released the oblivious girl. "Imagine the heartbreak I had to endure when I realise the truth - MC loves Lord Diavolo! If I were to be Tristan and MC Iseult, then Lord Diavolo must be King Mark, the one whose hands caused the demise of the princess's knight. Aah, the travesty!"

"No one is being nobody, and that's that," Mammon remarked sharply.

"Bless your heart, big brother. I know you're bitter that you're not part of our tragic tale, so I'll be a bit more sympathetic this time."

"The hell does that mean?!"

"All of you, quit it!" shouted Lucifer.

But no one heeded the eldest.

While his brothers were squabbling, Satan couldn't help but notice something. "Huh?" he began. "Where's MC?"

"She left with Diavolo and Barbatos," explained Beelzebub, who'd been occupied by the BLT Devil Sandwich. "From what I heard, she wanted to go to where Simeon and Luke were, which is most likely the kitchen."

"I see," was the blond demon's response, sounding relieved. "I was worried for a moment. I thought she'd gone off wandering on her own. At least she's with someone, then I guess there's nothing for us to worry about."

"I'm more concerned about the cupcakes that she wanted to make with Luke," mentioned the Avatar of Gluttony, whose stomach suddenly rumbled. "Just the thought of it makes me hungry again."

A sweatdrop hung by Satan's left temple. "Is that all you're concerned about?"

#obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me fanfiction

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starglow-xx · 4 years ago

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada & port mafia (part 1)

platonic! edogawa ranpo x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting these fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them! but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

author’s notes: this will be a multiple part series of head canons and this is only part one! this series will include both the agency and port mafia members, and then something special for the end. maybe i’ll even write a real one shot/scenario for it. if there’s enough interest, i might open up a tag list for this! i hope you all enjoy!! <33

also, ranpo is 25 in this part; kenji, atushi, kyouka, and the tanizaki siblings aren’t part of the agency yet, only yosano, kunikida, and dazai are, but in the next couple parts, it will be established that the tanizakis are

and (n/n) means nickname :)

meeting the greatest detective

your bakery, Sakura’s, which you named after your late grandmother (who was also your guardian), went into business when you were 18 right after graduating high school

who needed a culinary course when you were trained by dear ol grandma?

your grandmother died when you were 16, just as you started your second year of high school

you were devastated of course, but you knew she wouldn’t want you to wallow over it too long

so in those last two hard years of high school, you took part time jobs at other bakeries and saved lots and lots of money

by graduation, using your life savings, the money your grandmother had left for you, and all the money you earned working, you were able to buy the small building—with a reasonable amount of money left over to survive— you and your grandmother had been eyeing back in her hometown, yokohama, to start your bakery

the building was a bit run down, but you were planning to give it a makeover anyways

it was a bit smaller compared to other buildings around, only having two stories, but on the plus side, the second floor had taller ceilings and was an apartment

is that realistic? probably not but bare with me here

aNYWHO

you finished putting your bakery up in about 4 months, then finished up your apartment 2 more after

you opened Sakura’s at 7 in the morning then closed at 8 in the evening

when you first started, you did quite well!!

especially with those who went to work on early mornings and families

the time when you first opened was the most peaceful, but you admitted that it was a bit boring, and you wished for a bit more excitement

and boy, the day edogawa ranpo stepped into your bakery was the catalyst for the chaos and excitement that was soon to come

not that you knew that

if you did you would’ve never let him in

maybe

you were 19 when ranpo discovered Sakura’s, and it was completely accidental

he finished solving a case and was on the way back to the agency, and he—not surprisingly—got lost and then it started to rain really hard

it was pouring; there was even the cliche thunder strike and everything

you saw the brown clad man across the street and you ran out with two umbrellas (almost getting hit by a car mind you) handed one to him and practically dragged him inside

with the heavy rain on the forecast, Sakura’s was empty, so you gently pushed him down on a chair and you rushed away to find towels

even though the two of you had umbrellas, the two of you were still soaked

finding said towels, you quickly dried yourself the best you could then you draped your towel over your back and rushed over to give him his as well as a warm pastry and your special hot honey lemon tea

ranpo laughed as you placed down the refreshment and snack, thinking that you knew who he was and was giving him special treatment

poor bby blinked and went :0 when you said you didn’t

“you don’t know who i am?”

“no. am i supposed to?”

“...”

the 25 year old blanked and you worried that you broke him and started to apologize profusely

he cut you off claiming that he got over it he didnt but seeing as the bakery was empty and it was pouring pretty badly, he demanded you give him all your attention sit with him so he could tell you all about himself and what he’s done

the two of you got along quite well

you were amazed with all the stories he’s told you

you honestly acted like a cute little kid listening to fairytales

he told you that and in response you threw a napkin at him

“wow ranpo-san! that’s amazing!!”

“you look like a little kid”

cue the napkin

he was happy with all the attention, praise, and sweets you gave him

the agency gave him praise sure, and made sure he had a lot of snacks but it was refreshing to have someone give him this much and your treats were the best he’s ever had

after he told you all his most interesting cases, the two of you just rambled about the most randomest things; going from the best desserts and snacks to the stupidest things his coworkers have done

you guys were on that last topic for a while

you two talked and rambled for hours, and when it hit hour two and the rain was still pouring, you just went ahead and slipped the “we’re open” sign to “closed” even though it was only 2 o’clock

you thought that this was probably the loving goofy older brother relationship that you missed out on

“ranpo-san, you’re kind of like the brother i’ve never had”

“and you’re still like that little kid”

cue another napkin to the face

don’t worry, he already adores you <3

he just likes to make fun of you </3

*cuts you off as you’re talking to squish your cheeks* “(y/n) you still have a lot of baby fat and you’re pretty short...are you sure you’re still not in high school or smth??”

*incoherent talking due to pressure on cheeks* “ranpo-san you have 3 seconds before i kick you out”

at around 6, the rain came to a stop and by then, the both of you were all dried up

before he left, you gave him a map so that he hopefully wouldn’t get lost again and gave him a couple boxes of treats for him to have and to share with his coworkers

you closed early so you had to give away at least some of the remaining treats somehow

he wanted you to go to agency with him so he didn’t have to carry everything but you declined saying that you didn’t want to bc you wanted to rest

and for payback for calling you a little kid

you were 19 goddamnit

you already placed everything neatly into two bags so it was easy to carry but this bitch still had the audacity to pout and whine at you

and he calls you the little kid, jeez

you never told him but, you almost gave in

you never told him. but he probably already knows

ranpo san knows all after all; even you knew that by now

the two of you had also exchanged phone numbers and when the two of you showed each other what you each put for a contact name along with the note below, the two of you broke out into grins

you named him “the greatest detective <33″ & put the note “new nii-san <33 & bully </3″ and he named you “cute bakery girl” with the note “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”

when he left, you properly closed the bakery and taped a sign to the door saying that you closed early for personal reasons

when everything was cleaned up, you marched up into your bedroom, plopped on your bed, and took a nap

you deserved it

at the agency not too long after that, ranpo had arrived and when he opened the door, everyone rushed towards him in concern asking if he was okay

he waved them off and walked towards his desk and plopped down in his seat

he placed the two bags in front of him and took out a box of cream puffs and started to snack on them

his coworkers watched him blankly as his scarfed down one after another

after finishing that box, he rummaged through the bags to look through the different kinds of pastries you’ve given him

noticing that there were people still staring at him he paused before sighing in exasperation

he began to whine at his coworkers saying that no one told him it was gonna rain and that they were lucky that he happened to be in front of Sakura’s

“why did no one tell me?! it was pouring and i was soaked! you guys are lucky that (n/n)-chan’s bakery was right there! you would’ve probably lost me! how would the agency even function without me here?!”

no one wanted to be the one to tell him that they had no idea who he was talking about and that they did in fact tell him that it was gonna pour

they can save that, and their questions for another time

next >>

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

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lucys-key · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Encounters (Eren Yeager x Reader)

Part 1: Long Time, No See

An unexpected encounter one night reunites you with someone you haven't seen in a long time, but have also never quite forgotten about. (College/Modern AU).

Rating: Mature for now, but will probably change to explicit. (18+ only)

Warnings: Some cursing in this part, but otherwise no warnings. Let me know if you find anything else I should tag, though!

A/N: This is kinda something I’ve been writing for fun, haha, so I hope you enjoy!

...

It was the summer before your first year of college.

A summer that was a whirlwind of planning, buying everything you could think of that you might need, and saying goodbye to old friends.

You were equal parts nervous and excited. You were looking forward to getting away from the people at your high school, four years having been quite enough time with all of them, but you were also sad to be leaving the friends you had made. Anxiety about leaving home for the first time was also beginning to creep up as you got closer to move-in day. Needless to say, it was a stressful time.

You took a deep breath as you looked around your room. There was still so much that needed to be done, but it was such a nice day outside. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on getting your shit together for school when you were missing out on your last summer before your first stage of adulthood.

Instead of packing, you walked over to the desk in your room where your phone was sitting and called your best friend Sasha. It was unfortunate, but you and Sasha had completely different interests when it came to academics, so when it was time to choose a college, you both ended up choosing rather different schools. Coming to terms with the fact that Sasha was not going to be there for you in-person everyday was perhaps one of the most difficult things about preparing to go off to college.

The line rang three times before Sasha picked up, her muffled greeting indicating that she was snacking on something, as per usual.

“What’s up?” she asked after swallowing her food. “Finished packing?”

You sighed and looked around your room which was a mess of boxes and clothes strewn around the floor that you were trying to decide whether or not to take with you.

“Nope. I’m procrastinating,” you said almost proudly. “This summer has gone by way too fast. I really thought I’d have more time to do everything.”

“Ugh, same,” Sasha groaned as she took another bite of whatever it was she was snacking on. “I take back what I said about wanting to further my education.”

You laughed and said, “I think it’s too late for that. Besides, don’t all freshmen get the unlimited meal plan at your school?”

Sasha squealed and you could feel her joy through the phone.

“YES!” she exclaimed. “And there are four dining halls to choose from. FOUR!”

“I’m happy for you and your culinary college journey,” you replied, feeling like you were really going to miss having your best friend around.

You heard a noise in the background that sounded like Sasha’s father, and sure enough, a second later Sasha said, “I’m happy for me, too, but hey, I gotta go. Fam requires my assistance.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you through the phone. “Go assist. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alrighty, love you,” Sasha said and then hung up.

As you put your phone back down on the desk, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad. You only had a week before it was time to drive for four hours to your new home, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You still didn’t want to pack, and Sasha was busy so hanging out with her was also not an option.

Eventually, you sighed and stood up to face the inevitable: you had to pack, or at least organize your things. Before getting started, you walked over to the window next to your bed and looked outside. The sun was beginning to set, and it was still such a nice day. You pulled the window open to let in the warm summer breeze, and you heard the pleasant rustling of the leaves on the tree outside of your room.

After a few hours of packing, dinner, and watching Netflix, the sun had set completely, and you felt exhausted. You went to your dresser to put on an old, oversized t-shirt before going to the bathroom to complete your nighttime routine.

Once you were finished, you got into bed, pulled the covers over you, and soon enough you were fast asleep.

___

A loud noise.

You stirred in your sleep, not quite waking.

But then you heard another noise, and you sat up and opened your eyes, blinking them a few times to try and process your surroundings better. You looked around your room and didn’t see anything.

You felt a breeze and then realized that you had forgotten to close the window before going to bed. Deciding that the noise had been something from outside, you pushed your bed covers off of yourself to get up and close the window.

Only, as soon as your feet hit the ground and you took a step forward, you tripped over something on the floor and landed right on top of it. You groaned in pain, but before you could look to see what it was you had tripped on, an unfamiliar voice resonated throughout your bedroom.

“Ow, Jean. What the fuck?!”

You immediately froze. That was a person who just spoke. There was a person in your bedroom. A person you didn’t know, at least not by their voice.

After a few seconds, you got yourself together and quickly scrambled away from whoever it was lying on your bedroom floor. You stood up so you were looking down at them.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to keep the terrified edge out of your voice. Your eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark room so you couldn’t get a good look at their face.

The person moved, presumably to sit up, and then there was a pause.

“What do you mean ‘who am I?’ Who are you?” the stranger demanded back.

You scoffed. “This is my room dumbass. Get out. Now.”

Whoever it was in your room made a noise of confusion, and you walked around your bed to turn on the lamp. It filled your room with a soft light.

When you walked back around to the other side of your bed, the stranger had stood up, but their back was turned to you. All you could see was brown hair tied into a loose, messy bun.

“This isn’t Jean’s room,” they remarked and then whipped around to face you.

“Hey, where the fuck am I?”

You stood still as you finally got a look at the stranger’s face. Although it had been a long time, you’d recognize those bright green eyes anywhere.

“Eren?” you asked in astonishment.

Eren’s eyes widened slightly, and you were more than a little surprised when he said your name in return. You were sure after six years he would’ve forgotten it— forgotten you. You had been nothing more than classmates, after all.

Eren stood for a few seconds, but then his face broke out into a grin.

“Damn. It’s been a long time,” he said your name again, and as he continued to look at you, you were suddenly reminded of how you must have looked. You had only worn an oversized shirt to bed. Thankfully, it covered the upper half of your thighs, but you still felt yourself wishing you had more clothes on, as Eren was completely dressed in black sweats, a grey t-shirt, and sneakers.

As you looked at his face, you couldn’t help but recognize how much he had changed over the last few years. You met him when you were just twelve years old and in junior high. His child-like features had disappeared completely, and he was nothing like the boy you remembered.

For starters, Eren had grown— a lot. His voice was deeper, which was why you weren’t able to recognize it earlier. His facial features were also much more defined, his cheekbones and jawline now standing out. And perhaps the most remarkable thing about Eren’s appearance was the fact that he had chosen to grow his hair out. Your memories of Eren were of a boy with short brown hair and green eyes, though those were still the same, running around as he played with his friends at school.

You only let yourself look at him for a few more seconds before addressing the issue that had woken you in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, still so very confused about how he managed to make it into your bedroom of all places.

Eren rubbed a hand on the back of his neck looking slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, right,” Eren said and laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I think I must’ve gotten the address confused.”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes in exasperation. What did that even mean? And what was he doing climbing into people’s rooms?

Eren must’ve seen your confusion so he continued his explanation.

“You know Jean, right?” he asked.

Oh yeah, you remembered. He had mentioned his name earlier. It just so happened that after Eren moved away during your second year of junior high—something to do with his dad’s job as a doctor, if you remembered correctly—Jean’s family also moved just across town to your street. You weren’t great friends with him, but you two had gone to the same high school. You also remembered that Eren and Jean used to be close friends before Eren moved away.

“This is my first time back here in a while,” Eren said. “Jean texted me his new address, but I’ve only been here like a day, and clearly haven’t figured everything out.”

Things were starting to make more sense to you, and Eren must have seen you relax slightly because he smiled.

“I don’t normally climb into people’s rooms, by the way,” Eren said, and took his phone out of his pocket to look again at the last text Jean had sent him. “Jean said I’d wake his parents if I went in the front door, so I should use the window since his room is close to the ground.”

Eren frowned and looked behind him at your own window which was still open. “Probably should’ve realized something was wrong when I had to climb a whole ass tree. That was exhausting.”

Despite everything, you found yourself laughing. You couldn’t believe that Eren had climbed all the way up a tree only to end up in your room. You bet he was just as confused as you were when he heard your voice instead of Jean’s.

You walked over to your dresser to take out a pair of shorts to cover yourself, and Eren turned away as you carefully put them on under your shirt.

“Why are you going to Jean’s at…” you started to ask, walking over to your desk to pick up your phone to check the time, “1:30 in the morning?”

Eren, still standing in the middle of your room, raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Curious, are we?” he joked, and you felt heat rush to your face.

“Not really,” you managed to say, moving away from your desk to sit on your bed. “Just thought I should know why I was woken up by you at such an hour.”

“Fair enough,” Eren replied.

Since you were sitting on your bed, he moved to lean against your desk which was across from you.

“I’m staying with Armin,” Eren continued, “but Jean and I were planning to see some people tonight before everyone leaves for school in the next few days.”

After junior high, Armin transferred to a private high school, but he still lived in the area. You guessed he and Eren had managed to stay best friends even after Eren moved.

“I see. That sounds fun,” you said, but then added, “Although, I’m not sure why your friends like to hang out so late.”

Eren laughed, showing his perfect teeth. “I take it you’re not a night person, then?”

You looked down, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“Just not tonight,” you replied.

Eren nodded in understanding. He looked at you for a few moments, and you suddenly felt awkward. He was still standing, and you thought you should invite him to sit or something. Was that weird?

You quickly decided that it wasn’t really weird, and you gestured to the desk chair and said, “You can sit if you want.”

Eren looked at the chair, seeming like he hadn’t even realized it was there.

“Oh, sure,” he said, but seemed conflicted. “Only if you want, though,” he continued. “I know I kind of barged in here, and I don’t want to invade your space or keep you up or anything.”

His politeness made you smile, and you found that you didn’t mind his presence in the least.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied.

Eren smiled too and moved to sit on the chair, his front pressed against the back of it so you could still see his face. Eren rested his arms on the top of the back of the chair and leaned forward.

“So how have you been?” he asked, your name leaving his mouth at the end of the question.

Six years was a long time to recap, so you just said, “Pretty good, although I have been stressed lately, as you can see.” You gestured to the many boxes sitting around the floor of your room.

Eren laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, my room looks similar. I needed to get away, and this seemed like a good escape, but I still have so much shit to do when I get back home,” he sighed.

“How long are you here for?” you asked, trying to keep your tone disinterested.

“Just until tomorrow,” he replied.

You were about to say something, but then Eren’s phone began to ring. He muttered “Sorry,” as he took the phone out of his pocket.

Eren turned his head to face the ground as he answered the phone, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“What do you want, horseface?” you heard him say as a greeting. You almost snorted as you realized horseface had to be Jean.

While Eren was talking, you took out your own phone and began to scroll through it mindlessly, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping on his conversation. You almost texted Sasha about what was happening, but then decided to wait.

After about a minute or so, Eren hung up the phone. You turned off your phone and looked up to see an apologetic expression on his face.

“Sorry, but I think I have to go,” Eren said, and he almost looked disappointed.

You also felt slightly disappointed but didn’t want to keep Eren from seeing his friends.

“Okay,” you said, and then looked over to your window. Was he planning to climb back out of it?

Eren followed your gaze and seemed to read your thoughts.

“Uh, would it be alright if I used your front door this time?” he asked, laughing shyly.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t want to climb down a tree.

“Thanks,” Eren replied, obviously grateful, and he stood up from the chair.

You got off of your bed and walked towards your bedroom door. Before you opened it, you turned to Eren and said, “We have to be quiet, though. I don’t want to wake anyone.”

He smiled and nodded in understanding.

“Got it,” he whispered.

You turned the handle of your door slowly and pushed it open. With Eren close behind, you led him through the dark hallway to the stairs.

Unfortunately, your stairs were old and fairly steep, so navigating them in the dark would prove to be fairly difficult. You both made it about half-way down without a sound, but then you put your foot in front of you and accidentally missed the next step.

You felt yourself slipping, but then an arm from behind you wrapped around your waist before you could fall.

“Careful,” Eren warned.

“Thanks,” you said, and found yourself laughing at your clumsiness. In response, Eren laughed too. He still had his arm around you, and he was so close that you could hear the sound right next to your ear.

You breathed in deep as you were also able to take in his scent. He smelled like the outside, like smoke and the tree he had climbed, but there was also something sweet, like vanilla.

You heard Eren whisper your name from behind you and snapped out of your trance.

“Sorry,” you said, and then Eren moved his arm back to his side as you continued to walk down the stairs, paying extra attention to where you placed your feet.

After you successfully made it down without another incident, you walked to your front door and pulled it open. You felt the warm summer air rush over your body as you walked outside with Eren. You shut the door behind you so you could say goodbye without anyone in your house hearing.

You and Eren stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of you knowing how to say goodbye. What were you supposed to say? Everything you came up with in your head sounded embarrassing.

But then Eren smiled and laughed nervously, and you felt the tension disappear as it became clear that you and Eren both felt awkward.

You smiled back at him and asked, “Do you know where you’re going?”

Eren put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and nodded. “Yep. Looks like I had gotten the last number of the address wrong.”

You made a sound of understanding and were about to say something like goodbye, but then Eren’s voice cut you off before you could say anything.

“Hey,” he said, “it was really nice to see you.”

You couldn’t really believe the situation you were in. You had thought for sure that you would never see Eren again after he moved, yet here he was, standing outside of your house.

“Yeah, you too,” you said, and watched as the wind moved loose pieces of Eren’s hair around his face.

He smiled at you one last time before turning to walk down the pathway leading from your house to the sidewalk.

Before he got too far, he turned around and yelled, “Lock your window from now on!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

“I will!” you yelled back and waved at him.

Eren waved too, and then you watched him walk down the street for a few moments before going back inside your house.

After shutting your front dooor as quietly as you could, you walked back up to your room and took a deep breath. What were you supposed to do now?

You couldn’t get Eren out of your mind, still in disbelief that he had just been in your room. You had way too much energy to get back into bed. You looked around at the clothes on your floor and decided that it would be the perfect time to organize your things.

There was a sweater by your door with the name of your college on it. You picked it up and pulled it over your head before getting started.

Little did you know that in a few weeks, your life was going to become more intertwined with Eren’s than you could have ever imagined.

Read part 2 here

#eren yeager #attack on titan #eren x reader #aot anime #jean kirschtien #armin arlert #fanfic #annie leonhardt #historia reiss #ymir #reiner #snk anime #anime #unexpected encounters

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years ago

Text

The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

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Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

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