#I love the feeling of finally being destined for great things. I’ve never known what my purpose in life is going to be but I might be

[saturdaymournings]

can’t tell if I’m happy or not tbh but something is up in my brain and it’s crazy shit. Like I’m not even stressed about the stressy I’m just. Vibes

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Profile - Link (Legend of Zelda)

ABSOLUTELY YES. MY BOY. LOVE OF MY LIFE.

As some of you may know, today is the release date of Skyward Sword HD for Switch!! So I decided to release this one now in honor of that :3

NOTES:

I went towards the idea of a Princess!reader because that just opens the gate for sooooo much potential. I'm leaning heavily towards the ZeLink interactions in BoTW and Skyward Sword just because those games have the most interaction between the two.

Also! This is great bc it gives me the opportunity to explore an idea I've actually had a long time! I've always thought about how many opportunities there have been across the games for Link and Zelda to be kinda like "haha well seeya later" and just... bolt, run away from everything, abandon their roles and responsibilities and all that. Like, if OoT kid Link got her before Ganon did and ran, if SS Link just decided to get her on the bird and bolt before everything went down, if botw Link was just like haha what if we ran away from everything together... jk... unless...?

And final note, Link is a great pick for the very traditional yandere -- sweet and : ) but can snap into darker personas. I really liked writing this bc I tend to have more self centered yans and less of the "worships the ground you walk on" type of yans like I think Link would be, so it's a nice change.

As usual now the nsfw section is divided by a ---- line.

TWs: fem reader, heavily implied Zelda!reader, stalking, murder, very brief mentions of gore/dismemberment of rivals, manipulation, very brief suicide mention, themes of reincarnation (I’ve been told this can be triggering to some people so just in case)

TWs (nsfw section): noncon, somnophilia

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Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 4 Brutality: 8.5 Physical capability: 8 Mental/emotional instability: 7 Restrictiveness: 6 Sexual sadism: 5 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

The primary trait of Link that any darling -- any person, really -- would notice is that he is, well, quiet. He has always been a man of few words, and really, he often doesn't know exactly what to say. On his own, at a first glance, he really does seem like a gentle, humble spirit, someone who blends into the background pretty well, who isn't particularly prideful or reckless or aggressive.

Which is why, to be honest, he might sort of evade the gaze of most people -- he doesn't stand out. You remember him as the boy that smiled at you now and then, it's a soft, gentle sort of smile, one that you feel conveys nothing but the utmost innocence and contentment with the world. You know he's pretty good at fighting, but doesn't get into fights needlessly, he's accomplished and respected, but has never been the guy everyone is talking about -- he's in the background, against the wall. Never speaking, always looking out, sometimes at the sky, sometimes carefully watching people. Sometimes you see him, gaze blank and tranquil, and wonder what he's thinking about. Whether he's the village boy in the time of Twilight, the trained and honored warrior that slept for many years, the boy that came down from the sky -- you can't help but feel at ease around him, safe, you can't help but find him endearing and pleasant.

Yet, you always seem to notice him. Other people... forget he exists, sometimes, he's so quiet. You never do, for whatever reason.

When he needs to get something across, he prefers to express himself through actions, not words. If you lived in Skyloft, or Ordon village, you might find problems mysteriously solved, work suddenly done that you don't remember doing. That fencepost outside your home that broke has been replaced overnight. A village child went missing and he comes back a few hours later with them in tow. Always humble, never demanding or expecting thanks, he tells you in his quiet voice that he's happy to help you.

And should you ever ask him for anything, he'll drop whatever he's doing to help. Anything for you, he says with a smile, which makes you feel a bit guilty when, honestly, you're not even sure you're remembering his name right.

And yet, sometimes, you feel so at ease around him it seems unnatural. He seems so easy to trust. You feel like you've known him forever. And sometimes you feel... for just a split second, less at ease. You find yourself randomly stiffening at his calm, sweet voice. You find yourself looking around when you're alone, as if you feel someone is there, and for some reason, his face flashes through your mind. Sometimes when he looks at you, you feel sort of cold. It's almost like invoking a memory you don't have, like some kind of learned instinct you can't recall a reason for. But those moments are fleeting, they come and go before you can even process them, replaced by warmth and comfort.

If you do spend time with him, if you find yourself gazing out your window when he's training, the next thing you notice besides him being quiet and sweet is that he's strong. It's almost ironic, how all the other knights or village boys are so aggressive and rowdy all the time, many of them taller or bulkier, and yet, none of them could ever dream of defeating Link. Not one can match his agility, speed, prowess. Such a pleasant, calm person, with so much skill, strength, and power, but that power is so rarely seen exerted. People marvel at his talent, they say it's as if he has the experience of lifetimes and lifetimes of battle in his blood.

And it's why you feel at ease when he's assigned the task of guarding you. His capabilities are unmatched, and yet you'd never fear any harm to you from him. Both of those traits put together make him the best candidate to protect you.

Of course, you do find yourself doing most of the talking. Sometimes you find yourself rambling to fill the silence, and you fear you're annoying him, but when you stop he raises an eyebrow and asks why you got so quiet. Did he do something wrong? He seems to worry about that a lot -- has he done something bad? Has he made you upset? Are you mad? At first you think he's worried about his position security, but after a while you realize he genuinely worries about it.

And when you do continue your ramblings, you're surprised to find he remembers your words -- every little thing you say. Things you don't even remember telling him. He asks you about that relative you mentioned one time, his eyes light up and he walks a bit to the side because look, it's your favorite flower over there, he'll get it for you. It's impressive, really, how he manages to remember such things. He must take his job very seriously.

He does enjoy giving you such things -- he loves giving you gifts. It's usually things he finds, wholesome little things -- makes a crown out of the flowers you like so much, finds something interesting here or there, while he was off-duty he saw something in the markets he thought you'd like and got it for you. You almost feel guilty, it's so constant that he's giving you things.

Sometimes you ask him about himself, you realize he knows so much about you and you so little about him. He blushes, he rubs the back of his head, he insists there's nothing interesting about him, he wouldn't waste your time like that. It takes time to get him out of his shell, but eventually, he tells you this or that, little stories from his life.

Sometimes you take long walks, you like to get out of the stuffy walls and have fun outside, he accompanies you across Hyrule. Sometimes it feels familiar, you pass places you've never been that give you a feeling of nostalgia, deja vu, a sense that you've been here before.

He’s protectiveness incarnated. Insanely so. He can spring to his feet at a moment's notice and deals with anything that comes for you before they can even get close.

It makes you feel safe, but there's something else there. It's a ferocity that is so contrasting to his normal self, different even from the times you've seen him fight as he trains. It's a glint in the eyes, an aggression in his expression, that almost makes him seem like a different person. And it lingers for a moment, once the creature is dead and his sword hand falls to his side, he turns and glances at you to his side, a hand raised to wipe the blood off his face, and for that lingering second, it's still there, his blank expression and wide eyes -- a ferocity so intense it starts to look like bloodlust, chaos, destruction. And then, it's as if you imagined it. Smiling and telling you it's gone now, you're ok. You're glad he's so truly devoted.

In fact, he's so dedicated to his job that he starts... doing it... outside of his job hours...? Well, today he was given the day off, and you were told to stay inside because you didn't have to go out. He comes knocking on your door, says not to be startled if you hear someone outside your door move or shift or anything, but he just wanted to let you know in case. He'll be right here. Keeping watch. So don't worry. You're safe.

And likewise, he was supposed to have a day off when you were supposed to enter the town. You were assigned two other guards to watch you, since it's a special trip, so you're surprised to find just Link waiting for you. He took care of it, he says, he didn't feel right leaving your safety up to someone else, he doesn't trust them. So they agreed to let him take over for today.

All of this said, he doesn't have to grow alongside you, he doesn't have to be the childhood friend, the knight who guards you. He doesn't even have to have met you. Fate works in odd ways like that. There's a sort of inexplicable instant attachment he takes to you, almost as though it's some kind of destined, divinely inspired sort of thing. He would describe it as saying you feel familiar to him.

He's also, notably, prone to a more traditional trope of what you might call humility whiplash. For the most part, he's got that overly humble, worshipping, "I don't deserve to even stand in your presence" sort of mentality. However, although it's rare and requires a lot of wearing down his mental state, if pushed far enough, he can have brief moments where he snaps into more or less the complete opposite -- entitlement, arrogance, aggression, getting mad at you for the behavior he'd normally take with a smile on his face. Thankfully, unlike some yanderes that have a whole snapping episode towards their darling, his are very very brief, usually only a matter of seconds or a single snarled sentence before he snaps back to normal, wide-eyed and apologetic and telling you I don't know what came over me. It’s... a little frightening to say the least, but you blow it off, tell yourself that hey, everyone has moments like that... Right?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

For the most part, he doesn't need it, he can pretty easily cling to your side well enough to be assured of your safety, and he manages to scare off the undesirables not with a glare, but a smile that's just a little too sweet and far too persistent -- it unnerves people. You hear a lot of people say that something about that guy rubs me the wrong way. Or that he gives me goosebumps for some reason. Even the people he scares away themselves can't pinpoint exactly what it is, all they know is that, despite being reputed as kind and quiet (and maybe a little dense), somehow a lot of people agree that something about him puts people at unease, and that's all he needs. Because they stay away from him, and if he’s by your side all the time, that means they stay away from you too. Why keep you trapped when you can just be isolated?

An aware Link is a a unique scenario. One scenario that's rather... interesting to imagine is a Link that defies fate itself, a Link that decides to be selfish in one of those rare snapping moments of his. Perhaps he makes a decision when everything starts going down, when the chaos is beginning, or perhaps he has somehow managed to gain knowledge of the bigger picture at work, the reality of the nature of your existence and his.

Perhaps he begins to think it's unfair. To suffer again and again. To prove himself again and again, and not always even to reap any benefits, to work so hard and yet still -- still -- you slip out of his grasp. He longs for a life with no tribulations, no struggle, no fights to be fought. He begins to feel like it's what he wants the most. He begins to feel like maybe it's what he deserves. So many lifetimes of struggles, if the higher powers won't give him a reward, he'll take it himself.

And perhaps, for all their higher power, not even the great goddesses themselves would have ever predicted it -- humans are ultimately creatures of will. To defy fate and to run away from destiny -- it wouldn't be the first time a human has tried such a thing. Sure, Hyrule may be destroyed. The people may all die. There may be nothing left. But you know what? He's stopped caring. If you're alive and he's alive, tucked away in your little corner of the world where you've found respite, well, that's all he needs. Even if you're on the run from forces that would want to find you, even if the threat of the final third of the triforce owner looms over your head. He'll ignore it, he'll look away.

You'll live a quiet little life together, a happy life without suffering, without quests and enemies, without strife, without worry. That's what he tells you when he steals you away, lifts you out of your bed one night. Says to be quiet, there's danger outside your door, he's rescuing you. You have no reason to not believe him. He waits until things go down, a castle under siege, but rather than taking you to where you're supposed to go, he climbs onto the horse and starts... riding away. It gets further and further into the distance, and you might ask why, what's going on? You have a job to do, he has a battle to be fought. But he says you're going far, far away, someplace you'll be safe.

But what about the divine beasts, the seals, the Twilight, whatever threat runs in this world in this time, what about the threat of Ganon, you ask? He says it doesn't matter anymore. You were doomed to fail, he thinks, it's either stay here and die, or run away. All that matters is you. And he'd like you to feel the same way for him. You will with enough time, don't worry.

He just wants this happy, quiet life with you that he’s been denied time and time again. It’s all he wants. If fate won’t give it to him, he’ll make it happen himself, and carve out the life he is determined to have, defying even the will of higher power.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

He gets it. Really, he does. "Stop following me!" You yell. Well, he understands why you might feel that way, but this is kinda his job. He thinks you're naive. Not that he would ever, ever have a thought that you're imperfect, of course! It's because you're so perfect and pure that you're... less aware of the dangers all around.

He'll let you think you're free, perhaps. He's more than capable of being quiet, quiet is kind of his thing. Watching you from a short distance is easy. Of course, his horse might make a noise, he can't really help that, or he might misstep on a branch or something. And then you turn around and get all mad again. Now you're even more angry. Well, he can also tell your guardians/father, who will encourage you to accept it. You can't help but feel a little bad -- he's just doing his job.

Now, our aware, runaway Link, well, does he really need to keep you restrained? What would you go back to? Certain death, a land destroyed? Sometimes you mention home, and he's quick to remind you that home doesn't exist anymore. His home is where you are. Can't you feel the same way? You found peace here in this little place -- a village far far away. Travelers, you call yourselves. What's the point in going elsewhere? How would you ever survive without him? He's not very good at being subtle or skillful about the psychological manipulation, it's obvious he's trying to scare you into not leaving, but... it still works, because really, he has a point.

He doesn't want to have to use physical restraint, in any case. And for the most part, it's not needed, because one important aspect of your relation is that his job kinda revolves around you (in some incarnations), or, perhaps you live in the same little village, but either way the thing is that his presence does the job well enough -- he's always there, perhaps more so than almost any other yandere. Even when you think you've managed to get away from him for a moment, somehow his face pops up out of nowhere. How he manages to pull it off is a mystery, you swear he manages to find you so well and predict your movements it's inhuman.

But if you really, really pose a problem, a smarter and sneakier darling that somehow manages to keep slipping out of his grasp and running off (you never get away for more than about 20 minutes or so, but nonetheless), you keep trying to run off when he's sleeping (he wakes up in approximately 25 seconds if your presence is absent from the bed, but that's still enough time to run out the front door), every time he turns his head (which isn't often) you're trying to disappear... well, in that case, he can reach a point of deciding more straightforward measures are necessary. He hates to do it, really, at least when he's not yet at a snapping point. But it's for your own good. And he says so, quite apologetically.

But it's not so bad, it's not like you're being chained to a wall or anything. For one, he got leather ties so you'd be more comfortable, but more importantly, as your guardian, he figured the best thing for you to be tied to would be... himself. Think of it like friendship bracelets! It's just... got a 5-foot chain connecting them. This way you can't sneak off at night, and you won't get too far when he's distracted. It's a safety measure.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

He's a learner. At first, it's easy. Honestly, he is a rather naive, gullible boy, sometimes he reminds you of a happy dog with his bright eyes. He likes to believe the best of people, give them the benefit of the doubt in all circumstances, and that goes double for you, who he believes can do no wrong.

And even when you do lie to him, it's still not wrong. You didn't do anything bad. Clearly there has simply been a misunderstanding, and you thought you had to lie. Or perhaps you simply forgot a detail or were confusing something with something else. It wasn't malicious on your end, he knows that.

He's actually significantly smarter than he lets on in practical knowledge, though. Those dungeon puzzles pay off, you know? He's got pattern recognition down. So over time he learns how to distinguish when you're lying to him or attempting to deceive him, and sees through it increasingly well.

And yet, he doesn't really... get mad over it, most of the time. Again, he's just capable of deluding himself into believing there's a reason. He believes so strongly in your goodness that he finds a way to interpret everything you do as out of benevolence. So you snuck out the window and didn't tell him you were going for a walk because you just wanted to get away from his suffocating presence for once? You were just thinking of him. You didn't want to burden him and wanted to give him a break. Well, that's thoughtful, but don't worry, he doesn't need a break. He thinks it's precious you're so considerate of him though!

You don't tell him you were talking to that person, and you lie and say no when he asks, because you don't want him to worry, and because you underestimate how dangerous others can be. He's told you a million times and you don't listen, but that's ok, it's because you're just so pure you see the best in everyone. Everything you do is good.

Because he perceives your lies, he will still work against and around it. He won't confront you on your lies, he'll just make sure to deal with the situation -- you lied about sneaking out, well, he'll just keep watch and be ready to meet you outside next time. You lied about talking to a person, well, he'll just have to make sure they stay away from you instead.

If you're trying to trick him, he just plays along until necessary. Smiles and nods. He gets the suspicion you're planning a break-out when he told you he was leaving to go get something from town... rather than saying so, he just decides, you know what? Why don't you come with him? Oh, you're feeling sick, you tell him it's ok, go without you? Well, he can't leave you alone then! Because you're clearly not and just trying to get him to leave... or, as he says, he can't just leave you alone. He'll go another day.

He's fairly manipulable when it comes to praise and affection. You can easily Pavlov him into certain behaviors or patterns with just the slightest words of praise and affection. He's not a very outwardly expressive person, tends to stay quiet, but you can tell how he feels inside when you give the slightest praise, a hug, a kiss on the cheek -- you can see that soft hint of a smile and tell that inside, he's basically melting, even if it's not obvious to most people. And, much like the lying, he’s honestly often aware of it, but he just can’t help it.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He tries to get you the things that he feels will make you happy. Your happiness is incredibly important to him, and he usually thinks about how any action he plans to take might affect you, spends a lot of time debating choices of things to do or say and try to determine how each one will affect you and choose accordingly.

As such, he goes out of his way to support the things you want to do. Have a hobby? He'll find the best materials available. Want a book or a food? He'll obtain it through some means. Even if procuring it involves a side-quest-y set of mundane tasks or scouring the world for 70 of this and 50 of that to exchange it for the item from an obscure specialist, it's all worth it.

The only thing he just doesn't give up on is the constant vigilance and insistence on being by your side more or less every waking second. And every sleeping second. And just every single moment you're alive. It's for your safety.

This is actually one of the things he can get a little nasty about when it comes to how he deals with it, because he quickly has the bright idea that if you don't get it, he'll make you understand. Of course, he can't actually risk you getting hurt, so he stages it. Allows you to sneak off, or at least think you have, and walk right into the path of those monsters he lured, or the people he hired to intimidate you. Of course, it's only natural that he shows up at the last possible second, right on time to save you. You should expect that, after all, it's his responsibility to protect you, of course fate works out perfectly like this. See, he was right, it's so dangerous, and without him you'd be dead. Hopefully you grasp that now.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

His is mostly related to vigilance. Where are you? Who have you been talking to? Who was that person you were talking with just now? What did they say? He's not nosy. He just cares about you. It’s in the job description. You ought to understand just how much certain bad people would love to find you and hurt you. That's why he has to know.

This isn't our modern world, so there's no phones or tracking devices to speak of, just himself, which, well, might as well be a tracking device since he never seems to have difficulty finding you. Sometimes you're not sure how he does it.

He tells you that you don't have to be with him 24/7, but you will be, even if you don't realize it. He's aware enough to know that you'll feel suffocated and get mad if you're aware of his presence all the time, so he gives you your "alone" time, aka, the "follow her quietly from a 20+ foot distance" time. It all feels the same to you. Well, sometimes you feel eyes on you, but you shake the feeling off as paranoia.

So it's not so much that he sets rules and reacts when they're broken, but rather, he works his way around anything you might do so well that he doesn't need you to follow his rules, or really, you take them more as suggestions. But honestly, that's kind of worse. It's enough to drive a darling to the brink of a mental breakdown very quickly. With Link you will inevitably become paranoid, nervous, you feel like you're going insane because he manages to pop up everywhere, he always knows what you did when you did it and you have no idea how it is even conceivably possible for him to know some of the things that he knows. He confronts you very plainly and quietly, often sweetly, asking why you did this or that or telling you it's ok, you don't have to hide anything, surely there’s a good reason, and if not, he forgives you anyway. In a way, it's worse than an angry confrontation. You begin to feel like he's omnipresent, like he can read your mind, and it truly takes a mental toll and affect you worse than any normal yandere's concept of punishment.

This ultimately works out well in his favor. The more you just do what he wants, the less it feels like a violation or intrusion that he knows these things, since he was there with you, it makes sense, and you continuously get bent to his will.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Ah, and thus we get to that brutality rating.

It would be unthinkable to think that any sort of scum would even dare. Even he isn't worthy of being with you, and someone else thinks they could be? So, he more or less views "rivals" as an offense. When they're threats, well, he's allowed to deal with them. When they're not, well... he has a wonderful reputation. If he says he overheard that person planning usurpation or assassination, that they realized he was listening in and wildly attacked him, everyone will believe him. Even if the death seems a little... non-immediate. And uh... frankly... overkill. How exactly... did those limbs get perfectly severed during equally armed combat? And was it... really necessary... to kinda spill entrails all over like that? He'll apologize, of course, he was just so outraged by the thought of someone hurting you or your family, you know? You notice his eye twitches a bit as he says it.

He has a lot of... bottled up frustrations, which we'll touch on in the nsfw section as well, but it tends to manifest in those two ways: sex and violence. Rather than exerting stress and anger and frustration as it comes, he lets it fester. He tries to maintain being the noble, humble, self-sacrificing person he feels he should be. That is... difficult to do for a long time. People expect a lot from him, even in timelines where he's not necessarily realized as the hero quite yet, he usually has a lot of responsibilities. But then you tack on the whole hero thing? The weight of the world is sometimes, quite literally, on his shoulders. Do you have any idea the kind of stress that comes with that knowledge? It's not pleasant. And it quickly bottles up, a very very fragile bottle set to eventually shatter in a matter of time.

On a longer sort of quest, he just kinda... leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. Enemies don't actually just poof out of existence the way they do on-screen, you know. Anyone coming across an area he's just been through is met with literal piles upon piles of corpses, sometimes monsters, but sometimes people. He takes a very scorched earth sort of policy when it comes to dealing with things.

He's able to easily get close to people, with that sweet face and puppy eyes and lithe body, people don't really feel on guard around him nor intimidated. That makes it significantly easier to infiltrate enemy hideouts, earn favors, and work his way in to be able to commit mass murder more easily. Granted, no one thinks too much of it because they *are* truly enemies, after all, they *did* need to be taken out and well, if the rulers can choose to either send a group of ten soldiers or just one guy and get the job done equally well either way, they'll go with the latter option. No one thinks anything of it, except the occasional person who laughs and says something to the effect of remind me to never get on your bad side, haha! He gives that sheepish, sweet little smile, and jokingly tells them that yeah, better not.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

For you, nearly impossible. For others, at a hair trigger.

For the most part, he conceals anger well until, as aforementioned, it bottles up and bursts. The truth is he gets irritated virtually all the time by other people. People who talk to you. Look at you. Smile at you. He’s actually rather easily annoyed even when you’re not involved, but again, he’s good at hiding it until it builds.

His rage has a commonality with his calm -- it's quiet. At least, at first. When it's directed at others, his eyes narrow. It's the telltale sign that someone has ignited his rage. It burns on the inside, it starts off as a spark that builds and builds and grows larger and larger until it's a blazing fire that consumes everything in his path. It's a loss of composure, a rare moment of complete loss of self-control. From his own perspective, it feels like he's not in control of his own body, it's all a blur happening in front of him and when it's over he's looking down at his own hands, unable to process his own actions, sometimes unable to remember them.

But it's violent, merciless, unforgiving. It does not yield to begging, it does not leave anything alive unless forced to. You remember the first time you realized how unnatural it was, how shocked you were at how he did something that certainly went against the code he was sworn to follow, the very first time you felt truly afraid of Link. It was a walk in town -- someone called out to you, spitting obscenities about you and your family, your lineage, threw something at you -- he caught it in his hand and crushed it, and quickly, without a word, advanced on the offender. And, to make a long story short, you had to prevent him from beating a man to death in public in broad daylight. He was forgiven by his superiors, but even they seemed shocked. You had to pull him off, and when he jerked his head around to look at whatever was stopping him -- before his face softened as he recognized your own face -- the split second you saw the burn of hatred and fury in eyes that were normally so soft and loving, was nothing short of unsettling, you still recall the chill that ran down your spine.

And honestly? It's terrifying. And the first time, it's shocking. Sure, you knew he could fight. You've seen him fight off monsters, bokoblins and lizalfos and the like. But something is different about seeing the blood of a human being run down his sword, dripping onto the ground, to see the bodies and the blank, numb gaze on his features he always has after it's over. The absolute lack of hesitancy he has to run human enemies through before they even have a chance to explain themselves, how unbothered he seems by the carnage left in his wake. The way he turns back to you, drenched in red and smiles, tells you it's ok, you're safe now. There's no need to look so scared.

And it changes how you view him, in the long run. Less of a guardian angel, more of a guardian dog, one that defends your name when you never asked him to. Pleads to tell him not to fall on deaf ears -- you just don't understand why it has to be this way, he says, you can't comprehend the threat they posed. From the sweet boy that leaves you flowers and repairs and instead leaves a wave of destruction in his path you would not have thought possible.

Directed towards you, though, it's entirely different. He tries his best to have patience with you, no matter what. He smiles, he tries to make excuses as to why you'd say this or do that, why you'd feel a certain way, and he's rather good at deluding himself to give you the benefit of the doubt.

But when it reaches an end, when he can no longer lie to himself, when you push it to a point that you truly make him mad, it's more of a snap. The times he'll lay hands on you in a truly violent way are rare, and as aforementioned, very brief. It's usually not so much of actually a blow, so much as a grab. He just can't get what he's trying to tell you through your thick head, so he stresses it, trying to make you understand as he grabs you by the upper arms, shaking you with each word, and he only stops when he sees the pain and fear in your eyes, drawing his hands back at lightning speed. He saves you from some danger very narrowly, one of the few times he lost track of you for a moment and had to frantically search before coming across you being attacked. What would I have done if something happened to you? Don't you understand that? He's so lost in the relief it takes him a moment to feel you beating on his arms in the embrace, choking and wheezing that you can't breathe, that his grip is so tight it feels like he'll snap you in half. He draws back again, and he apologizes, but it will certainly happen more than once.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. Like, so, so, so far above. He feels like he doesn't even deserve to look at you. Of course, neither does anyone else, so he's just, you know, stepping up to bear the burden of wrongdoing to keep people even worse than him away from you.

So it's less that you're just above him so much as you're above everyone. He's actually, perhaps surprisingly, a little bit of a pessimist about the world. The world is full of so many terrible people and so many horrible things happen that he's borne witness to. It's a "world cold and hard, (y/n) soft and warm" sort of thing. You're the one good thing, the thing that makes him happy, the ultimate source of comfort he has, and he has to prevent you from being defiled by the evil of the world, keep you innocent and sweet (even if he's just deluding himself to think you are those things in the first place).

This ties into, again, how he interprets every action you take as good and benevolent -- he has the "you can do no wrong" mentality. Even very blatantly malicious things, he'll interpret in a way that makes you somehow still come out a perfect, innocent angel. If you do harm to others, well, they simply deserved it. You did something technically wrong, but you knew no better, or you were desperate. You can't be held responsible for any of it. And if you're mean to him, well, he probably did something to make you upset.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Sort of a duality. Yes, he's very persistent. He thinks about it all the time. Every time you yell and try to run and hurl nasty insults at him, it hurts far more than you realize. He doesn't let it show on his face or in his voice, but it really does, and it gets to him sometimes. He's hyper observant of every little thing you do, your body language, your tone, the way you look at him, and the slightest of differences can change his mood internally, although it tends to look the same outwardly.

He makes little mental notes of it -- today she didn't flinch when I touched her shoulder. Today she didn't frown when she saw me coming. Little things like that will make his entire day. Likewise, the inverse kills him inside. He aims to make every day one of the former days, where the littlest signs of acceptance or even kindness and affection give him a sort of high that makes him feel like he's floating.

He tries his best to do things that he thinks will, well, earn love. Every opportunity to do something for you, he takes it. Everything he sees he'd think you'd like, he buys (or steals, or... loots from a dead body) for you. On and on that idea goes. And although he doesn't say too much, when he does speak to you, he usually has something nice to say. He views it in a formulaic way -- ironically, think about it like those collectibles in overworlds. You get enough of this or that thing, and once you have enough, you can go talk to this or that person and donate them all and get a reward, right? He's accustomed to viewing things that way. Love should be the same way. If he just completes enough tasks and gathers enough items, eventually he'll unlock your love.

That being said, even if it doesn't happen, much to your despair, he just... doesn't. Give. Up. He doesn't quit. No matter how many times you tell him, it doesn't make a difference. You can tell him you'll never love him, and it's like it goes in one ear and out the other. He keeps trying. And he never, ever, ever stops trying. What did you expect? The boy's been fighting the same enemy over and over across lifetimes, needless to say his spirit has build up some persistence.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Bonus: Zelda/Triforce of Wisdom Darling

And don't worry. If it all goes wrong, when he fails, those divergences in time where the hero is vanquished and evil wins out -- it's not the end. Somehow, that's the feeling he gets, holding your little lifeless body up, running hands across your cold skin. Somehow, he feels oddly calm. Like it hurts, but it's ok. Like he'll see you again. Maybe not soon, but one day. This time didn't work out. But the next one will.

And that's the feeling you'll always have. Every time you meet him and you feel like you've met before, the lingering memories when you wake from your dreams -- flying through skies and sailing on oceans, a child, an adult, a boy you've never met, or one you've known all your life, but it's always the same face, the same voice, the one right beside you in the waking world. You sometimes wonder if he has the same feelings, the same dreams, the same sense of something greater than yourselves at work, the sense of being just smaller pieces in a much bigger picture.

The sense of permanency, that each other is all there will ever be -- regardless of how it makes you feel, regardless of how that scares you, sometimes you feel like you can never be free. Sometimes, when you think of running away, those dark moments when you think of even escaping from life itself, it feels futile. It's as if you know it would never hold him away forever. As if death is insignificant. Perhaps in this lifetime, you'll become aware of why that is, or perhaps not.

With other obsessive lovers, just the idea of til death do us part is a terrifying thought. But, for Link, not even death can keep him away from you. Your suffering is already determined by the will of higher power, for the sake of a greater good. 

In truth, it’s the goddesses who made him this way intentionally -- it’s designed to ensure your safety, even at the cost of your suffering. Again, for a greater good. Sure, you may live one lifetime to the next desperately locked in the same cycle in which your freedom and will is stripped from you, but in the end, it serves a purpose. 

Nor will he change -- perhaps this one this time is a bit more spirited, more calm, more pessimistic, more optimistic... but in the end, at their core, they're the same soul, with the same will deep, deep down. The same drive to find you and protect you. The same love for you, an all-consuming love that destroys everything in its path to you and leaves ruin in its wake.

And if fate should one day keep you apart, should things change, for whatever reason, it’s unable to change him. There's another force even more powerful than fate determined to keep you together. The only thing more unavoidable, inevitable, and unescapable than fate, is Link himself.

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

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

In moments of passion, he changes a bit, unlike other more submissive yans who stay consistent in their reverence and desire to please.

You see, after a while, being as lenient and tolerant and flexible and completely devoted as he is... constantly self-sacrificing in so many ways, to you, to Hyrule, to the world... some frustrations build up. It's a big, big bottle of emotion, all tucked away and festering, getting greater and greater and eventually it has to explode somehow.

His reservations and inhibitions fall away. Perhaps a darker, more selfish side comes out. Perhaps that's why he's so rough. He knows he'll regret it later, the bruises from how hard he grips, the marks from the bites, but the hormones and the heat takes over. He'll feel bad for defiling you. He'll apologize. And he'll do it again. And again. And again.

But once the resolve crumbles, it topples. That is, he can't partially maintain it -- if it's partially gone, it falls apart completely. He lets go, so to speak. And when he lets go, you find that underneath that carefully constructed resolve and willpower that holds him back, he can be a very, very rough and possessive lover. In his normal state, he wouldn't dare think of you as a possession, or as something he's even worthy of. He would like so, so much to think that, to feel like he's allowed to -- but he doesn't. He chastises himself for even having such a desire. But in those moments, when his resolve is gone and his brain isn't thinking quite too clearly, he might even have to audacity to say "mine." Even if it's not true, not now, maybe it will be. He would like that so much. His and his alone.

And in a moment of clarity, he might even throw away the inhibition on purpose. The more selfish side, the same Link that drags you away from your destiny -- he's already forsaken his responsibilities, hasn't he? Why care anymore about the structures that no longer exist, your status and his, if there's no kingdom left? He likes that it happened, even. This way, this time, you can throw off those titles, those roles. Without your status, your title, there's nothing stopping him from making you his. And you will be his, and nothing more. It's all you need to be. So he doesn't have to care anymore about any of that, he doesn't have to stop himself from going wild. Biting into every little spare patch of skin, covering your body with marks that make him feel comforted to see.

As far as drive it's a bit of a two-sided duality. Outwardly he's not a very sexual person at all, blushes and stutters and averts his gaze at the slightest mention of suggestive topics, tries his best to be Respectful(tm) by always looking away when you're in a compromising position, or your skirt flies up, etc etc. Given how constant his vigilance is, he has a tendency to accidentally walk in on your changing or bathing, except unlike with many yanderes, it's genuinely an accident. Not that the image doesn't stick in his mind, nor does he wish he hadn't gotten to see, but he does feel guilty, and it was genuinely unintentional. He kinda freezes up, so it takes a moment for him to actually snap out of it and run out.

That being said, he quickly develops something of a masturbation addiction when he's younger, it starts as more of a stress reliever than anything, He's so sweet and always feels bad about talking about his problems and feelings, so that and, well, violence are the only ways he can get it out. Thus he learns to channel stress and nerves into sexuality, and once he has a real living body and not just his hand, that dependency on cumming to relieve it doesn't change.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Particularly so, yes, cares quite a bit. And it takes a while for him to feel comfortable. Even consensually, the first few times he touches you for several months, he's got trembling hands and stays quieter than ever, constantly freezes up every time you move or make a noise because he thinks he's done something wrong. He has to be coaxed into feeling more comfortable before he gets used to it, but he will build confidence over time.

As addressed before, though, if he's pushed and pushed and pushed long enough, you can get a darker side to come out. This is most likely something that would only occur post-kidnapping in a distant time, once he's far away from any possibility of consequence and destruction has set in to the world around you. He starts to get a little bitter, if you've been mean to him. It all builds up. Don't you get that he's literally saved your life? That he devoted every waking second to you? Isn't he kinda entitled to some thanks? The cycle of time never rewards him. Even the figures he helps over time rarely give him more than a verbal praise and thanks, maybe an item here or there, and then disappear. His role feels thankless. He starts to feel like he deserves something, something tangible, in return.

Surprisingly, though, he actually does not take the route of guilt-tripping or emotional manipulation or gaslighting his way into it like a lot of the sweeter yanderes when he does have that snap. His snaps/breakdowns are rather extreme in terms of how much of a polar opposite they are to his normal state, rather than just a slight bend of his normal personality. Rather than taking the route of most yanderes like himself, he just gets directly physically forceful. Still somewhat sweet, though, reminds you he loves you, he'd die for you, you're his entire world. You'd argue that doesn't really change the actions, but considering how frightening he is in that state, you're not dumb enough to vocalize that.

The guilt consumes him alive afterwards. Like, immediately afterwards. He's still panting and twitching and buried inside when it sets in. That being said, he doesn't get to stuttering and profusely apologizing, like he does over smaller offenses. It's all done and he can't take it back, so he just kinda collapses and says nothing. He's not the best with words, you know. It's an odd mixture of guilt and, honestly, a bit of satisfaction and relief. It feels like letting go of some self-imposed burden, that feeling of finally surrendering to some deep want, even if it comes with a lot of remorse, the relief of finally letting go does have a good feeling as well... and because of that, it’s another one of those barriers that, once broken, can’t be built up again.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

In all honesty the boy is, for the most part, a fairly gentle and vanilla lover. He doesn't really need anything special to get off -- he's easily excited and cums very very easily too. Just the prospect of getting to stick his dick in you in any capacity is enough to make him nearly burst at the thought honestly.

In general, as aforementioned, he's very very cautious and gentle to a point, but has a tendency to get actually kinda rough once he gets into it. The thing is, the roughness aspect is actually unintentional. He's one of those boys that is a little bit unaware of his own strength, doesn't process exactly how hard and fast he's going. He just gets lost in the feeling, kinda enters a dazed lusty haze where he's less aware of his actions. Doesn't realize he's literally got an iron grip pressing your head down on his dick or into the bed until you start flailing your hands because you can't breathe. Doesn't realize how hard he was gripping until he sees the bruises on your arms and hips later. That sort of deal -- poor thing is just unaware and doesn't have enough blood in his brain to think straight.

Biting

Surprisingly a really big one for him. (Remnants of a past life cycle with some lupine experiences perhaps?) In all seriousness, he could not explain exactly why if asked, it's one of those "I just like it" sort of things. It feels like yet another way to conjoin the two bodies, pulls you close. The marking aspect is also nice. Granted, he feels guilty afterwards, tries to help it heal. He has that same duality where moments ago he was this intimidating beast of a human being, rough and growly and jerking you like you were weightless, and now he's back to this bright eyed softie stuttering while he apologizes.

The guilt is mixed with a bit of enjoyment, though. It's constantly conflicting -- sure, part of him understands it's embarrassing and will help you cover up, but part of him doesn't want to, he wants people to see. Part of him looks at the marks and tells himself internally to never do that again, and part of him sees them and just wants to give you even more. It's a constant internal conflict, poor thing.

As far as a place, he likes the neck and shoulders best, simply because it's the most visible and it's the most passionate ones to create, when your bodies are tightly locked together. That being said, though, he also has a thing for biting at the insides of your thighs. It's another one of those I just like it sort of things.

Sometimes, when you're asleep, or pretending to be, you can feel him trace the bite marks with his fingers, softly running them over the circular pattern, just enough to barely ghost over your flesh.

Somnophilia

It puts him at ease. This one is particularly prevalent towards the beginning of your relationship, before you really know... how he is. He has this image of you as so pure and he couldn't bear the thought of defiling you with his horrible horrible thoughts. The guilt eats away at him for a while, but eventually he just can't hold back, but how could he ever do anything to you and risk consequence? So... the solution he comes up with is waiting until you sleep.

He tests the waters to see how heavy of a sleeper you are. Calls your name at increasing volume, lightly runs his fingers over your hair, pokes your face, whispers in your ear, runs his hands over your arms. Just to see what makes you rustle, if anything, so he knows the limits. If it turns out you're an incredibly light sleeper, well, unfortunately that means he's limited to just jerking off to your sleeping form, but that's ok. Just seeing your soft face and the cute way you breathe, the slightest way your lips open, that's enough for him.

If it turns out you're a heavier sleeper though, well, he tries to fight the temptation, but ends up going further. Slowly climbs onto your bed, careful to make the weight shift as gently as possible. Slowly pulls the covers back. Runs his hands up and down. It's a lot better when he can actually see your body as he jerks off, honestly. If he's feeling particularly risky, he might press your thighs together, feel how soft your skin is to his cock, how nice the squeezing pressure between them is.

He gets easily lost in a haze, though, so he inevitably ends up accidentally cumming on you and has to frantically find a way to lightly dab it up without waking you. He panics quite a bit, but that doesn't stop him from doing it again the very next night.

Overstimulation/Forced Orgasm

It just means he's doing a good job, really. Sure, you squeal and kick your feet back and forth and tug at his hair, but that's just because it feels good. Orgasms equate to love and feel good, right? Sure there's a little bit of pain when you go overboard, but then it just leads to feeling even better, right?

It's kind of an irrational compulsion rather than a logical goal, though. He just has an impulsive need to feel you quiver and spasm and clench, it basically gives him a chemical high hit and a wave of reassurance, makes him feel good in both the physical sense and the emotional sense. The first one sends him into this compulsive need to feel it over and over and over again, as many times as he can. It's another one of his internal conflict things -- sure, he knows it's hurting, but he just has to get one more. Just one more. But of course, every time turns into "just one more" when he's been saying that for half an hour now.

And, to be honest, it kind of gives him a pride boost to think he can make you cum against your will. How many people struggle to achieve that even when both parties are trying? It makes him feel good in an adequacy sort of way, he feels needed.

Size Kink/Distension

You know, there's a well-known thing among the male-lovers in this world when it comes to size. It's never the arrogant, loud guys, it's never the social butterflies, it's never the tall guys, it's never the beefy muscly guys. No, they're not the ones that end up somehow bestowed with absolute monster cocks. It's always the soft, lean boys who don't talk much. And they're always painfully unaware of it, too.

He's no exception. Not to the size or the complete lack of awareness. He hasn't spent a lot of time around guys his age too much, he's always been the one sent for some special task and ends up out in the wilderness by himself on journeys, or, in some lifetimes, accompanying you most of the time. He doesn't know what the average dick looks like, so he has no idea he's far above average.

This might sound like a plus, and of course in some ways it is, but also he doesn't think about the fact that the average body isn't properly equipped to handle it. You're supposed to just kinda put it in, that's how the sex works, right? Poor thing, especially if it's entirely consensual sex, he's just kinda ???? because why are you in pain? What is he doing wrong? You have to eventually explain it's literally just his body, not something he's doing.

That being said, naturally, he's a humble person, but hearing you say that does kinda... make him feel good inside. A little bit proud. He's not a person who takes a lot of pride in many things, so he likes having this one thing, and quickly notices you can visibly see it through the bulge it makes in your stomach. Especially if it's in a position where your back is pressed to his front, every little movement creates the bulge, so expect to get a lot of that.

He doesn't really bring it up much or talk about it when he's actually fucking you, it's more like, as with many things, something he's quietly aware of and silently enjoys a lot internally, even if it's not voiced.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Yes and no. It has to do with his overactive protection instinct. What if something happened or went wrong? He couldn't take that. He couldn't lose you.

At the same time, he likes kids, and he's very good with them, very patient. And over time, realizes that a kid would be the perfect tool of manipulation, and besides that, isn't it a beautiful thing, an ultimate manifestation of love?

So how to work around that... Ultimately, what he decides to do is have a kid... Just not by blood. There are plenty of orphans in Hyrule, wandering the streets and the wilderness, picking one up is easy. ...You wouldn't leave this poor child to suffer out there, to fend for themselves, would you? Nor would you leave him to take care of it by himself... Right?

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Oh, it's not like he thinks of it that way. He would call it... a reminder. You put yourself in danger again? You tried to go back again? You were gone and for ten whole minutes he didn't know where you were? What could the solution to this issue be? The only thing his brain can really come up with is making sure you need him. Making sure you're content and satisfied here with him so you don't go running off.

Thus we return to the forced orgasm thing -- see, you do need him. It feels good, right? You say it hurts, and maybe it does a little, but ultimately you wouldn't be cumming if it wasn't good. No one else can ever do that. No one else knows you like this. No one else was made for you like this. You can't replace him. You need him. And he can keep going as many times as it takes until you see that, too. Even if he gets milked dry, he has a mouth and hands for a reason.

And by "until you see that," I mean until you say it. In his more... emotionally intense moments, he gets a bit insistent. He needs to hear you say it. Admit it to yourself. And to him. That you need him, that you depend on him, that you'll never leave again. And don't think your patience and tolerance can stand a chance of outlasting his -- it will keep going until you say it.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

He's one of those wholesome type of boys who goes with something sweet. He says maybe your hair, your face, your skin, your eyes. It's all so comforting. So familiar. Of course, not to say that he doesn't like your less wholesome mentionable parts, but he wants to be chivalric about such a question, and feels answering that way would be too disrespectful.

In his unspoken thoughts, though, he likes the hips. It's a part of you he can grab onto and hold you close with. He puts his hands there a lot and holds tight, like he feels like at any moment you could slip out of his grasp. And, I mean, it's nice to look at, can't forget that.

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, ��Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[tootiredmotel]

For @one-more-offbeat-anthem 's 1k follower celebration. The prompt was "sickfics" and I've never written a sickfic in my life so, naturally, I adapted a scene from one of my comfort movies (Fever Pitch, 2005). HUGE congrats on your milestone love!!!

read on ao3 or below (1.5k words)

Castiel should've known better than to listen to his brother regarding food. They have wildly different palates, and why he agreed to accompany Gabriel to lunch at some newly-opened new-age restaurant with barely any reviews, he'll never know. He wasn't thinking.

He could think even less that night, hunched over the toilet with food poisoning while his date knocked on his apartment door.

As soon as he could, Castiel scrambled to his feet and wobbled over to open it, his over-excitable golden retriever on his heels. Dean stood there in a nice leather jacket, all dapper and first-date-ready with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and it broke Castiel's heart to have to tell him:

"I'm sick."

He was sure it was evident in his eyes, death breath, hair sticking out in all directions from holding his head above the toilet, but he said it anyway.

"I'm really sick, I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow."

Castiel went to close the door, but Dean took a cautious step, bouquet forgotten at his side. "Sick how? You in pain? Do you need anything?"

"I just-" Castiel swallowed forcefully. "I ate at this new restaurant and-"

Just thinking about it made him run to the bathroom again, and he almost didn't make it on time. He barely registered Dean, still at the doorway, say something about Castiel (Cas, he called him) not needing to fake it if he didn't want to go out with him. A few seconds later, the door closed, and Castiel (still puking) thought that was that. He blew it with the handsome schoolteacher, all thanks to his brother's awful culinary taste.

His dog's wasn't so far behind. "Honey, please don't eat that," he reprimanded her, failing to shoo her out of the bathroom.

When he felt he was done, for the time being at least, he tried to stand. He was weak, and for a second he thought he might split his head open on the toilet seat, but then Dean was there, hands on his waist, helping him up. "I got you," said Dean, over and over again, and Castiel believed him.

Dean helped him to his bed where he tried to sit him down, but Castiel must've been weaker than he thought. He flopped backward, and then Dean cautiously lifted his head and placed a pillow underneath.

"Thank you."

"Got some more comfortable clothes? Something to sleep in?"

It's then Cas remembered he was already dressed for the date, slacks and a white button-up (probably grossly stained, he hated to think), and pointed Dean to a drawer.

A second later Dean was gently hoisting him back to his feet, strong hands at his sides, saying "Here, I'll help you change. Promise I won't look. Too much, I won't look too much."

And that actually made Castiel chuckle.

Dean unbuckled and took off his slacks first, replacing them with sweatpants. It was a slow, quiet process, and Dean only spoke up after he'd taken off Castiel's tie and shirt. "Alright, I gotta be honest, I'm looking. Sorry, Cas."

Cas couldn't help another chuckle. Dean was incredibly respectful through it all, careful not to touch any skin unless he had to, which was mostly to keep Cas from falling over. He slipped a t-shirt onto him and laid Cas back down on the bed, this time with his head where it was supposed to be. That's when things started to blur, when his head hit the pillow.

"I don't think there's anything left in there, but just in case..."

Cas, through hazy vision, noticed Dean putting his empty hamper next to the bed. He thanked him, repeatedly. Cas isn't sure how many times he said it, over and over again, thank you.

"Hey, no, you just get some rest," was the last thing Cas heard Dean say before he was out like a light.

Cas suspects he briefly regained consciousness three times during that night.

The first time, he's sure of. He felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly coaxing him awake. "Here," Dean said softly, placing a bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it on the nightstand. "Drink this if you can, alright? Get your strength back." Cas nodded and fell back asleep.

The second time was more questionable, and he only knows it was real because he saw the results of it in the morning. He slowly awoke on his own and saw Dean in his bathroom across from his bedroom door, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the toilet with a sponge. Cas tried to stop him, tell him no, please, you don't have to do that, really, but couldn't help sleep drag him back down before he could get the words out.

The third time is the most unbelievable. Borderline fantastical. If it was real, he might just have to marry this guy.

Cas thinks he saw Dean brushing Honey's teeth.

Out of everything that happened the night before, that is all he can think about as he steps out of the shower in the morning. He plans to call Dean, send a fruit basket to his school, invite him on the best date of his life to repay him for all he did, and ask him. It's going to sound ridiculous, did you brush my dog's teeth or did I hallucinate that, and Dean will probably turn down his invite. If not for the hell he went through that night, then for Cas being insane.

And then Cas finds Dean asleep on his couch, Honey snuggled into his side. And yeah, he's probably going to marry this guy. This schoolteacher who happened to pick him and his office as a field trip destination for his math kids. This adorable guy that came back later that same day, thanked him for getting through to the kids (which Cas didn't think he had, but he digresses), and then asked him out. This unbelievably sweet guy that Cas initially rejected, god knows why, but then called at his school and left a message for, Saturday at seven, here's my address, because he couldn't get him off his mind. This caring, thoughtful, heaven-sent guy who showed up with flowers, now in a vase on his dining table, found Cas with food poisoning and proceeded to take care of him, his dog, and his apartment the rest of the night.

Before Cas can think about marrying him again (which he was going to, the hopeless romantic), Honey startles and jumps off the couch, waking Dean. Cas doesn't move, just watches as Dean sits up, notices him, then sits up straighter.

"Hey! Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He put products in his hair for the date, Cas notices, because it's now stiffly and adorably messed up.

"Much better. I won't be entering any pie-eating contests any time soon, though."

"Too bad. That was my next date idea."

Cas smiles, the words next date making his heart flutter in his ribcage. His question pops back into his mind.

"Did you, um..." Don't ask about the dog, he'll think you're crazy. He decides to go with "Did you clean my bathroom last night?" even though he knows the answer.

"Me? No."

Well. Cas thought he knew the answer. Probably dreamed it too. But then who-

"The vomit elves came in," Dean continues. "Real cute. Little hats, miniature vomit bags, adorable. Efficient too."

Cas is stuck somewhere between smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and shaking his head while rolling his eyes. "Did the elves brush Honey's teeth too?"

"Oh no, that one was me."

And that has Cas laughing in earnest. At the sound of her name, Honey came bouncing back, settling next to Dean on the couch.

"Not letting the little bastards take credit for that one. This sweetheart loves me, and I earned that myself," Dean says, scratching Honey between her ears, enraptured.

"Dean, thank you." At that, Dean looks up. "Thank you. You could've just left, but you chose to stay. And you went above and beyond. Thank you."

Dean looks away and stands, trying to play it off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, it was nothing."

"It was everything," Cas says stepping forward, placing a beckoning hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean finally looks at him with a barely-there smile and a gaze that wants to escape, but he fights for it to stay on Castiel's face. Cas is glad he does, because he needs Dean to see, understand, how grateful he is.

"I uh... I got you these." Dean reaches for a paper bag on the coffee table, and that's when Cas takes his hand off his shoulder. "Some movies."

"Such as?"

"Mostly anime porn," Dean says, and Cas is doing it again, the chuckling/eye roll/head shake combo. "And some stuff I like to watch when I'm not doing great."

"Well, for me that would be documentaries."

"Wait." Dean blinks. "What? What did you say?"

"Documentaries. Preferably environmental, or perhaps historical in nature."

"No way, you're not gonna believe this," Dean says, a bit too much surprise on his face. "This is insane dude, check this out..."

He reaches into the bag, and Cas half believes he's about to pull out a copy of Disney's Earth. He's delighted to be wrong.

"Roadhouse."

Cas laughs again, and the beaming smile on Dean's face is what convinces him. He is definitely going to marry this guy.

[blu-joons]

His First Time Saying ‘I Love You’ ~ NCT 127 Reaction

Taeil:

You knocked gently on the door of Taeil’s hotel room, taking a step back as you waited for him to open up the door. You were halfway around the world, but as he opened the door and saw you, the surprise on his face made the long few days of travelling well worth it.

“Y/N,” he chuckled, engulfing you immediately into a tight hug, “what are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come and see how you were getting on,” you smiled, taking a few steps further into his hotel room. “I had a little chat with Taeyong, and he told me you were struggling, so I thought I’d come and cheer you up.”

His head shook in disbelief, cupping either side of your face to make sure that you were really there. “I don’t even know what to say, I can’t believe you came all this way just for me, you must be exhausted.”

“A little, but seeing you is worth it,” you smiled, noticing the wide grin on his face. Taeil’s heart pounded, struggling to believe that someone had done something so big, just for him.

“I love you, thank you for coming to see me.”

Johnny:

You dropped the envelope in front of Johnny as he sat at his desk. His eyes looked up at you before picking up the envelope, tearing it open and pulling out two tickets. As he read the destination, his jaw hit the floor, staring at you questionably.

“Chicago?” He smiled, shaking his head, “have you really done this? Tickets to go home.”

“I thought seeing as you have a week off, we could do something good with it,” you spoke, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist. “I know you’ve been missing home a lot recently, so it seemed like the perfect plan.”

His lips pressed gently to your cheek, “I love you,” he whispered, feeling your body tense up as you glanced back at him. “I love you,” he repeated once again, “no one has ever done something as thoughtful for me as this before.”

“You love me?” You questioned, watching as Johnny nodded his head with a chuckle. “I’ve never heard you say that before, I should arrange fancy holidays for you more often.”

“I’m being serious, I’m so in love with you.”

Taeyong:

You looked around in confusion as you walked into the apartment to see the table set and the lights dimmed in the living room. As you walked further into the room you saw Taeyong stood, waiting for your arrival with the biggest smile on your face.

“What’s going on?” You queried, looking around the place at everything he’d put together.

“I had to pull out all the stops,” he announced, hugging you tightly as you approached him, “because I can only say I love you for the first time once,” he whispered, looking away from your gaze as his cheeks turned red.

Your eyes looked back at him, taking a moment to make sure that you’d heard him correctly before leaning across and pressing a kiss to his red cheek. “I’ve never known anyone put in so much effort just to say I love you.”

“That’s because you’ve never known anyone like me before,” he smugly replied, “I wanted to make sure that tonight is an evening that you don’t forget in a worry.”

“I definitely won’t be forgetting this in a hurry.”

Yuta:

Having spent all week watching Yuta spend time with his family, you found a new love for him that you never knew you had before. Despite being distant for most of the week, he loved seeing you get to know all of his family too and begin to get to know you better.

“Have you enjoyed the week?” Yuta asked, joining you on the bench you sat on for a moment.

“Of course,” you grinned, feeling his arm wrap around your shoulders as you watched his family continue to mess around. “It’s been nice seeing you in a bit more of your own environment, and your family are great too.”

His head nodded back at you, “I’m glad you feel that way, because my family’s approval really was the last tick in the box for me. I’m relieved to see that you’ve all gotten as well as I hoped that you all would.”

“Last tick in the box for what?” You questioned, instantly feeling on edge as the corners of Yuta’s mouth turned up into a smile, tightening the grip that he had around you.

“The last tick to knowing that I love you.”

Doyoung:

Another heavy sigh came from you, pushing your laptop away from your desk in frustration. Dongyoung was quick to notice your stress building from the other side of the room, walking over and wrapping his arms around you in a bid to calm you down.

“I love you, it’ll be alright,” he whispered into your ear to try and distract you from your work.

“This essay is beyond a joke,” you vented, clueless as to what Dongyoung had just said to you. “I don’t see how they want me to write three thousand words, I’m barely able to do three hundred without having a breakdown.”

His hands held tightly onto yours, “you’re far too stressed, I can tell, because you’re not paying attention to anything else. I just told you that I loved you and you were far too busy stressing to pay any notice.”

“Did you?” You quizzed, surprised when Dongyoung nodded his head back at you. “Wow, I guess I really must be stressed, why would you tell me now though when I’m not listening?”

“To make you realise that you don’t need to stress after all.”

Jaehyun:

Your smile grew as you looked across at Yoonoh who sat opposite from you at the table, staring out at the ocean that overlooked the balcony that you sat in to enjoy your dinner on the last night of your holiday, a week that had been a complete dream for you both.

“There’s one thing I have left to say to finish this week off,” Yoonoh suddenly announced.

“I don’t think you could say anything else to make this week more perfect,” you quickly responded, but Yoonoh’s head shook, he knew that there was most definitely something that could finish your week off together.

His smile grew, taking a sip from his drink to steady himself before clearing his throat. “I reckon I could prove you wrong, because I didn’t want to end this trip without telling you that I love you, a lot, very much.”

“Well, maybe I was wrong,” you nervously smiled, “there was something that you could say that would make this the perfect trip after all, I never imagined that would quite be it though.”

“I’ve known for a while, I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Jungwoo:  

His eyes lit up as he walked back into his studio after a quick break, only to see you sat in his chair with two bags of food placed on the table. He walked straight in and over to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, admiring all the things that you’d bought for him.

“I thought you could do with some company,” you laughed, “and a belly full of food as well.”

“Have I ever told you how perfect you are?” He asked. Your head shook as you thought he was joking, but Jungwoo was completely serious, and this just proved it. “I love you, for all the things you do for me, I love you.”

Your hand rested against his chest, taking a few moments to process what he’d just said. “You’ve never told me you love me before,” you laughed in surprise, hearing Jungwoo repeat it once again to make sure that you heard.

“I knew I was falling for you, but this is the final piece of the puzzle that I needed to know that I am in love with you,” he admitted, “this is exactly what I needed, and you brought it.”

“Of course, someone has to make sure you’re alright.”

Mark:

As Mark approached you with your card and presents, you quickly sat up in bed, tightening the duvet around your body. You placed the presents to one side and tore open the card, excited to see what he had bought, but as your eyes read through the card, your voice faltered.

“Happy birthday Y/N,” you began to read out, “I love you, and I can’t wait to celebrate you.”

“Surprise,” Mark anxiously chuckled beside you, noticing your body freeze, reading through the same line again and again. “I couldn’t find the words to say it, so I thought I’d write it in your card instead and tell you how I feel.”

Your head shook in slight disbelief, standing the card on your bedside table. “This is already the best present that I’ve ever received, no one’s ever told me that they’ve loved me through a card before, it’s a first.”

“I just wanted you to know how special you are on your birthday,” Mark assured you, “but that’s just the start of the day, there’s so many other things I have planned to show you I love you.”

“I’m excited to see what’s coming my way.”

Haechan:

His arm snaked around your waist, peering around to see that you were fast asleep. Donghyuck leaned across and pressed a kiss to your cheek, feeling his heartbeat quicken at how peaceful you looked. Before he had time to think, those special three words came from him.

“I can hear you,” your voice whispered as soon as he finished speaking, taking him by surprise.

“I thought you were asleep,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks burn up as your eyes looked back at him. “I meant it though, I really do love you. I love having you around and being able to fall asleep beside you every night.”

You shifted onto your other side so you could lay face to face with Donghyuck, smiling softly back at him. “I love being around you, which is why I feel like I love you too, I’m just glad that you were the first to say it.”

“I thought I’d get away with it because you were asleep,” he chuckled, shaking his head at you, “you looked like you were gone, did you really hear every word that I’ve said tonight?”

“Every word, but I loved listening to it.”

---

Masterlist

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine Sokka becoming jealous when he finds out you and Zuko have a history together

Your POV

Your father Piando was the best sword fighting teacher in all the four nations and people came from all over to seek his guidance. So you’d met many men who trained with your father but none of them were like Sokka, or more accurately Sokka wasn't like anyone else who passed through your father’s door. Mainly because he openly admitted he wasn’t perfect which none of the other men had ever dared to do. They’d openly boasted all their achievements hoping to impress your father whereas Sokka was brutally honest about himself and you respected that. Your father was intrigued too and so Sokka was allowed to train with him.

You were also very intrigued and observed Sokka’s training to see what this unique man would do. You watched amused as Sokka completed every single task with his own unique style and grew fonder of him with each passing day. You never interfered with your fathers training methods but you did help Sokka where you could and became friends.

When Sokka completed his training it was time for him to leave and you felt sad. It was nice to have someone so unique and refreshingly imperfect. You and your father both disliked the fire nation and your father always told you it would change eventually. Watching the avatar leave you couldn’t help but wonder if the time was now and realised how much you wanted to be a part of it. "Go" your father said suddenly and you paused "what?". "Join them" he smiled passing you a packed bag and your sword "i always knew you were destined for greatness and this is it....why do you think i pressed you to be so skilled with a sword? Go with Sokka and help him overthrow the firelord". You paused overwhelmed with emotion so you just hugged him "thank you". "You're welcome...just don't get any closer to Sokka okay?". You blushed but made no promises. You ran out of the house and caught Sokka as he was halfway down the road. "Sokka i..." you paused as Sokka and all his friends looked at you and you took a breath "i was wondering if you wanted any help defeating the firelord?". "You want to help us?" Aang asked and you nodded "i’m pretty good with a sword and i know a lot about the fire nation....i’d like to help, i want to fight". Sokka pretended to think before grinning "welcome to the team y/n!".

You worked with Sokka on his invasion plan for the fire nation and provided Aang with invaluable information on the firelord. You and Sokka grew closer and started dating pretty soon after you joined the group. You loved your time travelling with the gang and finally felt like things were changing for the better when a piece of your past came back to you.

You had just arrived at the western air temple and after finally getting Aang to talk to you were interrupted by the prince of the fire nation. Everyone rushed to attack him but you just stood there frozen between shock and awkwardness. Eventually you came forward to stand beside Sokka and listened as the others all debated letting Zuko join. Finally the group agreed to let Zuko join and only then did he fully look up from the ground at you all and he spotted you immediately. "Y/n?" Zuko asked and you smiled "hi Zuko". "Wait you two know each other?" Katara asked. "Yeah my father taught Zuko how to use his dual swords a couple of years ago". Zuko nodded "see her father is this amazing swordsman famous in the fire nation known for....". "Yeah i know, i’ve met him" Sokka replied "and he also trained me so you're not the only sword master here". Zuko nodded awkwardly and you changed the subject.

You showed Zuko around as nobody else wanted to and because you wanted to help make him feel welcome. You also wanted to apologise for not telling the gang you knew each other. You explained to Zuko how you didn’t vouch for him earlier because you thought it was Aang’s place not yours and he understood your reasons. You caught up over everything you’d missed in the fire nation and Zuko’s life while Sokka watched with a confused expression.

Sokka’s POV

"I can believe i had no idea they were friends" Sokka cried and Katara sighed "y/n never said they were friends she just said they knew each other, also how would you know? It never came up". "Yeah but y/n knew we were conspiring against the firelord and she never mentioned she knew his son....do you think that’s odd?”. Sokka’s eyes drifted back to where you were both sat together "and now they're sat laughing and joking around together". Katara sighed "i’m sure they're both just happy to be around people they know, Zuko probably just feels more comfortable around her because she’s from the fire nation too, she knows what it’s like". Sokka raised an eyebrow not convinced. The way you and Zuko acted was way too familiar for casual acquaintances. You seemed very at ease with each other and Sokka couldn’t help but feel you were hiding something about this from him.

Later

You were sat around the campfire drinking tea Zuko made with the group when you realised your boyfriend was missing. You searched all over for him before you finally found him. "There you are!" you called spotting Sokka stood at the edge of the woods "why are you all the way out here it’s freezing". "I don’t feel the cold" Sokka said and you snorted "you don’t feel the cold?" you asked imitating him mockingly and Sokka shook his head but smiled "i meant...i have more of a tolerance to it than you because i grew up surrounded by snow and ice" Sokka said nudging you playfully. You smiled at him and took his hand in yours "well that may be but i still think you shouldn’t be out here all alone, come back to the fire with me, Zuko was telling jokes it was crazy!". "No thanks" Sokka said abruptly dropping your hard and you paused "what?". "I don’t want to listen to Zuko be hilarious and watch him become even better than he already is". You paused "Sokka is everything okay....". "Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?". You paused "i...it didn’t come up plus i wasn’t sure it was relevant...I knew Zuko a while ago, it’s not like we’re close". "I thought the same thing but then i saw the two of you together and you seemed comfortable, familiar even and it made me think....has something ever happened between you two?". You paled and Sokka gasped "i knew it! You like him!". "What? Sokka of course i don't, i left to come with you right?". "So why...". "Okay so while he was being trained with my father we became friends and we might have maybe gone on a couple of dates...". "YOU WHAT!" Sokka cried and you jumped "Sokka it’s not that big a deal! It was like 4 times! Then he left for the capital and we never ever spoke again, you have to believe me". Sokka nodded his head as you stared at him fiercely "i do just wow i can’t believe you dated?". You shrugged "i don’t even know if you can call it that, it was just casual and fun, neither of us were expecting anything long term...it was literally just some fun". Sokka paused "is it...does Zuko still seem fun to you?". You shook your head "Sokka i’d never dated anyone before Zuko...that was half the appeal! The other half was he’s a prince, which when i was younger seemed amazing. I’m older now and not so easily enticed by titles or just any guy. It takes a lot more, someone as great as you" you smiled up at him "and trust me Zuko will never seem as good to me as you do”. Sokka smiled and looked at you "really?". "Really" you nodded and kissed him. Sokka was enjoying it before a thought popped into his head "wait when you two dated did you ever...have you kissed Zuko?". Your eyes widened again and Sokka gasped "you have! Y/n!". "It was only a few times!" you cried and Sokka gaped "of all the girls i fall for...her ex-boyfriend is the future firelord...". "He wasn’t my boyfriend and i...wait girl you've fallen for?". Sokka blushed "well i figured it was pretty obvious...wasn’t i?". "No but even if it was hearing you say it...i’m falling for you too Sokka and that’s why this whole Zuko thing is just...so what if i’ve dated and kissed Zuko? That’s so far in the past! I don’t feel anything for him anymore and even if i did there’s no way it’d ever compare with you...nothing and nobody could". "Not even a fancy nobel man?" Sokka asked smiling and you shook your head "nope". "Or a titled tribal leader?". "No" you grinned and Sokka smiled "what about the earth king?". "Isn’t he like 40?" you asked and Sokka’s smile dropped "ow so if he wasn’t then he'd be an option". You got worried Sokka was actually upset when his frown was replaced with a smile "i’m kidding" he grinned. "You're an ass" you said pushing him but Sokka caught your hands and pulled you to him swiftly. "Yeah i know that’s what you like so much about me...my winning personality". “That’s one of the reasons” you grinned and before Sokka could ask you to list all the reasons you tugged his hand “now can we go back to the fire? I don’t have your water tribe protection from the cold”. Sokka nodded wrapping an arm around you “let's go”. You and Sokka reached the fire and sat together, Sokka stayed close to you to try and share his body heat with you and you willingly leant into him savouring it.

“They look happy” Zuko commented to Katara who nodded smiling. She wasn’t technically speaking to Zuko but she loved you and Sokka as a couple and it melted away her anger. “They are” she smiled. “I’m glad y/n found someone, she deserves someone good”. Katara frowned as Zuko was obviously talking like he knew you well but she didn’t push it. She just smiled seeing her brother so obviously in love with someone who loved him back just as much.

[satorinnie]

love and war

pairing; gojo satoru x f!reader

genre; angst

wc; 3,6k

warnings; jjk manga spoilers

notes; i think its obvious the ending is a bit rushed but i still tried my best :/ got the motivation to write the ending but then lost it again...but i wanted to post it today so here it goes. would love to hear feedback on it!

it wasn’t meant to play out like this. no, he wasn’t meant to find out about it, not like this at least.

that was the last thing you ever wanted.

everything was going so fine, maybe too fine, but still, nonetheless, things were perfect between the two of you just this morning. how did it come to this?

he was looking at you, blindfold off, crescent blue eyes reflecting each emotion he held so so openly. the only times you saw him this vulnerable was when the two of you had talked about his past, his regrets, and what if’s. his eyes were full of adoration at that time, looking at you like you were a pure blessing from the heavens, an angel sent to save him from his drowning thoughts, to let him be himself.

but now, now they were looking at you with so much hurt, anger, regret, and oh so heartbroken.

you had seen, witnessed, first-hand what the receiving end of gojo’s furious gaze ended with. it wasn’t pleasant, that’s for sure, and you had sworn to yourself you would never be on the receiving end of it.

oh, how the tables have turned.

it was understandable why he was so mad; god knows you would be too. because you, who had delicately pieced back his broken heart and trust after the events of getou, had now broken it, by your very own hands at that.

how did it all come to this? you had no idea. you knew starting a relationship with him was wrong and off-limits from the very beginning, but the temptation had surpassed your rationality just like eve when she bit the apple. you never thought you’d fall this deep down the hole, so deep that you forgot–no, ignored your true mission.

to monitor gojo satoru and sukuna’s vessel and kill them when you got the order.

it was last year when the head sorcerers in england had given you this mission. if gojo was unbeatable and unrivaled in japan, you were the same in england. perhaps your curse technique wasn’t as strong as his, but it was versatile and a very reliable technique.

after itardori yuuji became the only sukuna’s vessel, japan wasn’t the only country sour about the thought of it; in fact, it had caused a panic in europe as well. and as england was the country that ruled the jujutsu world in europe, you were assigned with monitoring the vessel and the owner of the six eyes. they wanted their eyes and hands on the boy with the infinity.

but you befriending everyone there, joking with the curse himself, and becoming lovers with the one and only gojo satoru was definitely not how you planned for things to go. it spelled trouble from the beginning, getting close to the shaman who had an ego and power rivaling the gods. but, unfortunately, you were now too deep to just leave without explaining everything to him, and even hoping for a chance that he’d forgive the lies you fed him throughout your times together was a little farfetched.

how could you make him believe that everything you said was genuine, and out of true love? the answer was you couldn’t because the betrayal in his eyes was enough for you to gulp down those hopes, taking a deep breath to prepare for the argument that was about to come. “look–satoru, please let me explain and don’t jump to conclusions.” you lifted your hands in front of you as an act to calm him down, walking closer to him with a futile attempt to hold his hands.

“explain what?” a laugh escaped his throat, one mixed with desperation and madness, “that everything between us was a lie? a mission for you? how do you plan on slithering your way out of this now, huh?” his voice rising with each word he was spitting out of his mouth.

you were desperately trying to keep up the expression that you had everything together, when in fact, you didn’t at all. your hands were starting to shake because you were scared of losing the man in front of you whom you were utterly in love with. the boy with the infinity held your heart in his palms, and he had no idea about it. “nothing was a lie, alright! i know how that document looked, and i can’t lie and tell you that isn’t true, but my love for you is–”

“keep those fucking lies to yourself y/n–you know, everyone knows already. megumi, yuuji, maki, even shoko–”

“stop cutting me, gojo! i know it might be unforgivable, but you have to believe me when i say i forgot about the mission. i love you, okay? i am undeniably and utterly in love with you, and that’s why i’ve been ignoring every call, every message they’ve been sending me about the task because i can’t do it!” you were screaming now, hands in the air, trying to voice out every single emotion you were feeling in that moment.

“well, it’s too bad that i don’t love you anymore! you know, i’ve known about this for a few weeks now and was hoping you’d open up to me about it, but–”

you froze at his last sentence.

“–you what? so you’re telling me that everything that happened in between us during those weeks was an act? all fake? you were just waiting for me to open up so you could what, break my heart in a more grand way?” now you had to give it to him, not only was he secretly smart, he was also a great actor who had you fooled for weeks now. the room was silent after your words, both your eyes staring deep into each other; you, waiting for his answer.

and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to answer your question. but you knew what that meant; with his hesitance, you had found your answer. breaking your eye contact, you looked down at the floors of the home you used to share; you could hear your heart shattering into millions of pieces with just the sound of his breathing.

“alright,” you whispered into the air. running your hand over your face, you leaned back against the kitchen counter. “so how will this go? are you going to let me go or are we gonna have a full-on fight right now? or is everyone already waiting outside the door to capture me?” you were doing your best to avoid eye contact, it was already too heard keeping your tears from falling, and you knew one more look at the eyes you loved so much would break you.

there was silence for a few minutes, but in your eyes, a few minutes was an eternity long. the fact that he was debating the question you left was heartbreaking already. but you weren’t afraid to fight; you had come to japan prepared for the worst-case scenario, and getting to know satoru up close, you believed you had a fair chance at winning.

“–im giving you twenty-four hours to leave this country. if you don’t–you know what’s to happen.” this had you lifting your head in the speed of lightning, eyes wide mouth agape, you could only watch as gojo satoru left your shared house without sparing you a single glance.

he was oblivious to how he carried your heart out the door when he left you stranded in the middle of the kitchen.

it was an hour after your discussion, and you were still in the same spot he left you. still standing, still too paralyzed to move. the reality of things being over was just starting to weigh on you, but you knew you had to start packing because not only gojo; but england was going to be after you too.

you failed the mission. and you didn’t plan on returning back.

war is a slippery slope. what would you do? becomes what will you do? becomes what have you done?

looking around the now-empty home, you built with gojo; tears started falling from your hallow eyes. so many memories resurfaced in one moment; it was overwhelming. the day your first saw him when he was trying to crack a joke at nanami to get him to smile. or the time he first asked you out admitting he had found you a force to be reckoned with and how you had managed to bewitch him. the day you accepted, the day he made you see stars behind your eyes from pure bliss. the day he proposed living together. the day you danced around the living room with his obnoxious music playing at the back, head laid against his chest humming to the melodies. how you felt like a family when you saw him and the students act so close–

how long has it been? how long have you been pushing your actual task behind the lies and excuses you fed yourself. was that person you? the ever so stone-hearted y/n breaking her facade for the boy with infinity.

my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?

it was all getting too much. when had you fallen down the hole to never leave again? should you be grateful, or should you curse the fact that despite all misfortune, you can still feel love and unearthly love but still for earthly objects?

finally getting a grip on yourself, your feet moved down the hall to your shared bedroom, and without wasting a glance at his side, you quickly started to pack your stuff to leave japan.

gojo wasn’t doing well himself. he thought he had finally found true happiness after all the loss he had to go through, and it all turned out to be nothing but an act built on lies. after he left your shared home, he had wandered around in the streets with no destination in mind and the cold chilly air blowing past him. his blindfold was still off, the moon making his crystal blue eyes shine even more, still with unshed tears at the brink of it—a dam about to break.

he knew he lied to you when he told you he didn’t love you anymore and only hoped the years of the facade he had to keep up was enough to fool you into believing his words when in fact, it was the very opposite. he loved you so much–so much that it broke him when he read the document that was mailed to you weeks ago. you and him were an inseparable duo–the strongest and his tamer. the boy with the infinity and the girl who held him down with gravity.

upon wandering the streets for god knows how many hours, he found himself in front of a riverbank. the light of the moon was radiating, creating a painting of a million stories for the broken boy. but while being so engrossed with the view in front of him, he had failed to feel someone creeping up behind him; with his infinity down, nanami was able to lend a hand on his shoulder. “i’m assuming you talked with her.” he broke the silence.

his silenced gaze worried his friend; they promised to keep it between themselves. while nanami believed letting the kids know would be the better choice, gojo was adamant about keeping your good image in front of them. he knew how much they adored you, and he would hate to be the one to break it to them. “i did.”

“and what choice did you go with?”

“i gave her a full day to leave, and if otherwise–” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “–if otherwise, i told her i would fight her.” tears now slowly starting to trail down his porcelain skin, an odd view to see for his foes.

“you did the right thing.” nanami tried his best to console him in a way. this was a new image for him; he never saw gojo break down like this; the last time he saw his best friend (he would never admit that to his face, though) like this was when he had to kill getou, even then he had managed to keep up the aloof facade. but he knew his feeling for you ran much, much deeper than that. he has witnessed what your companionship had done to him. it was what pieced him back, and now what broke him.

it’s been years since you left, but you were back now. back in japan after two years of staying away, traveling to many different countries, on the runaway from the higher-ups in england. you would’ve preferred your return to be on good news and such, but unfortunately, it was the opposite. your friends back in england had informed you about how they planned on ending gojo’s life once in for all today with a team of experienced sorcerers, and although you wanted to keep away from trouble as much you could, you couldn’t let the man you love die.

with your hood covering your face, you walked down the streets of shibuya, the once war zone that led to many disastrous events in the past years under your feet. you heard about everything; the culling game and the capture of gojo satoru, thank god those were all in the past now, and everyone was well–except nanami, and the new had broken you. just like gojo and the students, he also had a special place in your heart, his calm attitude always grounding you. you don’t think his last thoughts of you were good–considering what gojo had told you the night you left, but still, his death was unexpected news to you.

you didn’t know how you were going to approach the topic; there was a big chance they’d attack you the second you entered their line of vision, not allowing you to voice out the news–but it was worth the try nonetheless. taking your hood down, you entered a cafe; the need for caffeine after the long flight back here was strong, the anxiousness and stress not allowing you to sleep. what you didn’t expect was seeing the three first years–now third years–you loved so much sitting in the cafe chatting idly, not noticing you. you wanted to keep it that way, but on your way out, a feminine voice called out your name. “y/n sensei? is that you?”

your steps halted, freezing in your stop. the confrontation was inevitable now, causing a stir in a crowded place was the last thing you wanted so you turned around to see nobara staring at you with wide eyes, megumi and itadori behind shocked just as her. what you didn’t expect was her running straight at your engulfing you with wide arms; a big grin plastered on her face. “where were you! you disappeared out of nowhere, and gojo sensei wouldn’t tell us anything! we were really worried; you left me alone with these two idiots–you know you’re the only one who understands my pain–”

“–i’m sorry, i had to go on an abroad mission, and it took too long. it’s good to be back.” you hugged her back tightly, still trying to process the new information she threw at you. gojo had lied, and that made you question everything you believed in. had he also lied about his love for you back then? but that was for later–for now, you wanted to cherish this news and spend time with your favorite students, learn about their well-being and their stories.

“come on, let’s sit shall we? we got lots to catch up on.”

it was now midnight, and you were waiting somewhere in the middle of the forest for your dreaded meeting with gojo. you managed to convince the kids into telling gojo to meet you here without actually letting him know it was you. they were excited, to say the least, talking about how you and he were the epitomai of soulmates, two pieces meant to find each other, filling up the gaping hole you both had. you were very nervous, fidgeting in your spot, hiding behind the tree waiting for him to arrive, and when you heard footsteps nearing you–you knew this was it, heart pounding like crazy.

walking out of your hiding spot, you slowly made your way over to him, hands stiff at your sides anticipating his reaction. “gojo.” he looked at you, blindfold on this time. still, you could see his displeasure from how his body stiffened at your voice, looking at you with a straight face. “what’re you doing here? i thought i told you to leave.” you sighed, walking closer to him, “i know, and i am going to leave again, but before that, i need to tell you something–” you were cut off by the powerful shake of the ground, throwing you off balance resulting in you falling to the ground.

behind you were your old friends from england, standing tall and mighty together–a force to be reckoned with; you were once one of them, but alas, that was the past. “thanks you leading us straight to him y/n.” elizabeth smirked looking at your fallen state, “you made things a whole lot easier for us.” she continued. looking back at gojo, you were surprised to see his hands locked in some type of chain. how did they manage to get past his infinity–unless he didn’t have it on in the first place. did let his guard down once he saw you? why would he do that?

“no, no, no– leave him alone, elizabeth! i swear to god i’ll rain hell upon all of you!” you stood up desperately trying to leave the makeshift cage your friend had put you in when a sudden idea came to you. it was risky, but it would save him, and that–that was all you needed, your purpose of coming here in the first place.

“lover boy is being quite over there. what is it? cat got your tongue?” she was taunting you and definitely enjoying it too. walking closer to you, she neared your face while the others were beside gojo, “you’re both fools believing you guys could be together in the first place, that’s how it works–” she was cut off by the stomp of your foot on the ground lifting a piece of rock–the one gojo was on, up to the air, away from your ex-friends. if you couldn’t save yourself, you could at least save him; apologize for your past mistakes.

from where you were, you couldn’t do much, but you used all your might to send rock flying in the air towards them meanwhile keeping gojo away from them. your cursed technique was called upon the tainted sorrow, the ability to manipulate gravity, and it was unrivaled in europe. you trained too much to reach where you were, the strongest just like gojo, but even the strong can fall, and all it takes is the blink of an eye.

you were on the ground again, but this time blood pouring from your insides, a deadly piercing through your abdomen. while you were so engrossed with trying to keep gojo safe, you hadn’t realized he was already off the piece of rock fighting the rest. and he had made the mistake of underestimating them, resulting in the struggle. but that distraction was enough for elizabeth to pierce the cursed knife through you.

one second you were on the ground; the next, you were in someone’s arms. looking up, you were met with the crystal blue eyes you had grown to love staring right back at yours. this reminded you of the moments where you used to lay on his chest, hands tangled in his snow-white hair, his hands keeping you tight against him, eyes staring at each other with nothing but love. how unfortunate things weren’t that way now. you bleeding onto his hands which hopelessly applied pressure to your wound in hopes of saving you, his blindfold now off, tears slowly caressing his face. it was a sight for the eyes. you lifted your hand up to cup his cheek, imprinting a red hand mark right where you touched him, “satoru–”

“save your breath, i called for shoko; she’ll be here any minute, and we can save you–” you silenced him with your thumb on his lips, “satoru, this was inevitable, even if you save me now, they’ll still be after me. it’ll be a never-ending cycle.”

“no, i can keep you safe, y/n. remember? it’s us against the world, baby. always has been and always will be.” he kissed your forehead, still keeping you close. his eyes were shut tight; he could feel your consciousness slipping away and knew he couldn’t save you. but can’t a man hope? and as you uttered your last words, body temperature turning cold, breathing stopping, he knew right then and there this was where he lost it all. this was how he lost the light of his world, in his own hands, between his arms.

“for what it’s worth, i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard.” and he knew those words would haunt him for an eternity. follow him wherever he went. the ghost of you will always be with him, never leaving. you will hold him down by gravity with just your soul. yet he still wanted to curse the gods for taking you away from him, his fresh breath of air, his anchor.

your love was strong, but the timing was wrong, and love decided that you both didn’t belong.

[lilover131]

Syaoran and Kaito Analysis

So I’ve mentioned recently in a recent fanart and in my analysis of chapter 55, but I have noticed quite a few similarities between Syaoran and Kaito, and upon some observations, I have some theories, particularly in regards to how Kaito views Syaoran. I decided to delve into that a bit, so see under the cut for more! Warning: It’s long. I wrote a lot. >.<

 I have a lot to cover, so I thought it might be best to outline in the most simple way possible some things we already know about Kaito.

 ·         He was born gifted with incredible magic. His parentage is unknown and he was “alone for as long as he could remember”.

·         It’s unclear where Kaito originated from, but it seems he spent a majority of his life in England.

·         He has moon based magic and has a wide variety of talents, but specializes in time magic. It’s unclear if he already had a skill with time magic or if this was obtained after he met Momo. It seems implied that he made a magical contract with her and maybe gained his time abilities from this. But we do know he has the ability to fly, to locate objects, teleport, to talk to animals, and to make something vanish in a mere moment.  

·         He is also talented in housekeeping skills, such as sewing, cooking, etc.

·         He used to be very cold hearted and preferred spending time alone. Kaito changed considerably in personality at some point in his life. It is uncertain exactly what caused this change, but it seems likely that Akiho’s mother was the catalyst for this.

·         He is part of a very powerful group of magicians called as we know it ‘The Association’ and is revered as one of its most powerful with the title ‘D’. He recently betrayed them and left, taking Akiho with him.

·         He protects and seems to care for Akiho

·         He is preparing for an event labeled as “that time” and needs Sakura to create a specific card.

·         He is putting himself in extreme physical danger for his goals, seemingly for Akiho’s sake.

·         He has been noted as always smiling to ‘hide his pain’.

 So when I look at all of these facts about Kaito, I noticed something interesting. Syaoran too could be described by almost all of these things. You might think “Wait a minute Chrissy! Kaito and Syaoran are nothing alike!”, but please hear me out.

Syaoran too was born gifted with incredible magic. He also draws his power from the moon (a connection that has already been pointed out by CLAMP) and has a knack for household skills as well, being very independent from a young age. Like Kaito, he was cold hearted in his earlier years, preferred to be alone (according to Meiling in the original 90’s anime in episode 43), and had a drastic change in personality later on, particularly after meeting Sakura. Syaoran is part of a very powerful group of magicians as well, the Li clan, and is one of the strongest within it and destined to be the next leader. Similarly, Syaoran too is preparing for some kind of event, a future seen by his mother, and is doing everything to prevent this, even if it causes him physical harm (as we’ve seen with him struggling to conjure the Sakura cards). In order to keep Sakura in the dark as to not worry her, he has been using a smile to ‘hide his pain’.

Now you may be wondering “Okay, so they have a few things in common, but they are still completely different!”. And you would be right. They are two completely different people after all, but try to think of them as two sides of the same coin. This beckons another question: How did two people who are so similar turn out so differently?

This is really where their differences in personality shine through, but part of it I believe is due to their backgrounds as well. For example, Kaito was picked up by the Association at a young age due to his skills with magic and was taken in to “use that magical power to accomplish their own tasks”. Based on their record of not having a great reputation, according to Eriol, and their treatment of Akiho by assisting her Clan in turning her into a magical device, it seems likely that Kaito was not treated kindly by anyone in the Association. In fact, he was probably left alone nearly all of the time unless his strengths were needed, and took care of himself in the remainder of that time. He was surrounded by people but still completely alone, and he preferred to be this way. This cold background of his really prevented him from being able to open up his heart to anyone. But he does seem to be much different around Akiho.

Syaoran, on the other hand, was surrounded by loving and caring family members. Although he preferred to be alone in his earlier years, he wasn’t actually alone at all. His mother was protective of him (like cutting his hair until he was strong enough to protect himself from things like scissors near his neck), and his sisters adored him and undoubtedly showered him with love at every opportunity. But even with that love from them, he was still somewhat cold hearted (though not as much as Kaito) until he met Sakura.

Their backgrounds do differ from each other, but I think the biggest difference in them of all is how they handle their feelings. When Syaoran first started to realize his feelings for Sakura, he struggled quite a bit and was in a great amount of denial, even physically running away at times when confronted with them. It was when he finally came to terms with his heart and confessed his feelings to Sakura that he underwent a great change and became the Syaoran we know today.

So what about Kaito?

Well, Kaito I believe is in that same stage of denial where he is refusing to come to terms with his feelings, whatever those may be. It’s clear that he cares about Akiho, but when she or Momo try to have a serious discussion with him or get him to talk about those feelings, he goes out of his way to change the subject (or once with Momo, actually fled at the first opportunity, which is just like Syaoran used to do!). It is something he is clearly uncomfortable with, and I think that is because it is unfamiliar territory for him. He is used to not feeling anything at all, so having to actually think about his feelings and reasons for doing things is unbearably frightening. He can handle any magical opponent any day (except Sakura of course), but being open and honest about his feelings? That’s another battle entirely that he doesn’t know how to handle without his magic to use as a crutch.

Momo mentioned in chapter 39 how Kaito had made a great deal of changes, all so that Akiho could live comfortably and pleaded internally “peer deep inside your heart. And don’t avert your eyes”. This was said again in chapter 51 when she stated “I implore you Yuna D. Kaito. Listen…to your heart”.

In the very next chapter, it is none other than Syaoran who has a discussion with Sakura about how his mother had told him “If you possess great magic power…when you feel pounding and stirring in your chest…you shouldn’t ignore it. You need to listen to your intuition. I think that goes for everyone, magic or no magic. I don’t think anyone should turn a blind eye to their own heart”. We also know that in that same conversation with his mother, thanks to the mini chapter provided with the special edition of volume 9, that Yelan said to him then “If there’s something you want to accomplish, then training with your spells is surely important, but...more than anything else, you have to face your heart”. She went on to tell him how important it was to listen to his heart and that “If you lie to yourself, you will sadden the person who loves you so dearly”. 

And that, my friends, is the major reason for Syaoran and Kaito being so different despite their many similarities. One listens to his heart while the other adamantly turns away from it. This leads me to my next topic (thank you for anyone who has read this long into it. I appreciate it!), and that is in regards to Kaito’s feelings about Syaoran.

I have noticed that Kaito in general tends to act quite differently in regards to Syaoran than he does anyone else. It starts at the very first time they met, when they made their introductions. Despite working so diligently to keep himself hidden from Akiho and Sakura, he did the complete opposite with Syaoran. He had to have known that being able to sense his magic and being given his name and title, that Syaoran would go and research who he was. He wanted Syaoran in particular to know who he was, which I believe is also why he allowed him to speak with Eriol initially. I say allowed, because we know he clearly had the potential to cut off communications at any point in time, and he only stepped in to shut this down when Eriol started talking to the others (Kero and Yue). He clearly wanted to control what information people knew about him, and Eriol crossed a line. He also put spells on Syaoran that would not allow him to communicate with others about him, so again showing he wanted him to know about him, but not to be able to tell anyone else about him, especially Sakura.

Another occasion I found intriguing was chapter 34 in the scene with the pool. Kaito stopped time, but for some reason, allowed Syaoran to move freely as well. Why is this? He could have easily frozen Syaoran too, but he made a conscious decision to allow Syaoran to move.

Then we come to perhaps the most telling scene so far, which is the battle he and Syaoran had in chapter 41 and 42. In a moment where he could have easily stopped time and rewound so that Syaoran never approached him, he instead decided to have a full discussion with him and even go as far as to engage in battle with him in stopped time. In this ‘discussion’, he stated several facts that he knew about Syaoran, who was pointedly not responding to them and seemed solely focused on Sakura. Some of the details about him were probably common knowledge to the magical world, but some of them seemed oddly personal, such as him being a ‘diligent student’, as if to show he had been watching him for quite some time.

Something about the interaction was different than others. It was as if he was observing Syaoran in that moment to see how he would react to hearing certain things. He then mentioned after seeing Syaoran use the Sakura cards how rewriting a contract once written takes a toll on even the strongest magician and he said “Is this all…for Sakura too?”. I think what he was trying to say here is that he recognizes the efforts he’s making for Sakura and may even feel a connection to him because of his own efforts for his own wish.

In chapter 42, continuing on with this conversation, Kaito seemed ready to turn back time the moment he realized they were no longer alone and that Sakura was able to move, but he still had more to say. Syaoran reacted to Sakura calling out for him, and it was at this moment that Kaito said “You certainly are honest, aren’t you? One look at your face, and I know exactly what you’re thinking” (even Eriol made several comments about Syaoran’s honesty in the original series). Once again, he’s showing here that he’s observing Syaoran, but why? For what reason does he bring this up? I think he says this because it is something so foreign to him and fascinates him. Kaito is so used to hiding his feelings and being unable to express them, but Syaoran is the complete opposite in the fact that he can so easily show his feelings and it is not his nature to conceal them. Kaito followed this by bringing up that Syaoran had suppressed that honesty when he came to Japan, which we know was through his fake smiles (something he is all too familiar with). Yue also said to Syaoran in chapter 27 that he had been hiding behind a smile and ordinarily was much more unrestrained in how he expressed his emotions, no matter what that emotion may be.

I wonder if Kaito said this because he wondered “how is it that he’s able to be so honest?” or maybe he was trying to show that he understood his reasons for hiding behind a smile, pointing out the similarities between them; that they were not so different despite having different goals. Kaito’s next comment in particular is probably what caught my attention the most. He divulged the detail about how Syaoran suppressed his honesty particularly to try and prevent the future that his mother saw. Even Syaoran seemed surprised by this, and he had good reason to be! This was likely a very personal moment, one he hasn’t even told Sakura about yet, and this implies that he might have been there when this particular moment happened. It makes sense too, considering Akiho had stated in her very first appearance that she was in Hong Kong just before coming to Japan, meaning she and Kaito were certainly there at the same time Syaoran was, at least for a brief time. This means he probably saw all the effort he was putting in for Sakura’s sake and maybe this resonated with him. I think maybe he also saw how his older sisters, even though they had no magic of their own, are treated with respect in the Li clan, unlike Akiho with her own. Kaito has only ever known a world where those who are strong are used and those who are weak are deemed worthless (like Akiho), but yet Syaoran lives in a world where both live harmoniously. Sakura’s world in Tomoeda is the same as well and filled with kindness, far different from any other experience Kaito has had, and this must have been quite the culture shock! But more importantly, Syaoran and Sakura have all the things that he and Akiho never had.

Another interesting thing to note here is that Kaito was supposedly expelled from the association about a year ago due to stealing a powerful magical instrument that was forbidden to be taken (which we now know to be Akiho herself). And guess what else happened about a year ago? About a year ago, Syaoran went back to Hong Kong to handle his ‘important things’. Coincidence? Well, famously CLAMP series often say there is no such thing as coincidence...only hitsuzen. 

Just as he is about to send another attack at Syaoran, he talks about how he and Syaoran both do not have the power of divination, but that “it is for the strong to decide…what the future holds in store for us all”. I think what he meant here is “Neither of us know how this is going to turn out, but the both of us are working hard for our own goals, so may the best man win”. However, before he could go any further, Sakura used TRANSFER to switch places, and he is both surprised by this, but quite quickly decides to end things and rewind time at this moment, indicating that he had not really wanted to engage with Sakura at all at this point in time. He had even stated at the beginning of chapter 42 that he had intended to keep her frozen and only have Syaoran able to move, meaning this whole situation had only been kept going for this long so that he could talk to Syaoran.

After rewinding time and talking to Akiho later that evening, he mentioned how Parent’s day was “quite illuminating”. This could have been said about his newfound knowledge of Fujitaka, but I also believe he learned quite a bit from Syaoran as well.

Now we finally get to the more recent chapters, like 54 and 55. While sitting together at the botanical garden, Kaito puts yet another spell on Syaoran to force him to smile against his will to avoid any suspicion. I feel like this was not just to keep the peace but also somewhat of a way to toy with and tease Syaoran. What better way to get under the skin of someone so honest and open with their feelings than to force them to hide these under a smile unwillingly? I think this was the mischievous side of Kaito showing and almost like a big brother teasing a little brother, but unfortunately for him, he pushed things too far with this, and not only did Sakura notice something was wrong, but this allowed the spell to be broken, and Syaoran wasted absolutely zero time saying the things he had been suppressed in saying before.

Cue to chapter 55, our most recent chapter. Sakura has managed to keep herself from being frozen in time, and she starts off with a few basic questions. The first one was if he knew about her being able to use cards. Kaito answered simply “Yes”. But when asked about if he knew about Syaoran, he gave two very specific details about him, particularly that he knew he was a gifted sorcerer and that he was the next head of the Li clan”. He could have just answered yes, the same way he responded in regards to Sakura, but instead he seems to have wanted Sakura to know in that moment that he knows a lot of information about Syaoran and not just that he can use magic. The two then exchange meaningful looks, and it’s right after this that she looks over to Syaoran and Akiho, looking almost worried. Now, it’s not clear what they were both thinking in this moment, and it’s possible that I am overthinking this one, but I find it fascinating that his answer was so detailed here, and I don’t feel like that was for nothing. Ohkawa has always been very thoughtful about the words she writes in her scripts, and I think this is no exception.

Anyways, I feel like we’ll get more definitive answers in the future, but I’m incredibly intrigued to see if there are any further and more concrete connections between them. I feel like CLAMP has done quite a bit to point out similarities between the two, and it should be a wild ride from here on out!!

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Drinking Up This Sweet Decadence

George Luz x Reader One shot

Warnings: SMUT!, dom/sub under and overtones, George is an immature toddler but he’s *YOUR* IMMATURE TODDLER, shit attempts at humor, reader goes a lil overboard with scratching, George gets a lil stupid post-sexy time but it’s vv cute, no discussion of safewords/boundaries so I guess the dom/sub stuff isn’t well negotiated but whatevah.

Summary: George decides to be a pouty lil jealous boy and reader is having none of it

Title comes from Good Enough by Evanescence

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey, Y/N- your back feeling okay?”

 Both you and Dick raise your heads from the map you’d splayed across the table in the Paratrooper- usurped pub, giving each other a quick look before you finally look at Nixon.

 “Uh….yeah, Lewis,” you narrow your eyes at the smirking man. “Why do you ask?”

 Nix shrugs and pulls a face. “Just curious if you could feel the daggers George Luz has been shooting your way.”

Furrowing your brows, you twist in your seat to look out at the sea of soldiers, frowning when you see exactly what Nixon was talking about.

George Luz was glaring at you, a deep frown of his own twisting his handsome face as you made eye contact with him. 

 A consummate goof, you weren’t unaccustomed to seeing the man pulling a face at you every now and again. More often than not, he’d do it when he felt that you were too hyper-focused on something- or if you became overly concerned and contemplative over a minute detail of whatever intel Nixon had most recently given you. He never failed to pull you from your darker thoughts, something that you had come to rely on despite your initial resistance to becoming his friend.

 But right now- this wasn’t George pulling a bit. Oh no, this was a genuine expression of upset.

Just as you opened parted your lips to mouth a question at him, he turned his glower to the beer in front of him, pointedly making conversation with Malarkey, Skip, and Alex. 

 “What’s that about?” Dick asked from your side. 

Turning back around, you shake your head and shrug. “No idea. Probably just had too much to drink and zoning out? I don’t know- the day I can explain why any of these Neanderthals do what they do is the day Hitler shaves off his mustache and admits he’s been a bit over the top with this whole affair.”

“Is it something you need to, uh, deal with?”

 You shake your head again, giving Nix a quick grin. “Nah, this is more important. Besides,” you shoot one more look over your shoulder before turning back. “Whatever it is, he’ll probably be over it come morning.”

With a nod, Nix refocuses on the map and takes a swig from his flask.

 “Okay, so the DZ is going to be in these fields, over here….”

~

Turns out, Luz wasn’t over it by morning.

 Nor was he over it that afternoon, evening, or the two next days.

 Like some playground tiff gone personal, he was ignoring you. Not just ignoring you, but full-on pretending that you didn’t exist.  If you walked into a room, he walked out. If you said his name, he lost his ability to hear and continued with whatever he was doing. When he made eye contact with you, he would immediately look away.

 You should’ve known that this was an inherent risk when you started falling in love with someone who was such a child- that they would carry their immaturity into all aspects of their life. So here you were, in a battle of wits with an oversized toddler and two weeks away from D-Day.

 And you were pissed.

 You hadn’t done anything to warrant this sort of reaction from him- just three days ago you’d been having to scold him for getting too handsy in front of your commanding officers, the both of you biting back laughter when he’d made a whole show of pouting and whimpering like a wounded puppy. Things had been good- great even. You had no idea what sparked this drastic shift in behavior.

 But that didn’t mean you weren’t determined to find out.

 You’d heard from Joe Toye that Luz was ‘moping like a goddamn kid’ in their shared cabin, having declined Joe’s offer to go out to the bar tonight. Having been on your way to go on a short run, you decided that now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of your lover’s temper tantrum. Whether he wanted to or not.

Opening the wooden door, you rolled your eyes when he instantly shifted his gaze to the wall opposite his bed. He was leaning against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched in front of him on the unmade sheets- looking for all the world a bratty teenager whose mother had sent them to their room to think about what they’d just done.

 “Fancy meeting you here, Sweetheart!”

 He blinked defiantly as he petulantly continued to stare at the wall. That was fine, you were willing to work for it a little bit.

 “Last time I saw someone pull the silent treatment, I think I was still in elementary school,” you continue as you walk over to his bed, using your hip to shove his legs to the side so you could perch on the side of the mattress beside him. “I’ve got to say- your commitment to being difficult is admirable. Three days is a long time in Luz-years, isn’t it?”

 You tilt your head to the side and give him an amused smile, batting your eyes at him as you nudge your knee against his hip. 

“What’s got you so cross, huh?” 

 George, still purposefully looking over your shoulder, said nothing. You frown at that, your amusement at his upset dwindling rapidly into genuine frustration. Being in love with George Luz- being friends with George Luz- lent itself to aggravation enough as it was, his jokes and near-constant wisecracks were destined to get on your nerves at some point. Sometimes you wondered if that truly was the point.

 But this….whatever this was had you on edge for an entirely different reason. Even with all of his other quirks and habits, this felt especially childish. the time allotted for any sort of long-term comical event had long since passed, and with the days of the company’s time in England whittling down to near single digits, you had no patience for this silent treatment.

 Which is probably why George looked so shocked when you lightly (but effectively) slapped his cheek in order to regain his attention.

 “Hey,” you said again, voice much sharper than it had been before. “What’s the matter with you? What gives?”

 George looks at you with wide eyes, one of his hands coming up to rub against his pinkening cheek dumbly. When he doesn’t respond quickly enough for your liking, you swing a leg over his hips and straddle his lap, bracing your hands on either side of the wall he’s leaning against to effectively box him in.

“George, why are you being weird with me?”

 His brown eyes shift down to look at the collar of your PT shirt, the stretched-out fabric pulling to one side and revealing the paler skin of your collarbone. He suddenly looks incredibly young, something that hits you like a fist to the chest. As he swallows, you whisper his name again- concern starting to smooth the jagged edges of your agitation.

 Clearing his throat, George looks down and to the side as you feel his free hand come to lightly rest on the bare skin of your thigh, touching the skin like he fears it will cut him somehow.

 “It’s nothing, Y/N,” he says without conviction, almost like he knows you can hear that he’s lying before he even gives it a try. “‘M not being weird—”

“George.”

 This time he actually meets your gaze, his brows furrowing at the expression of worry you know your face has pulled itself into. Despite the fact that- not ten seconds ago- he’d been giving you the cold shoulder, George moves the hand that had been rubbing at his cheek to your face so his thumb can smooth the tension between your eyes. The way he did it almost seemed unconscious, the sweetness of the action not lost on you.

 So why had he been so distressed?

 “Talk to me,” you say quietly, leaning your head into his touch. “Please.”

 You allow your eyes to drift closed as he cups your cheek, the curve of his palm bending around your cheekbone as if it was made to hold it. 

 “You’re too good for me.”

 Opening your eyes quickly, you feel yourself frown at the statement. At first you think he’s joking, but you can tell by the grim smile on his handsome face that he is being painfully sincere. You quickly take his face in your hands and look at him incredulously, hating the look of defeat on his face.

 “What in the hell are you talking about?” you have to work to keep from sounding too exasperated, a new wave of frustration beginning to crest in your chest. “What on earth makes you think that?”

 When he doesn’t reply, you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “No, Luz- you don’t get to say something like that and then not elaborate. I never thought I’d ever have to demand this but goddamnit, George, I need you to talk to me!”

 Clenching his jaw, he twists his mouth from side to side before smirking ruefully. 

 “Seeing you and Nixon just….you’re too smart for a dumbass like me. You’re pretty and sharp and too fuckin’ brainy to  waste your time with some nobody who’s probably not even gonna make it past D-Day…..a girl like you could have anybody, and I like you too goddamn much to keep you from—”

 “Shut up.”

 His eyebrows shoot up at the venom in your voice. Tears prickle at your eyes as you think about all that he’s said, all that he’s been thinking for the past two days while he ignored you and allowed this to fester in his head while you were none the wiser. It hurt, his words physically caused you pain. It broke your heart to think that he thought so little of himself and was so thoroughly unconvinced of your unwavering devotion to him. 

Did he really think that, by ignoring you long enough, that you’d just move on to a more appropriate man? Someone more ‘deserving’ or ‘worthy’ of you?

 You’re a goddamned idiot, George Luz.

 You must’ve spoken the last part aloud, because abruptly he physically startles and pouts at you like an offended child. Too lost in your anger to find any humor in his reaction, you bite the inside of your cheek and glare at him.

 “I don’t want a Lewis Nixon! My entire life, I’ve been told that I’m supposed to marry a man like him- someone who went to an overpriced school and drinks overpriced wine and has perfect posture and perfect hair and the best fake charm money could buy,” you know your voice has gone shrill, but you’re too angry to care right now.

“And yeah, maybe that type of man could buy me a nice house with nice cars and give me heaps of rich, fat babies who have pretentious names that they can’t even pronounce until they’re eight or nine- but guess what, George?” 

 You slide your hands into his hair and grab fistfuls of it so he can’t look away from you even if he tried. Tears have been dripping down your cheeks for a while now, your throat growing tighter and tighter with each word you speak but you don’t dare stop. You need him to know how you feel, you have to clear any signs of doubt from his thick, perfect head.

“He wouldn’t love me. Men like that are hollow and selfish- they only know how to want and take.  They’d rather I sat quietly and smiled and gave them heirs than ask me about what I want. He would want me to be good and proper, he’d never care about me- not like you do.”

 Sniffing, you relax your grip on his hair and slide your hands down until they rest on his chest, barking out a rueful scoff as you let your eyes take in the pain on his face. “If you don’t want me any more, that’s fine. But don’t you dare ever try to break up with me for me again. Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re the love of my life, George Luz.”

 It’s quiet, the only sound that of your occasional sniff and the creak of the bed as he sits up a bit straighter. You’re about to plead for him to say something when he suddenly surges forward to kiss you soundly on the lips, pressing his mouth onto yours so strongly you find yourself being bent backward. His hands, hot and sure, splay themselves on your back- one pressing between your shoulder blades while the other at the base of your spine anchors you in his lap so you don’t fall.

There’s a desperation in this kiss, you can feel it in the harshness of his breathing and the determined tension of his hold on you. As you pull back to catch your breath, George doesn’t let you go far.

 “Do you mean that, Y/N?” he’s asking, words hot and heavy on your lips as he keeps his forehead pressed to yours. “Please tell me you aren’t just saying that because I—”

“I mean it.”

 You capture his mouth with yours before he can ask anything further, having made the decision to show him just how serious you were being. He whimpers into your mouth as you yank at the shoulders of his shirt aggressively- too focused on baring his skin to your greedy hands to think about the scolding he’ll get if you tear the fabric at all. From the way he’s fisting the hem of your own shirt, you think he’s on a similar wavelength.

 Sex with George was unlike anything you had experienced before. Never before had you had a partner be so wonderfully jovial about such intimacies- all of your previous experiences had led you to believe that it was meant to be a serious and choreographed affair, a misconception that always left you too anxious to ever derive any true pleasure from the act. 

 But with George…. you had learned to relax enough to realize that there was no right or wrong way to do it. If anything, the fumbles and mistakes had taught you that sex could actually be fun. 

 This was the first time he’d ever shown any sort of desperation or determination during foreplay, the first time you’d gotten any sense of urgency from him. 

You couldn’t fault him, however….not when you felt it too.

 By the time you’ve stripped each other of your respective shirts, you can’t help but grind yourself into him. George, eyes wide and staring, dips his head down to watch the way you roll your lower half against his, eyes following a path up and down your sternum with each gyration like a man entranced. You feel heat flood your face at the open gaping, your hands once again gripping the strands of his hair to pull his head up and back.

 His hiss fills you with some dark, carnal sense of pride. Especially when you see the glazed look in his eyes as you smirk at him.

 “What’s wrong, Georgie?” you murmur, brushing your nose with his while his hands slide up and down your spine like they’re lost. “Have I shocked you? Are you still jealous?”

 “‘M not jealous,” he insists, his blunt fingernails digging into the skin of your hips as your nipples brush across his chest unexpectedly. “Just want you….”

You kiss him again for that, gently scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck as you pull back again. “You have me right now, Sweetheart.”

 You know that he is aware that you’re teasing him- something he’d normally retaliate in kind. But right now, he’s too drunk on something headier than normal to match your energy. It’s something you can relate to, the unfamiliar burn of dominance singing your veins like wildfire.

 “Are you reassured yet? What more can I do to make it clear that you’re mine?”

Blinking slowly, George gives his head a gentle shake. “N-Nothing….please-”

 Slipping one hand from his hair, you trace your fingertips over his lips and marvel at how soft and swollen they’ve become.

 “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

 With high color in his cheeks, George doesn’t even attempt to hide the desperation in his voice as he groans under your touch. “‘M sorry….I’m sorry, Sugar. Just, just don’t stop. Please.”

Well, who are you to deny a request like that?

 When you kiss him this time, you do it more carefully and with less anger, gently allowing the kiss to deepen as one of his strong arms locks around your waist and the other hand trails up your stomach to rest between your breasts. You trail your fingers everywhere you can, up his arms and down his chest and around his back where you can feel each breath he takes beneath your palms.

As your thighs begin to shake, you tilt your head so your lips separate from his with a soft sound.

 “I need you inside of me,” you whisper, reaching down to where he’s grown hard for you and cupping him through his pants. “Can I have you inside me, George?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his words more an exhale than anything else. “Yessss….”

 Clumsily, you and he work to pull his trousers and briefs down to his upper thighs, with him taking the initiative to push them down further as you carefully use his precum to slick his cock while you stroke him. He nips at your breasts as you do so, resting his forehead on your breastbone and mouthing at whatever skin he can. Burying your face in his hair, you sigh contentedly as he slides his hand down the back of your PT shorts to brush at the wet petals of your sex with a deep groan.

 “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, the air from his words chilling the spit-slicked marks he’d been sucking on the tops of your breasts and sending goosebumps shaking down your body. “Fuck, Baby-”

 He cuts himself off with another deep groan when you reach behind yourself to pull his hand away so you can divest yourself of your remaining clothes. You can’t help but smile at the sound.

 “Why the long face, Sweetheart? Not ten minutes ago, you were ready to have me leave you for Lewis Nixon—”

“I’m sorry,” he all but blurts out, eyes trained on your naked body as you finally kick your legs free of the cotton shorts and underwear before crawling back into his lap. “I’m sorry, Y/N….”

 His apologetic tone only fuels the dark burn that’s taken up residence in your lower belly, and you decide that you want to hear more of it.

 “Say it again,” you demand, cupping your hand around the back of his neck while the other resumes its rhythm between his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes falling shut as you tighten your grip on him. His cock is hard and hot in your hand, and when you pause to tease the head of it with your thumb you can feel his racing pulse against your palm.

 “Tell me what you’re sorry for,” you nearly snarl, inhaling the gasp that escapes his lips as you nestle him in between your lower lips. “Tell me, and I might even let you cum inside of me.”

 His hands have come to grip your ass, holding onto the soft flesh tightly as you rub yourself on his cock in a lewd echo of what you’d been doing earlier. The muscles in your thighs have begun to ache with fatigue, but you are too stubborn to stop torturing him.

 “I’m sorry I ignored you!” George’s voice has taken on a keening quality- something you find deliriously attractive. “‘M sorry I- shit!- that I didn’t talk ‘bout this, that I t-tried to tell you what to do! I...I- goddamn it, just fuckin’ do something, please!”

 You cut off his pleas with a kiss, quickly guiding him inside of you. You both break the kiss when he bottoms out- a curse being punched out of him while you release a whimper into the air above your heads. All of this had gotten you more aroused than you had initially realized, your body stilling as you struggle to control your breathing after the tip of his cock hits a spot inside of you that threatens to send you over the precipice prematurely.

 “You okay, Sugar?” George asks, the waiver in his voice telling you that this might be a quicker romp than either of you had been hoping for. “You alright?”

You nod, your walls tightening around him as you lower your head to press your forehead to his.

“Yeah, yeah….just gimme a sec.”

 Your stomach is trembling with arousal, and you know that your face is scrunched up unattractively as you force yourself to breathe through it.

 “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you whisper tensely.

“I know you’re workin’ through something right now,” his voice is just breathy as yours, his hands nearly shaking as they clutch your hips. “But if you don’t move soon, I think I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the sound turning into a harmonizing moan with his from the way it moves your body. With a nod, you slot your nose with his.

“Sure, sure. I’ll get- oh!- righ’ on that.”

 As you roll your hips, your hands claw at whatever parts of him you can find, your jaw-dropping open with a gasp as the powerful sensation of fullness threatens to rob you of air.

 “Feels good….fuck, you feel good!”

 You’re only dimly aware of his praise, too lost in chasing the blissful heat threatening to burn you alive. You know that he’s talking to you still, that he’s being unbearably sweet and endearing and sincere but you can barely hear him over the screams from your mind that are telling you to move, move, move. 

His lips are at your neck, your head lolling back as you rut against him like some depraved and wanton degenerate from a crappy erotic novel but it feels too good for you to be embarrassed.

 “I’m gonna cum,” you choke out, his pubic bone hitting your clit in just the right way. “George—!”

 A white-hot bolt of lightning hits you before you can even ask him how close he is, your body shaking almost violently as you refuse to stop riding him. It’s only when you hear him curse that you know he’s tumbled over the cliff right after you, his strong arms locking around you and holding you to him while you hunch out the remainder of your orgasm atop him.

 By the time you sag against him, your throat is dry from your heavy breathing and your mind is basically gone- the sweat on your skin growing cold in the already chilly air of Alberborne. As George clumsily slides down the bed enough to lay flat on his back, you can do nothing more than rest heavily atop of him like the world’s least effective blanket.

 His pulse is as fast as a hummingbird's wings as it beats beneath your lips, your tongue darting out to lick at the sweat from his skin as you nuzzle your face into the curve of your neck. As feeling slowly returns to your limbs, you carefully feel around for the bunched-up blankets at the foot of the bed and kick them up your legs until you can grasp them in your hands. As you successfully cover the both of you up to your hips, George blindly fumbles around with his hand until he finds your neck and starts to brush up and away the hair that’s gotten sweat-stuck there.

 Neither of you speak, only a few grunts and groans exchanged as he carefully reaches between your bodies to help maneuver his softening cock from between your legs. You feel sated, so deeply sated that it takes you a few moments to remember that you hadn’t been exactly gentle with him while seeking your release.

 With a little tremor in your bones, you brace one hand on his chest and push yourself up so you can look down at him, feeling a mix of shyness and guilt at the sight of the red lines your nails had drawn across his torso. With careful fingers, you touch one of the raised pink marks you’d left along his collarbone and follow it up his neck before you hesitantly make eye contact with George, ready for him to hate you for being so aggressive and dominating.

 Instead, you find the dumbest grin stretching across his face- his eyes closed softly as he catches his breath. He must have felt you looking at him, because he licks his lips and lets out a breathy chuckle.

 “Ho-ly shit,” his eyes are soft and somewhat unfocused still when they open. “I think I’m in love.”

You frown slightly at that, his reaction not at all what you’d been mentally preparing for. Gaping stupidly for a moment, you sigh loudly and tilt your head to the side. “But I just- even after I….why?!”

 Upon hearing the distress in your voice, he shakes his head quickly and blinks through his haze enough to meet your gaze more intentionally. His smile unwavering, he raises his eyebrows with another laugh.

 “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in my entire life, that’s why! Jesus, Sugar- I’m fuckin’ dizzy even now….”

Still confused and unsure, you clear your throat and look at him incredulously. “Really? You….liked it? Are you sure—?”

“Liked it?!” George barks, shooting an equally incredulous look your way. “Y/N, i’m not sure if you were here the whole time, but I fucking blacked out, I liked it so much!”

You feel a smile curling on your lips, his words confusing you but in no way were they insincere. “Even after I, you know, scratched the hell out of you?”

 He nods enthusiastically, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your chest as you run your hands through his hair and curl down so your face is closer to his.

 “And when I slapped you? Made you say ‘sorry’—?”

“Are you kidding me- that was my favorite part!”

 Before you can ask anything else, George reaches up to bring your face down to his so he can kiss you, grinning at the shocked stillness of your lips as you wrap your head around what he’s insisting. 

 He liked it. He doesn’t hate me for it.

 And, now that you felt that you could be honest to yourself, you’d like it, too. A lot.

 You pull back before he can deepen the kiss, taking his face in your hands and furrowing your brows.

 “I mean what I said, George Luz,” you say sternly, a sharp contrast to the gentle touches you’re swiping across his cheeks and jaw. “I want you. I love you. Don’t do that to me again.”

He scoffs at that. “How can I not? Now that I know that this is what you do when you’re angry, I may never talk to you again!”

 You shake your head. “Unbelievable. Has it not occurred to you that you could just ask nicely? I’m sure I can figure out something to be mad at you for….”

“Careful, Baby,” he warns teasingly, bringing a finger up to tap at your nose with faux seriousness. “Keep this up, and I’m gonna have to marry you before long.”

 Catching his wrist before he can touch your nose again, you smirk and roll your eyes. As you pin his wrist beside his head, you lower your face so your lips are just a hair’s breadth above his.

 “Oh, Sweetheart- don’t tempt me with a good time.”

You squeal as he quickly rolls you beneath him, the both of you erupting in laughter as he peppers kisses all across your face and neck.

 “Oh well,” George sighs as he nibbles at the soft underside of your jaw. “Never say I didn’t warn you.”

~ ~ ~

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[rhenuvee]

PDA (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons for Fred that he is big on PDA with his s/o, so here is a fic about it. Lightly based on the song PDA by Scott Helman- WOW who would’ve known. 

Warnings: If it wasn’t obvious already- a l o t o f M A K I N G O U T, and George being done with your BS x5

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

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

It was your seventh year at Hogwarts and you had mixed feelings about it. Last year was overwhelming with the events of the Triwizard Tournament, you hoped that this year would be better (aha sike bich). The thing you did look forward to however, was seeing Fred.

The two of you actually just started dating after he asked you to the Yule ball. In fact, he was a little overwhelming himself... in a good way though. He was never shy to show affection, even when others were around which was embarrassing sometimes.

He would hold you close by wrapping his long arm around your shoulder while walking together in the hallways, cuddling in the common room, give you hugs that would squeeze the life out of you, and good lord- the snogging especially made you red-faced. The hot intimacy between the both of you did not leave room for keeping your hands off each other.

Or as George corrected, your faces.

You walked down the hall with the destination of the entrance of the great hall fixated in your mind, surprisingly not noticing the two redheads sticking out of the crowd of students, until-

“WHERE IS MY GORGEOUS GIRLFRIEND?! I CAN’T SEEM TO FIND HER, (Y/N) DARLING WHERE ARE YOU?!” yelled your boyfriend being obnoxiously loud and attracting weird looks and giggles from other students. Your eyes immediately found him and started marching towards his and his twin’s direction with both your hands covering the sides of your face, like a horse with blinders. As if that made the situation any better.

“Fred..!” you whisper scolded him. You already predicted the mischievous smirk that appeared on his face. 

“Yes love, what’s the problem?” he said rather neutrally trying to sound naive. You deadpanned. 

“You were just a tad too quiet there.” you said sarcastically.

“Really, should I say it louder-”

“No Fred-”

“Well what did you expect, for him to shut up?” asked George scoffing and earning a hit to his arm by his twin. You giggled. 

“Not like you could do any better,” retorted Fred. “Go in already.” George shook his head in annoyance as he was shooed away into the great hall. You were about to head in as well when Fred’s hand stopped you and turned you around back to face him.

“Not going to leave me hanging without a kiss are you?” he asked with his hand on your waist. You subconsciously walked closer to him, it felt warm in his embrace. You pecked him on the lips trying to be cheeky, but when you were about to pull back quickly, he was faster and brought you back to his lips with his hand lightly on your cheek.

You gave into the kiss, you really had missed him. And you could tell he did too by the way he was kissing you. He deepened the kiss, his lips tasted like chocolate. But you could feel that almost everyone was in the great hall already, and that you were going to end up with bruised lips again and tardiness. 

You were running out of breath- but that’s just how Fred liked it. Kissing you until you’re completely breathless and had to lean against him for support. 

“F-Fred...” you said in between breaths trying your hardest to resist the urge to kiss him more. He pulled away slowly with a huge grin on his face, still holding you close to him. He chuckled at how much you looked like you needed an inhaler. 

“Fine, to be continued then.” he said grabbing your hand and walked with you to the Gryffindor table to sit. 

The table looked full from the view from the entrance, but once Fred spotted where his twin was, there was an empty space saved for the two of you. It wasn’t long before you and your boyfriend were immersed in the conversation and laughter with your friends around you. It also wasn’t long before George lost his appetite after seeing you and Fred getting all mushy. 

Everyone paused their talking and eating when Dumbledore came up to announce the new changes in staff. The lady in pink who you now know was Dolores Umbridge. She seemed... interesting...

“-I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.” she said with her hands clasped.

“That’s likely.” the twins said rather loud enough for it for others to hear it. You hit them both lightly at the same time while shaking your head, as if scolding them. They giggled at your reaction.

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

Your high hopes that this year wouldn’t be chaotic really did you a bamboozle. You tried your best to remain positive, and that maybe Umbridge would turn out to be a good teacher but she really did prove you wrong.

On the particular day that you got the lines etched into your own skin, you felt a mixture of anger and sadness. Before, you could feel your grades getting lower, your assignments and classroom performance getting sloppier and just overall not like you at all. The blood quill was just the cherry on top.

The thoughts worsened when you thought about how Fred would react. You knew he would be furious, seeing as he was already frustrated when many others close to him had to write lines with the blood quill.

“Just tell him (y/n), you can’t keep something like this from him.” said Hermione putting a hand on your arm. You shook your head and covered the hand with the scars by pulling your sleeve up. Harry and Ron were also there to comfort you while the common room was bustling with the people still up.

Not much longer, Fred, George and Lee walked in from the portrait hole. You tensed up and suddenly felt stiff. Hermione gave you a reassuring look to try and ease your nerves. The trio then went to do their own things so they wouldn’t be pressuring you.

“Hey doll, why the long face?” he said plopping right next to you and tilting your chin with his index finger to face him. You smiled attempting to mask your real feelings.

“It’s nothing Freddie, just tired.” you said pecking his cheek. A frown appeared on his face as his hand moved to run through the bunches of hair that came loose.

“I can tell when you’re lying love, please tell me what’s wrong.” he pleaded. How could you say no to those eyes?

“I-It’s just that I’m not doing too well on my schoolwork, and I don’t feel like I’ll get my dream job and I don’t know maybe I’m just not working hard or doing enough-“

“Darling.” he said sternly interrupting your rambling. You could feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that you think that you’re not enough or any crap like that. Umbridge’s stupid rules and methods aren’t worth a single tear from your pretty face. So please love, don’t be so hard on yourself.” he said sweetly, wiping the tears away with his thumb. You wiped your face with your sleeve, but that’s when Fred saw it. He felt better knowing that he cheered you up somehow but it went back to concern as he saw the lines on your hand as your sleeve stretched up.

“What did she do to you.” he said not drifting his gaze away from your eyes. Uh oh. You gulped and pulled your hand away quickly, not wanting him to observe your hand any longer. He grabbed your arm back, pulled up the sleeve, then stood up like he was about to leave. You felt nauseous, your boyfriend was nothing but wrath.

“I swear I will-“

“Fred, no!”

“And why not?!” he shot back quickly. People’s attention were now at the two of you.

“Because there’s no way to fix it Fred! It will only make things worse, and I don’t want you to get hurt!” you cried, grabbing his hand trying to prevent him from doing something he would regret. You winced at the memory of the day he had to write lines.

Fred hated to admit but you were right. There wasn’t anything he could do. He especially did not want to make you upset. He messed up his hair with his hands stiff in frustration and sighed.

“You’re right darling, I’m sorry I got mad. It’s just I can’t stand Toadface hurting you...” he trailed off, sitting back down with you.

“If it makes you feel better, you look hot when you’re mad.” you said in his ear getting closer to him. He was surprised at your words, but it didn’t take long for him to get cocky again.

“You really think so?” he asked smirking and running his hand through his hair again. He always knew how to get you riled up.

You could tell that was not the end of it. His mouth opened and you knew he was about to yell it out. You covered his mouth with your hand and his announcement came muffled. Both of you laughed before Fred removed your hand.

“What was that for darling? I wasn’t gonna say anything.” he said.

“Yeah right, knowing how much of a clown you are I really don’t think so.” you said.

“You wound me darling, really.” he said putting his hand to his chest. He then remembered the scars on your hand and frowned at the sight of them. He rubbed his thumb on them lightly as if to soothe them.

“Hey, why don’t we just cuddle here tonight.” you said trying to distract him from your scars. A grin appeared on his face.

“That might’ve been the best idea you’ve had all day love, cmon then.” he said opening his arms for you to dive into.

———————————

You were really sad the day Fred and George flew out of Hogwarts. Yes, you were over the moon to see Umbridge’s face running away, and you were especially proud of the twins. But you couldn’t help but for your heart to feel empty without Fred.

They’ve told you first when planning the prank. Fred was particularly upset at himself that he had to leave you, but you reassured him that you wanted him to follow his dream, and that you wanted so bad to see the shop. The long lasting kiss you had before he left was his motivation to make the shop a success.

Finally, the day came when you were able to see the shop of the first time. Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Ron agreed to go with you.

“(Y/n), slow down!” Shouted Ginny from the distance. But you couldn’t- you couldn’t wait to see Fred much longer. You ran the whole way to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not caring that you were running out of breath quickly.

You swung open the door and took in the view of the shop- it was amazing.

“(Y/n)!” a familiar voice called out from the top of the stairs. Your eyes were immediately fixed on the bright figure- your Fred.

You both began to run and dodge through the crowd to find each other. You missed him, and he missed you.

“Freddie!” you called out, able to see his fiery red hair moving quickly. Like in those muggle movies, you both ran towards each other and Fred twirled you around before kissing you. It was cheesy, but you didn’t care anymore, you were together again.

You almost crashed into each other when you embraced and had a passionate kiss that was long overdue. It was sloppy, and his hands were everywhere. But that was just how he liked it- kissing you until you were breathless and leaning on him for support. Suddenly running was not such a good idea.

“Oooookay ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the minor inconvenience, if everyone could just take a precaution and swerve away from the lovebirds, you will be fine.” announced George to the people.

Both you and Fred pulled away with lips very bruised. Customers made weird faces, and parents steered their kids out of your way. I mean, you were kissing in the middle of the shop.

“Sod off, mate.” said Fred, his voice slightly quieter since he was out of breath. George only shrugged.

“I will, don’t want to throw up in the middle of the store do I?” questioned George. You giggled and Fred rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and (y/n), it’s really good to see you,” he said hugging you. “We missed you a lot, not sure if you could tell.”

Your eyebrows raised at Fred who looked the other direction and whistled pretending not to know again. And with that, George winked and turned on his heel to leave.

“Well, for once he wasn’t wrong.” admitted Fred. Looking at the way your lips were puffed in the middle of the shop, he definitely wasn’t.

“Now where’s my grand opening gift?” he asked playfully. You realized that you hadn’t prepared anything. You felt embarrassed that you didn’t get your boyfriend a present for his shop that was clearly a success.

“I’m kidding love, just a kiss will do.” he said bringing his large hand to rub the side of your neck. Getting a closer look at him, you could see slight differences from the last time you saw him. His hair was messier, and the red really stood out from the colours of the shop. You could see his freckles and dimples much clearer now.

Fred was about to lean in to kiss you again when George purposely bumped shoulders with him with a flimsy piece of cardboard in his hands.

“Oi, George what the hell?” asked Fred. George said nothing but turned and flipped the piece of cardboard to reveal the words ‘NO PDA’ on it. Oh, it was a sign specifically for you two.

“No need to be such a party pooper, Georgie. This is Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, not Wealsey’s Wizard Gheezers.” said Fred earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Your constant lip-locking is making the customers disgusted, and honestly I am too.” he grumbled.

“Maybe he’s feeling lonely...” you whispered to your boyfriend.

“I’m not lonely!” George protested. Oops, he heard you.

“(Y/n) does make a good point, maybe we should contact Angie-“ teased Fred. You smiled at the thought. You remembered back then when George was swooning over her, but never acted upon it.

“Don’t you dare.” said George with this eyebrows crossed but a light pink evident on his cheeks.

You felt giddy as you watched your boyfriend and his twin bickering. You could only imagine how happy you’d be hanging around the shop-

However, you’d have to find a way out of that ‘NO PDA’ sign.

———————————————————

Link to pt2: Part 2

[heliads]

Goodbye in C Minor

Luke Patterson was dating this incredible girl, Y/N, until he died along with Alex and Reggie. Now that he’s been stuck in the present day, he doesn’t know how to move on from the girl he left behind in the 90s.

masterlist

A girl leans against an open doorway. She takes in the band playing around her, the black and white Sunset Curve banners streaked with color. Her eyes flash over all members of the band in turn, but they tend to linger on the lead singer, a boy with a shock of brown hair and enough passion for an entire band of his own.

In fact, he doesn’t even notice that the girl has arrived until the song ends and he looks up, finally snapped out of his reverie. Instantly, a smile shoots across his face and he jogs over to her, unslinging his guitar strap from around his shoulders and setting the instrument down on a nearby stand. He picks her up and twirls her around in the air. The girl laughs, and her eyes meet his again once her feet touch back down on the ground.

One of the boys from the band shouts something to her from across the studio, his voice hopeful. “Did you bring us lunch?” The girl turns to face them, attention finally diverted from her boyfriend. She holds up a plastic bag full of boxed containers. “I did! Takeout, hope you don’t mind. And yes, Bobby, some are vegetarian.” A light-haired boy, Alex, does a silent fist pump. “You’re the best, Y/N. Honestly.” 

Y/N hands the bag of food over to the hungry bandmates, and all except one hurriedly dig in. Luke stays, interlacing his fingers with Y/N’s. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N waves his concern away. “I absolutely did. You’ve gotten me into the Orpheum for your upcoming show, the least I can do is make sure you’re all properly fed. If I can’t help with music, I can at least help with this.”

Luke grins. “Trust me, I think the food is the best thing ever. By the way, Reggie wants me to tell you that we’ll invite you to every show on the planet if it means he keeps getting free lunch. Although technically you don’t have to worry about that- I want you by my side every step of the way, lunch or no lunch.” Y/N laughs. “That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve heard all week. Maybe you should put that into a new song. ‘I’ll love you even if you don’t bring me takeout.’”

Luke pouts, and Y/N giggles at his mock sadness. “I’m kidding. Mostly.” Luke leans forward to kiss Y/N. “You had better be.” From across the room, Alex yells something at them. “If you guys keep making out in the middle of practice we’re going to ban you from the studio.” Y/N waves her hand at him. “I brought you food, you can’t ban me! I’m too important to the future of the band.” Reggie shrugs. “She’s right, you know. We might starve.” Alex swats him on the shoulder, and Y/N turns back to Luke with a slight smile.

“I can’t believe you’re playing at the Orpheum in a week. That’s so exciting!” Luke nods fervently. “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel real. Like I’ll wake up and find out we were actually booked to some other place, not the actual Orpheum.” Y/N smiles at him. “You’re going to do great, and that’s final. I can’t wait to see you guys perform.” Luke absentmindedly runs his fingers over Y/N’s knuckles, tapping out the beats of half-written songs. “I know we’ll do great. I’ve got my muse. All of my songs are about you, you know that.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Even ‘My Name is Luke?’” Luke groans. “Okay, maybe not that one. Almost all of my songs are about you. How about that?” Y/N beams at her boyfriend. “That sounds perfect.”

Luke jolts back to reality. He’s still standing in that same studio, but he’s back to the present day. He’s not in the 90s anymore, and it’s been decades since he was writing songs with Sunset Curve, preparing to take on the Orpheum for the first time. He’s standing in the exact same place as that one memory, when he’d been talking to her. They’d both been so happy, so exhilarated at the prospect of Sunset Curve’s Orpheum performance. Neither of them had known that Luke, Alex, and Reggie would die that night, permanently taking Luke away from everything he knew best. Away from her.

There’s a slight motion next to him, and Luke freezes before remembering that he’s not alone in the studio. Alex has just walked up beside him, although his friend’s gaze softens when he sees the troubled look on Luke’s face. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? You’re thinking about Y/N.” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I just- I can’t believe that all this time had passed. She isn’t here with us, and she didn’t eat those street dogs, so she must not have died. That means she grew up and she’s probably older now. I don’t know what to think about that.”

Alex nods slowly, placing his hand on Luke’s shoulder in a show of comfort. “We left so much behind that it’s hard to think about. If you ever want anyone to talk to, you know we’re all here. Julie too, although that might be more of a difficult conversation.” Luke blows out a slow breath. “That’s the problem. Things are going so well with Julie and the new band and everything that I feel like I should be happier, and I am, and then-” His voice trails off. Alex finishes the sentence for him. “And then you remember what life used to be like.”

Luke walks over to a photo tacked onto the wall. Julie had found some old snapshots of Sunset Curve and set them out in the studio. They were nice to see, but sometimes they tended to hurt instead of inspiring fond memories. One in particular catches his eye- the band and a couple of friends, mere hours before the Sunset Curve show at the Orpheum. It’s a faded Polaroid, showing a group of beaming teenagers pointing up at the Orpheum’s sign glowing in neon lights above them. Look what we’re about to do, they seem to say, look what we never got to finish.

Luke’s eye strays on the far right corner. He’s standing there, arm wrapped around a girl. Y/N. They’re both smiling, although in this shot neither of them are looking at the camera. Instead, they’re both turned towards each other, as if delighted by the simple fact that both of them are together. Luke remembers the details of that night in perfect clarity. They’d all arrived at the Orpheum and taken the photo, and then the boys had headed back to begin their sound checks. Y/N had watched them perform, making friends with a girl who worked at the venue. Rose, who Luke now knows is Julie’s mother.

Y/N always had this easy way of making friends. One smile, a few words, and it was like she’d known a stranger all their life. She and Rose had both cheered when Sunset Curve had finished their warmups, and then looked down at her watch in surprise. She’d said something about how she had to run and do some final checks with the venue staff, and she’d be right back. Y/N had kissed Luke quickly before dashing out the door with a promise that she’d be back in a second. Luke, Alex, and Reggie had disappeared down the block to get some street dogs. By the time Y/N had gotten back, papers and signatures held triumphantly in her hand, it was too late.

Luke doesn’t know what happened after that. He’s not positive that Y/N was there when he died, maybe arriving a few minutes after the fact. He’s not sure if that makes it better or not- although she’d be furious with herself for not being there to save him, Luke knows there was nothing she could have done. Would it have hurt more to be next to him, unable to do anything but watch as he breathed his last, or to have missed the entire thing? He supposes Y/N has had years to think the issue over.

Luke turns away from the photograph. His legs are itching to take him away, his heart racing to find something to do. The band doesn’t have practice today, so there’s nothing to distract him from the awful loneliness beating against his chest. He has to do something to get away from all of this, from the memories and the photographs and the knowledge that he had left the girl he loved behind and there was nothing to do to get her back. Luke mumbles something to Alex about how he’s going to take a walk, then poofs out of the studio, no clear destination in mind.

Luke reappears in the middle of a path. At first, he’s not quite sure where he is. There’s a line of pavement under his feet, leading away in front of him. Spring green boughs wave overhead, framing the way before him. The trees eventually clear out to form a clearing, and only then does Luke realize where he is. It’s the local cemetery, the place where all of Luke’s family have been buried. The place where surely he, too, lies at rest. His head must have some twisted sense of humor to bring him here.

Luke wavers one last moment, then decides to take off down the path. He’s never actually visited his own grave, as it seemed too morbid an activity to actually set out and do, but if he’s already here he might as well see it. There’s some sort of curiosity affixed to seeing your own headstone, weird as that may be, and at least now he can glance at it once and forget about it.

Luke passes between the long lines of gravestones, reading through the names. It’s late afternoon, and there’s almost nobody here at all. At least, there isn’t anybody here except one woman, who’s crouching before a headstone in the middle of the cemetery. On second thought, she appears to be around the place where Luke’s family is buried. As he walks over, he realizes that this woman is actually next to his grave. 

She’s speaking quietly. “Nothing much happened today, but it’s a Saturday, so I had to drop by anyway.” Her head drops. “You’ve been gone for 25 years. Can you believe that? 25. I miss you still.” A bittersweet smile cracks her lips, and Luke’s heart twists at the pain in her voice. “I have children now. They’re just beginning to enter double digits. At some point, they’ll be older than you. I wish you could have met them, Luke. I think you’d like them a lot.”

Luke’s head flies up when she says his name. The way she said it sounded so familiar, like he’s heard this woman before. Like he knows her, and knows her very well. The woman freezes slightly- she must have seen his small motion out of the corner of her eye. But that doesn’t make sense, because lifers aren’t supposed to see ghosts like Luke. Yet the woman still stands, lightly brushing dirt off of her legs. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way. Didn’t see you there.”

The woman turns to face Luke, and her eyes widen. She stands for a moment, staring, and then her voice comes again, faltering and weak. “Luke?” She looks away from him, studying her own hands as if expecting them to be ghostly and translucent. “But you’re dead. How can you be here- Am I dead?” Luke shakes his head. “No, you’re not dead. I mean, I am, but I’m a, uh, ghost. You’re not a ghost. At least I don’t think so.” Luke’s voice trails off when the woman looks at him again. When she’s finally turned towards him, her face seems so familiar. It takes him a moment, and then he realizes who she is. “Y/N.”

It has to be her. There’s no way around it. Indeed, the second her name passes through his lips he knows it’s true. The Y/N standing before him is far older now, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? They were teenagers when he died, and if it’s been 25 years since then, she would have to be older. A slight lump forms in Luke’s throat. What would it have been like if he hadn’t died? Would he have been like this too? Would they have grown old together?

Y/N rubs a hand over her face as if in shock. “This makes no sense. I mean, you sound just like yourself and everything but-” Luke laughs quietly. “But ghosts aren’t real.” Y/N gestures loosely with her hand. “Exactly.” Her eyes flicker over him again, taking in every detail of his face as if committing it to memory. This small action itself is so strange to see- Luke remembers Y/N doing this at shows and practices, and it doesn’t feel right to see this similarity in a version of Y/N that is so much older, especially when Luke himself is still a teenager.

Luke’s voice is quiet. “Do you always visit my grave?” Y/N nods. “Every other Saturday. I think your mom and dad come all the time too. I try to give them some space.” She looks back at him, as if she can understand what he’s thinking. “We haven’t moved on so easily. There was a time right after you died when I thought we never would. I didn’t see how the earth could keep turning without my boys. And then the years kept passing by, and although the pain never got any easier we learned how to be happy too, how to keep the grief but remember you with brighter memories instead.”

She smiles, although her eyes are tinged with pain. “I’m married now.” She holds up her hand, and Luke’s gaze is drawn to the ring on her finger. “I think you’d like him a lot. We have two children, a boy and a girl. They know your parents well, we get together all the time. They supported me when I was in over my head, they pulled me out of a well when I was drowning in grief. I check in on them, and they check in on me. We were trying to do right by you.”

Luke feels like his legs are about to collapse underneath him. To see Y/N like this, so much older and calmer, feels like an earthquake tearing him apart. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him had almost assumed that she wouldn’t grow old either, that if he looked hard enough he could find her and they could be the same again. He knows now that he was wrong, although the sight of Y/N is still so reflexively exhilarating that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Luke forces himself to speak. “Are you- are you happy? Now, with your family?” Y/N nods, a radiant smile breaking out across her face. “I’m incredibly happy. Things are good now, and they’re going to keep being good for a very long time.” She looks at him, seeing the questions he’s too afraid to ask. “I’m sorry that things happened the way they did. I would have liked nothing more than to see you shine on that stage and have your star career the way that we always planned. I have a feeling that you’ve got a new chance now, a way to move on. I’d take it. You’ve always been able to stay on your feet and keep running forward. Don’t let that go.”

Luke nods. “Thank you, Y/N.” They exchange their goodbyes and then Luke disappears back into the trees. After a moment or two of walking, he poofs back into the studio. Luke walks on leaden limbs towards his songwriting notebook, flinging it open and reaching for a pencil. He turns to one page in particular, a song he’d begun writing for Y/N a few days before their performance at the Orpheum. He changes some lines, adds new chords, transposes the song from a major to a minor key. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when he looks up at last, the song is finished.

The title sits at the top, a blurry gray after recent erasings. ‘Goodbye in C Minor.’ The beautiful start to a love he never got to see through.

[seattlesea]

Why Percabeth Isn’t a Good Ship (Sorry 2x)

I’m definitely getting cancelled- 

1. Annabeth is physically abusive. The fandom makes this point seem controversial and debatable, but it’s really not. The definition of abuse is hitting someone. Annabeth hit Percy. Therefore, Annabeth abused Percy. Is that really that hard to understand? Annabeth hit Percy for the first time in The Titan’s Curse when she, Percy, and Thalia were looking for the di Angelo siblings. She punched him in the gut when he asked her who he should ask to dance with him. Annabeth knows that Percy can be oblivious at times...but punishes him when it benefits her? The second time was in The Mark of Athena, when she judo-flipped him because she missed him. That’s...what?? Usually when people are worried about someone else, they hug or kiss them, not flip them over their shoulder. And yes Annabeth kissed him first, but the judo-flip was completely unnecessary. Annabeth punished Percy for ‘leaving’ her despite him being kidnapped and his memory wiped. And everyone’s like ‘But Percy didn’t feel any pain!!11!!1!’ The chapter wasn’t in his point of view, so that claim is a guess. Just cause he didn’t say ‘Ow’ doesn’t mean he wasn’t in pain. Also- Annabeth slammed him on a stone pavement on his back. That definitely hurts, even if Percy is a demigod, physically strong, and has gotten hurt a lot. There’s a difference between ‘playful hitting’ and actually hurting someone. Yes they trained a lot, but this isn’t training. This is Annabeth punishing Percy for being traumatized with yet another life-threatening quest and being kidnapped. I don’t remember Percy judo-flipping Annabeth after he saw her again when she got kidnapped in TTC. Besides, the Romans were about to take out their weapons when they saw Annabeth attack Percy, so if all of them thought it was an attack...it was most likely an attack. Even Annabeth said herself “I only attack my boyfriend like that”. The thing is, if it was Percy who flipped Annabeth over his shoulder and slammed her on her back or punched her in the gut, all the fans immediately would’ve freaked out and cancelled him, calling him a horrible and abusive boyfriend, but because it’s the girl hitting the guy, it’s fine apparently. Nothing wrong with it, right? And then Riordan (and the fandom) had the audacity to romanticize that abuse. Abuse isn’t a sweet, romantic gesture. Stop making it seem like it is. That’s disgusting. 

2. Annabeth is also verbally abusive and toxic. Annabeth canonically lowered Percy’s self-esteem, constantly insulted him and his intelligence despite knowing he was insecure about it and always getting kicked out of schools and getting bad grades (even with her so-called ‘endearing’ name for him ‘Seaweed Brain’), and the overall idea of Percabeth is a super smart, pretty girl making a guy with below average intelligence feel insecure about himself. Percy’s self-esteem has plummeted since he met Annabeth and her behavior is never called out or even noticed, which implies some manipulation going on. Annabeth is shown to be extremely capable of manipulating her enemies and anyone else she pleases, and there are quite a few signs she’s using it against Percy (his feelings of obligation, fear, and guilt of and over her, questioning himself, having strings attached, always only thinking of her and no one else in his life, etc.), especially since Percy begins to gradually stop noticing Annabeth’s wrong and toxic behavior as the story progresses. 

3. Annabeth only likes Percy cause he’s the chosen one. Annabeth only hung around Percy since The Lightning Thief cause she thought he was ‘the one’ and so she could finally go on a quest. She literally used Percy to go out to the mortal world and ‘prove herself’ cause really, all she cares about is glory, which is shown multiple times throughout the series with all her pride and ambitions. Plus the fact that Chiron made Annabeth swear on the River Styx that she would keep Percy from danger is a pretty clear sign she didn’t stick around him just cause she wanted to, but because she felt obligated to and cause it would benefit her. Take all of this and it’s kind of obvious Annabeth only hung around Percy cause he was the chosen one of the prophecy, a son of one of the Big Three, and was destined to go on multiple quests and play a big part in the mythological world, which is what she always wanted since book one.

4. It was forced. Since the beginning of book one, it was so obvious that Percy and Annabeth were going to get together that their relationship ended up being boring, dull, and flat. Riordan made it so obvious they were going to be a couple that nothing that happened to their relationship really mattered, cause everyone knew it would work out in the end (which is probably why everyone *wrongly* hated on Rachel) so what happened in between didn’t matter. Their relationship was the typical ‘male lead and female lead’, ‘bad boy trouble-maker skater and nerdy good girl’ power couple that was way too clear. And Riordan made it worse by pushing their relationship and shoving it into the readers’ faces way too much. In MoA Annabeth states that she’s always had a crush on Percy (since they were twelve) which immediately rips all the development their relationship (which was supposedly ‘friends to lovers’, but not anymore) had away. Riordan made up a bunch of honestly dumb scenarios that were legit cringe to make Percabeth seem like ‘OTP’ that really didn’t make sense.

5. It ruined their characters. Percy and Annabeth would’ve been way better off as just friends. After they got together in HoO, all their personality and everything else that made them independent was destroyed to make room for more ‘Percabeth’. All of Annabeth’s skills, bravery, intelligence, pride, ferocity, judgmentalism, and all the other traits and flaws that made her a well-written character were never utilized or even mentioned. All she thought about was Percy, and the same goes for him. His loyalty, sarcasm, humor, obliviousness, etc. disappeared to make room for arrogant Annabeth fanboy. In PJO, they were amazingly well-written and great role models for younger readers (especially Annabeth), but in HoO their characters were exclusively ‘Annabeth’s boyfriend’ and ‘Percy’s girlfriend’. Their characters were completely dependent on each other, and they were way better off as just friends. 

6. Annabeth is way too possessive. And creepy. It’s fine and honestly normal for people to get jealous when another person likes someone they do, but Annabeth’s jealousy was downright creepy. Not only did she not know if her feelings for Percy were reciprocated or not, but she also didn’t know if Percy and Rachel liked each other, either. The very first time she met Rachel she immediately hated her. That’s not ‘I’m jealous cause this girl likes the guy I do’, that’s ‘I’m jealous cause the guy I like has another female friend’. She had no reason to believe that Rachel and Percy liked each other and has no say in who they can like, either. She thought that she and Percy absolutely had to be in a relationship and that he couldn’t even have friends with different genitals than him. And remember when Annabeth literally stalked Percy in The Sea of Monsters? Like when she creeped by his window, constantly watched him, and kept tabs on him just cause she ‘couldn’t find the right time’ to tell him something cause he was ‘never alone’ despite him being alone multiple times and despite the fact that she literally could’ve just knocked on his door like a normal person instead of creeping around his cabin and staring at him through the windows? Again- switch the roles. If it was Percy who was stalking Annabeth, everyone would’ve immediately called him a creep. If- according to Tumblr and almost everyone who read Twilight- Edward is a creep for stalking Bella, then Annabeth is a creep for stalking Percy. 

7. It’s mostly fan love. Honestly, the fandom is the only thing that fuels Percabeth. Riordan just destroys it. He shoved it down the readers’ throats, forced it way too much with really dumb and honestly unrealistic scenarios, and made it abusive and toxic. On its own, Percabeth freaking sucks. The fandom’s version of Percabeth is 1000x better than whatever the hell Riordan was doing, but even that version is toxic. Like, I’ve seen way too many jokes about Annabeth hitting Percy (as if abuse is hilarious and amazing meme fuel and not an extremely sensitive topic that triggers multiple people who actually went through it). Half the time, the fandom fixes Percabeth and the other half of the time they over-glorify and ruin it. The fandom over exaggerates and over glorifies it way too much. It’s not that great of a relationship, to be honest. Most of y’all only like it in the first place cause Riordan made it canon.

8. It was cringey. Like I said above, Riordan wrote some really dumb scenes for Percabeth. I mean- the matching gray streaks in their hair despite Atlas and Artemis not getting any? Percy’s tie to the mortal world while bathing in the River Styx being Annabeth and not his mom, Grover, etc.? Percy only remembering Annabeth, the girl he’s only known for four years and not his mom, the only woman who actually cared for and took care of him or Grover, his best friend who protected and continuously cared about him? Percy turning down immortality only for Annabeth and not even bothering to mention the pain of leaving behind his life, friends, family, memories, etc. behind if he accepted it? The romanticized judo-flip? The whole ‘dark-haired rebellious bad boy/nerdy blonde good girl who can be bad’ trope? Even the boring predictability of Percabeth is cringe. 

9. It’s a bad influence on younger readers. Basically the lesson of Percabeth is ‘Once you get a love interest nothing else in your life matters’. Besides that one single scene that took like three lines in The Son of Neptune, Percy never even thought of his own mom, nor did he think about any of his friends or passed allies like his dad, Rachel, Grover, Paul, Silena, Luke, Ethan, Bob/Iapetus, Tyson, Calypso, Charles, Michael (whose death he accidentally caused), Bianca, Zoë, etc. Even when in Tartarus with the curse of the Arai being forced to remember all the people he forgot and feeling guilty about abandoning Bob and Calypso, all he thought about was Annabeth. Even when faced with the man who broke the heart of the girl who sacrificed herself for him, Percy didn’t even think of her, only his jealousy of Jason. Same thing with Annabeth. She never thought about her mom, Luke, Thalia, her step-mom or step-brothers, etc. It was all about Percy. Cause yes, Riordan, that’s exactly the lesson you should teach your younger readers- forget everyone you ever knew the moment you get a partner. Besides that, it also teaches readers that being rude to people who like the same person as you is completely okay cause no one will care and once you start being rude, bitter, and possessive you’ll get exactly what you want (that’s literally what happened, with Annabeth and with Calypso, too). He also teaches that after you get a partner, everything that makes you you will disappear and you’ll be completely dependent on them and nothing in your life will matter, even your own independent life and personality. 

10. The fandom tries to excuse and explain Annabeth’s behavior??? What??? Since when does explaining and excusing hitting people put you in the right again? And the excuses aren’t even good, too! Percabeth fans use-  Annabeth was full of emotions/mad and doesn’t know how to deal with emotions. Annabeth really loved Percy. It was only one time. Annabeth was worried about Percy and mad that she left him. Annabeth didn’t mean to hurt him. Annabeth didn’t know what she was doing cause she was full of emotions. ??? Annabeth was full of emotions/mad and doesn’t know how to deal with emotions- Annabeth was seventeen years old, the daughter of the wisdom goddess, and is supposedly the smartest character in the series who is shown to be extremely good at reading people and their emotions. And y’all are really trying to say she doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions?  Annabeth really loved Percy- SO? A mother might really love her child, does that excuse her for hitting them for dumb reasons? It was only one time- actually, it was twice, and so what? If someone was slapped across the face ‘only one time’, does that mean they weren’t abused? ‘Abuse’ doesn’t mean ‘hit constantly’, it means ‘hit’. If someone was hit, they were abused. Is that really not a known fact in this fandom? Annabeth was worried about Percy and mad that she left him- last time I checked, people didn’t hit others when they were worried about them. If I was worried that my friend was going to get hurt, I wouldn’t hurt them myself. That literally makes no sense. And again- Percy didn’t leave Annabeth. He was kidnapped. Do y’all not know the definition of that, either? Annabeth didn’t mean to hurt him- yes, cause that’s why she decided to flip him over her shoulder, slam him on a stone pavement on his back, and punish him for ‘leaving her’.  Annabeth didn’t know what she was doing cause she was full of emotions- Annabeth??? the daughter of the wisdom goddess??? not knowing what she’s doing??? huh??? I mean, would any of you really, legitimately try to use any of these dumb excuses to excuse a man from hitting his wife? Hopefully not. And if you did, you would immediately get hated on and legit cancelled. So what makes this any different? Also- I see the excuse ‘Annabeth didn’t know Percy lost his Achilles Heel and thought he was still invincible’. Under different circumstances I’d accept that, but Annabeth knew that Percy’s Achilles Heel was on the small of his back...BUT SHE SLAMMED HIM ON HIS BACK. If Percy hadn’t lost the Achilles Heel, Annabeth literally would’ve killed him. Abusive enough for y’all? Or is attempted murder excusable and still ‘OTP’? 

11. They had no chemistry whatsoever. Was I the only one who felt...absolutely no chemistry between Percy and Annabeth? Like some of their moments were cute, their friendship was really good, and they had a lot of potential, but they didn’t feel right for each other. Remember- opposites don’t attract (they just argue, and no one has ‘another half’ that needs to ‘complete them’, everyone is their own person), they cancel each other out. I mean, Reyna and Annabeth had more chemistry in that one chapter of the New Rome tour in MoA than Percy and Annabeth had in 12+ books. They’re just...not right for each other, I guess. 

I’m definitely getting cancelled-

Edit 2: Sorry if I offended anyone with that last note. Just wanted to let y’all know that I am not here to start any drama, hurt anyone, or disrespect any Percabeth shippers. I respect your opinions 100% and only ask you do the same for me. Like I literally only wrote this at 12 am when I was bored and had nothing else to do and couldn’t sleep (same goes for pretty much everything else I write about PJ). Besides, why argue and start drama over dumb stuff like that when we can just find something we agree on? Don’t like Piper McLean? Let’s talk about that. Think Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano is a queen? Let’s talk about that. Think Nico di Angelo is freaking amazing? Let’s talk about that. Think Theyna would be adorable? Let’s talk about that. Want someone to vent to about writer’s block? Why the hell not? Want random writing advice and tips for writer’s block? Sure, I got plenty. Instead of arguing and starting beef over trivial fictional ships. 

[automaticneon]

Clouds

Chapter 1: Automatic Love (NSFT)

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: “When desires go unfulfilled, they turn into needs”

Clouds is the most technologically advanced dollhouse in Madripoor. It’s a void for people to escape into, or at least the lucky few that can afford to visit. 

And Zemo is very lucky.

The reader meets a strange new client, a man of mystery and poetic language and when she uncovers a secret most valuable to Helmut Zemo, their relationship goes from professional to something much more profound.

A/N: It’s essentially a Cyberpunk AU, but you don’t need to know a thing about the game! I’ve just borrowed the names of locations and the concept of Clouds. The reader is essentially a high clas s*x worker, if that isn’t your cup of tea, this probably isn’t the fic for you!

If this was high-end, there was no way to tell.

At least that’s what Zemo thinks as his car pulls up outside the mega-building. It’s an unsightly structure but not uncommon for this area of Madripoor, about fifty-storey’s tall and covered in vibrant LED screens.

For a minute he considers instructing his driver to take him back to his apartment in high-town so he can pretend this never happened. He had been averse to this idea already, but a friend from his military days had been convinced he should try coming here. “It’s cutting-edge” is what he had been told, but what exactly cutting-edge meant was a mystery to Zemo.

“Would you like me to wait for you, Sir?” the driver asks, snapping Zemo out of his thoughts.

The baron swipes his hand over his face, taking one last look at the building outside the window before responding.

“No, I’ll call when I’m done.”

He reckons his driver knows what he’s doing here. Mega-building H8 was known for only one thing, its position on the layline between high and low town meant it was frequented by all wealthy inhabitants of Madripoor. Mobsters and politicians alike congregated at this monster of architecture, hopeful of its contents and desperate to go unrecognised.

And now they can add a Baron to that list of unfortunates, Zemo thinks with resignation.

He leaves the car before the embarrassment can fester in his chest.

 The building is worse up close than at a distance.

Climbing the flight of concrete stairs Zemo is transported from the sidewalk and into the belly of the beast. The entrance to the megabuilding is a low-ceilinged sprawl of street-vendors and food stalls. It’s loud and busy, but Zemo has no problem blending into the crowd. He weaves through the stream of people, illuminated by neon signs that grow increasingly vulgar in their images the deeper into the building he moves.

Eventually, towards the back of the building, he finds the metal gates of an industrial-style elevator. He slides the grate open and steps inside to find the space is lit by multiple illuminated advertisement screens rotating through various commercials, each more obscene than the last. For a moment Zemo takes the moral high ground, musing with distaste about the sort of men these adverts are geared towards. He takes the moral high ground until he remembers what he has come here to do. Defeatedly he admits to himself he has no right to feel lofty.

The illuminated keypad flashes at him, and he reaches out to input his destination.

 Floor 12 – CLOUDS

 The elevator is slow as it climbs past the levels of cheap apartments and eventually comes to stop at level 12. As Zemo goes to open the grate again, he wonders if he’ll be greeted by some of that high-class sophistication he was promised.

He is not.

This floor is much like the entrance hall, only this time it’s a balcony that wraps around the interior of the mega-building and faces down into an open-air atrium. Zemo notices that the elevator he steps out of does not go any higher than this level, the floors above must be the luxury apartments and must have their own entrance.  He begins to follow the neon signs again.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this?” A man near him says to his friend. Zemo bristles at the strong American accent, but carefully allows himself to eavesdrop.

“I don’t know, man,” The friend responds “It just feels wrong, you know? Like I’ll be cheating on my girl with one of these dolls”

“But that’s just it! These girls are dolls, man. They’re not real. It’s like sleeping with a blow-up-doll. No difference”

“You know that’s not true; the difference is they’re real. They’re made of flesh.”

“That’s what makes them great though. They’re dolls made of flesh.”

Zemo moves on before he can hear anymore.

He follows the signs until he reaches a wide hallway into the building, and there at the end is the rather simple looking entrance to Clouds dollhouse. The low ceiling of the hallway allows for little decoration, but he supposes a place with such an infamous reputation needs little in terms of advertisement. Soft pink neon signs flash the name of the establishment, and beside the double glass doors a glitchy hologram of a woman dances away. As he approaches, a pre-recorded voice rings out from a speaker at the base of the hologram.

“Looks like you could use a little automatic love.”

He refuses to acknowledge the projection.

Inside clouds is arguably worse than outside. The hallway is lined with tattered posters and it smells of something cheap and artificial. When Zemo enters the small, empty reception the lady behind the desk looks up with a smile.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

  -

 None of you can hear a thing from the changing room.

“Do you think he’ll fire her?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how angry the client was,”

“Shut up I’m trying to hear,”

The room falls silent as Divine presses her ear to the door.

Moments ago the dressing room had been full of the usual chatter as you and the other dolls prepared for the evening shift. There was nothing to indicate the night would be anything but normal, that was until a few minutes ago when Woodman, the caretaker of dolls, had knocked furiously at the door and demanded that Azure come to his office down the hall for an immediate meeting.

“Is it just Woodman?” you ask. Azure could be abrasive at times, but she was certainly one of you favourite colleagues and you desperately wanted her to avoid being fired by management.

“I think so. I can’t hear anyone else.” Divine says, leaning back from the door.

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” one of the other dolls assures the room “She’s been here the longest. If they haven’t fired her yet, I doubt they ever will.”

“True. We can’t let this ruin a good Friday night. Five minutes until we need to be out in the booths, girls” Divine announces, and promptly returns to her table to finish her makeup.

Moments before the timer goes off the dressing room door flies open, and Azure stalks back to her table in silence. She’s not upset, but you can see the frustration hidden behind a poor attempt at offhand indifference. You want to ask if she’s alright, but the aggressive way she’s searching through her desk drawer makes you think it’s better to leave her be. The other girls do the same, cautiously looking over at her but making no attempt at conversation.

When the timer rings out you take one final sip of water and head to the door, grabbing the key-card for booth three as you leave.

 - 

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

The pink light of the glowing reception desk illuminates her face from below. That, combined with her uncomfortably bright smile makes the receptionist look like some sort of robot from a sci-fi film. Zemo lets out an amused huff at the very ambitious welcome promise.

“With all due respect, how could you know exactly what it is I want.”

“Clouds always knows. Your deepest desire – we find it. You’ll have your needs fulfilled – and maybe much more. ‘Less’ is not a word we use around here.” The receptionist replies.

“And how is that supposed to work then,” Zemo questions with a tilt of his head.

“Our algorithm searches your social media. With your permission it will create a personal profile based on any information if can gather, including personal preferences for you partners appearance. The algorithm will then select a doll for you, and create an experience based off that information.,” She slides a form across the desk “of course we ensure this is entirely confidential, this form confirms our promise.”

“I’ll admit I’m impressed. However I do not have a social media presence I’m afraid.” Zemo responds.

He couldn’t lie, the process seemed interesting. It was obviously a successfully programmed algorithm if the establishment had such a strong reputation. He found himself for the first time tonight not entirely doubting his choice to come here. He was interested to see what they would do for his situation.

“In that case I’ll have to ask you a few general questions to select a doll for you. If you are unsatisfied with their performance, you’ll be entitled to a refund at the end of the session.”

The receptionist begins to read a series of questions from her computer screen, gender preferences, what sort of experience he’s looking for. She concludes with organising payment, and the price is eyewatering even with the slight discount she applies since they cannot use the algorithm. When all is paid and signed for, the receptionist asks for a safe word. Admittedly it throws Zemo for a minute.

“It’s company policy” she says.

“Pontiac” he says bluntly, after a moment of thought.

“Fantastic.” The receptionist enters his response to the computer “Welcome to clouds. Serenity will be waiting for you in booth three.”

Zemo passes through another set of double doors and finds himself in a labyrinth of pink lights. The walls are lined with black, opaque glass and every so often a blue neon number protrudes from the wall indicates the booth behind it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find booth three, but he pauses before pressing the button to open the door. He takes a breath, collects his thoughts and lets his head and shoulders drop. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the tinted glass. Five years ago the thought of coming to a place like this would never have touched his mind, even in his questionable youth he had always been opposed these places. The risk that they were run unethically was far too great for his conscience. But he was not the man he was five years ago. Since Sokovia he wondered if he had a conscience at all anymore.

He presses the button, and the glass panel slides open.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room. It’s dimly lit, faint blue and purple lights shine against the walls that are lined with the same dark, opaque glass as outside. There’s a chic, white sofa against the left wall, and against the right is a simple bed.

Sat atop it, kneeling with her thighs spread and covered by a short black night dress is the prettiest girl he’s seen in years.

 - 

He’s handsome, is the first thing you think when the glass door slides open.

It’s rare that you ever receive a client you’re inclined to call attractive, even the most conventionally attractive men that come here bring with them such a foul soul that it taints their appearance. Not this man, though.

He’s smartly dressed in dark trousers and a well-fitting grey jumper. His hair is styled nicely, it’s either brown or very dark blond (you can’t tell in the coloured lighting). He carries himself well, but after a year of working here you’ve grown accustomed to seeing through the façade’s of your clients. He’s apprehensive. Unsure if he belongs here. Hesitant.

“You must be Helmut. It’s nice to meet you,”

You try to make your voice sound soft and gentle, cocking your head to one side to beckon him in. You get the sense he wants something authentic, or at least that’s what his profile had said when it was sent through from reception moments ago. No porn-star moans or obscene pick-up lines tonight.

He collects himself, and the harsh line his lips have been pressed into relaxes as he enters the room. The glass panel slides shut, trapping the two of you in the bubble of the booth. It’s tranquil. You think he must need that.

“And you must be ‘Serenity’” He responds, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. His eyes don’t leave you as your ‘name’ rolls of his tongue with amusement. You can hear the next question in your head before he even opens his mouth again.

“So what’s your real name?”

They always ask you that. They ask every doll that. The clients are desperate to form a connection with you. To brag to their friends that they have a special relationship with a doll at clouds. You’ve never told anyone your real name before, it’s against company policy. Clouds attracts the rich of Madripoor, and rich in Madripoor usually means dangerous. It’s for your own protection more than anything else, you really don’t need work following you home.

You picked a name the day you were hired and that’s the name every client has known you by. This man will be no different. You begin your usual response:

“A name is a name, Helmut. A title. An advertisement of who you are. I want my name to tell you exactly who I am, so that you can know everything about me. I want to bring you peace.”

He adjusts his hips and rests his arms across the back of the sofa. He regards you quietly, and you’re positive he can tell that your response was a deflection. His eyes squint slightly, and a flash of humour appears in his dark pupils.

“Well I hardly think that’s fair. You get to call me by my name, but I don’t get to know yours?” He lets out a huff of laughter “Actually, I don’t think I’ll let you use my name. We should be equals, should we not?”

You admit you’re enjoying this. The smooth accent and playful tone of his voice keeps you interested. You swing your feet around so that you’re sat facing him on the bed, reclining back on your palms to match his casual stance.

“What should I call you then?”

“You said a name is just a title. So then my title can become my name. You can call be Baron, Serenity” He says your name like it’s some sort of inside joke, taunting you to give up and tell him who you really are. You won’t be so easily swayed.

“So what’s a Baron doing in Madripoor then?” You say with genuine curiosity. If it weren’t for the NDA’s you’re forced to sign you would be buzzing to tell the other girls who you’re spending the night with. You can’t imagine that aristocracy visits this place frequently. “And do you drink?”

“I do, thank you” he says, and you hop down from the bed and walk to the low table in front of the sofa that carries a few glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking alcohol. You know he’s looking at the satin hem of the night dress as it tickles to top of your thighs, and when you bend down to pour him a glass, you make sure he gets a tasteful peak at your cleavage.

“I’m here to work, actually.”

Did aristocrats work? You thought they were just for show.

“I’m… translating some documents. It’s taking me a very long time,” He continues, watching intently as you finish preparing his drink.

“A Baron and a translator? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate” You loop around the table, perching beside him on the sofa and handing him his drink.

“It’s more of a personal project I suppose, but a very important one” he says, accepting the drink with his free hand. The one that rests behind you on the back of the sofa comes up to rest between your shoulder blades. It’s a very gentle touch, just the tips of his fingers making contact with yours skin and moving in a tiny little circle. He’s testing the waters with you, seeing how receptive you are. It’s almost gentlemanly.

“It must mean a great deal to you. We could talk about it, if you like? We can talk about anything you want to,” You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how he melts into the action.

“Anything but your name?” He shoots you teasing look from the corner of his eye, and you give a little strand of his hair a small playful tug in response.

“Anything but that, Baron”

“Tell me something else about you. Like why you came to Madripoor, I can tell you weren’t born here.”

Jesus you can’t tell if this man is a pest or just being polite. It’s unusual for him to be asking these questions of you, most men would usually have you on your knees by now. You hum and give him one last stroke down the back of his neck, before climbing off the sofa and walking back towards the bed.

“Very perceptive. I’m not from Madripoor, no,” you crawl onto the bed, taking your time so that the baron can take a good look at where the night dress rides up over the curve of your ass “but we’ve only just met, and only my friends get to know my life story.”

You settle yourself comfortably at the top of the bed, lying down and propped up on your elbows so you can maintain the measured look he’s giving you.

“Perhaps I should come over there and get to know you better” he says calmly, with the barest hint of a suggestive undertone.

Thank god he’s dropped the topic of your true identity. You can handle sex; you don’t need an interrogation tonight. Slipping into character you drop your voice to a low whisper and cock your eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he accepts your little challenge. In one fluid motion he downs the rest of his drink, places the empty glass back on the table, and rises to walk towards the bed. No, he stalks towards the bed with a natural swagger that admittedly makes your chest squeeze tight.

Within a second he’s onto you, slotting himself between your parted thighs and pressing his lips to yours. Your baron kisses well, is the only thing you’re capable of thinking as he uses his body to push you down into the cushions. One of his hands slides up your body, skimming across your neck before coming to rest below your jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just gently holds you in place so that he can kiss you how he pleases.

After a moment he tilts your head up slightly, pausing the kiss so he can look down at you. You reckon you look a picture of arousal, pupils blown and cheeks flushes as you catch your breath. Your baron seems to agree; he’s looking at you like the cat that caught the canary, and you shiver when his grip gets just a fraction tighter on your jaw.

“So pretty,” he praises quietly as he dips down to skim his lips over your pulse.

The tender pressure makes you whine and arch up beneath him and he acknowledges you with a hum and a hand on your breast. As he continues his assault on your neck, the free hand on your chest squeezes the flesh softly, finding your nipple beneath the silky fabric and circling it with his thumb.

When it pebbles to his satisfaction he pulls away and you keen at the loss of contact. He tuts, pulling down the straps of your nightgown and peeling it down below your chest, shuffling down slightly so that his face is level with your now exposed torso.

He breathes out against your nipple before latching onto it, with one hand he squeezes your neglected breast and the other slides from its place on your jaw to the base of your neck. Again he doesn’t squeeze, just exerts a level of control that lets you know where he wants you. If you wanted to you could break free, but why would you want that? The way his thumb begins to circle your pulse point has you practically melting into the bed, the thought of telling him to stop can barely manifest in your mind.

You reach down to dig your fingers into the baron’s back, instead only making contact with his expensive-feeling jumper. You huff in disappointment and pull him from where he’s entertaining himself with your tits, meeting his hazy eyes that are riddled with confusion.

“I thought we were trying to get familiar with one another?” you ask, and his eyebrows pinch in confusion “How are we supposed to do that when you’ve got so much between us?”

The baron’s face melts in amusement, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from you to pull the jumper off and start undressing fully. You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him peel away his clothes to reveal his impressive body. He’s slender but impeccably well-toned, his torso is covered by a light dusting of hair that leads your eyes down to the impressive bulge in his underwear.

Tonight should be very entertaining.

Your sit up, reaching out to run your hand down his chest but before you can begin to pull at the waistband of his underwear, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t know where you think you were going, but I was quite enjoying myself” he says roguishly. He gathers both of your wrists into one hand and pins you pack against the bed, with both hands restrained you have no choice but to let him bury hid face into your neck again.

This time he uses his free hand to skim along the inside of your thigh, getting high enough that you think he’ll reach the apex between your legs but instead he trails his fingers back down towards your knee again.

You whine in frustration as he continues his cycle of teasing up and down your leg, he ignores you until you tug against his grip on your wrists. He makes a low noise and quickly tightens his hold on you. The sudden movement sends a chill down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you feel genuinely inclined to beg a man.

“Please-” you breathe out shakily “I want-”

Your voice cuts off suddenly as his hand moves boldly to cup your pussy. You can hear how embarrassingly wet you are as his fingers move through your folds, and he hums happily when he finds your clit with his thumb. Slowly he circles it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you wriggling in his grip.

“This? Is this what you want?” he asks, and his voice has dropped at least another octave.

You shake your head furiously. Right now this is just not enough, you can feel his dick rubbing against your leg and you’re beyond desperate to have him fuck you open with it.

“No?” he says with feigned innocence “What is it that you want then?”

“More” is all you can get out “I want you in me. I’m wet enough, see?”

Your baron seems unconvinced. He circles a finger around your entrance before pushing in, rocking it gently inside you as he tries to decide if he thinks you’re really ready. He continues for a moment more before adding a second finger, now with two fingers stuffed in you and his thumb still working on your clit you’re almost ready to cum. It’s making you desperate, and it doesn’t help at all when he buries his face in your tits again.

Finally he lets your wrists go and immediately your hands grab at whatever part of him they can, eventually you settle with gripping his shoulder and hair as you try desperately to urge him to fuck you. He gets you right to the edge, literal moments away from finishing on his fingers when he pulls them away from you with an obscenely wet noise.

You let out a frustrated, desperate whine as he separates from you. He looks down at you with satisfaction as he takes in your flustered state.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want” he says, and he reaches for his pants to retrieve a condom. It takes him a minute to pull himself free of his underwear and put the condom on. In your desperate state it feels like an eternity.

He positions himself between your legs, lifting the hem of the nightdress so he can get a good view of your pussy whilst he lines himself up. He pauses before he presses forward, looking up at you for any last-minute hesitation.

You nod your consent instantly, not trusting yourself to get any words out.

When he pushes in you think you might cum from that alone. He’s a perfect size, long enough that you feel as though you could feel him in your belly. When he finally bottoms out you can’t help but squeeze him tight, and he slumps over you, his face tucked into the side of your neck and swears in a language you don’t recognise. He nudges his hips forward as if to get deeper than he already is. The both of you gasp out at the sensation and he repeats it a few times, just the tiniest movements of his hips that causes him to rub against something deep inside you.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so that he can get a good look at you. In turn, you get to see the state of him as well – his eyes are impossibly dark and glazed over with something wildly lustful, his once pristine hair hangs dishevelled over his reddened forehead. Your baron’s lip curls wickedly as he sets a punishing pace, pushing you deeper into the sheets. It feels like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed.

His previous teasing had done a real number on you, and within minutes you’re moments away from cumming. You don’t think you could get much out of your mouth other than pathetic little whimpers right now, instead you reach up and pull the baron down for a deep kiss, one that he melts into fully.

When you do cum it’s fucking incredible. You’d never use a word that strong to describe a client before, but your baron brings with him many firsts for you. You cry out into his mouth as he picks up the pace to ride you through your high, your fingers dig into his shoulder so tightly you wonder if you’ve drawn blood. If you have, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything it spurs him on as he fucks you to the point of oversensitivity.

He finishes just as you think you can’t handle anymore. His hips stutter momentarily, and tremors run down his spine in waves. The entire time he’s rambling in a foreign tongue against your skin until his pants of exhaustion overtake his ability to speak.

Your baron collapses on top of you but you hardly have the brainpower to care that he’s crushing you. Instead you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, listening to him as he catches his breath against your chest.

You yourself are struggling to even out your breathing, it feels as though you’ve run a marathon and the man on top of you seems thoroughly amused by that.

“Come now,” he says as he smooths a hand up your side “I wasn’t that good.”

You can hardly help the genuine laugh that escapes you.

“Humility doesn’t look good on you baron.”

The man in question huffs out a laugh before peeling himself away from your sweat-slicked body.

“I suppose I should make myself scarce. I imagine you have other, much more interesting clients to see tonight” he says, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

“You can stay and talk if you want, it’s entirely up to you. You paid for this, after all.” You say, secretly hoping he’ll stay for just a minute longer. You don’t intend to entertain anyone else tonight, but part of you is quite intrigued by your newest client.

“Well in that case I have one final question I’d like to ask” he says as he slowly begins to dress himself again.

“Ask away.”

Once his trousers are securely over his hips he pauses to look at you. There’s a soft expression on his face, as if he already knows he’s not going to get the answer he wants.

“What’s your real name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s asked again. Truthfully, it’s not the question itself that’s thrown you, it’s how tempted you are to answer it. His voice is so compelling at the moment that your name nearly springs from your tongue without you noticing.

“Oh baron,” you say quietly “you know I can’t tell you that.”

His lips press together in acceptance, and for a second his eyes leave yours. As he begins to get ready again, he gives his response.

“It was worth a shot.”

[mochimiyas]

don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms

summary: interviewer: “when did you realize that miya osamu no longer loved you the same way he did in the beginning?”

warnings: angst, mentions of depression, implied cheating, mentions of miya atsumu and suna rintarou

pairings: timeskip!miya osamu x reader

a/n: i just woke up today and chose violence uwu. content is under the cut!

-

‘what a coincidence...’ you pondered to yourself as you looked outside your window, the condensation making it hard for you to make out the figures running to their homes, cars rushing to their destination for the day. it rarely rained during the spring in hyogo. normally hyogo had warm, yet refreshing cool breezes; it always felt as if spring was gently guiding you through their season.

today... seemed different. 

your normal morning routine didn’t wake you up the way it usually does. you woke up 5 minutes later than your alarm clock, throwing you off your balance as you rushed to shut that annoying beeping noise. groaning, you threw your comforter out of the way and placed your feet on the cold, cold tiles, seeking warmth in your fuzzy slippers. 

they weren’t in the place they should be in. 

your senses started to fully awaken, and you finally took in the state of your room. work clothes thrown haphazardly on your love seat in the corner, your slippers sitting nice and prettily against the door to your bathroom. 

why was everything so out of place?

confusion started to settle in your features as you walked up to your restroom, feet snuggling into your slippers as you flicked on the light, your reflection staring hauntingly back at you. letting out a sigh, you continued the rest of your morning routine, hoping to get rid of the uneasy feeling settling in your bones. 

-

click. clack. click. 

every click and clack of their shoes gnawed at the back of your conscience, the slight tremble in your figure starting to feel overwhelming as you looked up, standing to greet the interviewer as they did the same. 

sick, you just felt sick to your stomach at their smile. 

“thank you so much for coming to the interview! here at as/is japan, we want to expand and broaden japan’s society, showing our audience that anyone, including celebrities and every day people, that everyone goes through similar issues. we’re hoping through this video that we can convey that they’re not alone in this, and we’re all in this together,” they explained, gesturing to the group of people being ushered into the waiting rooms to get prepped. 

you laughed nervously, “i hope so as well. it’s a very thoughtful video for you guys to prepare for your audience.”

the sound of the clapperboard startled you, the director behind the camera holding up three fingers, slowly counting down before the camera started rolling. 

the interviewer cleared their throat and pointed to the camera, indicating to maintain eye contact with the device. 

they started. 

[today at as/is japan, we asked questions about their relationships and why it ended. we’re going over the topic of heartbreak today. so please, introduce yourself.]

“my name is y/n. i used to be in a relationship for six years with the owner of onigiri miya, miya osamu. we ended our relationship last year in march.”

[i’m sorry to hear that but wow! you dated one of the miya twins. how was it dating the famous miya osamu?]

“it was just amazing. i didn’t care for the fact he was famous, and we started dating way before he opened his restaurant; i believe it was our third year when we finally sealed the deal, haha. miya-san is kind, super attentive, and just overall a great man. anyone would be so lucky to have him.”

[gosh, he really does live up to the name. miya osamu is truly known to be the quiet one compared to his brother, but i’ve always thought twins would have the same personality y’know?]

“right? i thought the same when i first met them at the beginning of high school, and until i started hanging out with them, my perspective has changed.” 

[good to know. moving on, what caused your relationship to fall?]

“...it was our third year anniversary. we somewhat had a routine when it came to our anniversary. we always went to awaji island early in the morning to rent a boat and fish for the day. he and i really enjoy basking in nature, so it was ideal for the both of us. when i woke up at the usual time, i usually snuggle with him before we have to get ready.”

“when i woke up, he wasn’t there, and it was downhill from there.”

[a-ah, y/n-san you don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable. here, a tissue.]

sniff. “thank you, but i would like to continue.”

[as you wish. may i ask what’s happened since your third year anniversary?]

“he... osa- miya-san slowly, but surely stopped being affectionate with me. mornings that were filled with loving kisses turned to waking up alone. lunches that used to be spent together were now filled with empty promises and excuses, saying he had plans to eat lunch with someone else. truthfully, i didn’t think too much of it, and kept supporting him from the sidelines, even if it meant not being able to see him as much.” 

gasps overloaded your senses. [when did you realize that miya osamu no longer loved you the same way as he did in the beginning?]

pause.

“i... fuck, i need to get my shit together.” 

you took a moment to breathe.

in, and out. in, and out.

“on our six year anniversary, i tried to set up our usual routine, and it seemed like he was on board with it. for the past three years, miya-san made excuses, saying things like, ‘i need to meet up with a rep from an investment company,’ or ‘i made a promise to atsumu and rin to meet up with them.’ i could give less shit if it was an ordinary day but it was our anniversary for fucks sake! i had so much hope that he would stay, wake up in bed with me, do our usual, and just be with each other for once.”

in, and out. in and out, in-

“i woke up to an empty space right next to me. it was barely warm, so it meant that he’s been out for a while. i remember being so fucking angry, so torn up inside. how could he flake on me again? i walked to the restroom and saw his phone on the sink counter. i didn’t think too much of it until his phone lit up, and i saw a preview of a message he received. i knew right then and there that this relationship was done for good, so i packed all of my stuff and left without a trace. blocked him and all of his friends on everything and moved away.”

[is there anything you would like to say to our audience, and quite possibly miya-san if he’s watching this?]

“to the as/is japan fans, thank you for tuning in. i hope you all know that you’re not alone, and even the nicest people in this world can be scum bags. my advice to everyone is to make sure you’re in a relationship where one isn’t sacrificing more than the other, and that your happiness isn’t defined by theirs. i’ve always thought whenever miya-san was happy, i was too yet there was still a void in my heart every time i questioned it; make sure it’s genuine and real. and as for miya-san...”

ahem. 

“miya osamu. i don’t hate you, and i never will. i’ve forgiven you a long time ago. truthfully speaking, the day he told us that he would be trying out for teams in tokyo and i saw that look in your eyes, i knew i would never be enough yet i kept on trying. for six years, i’ve chased after you to make you stay while you had eyes for him, traveling to set up your stands at his games. you even had the audacity to invite me to one of his games. i wish you could’ve ended it when you realized it because to this day, i... i’m still in love with you unfortunately, and i don’t know if i ever will stop. please stop searching for me. i just want to be left alone and for him, i hope you make osamu happy.”

wiping your tears, you bowed towards the camera, faintly hearing the clapperboard as you stood up. you bowed once again to the crew members and made your way to the exit, the sound of the light shower soothing your senses. looking up, you smiled. 

‘what a coincidence...’ you pondered to yourself as you saw the sun shyly peeking out from gray, murky clouds. 

- 

gray eyes stared blankly at the outro of the video, the screen illuminating his grave features. 

he brought his hand up to wipe the tears on his sunken cheeks, the action causing for more tears to leak out. miya osamu finally felt the consequences of his actions catch up to him, and he couldn’t take it any longer. every single word that left your lips, your sad smile; it felt as if there were thousands upon thousands of needles pricking his heart. 

to hear that you still loved him, yet didn’t want to do anything with him, killed him inside. 

... “i’m so fuckin’ sorry y/n, i’m so fuckin’ sorry-”

[funnyexel]

100 Years of Age

Logan x Reader (Oneshot)

A/n : I’ve recently have had an OBSESSION with Logan from the X-men franchise. Thus, this short fanfic. Usually my fanfics would end in a little spice (kiss, smut...etc.) but this time it’ll be a fluff ending. Please bare with me, this is my first fluff story so if it sucks that's the reason. Also, sorry if the title doesn’t really make sense. I tried to make it nostalgic in a way. Enjoy my lovely’s <3 Masterlist Mega List

“How could you?” Hot tears glided down your face. “How could you!?” There your parents stood before you as you got yanked away in chains. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!” Your last words as the truck doors closed. You were being taken and it was all their fault. Full on balling on the truck floor, the soldiers watched. A 14- year old getting taken away with their parents consent...that’s got to be a first. 

The truck was a one-way ticket to hell but how could you have known? They gave you away to some unknown cause to save their own asses. You spent years there, being tested on.

“She has the right DNA. We’ll be one step closer to evolution.”

The first few months were horrible. Being tested on for the Elemental Project, being alone in a foreign area, resenting your parents and being a child in all. On a certain dreadful day, an experiment worked on you. That day was your 15th birthday. They did four major experiments and preps over and over and over again. At this point, you weren’t upset anymore. Your parents are living their lives now. They may or may not be regretting their decision but its out of your hands. You’ve come to terms with this, after months of denying it.

“how are you feeling?” She quietly walks into your cell, trying not to disturb you as you were watching tv. You were sitting against the wall, hands in your lap as your eyes staying glued to the tv. “fine.” Your voice strained and quiet. She hums to your word. You’ve become a woman of little words, only speaking when comfortable and necessary. This woman was nice to you. You welcomed her into your small bubble...sometimes.

She placed a glass of water in front of you, without looking the water arose out the glass and separated itself into these words. “Today is my 15th birthday.” They subsided back into the glass, which you proceeded to pick up and drink out of. She and others were amazed, astonished. This isn’t the end. They still had much to do. You may not have mastered the first element but you’ve grasped it and that’s all they needed to know, before starting the next tests.

The tests were excruciating and brutal. The elements were manifesting backwards. Water, Earth, Air and Fire. Each element took an amount of lives. They told you to control it...they told you to fix yourself. But you could not. You did not control the elements. They only took a liking to you and allowed you to have them, nothing more nothing less. 

But they don’t understand, their thoughts clouded by war and hate. You got put into war before as a ‘learning activity’. Yes. A fantastic idea to put a 20-year old in The American Civil War.

You were cold. Very cold. They made you clothes to fit the elements but the clothes were not very war worthy attire. “She’ll burn her clothes off, if she wears that.” The woman says to the general in charge. “I better see something, Ms. Bailey.” The general says before glancing at you then taking his leave. She turns to you with a little smile. “Be mindful of people around you.” You nod your head to her. You weren’t scared given you were put into a war. You were just..just...you didn’t know. You didn’t know what the feeling was called but you were feeling it.

“Bring her here!” Ms. Bailey and you follow the soldier. “You can’t come on the field.” He stated to her. She gave you one final look before turning away. He motioned you to follow. The sounds of gun shots flooded your ears and the smell of gun powder filled your nose. “Stay close.” He said, not ever laying a finger on you. It was almost nightfall, they knew this’ll be the best time for you to come out. You stayed with him and two other men. 

They were conversing a few feet away, also keeping an eye on you. A young boy was coughing, around the age of 16. You crouched in front of him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Doing a faint hand motion you cleared the air he was breathing. “T-thank you.” You smiled to him but the smile faded as the soldier called out to you. “Come, we’ve got the ‘go’ from the general.” The field was painted in blood and bodies. 

“Can’t handle it?” One of the other soldiers teased. You scoffed at him, the sound barely being audible. “We need you to take an enemy and bring them back here.” The soldier says to you, motioning the two men not to follow you out. You sighed and nodded at him. Walking to the middle of the battlefield, you dipped down to the ground. Your fingertips lightly touching it. “I will not control you.” The ground began to rumble as big chunks of dirt and rock get pulled out. Carefully, you aimed each one at their big guns and incoming soldiers. 

With ease you walked to their men. Their guns were inefficient, due to you setting the gun powder in the guns ablaze. Finally, you found someone that looked like they knew a lot, motioning your hand to the sky. Particles of water parted from the clouds and engulfed the victims body, knocking them out momentarily and carrying them with you. You quickly got escorted back to the base.

“Great, we have the enemy. HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET INFORMATION FROM A DEAD MAN!?!” You flinched at the yelling general. There the man laid on a nursing bed, dripping wet. A gust of wind passes by to dry him then you put your hand over his mouth. Taking the liquid out his lungs. An array of coughs alerted one of the nurses. “alive.” You spoke, looking the general in the eyes. Ms. Bailey took you to the tent for a rest. “You did good today.” She smiled handing you sleeping clothes. You took the clothes and changed, now sitting on the floor, no movement what so ever. 

You often did this when the elements were uneasy and they were always uneasy. “Sorry, no visitors.” You look over your shoulder and see one of the men you were on the field with. Getting to your feet, you walk and stand next to Bailey. She nods to you and walks further into the tent, keeping a watchful eye. “Hi, I’m Logan.” He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You hide your hands behind your back, denying his request. He retracts his hand at your reaction. “y/n” You whisper to him. “Okay, that’s all, she needs to rest.” Bailey closes the tent as you wave goodbye to him. 

Those memories became distant, vivid as you went back to the dreadful place. Time passed very slowly there. You never knew why but it did and it was awful. “This is ground breaking! Absolutely ground breaking! Now that we’ve got her to adapt to all the elements we’ll be able to make an army.” That day felt different. Stumped on the why but it felt different. Later on you found out why. You’ll never ever forget it. It was your most happiest day you’ve lived. The freedom. The life that filled your soul and the genuine happiness that accompanied your aura. But nature had different plans for you. 

Nature had weird ways of caring for you. It liked you. It had better plans for you. Plans that would not involve this era in anyway what so ever. You were hesitant at first but your character is familiar to its weird ways. Thus, leading you to comply. “wait. everyone quiet.” Voices were creeping into your hearing, slowly becoming louder. “She’s waking up.” Your eyelids flutter open. It felt as if you were worked to the bone, took an elevating nap then woke up refreshed. You were in a cocoon like capsule, made by water and other bits of nature. The cocoon discarded itself, evaporated and moving itself into the ongoing water cycle. 

Your body slumped a bit, a little surprised squeak as you stood straight. Seeing people in weird gear and other gadgets around the room. Eyes big and observing everything. “Hi.” You looked at the man before you. Your eyes instinctively trailing to the flat screen. It’s a television. ‘How the world has evolved.’ You thought looking back to the man, mouth open but no words flow out. So you decide to respond with a small wave. Your calmness got interrupted as you saw a gadget that resembled a gun. “the war is still present?” You speak in a low tone and sigh. “The war?” He shakes his head. 

“How old is she?” Someone utters in the background. You shrug to their question. “1863?” You look the man in the eyes. Pure shock fills his soul. “It’s the 2000’s.” You feel a force pull you out the establishment. Into a forest. ‘The 2000’s? What would you want me to do in the 2000’s?’ You question in your head as you run. To no destination in particular but to get away from those people. You ended up in a bar. It was one of the things you could recognize...everything was so different. As soon as you stepped foot into the bar, all eyes were on you. Stares full of disgust, lust and confusion. 

You walked to the counter and stood at the end of the tall table. “Miss, are you lost?” You nod to the nicely dressed lady. She converses with her peers as you look over to the television. ‘Mutant Rights? Mutant? What’s a Mutant?’ This is so new. It was a lot happening at once. A high pitched whistle, stung your ear. “Hey, cutie.” Looking to him unbothered, you point to him and a gust of wind pushes him away. Not enough to knock him down or anything serious like that but enough to get him out your personal space. He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost. “m-m-m-m-m-m” 

He kept stuttering, you cock your head to the side in amazement but puzzlement. “Yeah, she’s a mutant. Run along, boy.” The woman exclaims and pulls you into a back room. “You seem like a wonderful girl but men will take advantage of you.” She says handing you a soft fabric. “what’s this?” You ask, opening the folded clothing. “A hoodie? Have you not- you know what never mind.” She leaves the room. Pulling the fabric over your head. “A hoodie.” You fiddle with the cup like piece. “I’m a mutant?” You look at the full length mirror. ‘I see why she said I’ll be taken advantage of.’ 

You dust off the skin tight shorts and knock out rocks out your minimalistic flat shoes. “where do mutants go?” You walk out the door and ask the girl. She finishes serving someone a drink before answering. “here.” She hands you a pamphlet. ‘Xavier Institute’ You study the interestingly folded paper then look to her. “thank you.” You smile and walk out the bar. ‘Now to find this Institute.’ At those words many images and places flood your mind, until one image matched the pamphlet. You could hear children giggling and happily cheering. The images fade away and you know exactly where you’re going. 

Putting the paper in the hoodie pocket, you begin to walk in the direction of the school. “ouch.” A small pebble hit you in the leg. Sighing, you stand still. The ground beneath you begins to rumble, carving a circle large enough for you to stand on. It slowly ripped itself out the ground bringing you in the air. Putting your hands out, you began to get your balance as you fixed your stance. It seemed like your seeing the world in a different light. The trees were so vibrant and beautiful as you were gliding on the rock. The sun was rising, its the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life. You couldn’t help but smile. 

In no time, the school came into your view. The rock pile that was holding you up, broke apart into little rocks as you were lowered to the ground. Walking through the gates, you looked around for others. It didn’t seem like anyone was out yet, but lights were on in the inside. Placing two knocks on the door, you stood and waited for someone to answer. A woman with white hair answers the door. Before she could let out a simple question, you stop her with your own. “what year is it?” Her face scrunches up with confusion at your odd question. “2006? Come inside.” 

She pats you on the shoulder as a welcoming jester. You hesitate before stepping into the abnormally big school. “logan?” You lock eyes with the recognizable man. “Do you know each other?” The white haired woman asks you. Breaking away from the eye contact, you frantically shake your head and back into the door. Logan kept looking at you, in confusion. “I- um. I might be at the w-wrong place.” Mist begins to fill the space you occupied, giving you a chance to leave. Time running short as footsteps echo behind you. Having no time to run off the property, you run into the woods that’s to the left of the school. 

“I-I...I don’t want to go back.” You cried out as they grabbed you from behind, roughly sitting you down. “You know me?” He asked. You responded with a hum, still being a little shaken up. “you and I met at war. it was only once.” You looked up to him. “Why’d you run?” He asked as you got up to your feet. “when I escaped my project. there had been many more trying to recreate it. I thought it was still going on.” He lead the way back to the school. “I was apart of a solo weapon x program. It- it wasn’t #1 priority but it was still important.” They brought you into an office and began to ask questions, which you answered. 

“So how old are you exactly?” Storm asks. “I don’t know.” Logan asked a few questions here and there but he stayed quiet most the time. Storm gave you an vacant room after the long introduction. You got familiar with the room before going out to the yard, you observed some students and meditated. It seemed like everything was calm. It was odd non-the-less but very nice. “Hello.” A child no older than 11 greets you. “hello.” You give a small smile to him. “What’s your name?” He asks, you look up to a small group of students a good ways away. “Y/n.” You say looking back to him. 

“Look at what I can do, Y/n.” He says a bit excited. Pulling a weed from the ground, he holds it between his thumb and index finger, slowly it turns to a flower. “That’s very similar to what I can do.” You smile to the innocent boy. “Can I see?” He asks in a cutesy pure tone. “Sure.” You point to some moving rocks. They bonded together and came rolling to you. It was a medium sized ball of pebbles and rocks. Clasping your hands together then breaking them apart, water separated from the rocks. The rocks now rolling back to their places. The water splits into two and glides around, almost dancing with each other. 

Soon enough it came down to you. “Wow.” The boy says, studying the water. You then open your right palm, heat gathering in it and creating fire. Now you had fire in one hand and water in the other. The two elements began to fight with each other. Trying to put the other out. Finally, you put the fire out and disperse the water. A gust of wind swishes through is hair, roughing it up a bit. Standing up, you give him a smile. You see Logan in the corner of your eye. “bye, flower boy.” He gives you a smile and you approach Logan. “You didn’t answer my question properly earlier.” He slows and matches your pace. 

“I- I see. I had a failed attempt before. I thought I found refuge but I was horribly mistaken.” You looked away from him for a moment. “a distant memory is all it is now.” You give him a small friendly smile. “How can you not be upset?” He stops his actions and turns around to you. You stop too. “Upset? Why would I be upset?” He studies your answer for some time. “I’m not upset. How could I be? When all those people who experimented on me, are surely dead. While I am here, in a new era. Alive, well and hasn’t aged a day.” Your lips curve slightly but drop into a noticeable frown.

You wanted to open up a bit more to him but you felt you weren’t ready to talk about it. “You look upset.” His statement hinting at a tease. “Not upset. Just..sad.” Not picking up his light-hearted statement. You part ways as Logan gets called by Storm. Giving him a small wave, you go to your room. During the start of your months at the Institute, you did some strength training. “Colossus and Kitty, will spar with you.” It was soon clear to everyone that you are fairly powerful. Continuing your stay at the school with studying, you had to learn about the 21st century somehow. You found a new passion for reading while doing so. Romance books in particular.

“What romance book are you reading tonight?” You hide your smile as your head lifts from the book. “I’m actually reading a crime book.” He sits in a chair close to you. “What brings you here?” You bookmark your page and set the book down. He let out a heavy sigh. “Nightmares?” You whisper and he nods to you. He does a jester to you, returning the question. “visions of my parents.” You lean back, rubbing your forehead. “I need a cigar.” He exclaims under his breath. “do you ever think about it?” His eyes lock on yours. “do you ever just think about why we were chosen?” You try to maintain eye contact with him. “stupidity and..” He points to himself then you. “sacrifice.” 

You break your eye contact with him. “I’m sure it wasn’t stupidity in your case. At least you had a choice.” He stays silent wanting to hear more about you. Logan was very hesitant about letting people in since Jean. But he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to learn more about you. You knew him in the past and besides that you were an interesting person to him. “My parents...they gave me to the program. They didn’t even know what it was, all they needed to know was that it was going to save themselves if they gave away their child.” He reached over to you, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“I don’t even remember much of my childhood. They told me it was garbage in my mind that I didn’t need.” You leaned into his touch slightly. “Some people say they want to forget their family. They don’t mean it. Do they?” A few tears escape your eyes. “because this feels like hell.” You quickly wipe the tears away. Logan walked with you to the sleeping quarters. You can’t stay up all night. The walk was silent but you two did walk pretty close together. “goodnight.” You smiled to him as you opened your door. “I’m sorry for dumping that all on you tonight. You don’t have to remember.” You nervously chuckle. He shakes his head.

“It’s..okay.” Hesitation in his voice. “If you need someone to talk too, I’ll- you can talk to me.” You can tell he struggled to find the right words but you appreciated it more than any other person would. Giving him a heartfelt smile. You gripped the door knob and looked over your shoulder. “Thank You, Logan.”

[outofsstyles]

WILDEST DREAMS

a/n: soo I’ve been working on this for a little while now and I’m very excited to share it with you al!! This piece is inspired by Taylor Swift’s music video for her song Wildest Dreams. If you’ve never seen the video, or don’t remember it really well, I recommend you watch it *after* reading the story so you don’t get it spoiled! If you’re interested then you can watch it by clicking *right here!!*

Word count:  17.2k                     Rated: M, mature           

You agree to help your friend on her film project and Harry is playing your love interest.

“You’ve been frowning a lot and haven’t said a single word in the past five minutes, what’s wrong?” You looked up to your quiet roommate sitting opposite to where you stood near the kitchen counter. 

A playlist you both had made months ago, meant only for cooking days, as Nia had instructed, played faintly in the background. You hummed along to the melody of a song you didn’t really know the name of, but had listened to it enough to mumble the lyrics, as you focused on cutting banana slices.

Nia was the one who brought up trying out a new fruit smoothie recipe she had found while scrolling around on Pinterest. She was pretty excited after coming home with the groceries, ready to start the process. Which is why seeing her sitting quietly as she glared at her phone was a big sign that something was wrong.

“I think Jordan is about to pull out on us,” she groaned loudly, locking her phone and throwing it on the counter, running her hands on her face, “I can’t believe this is happening a week before filming starts.”

“Oh, that’s not good news” you said, looking back at your friend’s defeated state in front of you as you threw the banana slices into the blender. “What happened?”

“He said he decided to go with his cousin to Ibiza.” Her arms muffled her voice as she lied on top of them, sighing once again, “this is the third one that leaves, I might as well just cancel the entire thing and fail this class.”

You rolled your eyes lightly at her, shaking your head as you listened to her dramatic reactions. Being her friend for as long as you have, you knew how stressed Nia got with a project, specially something she was passionate about. She was always too hard on herself, trying to push everything to be as perfect as possible, which is a good thing when you focused on the ultimate results. But she often tended to over-stress herself, and that’s what makes you worry.

With this one in particular, you could tell how excited she was from the day her teacher assigned it. She came back home and rambled for hours on end about making her first film. Which is why when she begged you to be part of it, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say no. 

It was a small production after all, it just being Nia and her partner Evan, whom you have known had gotten close to her in the past months. She assured it would a rather simple concept, with only two characters. The trickiest part being the fact that they would film it out of town, in a camp house that belonged to Nia’s aunt. You had agreed to it to make her happy, and with her promise of buying you chocolate muffins. Most uni students, however, didn’t seem as keen to sacrifice a week of their spring break as you were.

“You’re being dramatic Nia,” you reassured, turning on the blender and cringing at the loud noise that took over the place. “Maybe they just read on the script that they would have to kiss me a couple of times and got too nervous about it,” you tried to humor, raising your voice a bit before turning the processor off. Nia looked back at you with a serious expression, making you scoff, “calm down, grumpy pants, I’m sure Evan knows someone who can do the role, stop worrying.”

“All I do is worry, you know that,” she sighed, standing up to walk towards the cabinets behind you. She selected two matching cups that she had gotten for your birthday, one had Elsa printed on it, and the other Anna. You smiled as she placed them on the counter, knowing you always thought matching friendship objects were silly, but Nia loved it, so you loved it too. She looked vaguely at the blender, letting her shoulder weight down.   “At least we have a banana smoothie.”

“And something else!” You said, jumping on your feet to get to the fridge and retrieved a tupperware. You held it in her direction and smiled, “leftover spaghetti from Joe’s!” you exclaimed, attempting to brighten her mood. She looked back at you, grabbing the container from your hands, as she tried to fight back a smile.

“Yes,  how could I forget the leftover spaghetti?”

**

As the days passed by, the both of you had gotten more stressed out. Nia was still worried about everything related to her film project. With the days passing by and no one to fill the other role on the script, she found herself on a daily cycle of stress breakdowns. 

Just two days after your former cast partner dropped out on the project to spend his week on the busy beaches of Ibiza, she had bought three different boxes of hair dyes. And as you helped her turn her hair into a light shade of pink, she cried about how everything seemed to go wrong in her life.

Meanwhile, you had been struggling to fight your procrastination tendencies and try to finish as much work as possible before spring break. A task that was showing itself to be extremely difficult, considering your mind seemed more focused on binge watching true crime shows on YouTube. 

The blank document stared back at you from your computer screen, as you wished that if you looked at it for long enough, the essay would somehow write itself. Writing a couple of words but soon deleting them and going back to an empty page, you signed. Why was it so difficult to introduce a topic? You took a sip of the hot drink on the sparkly Cinderella mug you had chosen for the day, another one of Nia’s Disney-related possessions. 

You frowned at the blank document, your failure to write a single paragraph still open in front of you. You heard a light knock on your bedroom door, but before you could even say anything, you spotted the already fading pink hair coming into the room. 

Nia walked in jumping excitedly, saying your name in little squeals and almost tripping down as she made her way to sit on your bed in front of you. Breathing out, she looked at you with a big smile and messy hair before blurting out.

“We’ve got you a husband!” you stared back at her, arching your eyebrows. You knew she was referring to the role on the film, but you still laughed off at her choice of phrasing. “Evan got someone, it’s like his old friend or something, said he trusts him not to drop out.”

“Well, fourth time’s a charm, I guess?” you smiled at her. 

“We’re planning a pizza night this Friday, so we can, you know, set the details and all that.” She properly lied down next to you, playing with the strings on the hem of your pajama shorts. “Also so you two can meet each other, of course, you’re going to be married for a week after all.”

“The way you say it seems like we’re actually doing it,”  You laughed, finally closing your computer, and moving down to face her. “We’re just playing characters, Nia.”

“I know, I know… You’re really no fun, aren’t you?” She moved her arm up to support her head and poked you with her free hand as you rolled your eyes at her. “Also, he seems pretty cute, Evan showed me his picture, maybe you two can hit off.”

“I’m sure he is,” you tried not to fall for her attempt on teasing you over someone you don’t even know. Sure, you’ll be playing love interests, but you’ve done this plenty of times before, back on your theatre days. Kissing someone on stage doesn’t mean you have feelings for them in real life, and you knew that pretty well. You sighed, looking down at her, not wanting to engage into this kind of topic.

“Anyway, should we celebrate your new cast member and my inability to write a single sentence about art history?” you changed the subject, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. “We could watch Devil Wears Prada and make caramel popcorn.”

Nia gasped dramatically, “these are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard coming from those pretty lips of yours,”  jumping to her feet as she pulled you to stand with her. She then ran out of the room, screaming back, “I’ll get the blankets and you start with the popcorn!”

It’s been years since you’ve known Nia, but yet the dynamic between the two of you has never really changed. You’ve always considered yourself very lucky for having a friend like her in your life. From the day you met her in your English class, it was like seeing someone you had already known your entire life; it was always that easy to be with her. 

You two became inseparable from day one.

Looking back, it’s crazy for you to realize how well your high school plans with each other had turned out. Most people you know had those friends in school they only really talked to because they saw them five times a week. But as soon as graduation came by they parted their ways and became only good nostalgic memories for one another. With the two of you, everything just worked out. 

You both got into the university you wanted, ready to get matching art degrees. On your second year of college, you moved in together. And halfway through the course, Nia just dropped out to enroll on an eighteen months film school. And that’s when she met Nate. 

You always knew she was destined to be that kind of person who just has one great love in her life. Which was funny considering that anyone who spent over five minutes with her and Nate in the same room could swear they would never work together. They just were those kinds of couples who are the polar opposite of each other. 

Nia was a little social butterfly, who could start a conversation with anyone about anything. She could talk for hours with the old ladies at the grocery store about how the new brands of beans are just not as good as the ones not as well known. Or chat with the yoga moms about a new reality show that had premiered on Netflix. She loved experimenting on new things, trying out new recipes or mix distinct colors together on her clothes.

Nate, on the other hand, just wasn’t much of a talker at all. Since the start of their relationship, he often stops by at your apartment -wearing a different shade of grey every time - but it would be a lot to say that you two have had a conversation for longer than five minutes. He just mostly kept it to himself. 

They balanced each other, which is why they worked so well.

It would be a lie for you to say you didn’t think about having something like that for you. You thought maybe you just weren’t the kind of person to have one meaningful relationship in your life. And that was okay. You’d like to think you’re better off on your own, anyway. But now and then you wondered how it would be to fall asleep in someone’s arms every day.

But you tried your best to keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head. You knew that for the most part love is not really meant to last, Nia was just part of the lucky few.

**

The atmosphere in your shared apartment was cozy, as you waited for Evan and his friend to arrive before you started the pizza hangout, as Nia called it. 

You both had spent the day tidying up the place, trying to decorate it a bit with some fairy lights and nice pillows you found in your room. It had been a long time since you had done any kind of social gathering in your home, and Nia wanted everything to be perfect. She even insisted on making the pizzas herself, which took most part of the afternoon, and a lot of bossing around on her part. 

By the time the food was in the oven and the only thing left to do was wait, her boyfriend joined the two of you. 

She was very talkative and bubbly, as she usually is, getting the wine bottles she selected for the evening and placing them on the counter as she chatted with him. It was nice seeing her back do being her usual self after such a stressful week. 

You got the right amount of glasses, placing them next to the bottles, as you hummed along to the Declan Mckenna’s voice playing in the background. You weren’t really paying attention to Nia’s babbles, catching a word or two as she rambled about some dolphin documentary she had to watch for one of her classes. Pouring out a glass for yourself, you looked over to Nate who had a puzzled look on his face, as he tried to make sense of whatever rant his girlfriend had going on. You took a sip of your wine, and laughed lightly at yourself at the contrast between the two of them, something you had always found very amusing to observe. But before you could go further into your thoughts, the sound of the buzzer took over the small apartment.

“They’re here!” Nia gushed, as she quickly made her way out of the kitchen to get the front door, yelling back at you to get the pizzas out of the oven.

“Yes, ma’am,” you teased after she left, earning a light chuckle from Nate. 

Making your way around the kitchen, you took out kitchen gloves that had figures of little chicks printed on them, giving one last check inside the oven to make sure everything was ready, before opening it and taking out the food. You could hear Nia greeting Evan excitedly in the background, as she rushed him and his friend to come inside. As their voices got closer, you turned your back to the entrance, concentrating on not burning yourself while you placed both pizzas on top of the counter.

“There’s our star!” You heard Evan’s loud voice taking over the kitchen space, making you look over your shoulder and laugh at him. 

You turned around while taking off the gloves, as he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. He wasn’t much taller than you, making him being considered short for a man. But his presence in a room was always so loud and bright that he seem much bigger than he actually is. You pulled back and looked at him, suddenly feeling underdressed in your own home. His entire outfit was bright red, being consisted of a jean jacket and silk pants, his eyes matching with vibrant eyeshadow taking over his whole eyelids.

“It’s very nice to see you again Evan,”  you smiled at him, his hands still holding onto your shoulders as he looked warmly at you. “It’s been too long! You look fabulous!”

“Oh honey, you flatter me too much! It’s why I love coming here,” he scoffed playfully, coming to your side and wrapping one arm over your shoulder as he guided you. “But tonight is not about me, unfortunately. It’s about the two of you.”

As you finally moved your attention to the kitchen entrance, you realized another presence standing there. A man, who you assumed was Evan’s friend, already smirking down at you as both of you approached him. 

You suddenly felt nervous under his stare while you could hear Evan commenting on something you didn’t really pay attention to. You had been taken completely by surprise by the man standing in front of you. Sure, Nia had mentioned to you once or twice that he was good looking, but you were not expecting this. 

It was a weird feeling, being this affected by someone you had just met, but you would have to be blind not to notice. His face was beautiful, a sharp jawline contrasting his soft skin, his fingers poked at his bottom lip as he smirked, you could notice the hint of a dimple forming on his cheek. His hair was short, but still long enough to see the shape of slight curls forming in it, some locks falling charmingly against his forehead. But what hit you the most were his eyes, thanks to the dim lighting you couldn’t really tell if they were a shade of forest green or more of a hazel tone, but you could feel your cheeks warming up from the way he watched you as you got closer.

His shoulders were broad, as he was leaning against the entrance, the hand that wasn’t poking at his lip resting inside the pocket of his brown pair of trousers. He wore a blank white shirt, partly tucked in, underneath a beige cardigan. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, making you notice the tattoos hugging the skin of his arms. You felt a curious wish to know how many more you could find under all the layers of clothing..

As you and Evan got closer, he moved from his leaning position to stand tall in front of you. The smile never leaving his lips, and his eyes still watching you closely.

“So, darling, meet Harry,” Evan spoke up, gesturing you towards his friend. “He’s a pest, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine”

“Way to give a first impression, E,” Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing, before turning his attention back to you. He moved closer, embracing you into a side hug “S lovely to meet you-”

You quickly cleared your throat, afraid that your voice would give you away, before saying your name. The attempt didn’t really seem to work, as your words came out higher than you had intended. You could feel Nia’s gaze turning to you on the corner of your eye, but tried your best to ignore it. He repeated it, before shooting a smile in your direction, the sound of his deep voice and the way his lips circled around the words making the hairs behind your neck rise.

“Okay! So how about we move this party to the living room?” Nia’s voice broke into the atmosphere. “Everyone can get their wine glasses and make themselves comfortable while y/n and I finish arranging the pizzas.”

She shot you a knowing look, before moving to get the wine bottles and handing them to Nate. Everyone shifted to get their glasses and settle in the other room, leaving you and Nia alone. 

You moved to get the knives and looked at the pizzas standing on the counter in front of you, calculating how you could cut out even slices on each. You could see your friend from the corner of your eye leaning on the counter staring directly at you.

“You know you can’t fool me even for a second, miss,” she teased, you could hear the smirk on her voice.

“I’m not doing anything,” you murmured, still not looking in her direction. She scoffed, elbowing you lightly as she mimicked you, saying your name in a high-pitched voice. You shot her a dirty look before shushing her, afraid the guest in the other room could hear her teasing. “I didn’t sound like that!”

“Oh please! You should have seen how you looked at him!” She rolled her eyes at you, “thought you were gonna drop down on your knees right then and there!”

“Nia!” you screamed in a whisper, your cheeks warming up at her words as you pinched her, making her squeal. You quickly shot a look at the entrance to see if anyone might’ve heard her, but they seemed to be enrolled in their own conversation. “Let’s just get this done quickly before they suspect we’re in here for too long.”

“Okay, cheeky girl,” she bit her lip and moved to get a knife to cut one pizza, but still eyeing you with a slight smile, leaning in one last time, “but I told you he was cute.”

Eventually, the two of you finished sorting out the pizza slices and joined everyone in the living room. Nia then rushed to join her boyfriend on the loveseat, leaving the only spot available for you being between Harry and Evan on the couch. She shot you a teasing smile, but you tried your best to ignore it and focus on finishing the wine glass you had poured for yourself earlier.

“Okay, so I’m going to need everyone to eat the food and tell me how good it is,” Nia pointed out to the center table where the  pieces of pizza laid upon, “I’ve spent the entire afternoon on these babies, so eat up!”

“You know that I’ve helped you with them, right?” you added, squinting your eyes at her, “some credit wouldn’t hurt.”

“You only laid the toppings on the dough so they would look even,” she snapped back pointing a finger at you, “I did all the hard work, so shush it.”

But before anyone could move to get a slice, Evan was already stretching out his arms to stop you from moving. “Wait a second,” he spoke, “I feel like I’ve watched enough seasons of MasterChef to be the first one to judge.”

“I mean, you are the best critic I know,” Nia pointed, leaning in to get a slice and offering to Evan, “but again, I don’t really know any other critics.” She humored as he took the food, making a show of analyzing it.

Everyone waited expectantly as Evan bit into the pizza slice, keeping a straight face that didn’t reveal much of his opinions. Nia leaned in his direction, nervously biting her bottom lip as she waited for his final verdict.

“You have to be honest,” she warned, observing him, “but know that I can get my feelings hurt pretty easily.”

“I don’t mind that,” Evan finally said, straightening his posture as he looked back to Nia’s waiting eyes, “I’ll say that it’s not the best pizza I’ve ever had,” he announced, “but it works.”

“You know what, I take it,” everyone laughed lightly as Nia visibly released a breath she had been holding in, “It’s not a bad review for a first time.”

The hours went by quickly as you eased into a conversation with everyone. It was nights like this you missed the most when the stress of all the accumulative work weighted on your shoulders. Having a more of a cool night to hangout with a few friends, drinking some wine and chatting about whatever topic came to mind.

As time passed, you could tell Nia and Evan got more agitated, probably due to the amount of wine they had consumed without even realizing. They chatted excitingly about Midsommar, their voices raising a bit too loud. But every time you tried to shush them, jokingly reminding of the neighbors next door, they would soon forget about it again.  You watched them babble, giggling when they would get excited on a certain topic and start to trip over a few words. 

You also felt lighter because of the alcohol, not as much as them, but still enough so you could feel your chest warmer and your mind a bit dizzy. You still felt an annoying tingle at the pit of your stomach when you felt Harry’s eyes fixating on you when you spoke, or when your hands brushed as you reached for the bottle at the center table. It was silly, and it made you feel like a teenager being in the presence of an attractive boy for the first time.

When it all quiet down eventually, Nia had dragged Evan to her room so he could give an insight on how she could decorate it. It was something she would do now and then, give her room a big renovation so the change in the space could make her more motivated, or something like that. Sometimes, if she felt inspired enough, she would change around the living area or  even your own room - when you allowed her, of course. 

Nate was still sitting on the loveseat looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t spoken a lot during the night, which wasn’t unusual for him, but he still managed to chat for a bit. 

That left you and Harry alone sitting on the main couch, with one person less it left you enough space to cross your legs, making yourself more comfortable. He was sitting on his side, his back resting on the big pillows by the arm of the couch, his chest turned towards you.

You reached for the wine bottle at the center table, realizing there was just a bit left, enough for a last glass for the two of you. “Wanna help me finish it?”  You turned to him with the bottle in your hand. He had a smile resting on his lips, as he raised his glass toward you so you could pour the liquid into it. You could tell his eyes were a bit cloudy, but you knew none of you had had enough to be drunk.

“Thank you, love,” he said, the raspiness on his voice as he spoke the pet name making the hairs in the back of your neck rise. You poured yourself the rest of the wine left, emptying the bottle as you settled it back where you got it. “Should we make a toast?” 

“Sure,” you replied easily, smiling at him, “what should we toast for?”

He looked away, puckering his lips slightly as he made a puzzled expression, a hand scratching at his chin as if in deep thought. You giggled at his dramatics before he pointed his finger up, his face turning into a big smile. He raised his glass in your direction, as you did the same. “A toast for being husband and wife?”

You chuckled, clinking your glasses together, “that’s fair,” you said, “ ‘s why we’re here after all, isn’t it?” you joked, taking a sip of your drink before settling it down on your lap.

“Sure is,” he mimicked, rising his glass to his lips, a smirk still adorning them as he managed to not break eye contact. He took a small sip before settling his glass back on the table.  He scratched the tip of his nose slightly with the side of his finger, before he relaxed back on the couch. “So” he spoke up, bringing your attention to him, “E told me you’re an actual actress,” he raised his eyebrows at you, “made me a bit nervous, love.”

“That right there is a lie,” you chuckled, biting your lip and shaking your head. “I used to do theatre back in the day, haven’t done any acting for years though.”

“A theatre kid, huh?” He laughed as you rolled your eyes jokingly.

“I’m aware we have a poor reputation, yes,” you said,  “I reckon we deserve it, but we weren’t that bad, I promise.”

He giggled, making your heart skip a beat at the sound. His smile was something you could easily get used to, the way it formed crinkles in his eyes and the dimples deep on his cheeks. You had to stop yourself for staring too much, moving your gaze to the glass on your lap.

“People are too harsh on theatre kids,” he reassured, “I think it seems pretty fun — only time I did it was when I played Elvis when I was about five, I think.” He added, resting his arm against the couch, his hand just a few inches away from your shoulders. “Had the time o’my life though.”

“You got main character though, that’s impressive,” you expressed, raising a hand to poke at his side playfully. “Have you done anything since your big debut as the king?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” he chuckled, “guess this is my big comeback, maybe I’ll get a call from broadway soon.”

“I’m sure you will!” You giggled, taking another sip from the glass in your hand.

You found it easy to dive into a conversation with him. You were both giggly from the wine, but it still seemed like you could stay like this for hours on end,  just talking to each other. 

He told you he wasn’t planning on doing the film, considering he never really thought about acting. But when Evan asked him if he could be part of it, he saw how desperate he was to fill the role, so he agreed. It warmed your heart to hear how fondly he spoke about his friend, telling you how willing he was to help, even if it involved doing something out of his comfort zone.

You two bounded over your mutual wish to become teachers. You found out he was studying Literature, a choice that for him as an easy one, considering throughout his life he had always been an avid reader. He said no matter how harsh thing got, he always found an escape between books, you could tell how passionate he was about it as he spoke about his favorite reads.

Eventually, you could hear voices coming closer from Nia’s room, as they seemed to be gushing about the filming that was starting soon. 

As Evan came into the room, he made his way to the couch, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulders. “Honey, as much as I wish we could stay here ‘til dawn, I’m afraid we must get going.”

With his declaration, everyone moved around to gather the dishes splattered across the center table to put it all at the kitchen counter. After some insisting -mostly on Harry’s part- on helping with cleaning, you convinced them you two could handle the task just fine. And they were the guests, after all.

Finally, you said your goodbyes, pulling Evan on a small hug, assuring him you’d do your best to do his script justice.

And as you came to face Harry, he leaned into a hug, giving you a last kiss on the cheek, before telling you how lovely it had been to meet you.

**

You had woken up with your door opening abruptly, making you jump a bit from the sudden change in the peaceful atmosphere from your deep slumber. Before you could process the situation in hand, Nia was already pulling out the covers and spitting out words at a faster pace than you could comprehend in your mind state.

“Get up already! We are very late,” She urged as you lazily scratched at your eyes before sitting up to look at her. “Evan is going to kill us!” She cried out.

Your head pounded slightly, making you search for your water bottle previously prompted by yourself the night before, knowing you would need it in the morning. You reached for it in your nightstand, taking big gulps as you watched amusingly Nia run around your room picking random clothes and throwing it in a duffel bag you had just noticed.

Resting the bottle down on your lap, you yawned lightly, still in the process of waking up. “Calm down Ni,” you mumbled, “We still have time, we’re only leaving at like, two.”

She looked back at you as if you had just slapped her across the face, your shirt falling partly from her hand. “It’s already one,” she informed, making your eyes bulge as you reached to check on your phone, confirming as it read 1:16pm. “We don’t even have our bags packed AND we got a sink full of dishes to wash.”

The minutes after that were rushed, as you two did your best to get ready as fast as possible. Mentally slapping yourself for leaving everything for the last minute, but still managing to pack your bag in record speed.

But as time passed and the list of things to do was still far from over, Nia phoned Evan and let him know you would need a few more hours to be ready to leave. To say he wasn’t the happiest about the news was an understanding, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

A couple hours later you were finally packed, and after a quick stop to shop for road trip snacks you were off on the road. 

You left much later than planned, and even if it wasn’t that much of a long drive, it was still 3 hours until you got there. The ride itself was mostly quiet, except from Lorde’s Melodrama playing softly in the background. You hummed along to the words, but apart from that there wasn’t a lot of talking between the two of you, all due to the limited amount of sleep you got from the previous night.

As you got closer, the scenery of open grass camps and blooming flowers at the peak of spring was a peaceful change of scene from the busy city streets you were used to. And when you finally got to the house, the sun was almost setting on the horizon. The sky being a satisfying mixture of blue and orange. There was a car already parked in, and as you got closer, you could see two figures sitting on the front stairs. 

Getting out of the car, you quickly made your way to where they stood. “Have you been waiting long?” Nia asked as you got closer to them. 

“Longer than I was planning to, I’ll say that,” Evan replied, taking off his sunglasses to greet you.

Harry came up from behind him, looking incredibly cozy wearing a knitted cream sweater. It took everything in you not to nuzzle on him as he met you with a quick embrace. You had to focus on keeping your breathing steady as you looked up at him when you parted. The sun coming from behind you doing wonders as it hit his face perfectly. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green as he smiled down at you before moving to greet  Nia.

“We’ve been here fo’ ten minutes, don’t listen to him,” he assured with a small laugh.

The house itself was much bigger than you expected, it wasn’t huge, by any means, but you had pictured a small cottage with barely any space for the four of you. The place, however, was big enough for you to have your privacy but still small enough to feel cozy and welcoming. 

You quickly found there were three rooms, and despite you arguing you didn’t mind sharing one with Nia, considering you two lived together, she still insisted that you and Harry had your own bedrooms. It was her way of thanking you for agreeing to help them.

After you got established in your respective room, you met everyone down at the kitchen. The place was loud with chatter as they played around while making dinner. Nia seemed to boss the boys around to cut the vegetables properly, as she concentrated on figuring out how to work the old stove. They laughed lightly as she cussed under her breath in frustration after another failed attempt. You watched quietly for a moment, before joining in to help her.

You finally turned the stove on with the help of a few matches you found laying on the counter, being able to cook with no more trouble. It was already getting late when you finished eating and gathered the dishes to lay them on the sink. Still, Nia insisted on watching one of the movies she had carefully selected on her extended collections of DvDs to bring with her. 

You decided to make yourself some tea while the rest of them moved around to arrange themselves for the movie night. After offering if anyone else wanted a cup as well, you were met with Harry’s warm smile as he accepted shyly.

Soon enough everyone settled down on the big couch to watch the movie. Evan took his place on one of the armchairs, while Harry opted to sit by the end of the couch, setting his legs on the footrest in front of him. As you walked in with your mugs, he gazed up at you, shooting a soft smile and muttering a quick ‘thank you’ as you handed him his drink.

He patted the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit, to which you happily obliged. 

“Wanna share?” he asked, holding up a blanket that lied at the arm of the couch. “There’s jus’ three of ‘em.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to pull the blanket, so it was covering the two of you. You knew very well you could always get an extra one from one of the bedrooms, but you would never bring yourself to suggest it.

Finally, Nia entered the room with a small pack of m&m’s on one of her hands and the DvD case for ‘Love Actually’ on the other. She was quick to insert it on the player before settling down next to you. Pulling out the leftover blanket for herself, she lied down to rest her head comfortably on top of your legs.

It didn’t take long until she fell in deep slumber, cuddling up on your lap as soft snores left her lips. You pouted slightly down at her. The poor thing was exhausted from driving all the way, and the bad night of sleep the day before.

As the movie progressed, you could feel your eyelids getting heavier as well, the words coming from Keira Knightley’s mouth becoming more of a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake. But before you could doze off, you felt Harry shifting slightly next to you. Suddenly feeling his arm hugging your shoulders, as he gently pulled you closer.

You moved your head to look at him but before you could say anything he shushed you softly and pulled you back in. “ ‘S fine, love,” he whispered, “can see that you’re tired.”

And with a half-woken mind and heavy eyelids you laid back on his shoulder and allowed yourself to snooze.

You woke up with him shifting again from under you, opening your eyes slowly to find the end credits rolling up the screen in front of you. You yawned lightly before sitting up, being careful not to wake a still-very-much-asleep Nia on your lap.

“Sorry,” you heard Harry say as you scratched at your eyes, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” you assured, your voice a bit raspy from your nap, “would have to happen, eventually.” You looked down at the unconscious girl lying on you, knowing you had to get her to bed so she could sleep properly. “We should wake her.”

“Want me to carry her to her room?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you replied, gently calling her name so she could slowly wake up.

Surely, it didn’t take a lot of coaxing to get her eyelid to flutter open, as she lazily rose from her sleep.

You helped her to her room, afraid she’d trip down the stair in her hazy state of mind, still half asleep as she dragged her feet across the floor. 

As soon as she laid down in her bed, you made your way back to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water so you could go to sleep. 

It surprised you to find Harry still awake as you entered the space; he looked up at you from his position leaning on the counter with his phone in his hand. Quickly placing it in his back pocket as he saw you coming in, giving you a slight smile. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”

You reached for the cabinet Nia had pointed you to earlier where the cups were placed, picking one with little thought and closing it. “Just came here for a glass of water,” you spoke, moving the cup under the tap, “always have one next to my bed, y’know, in case I get thirsty and stuff.” You shook your head slightly, not wanting to ramble about the benefits of staying hydrated during the night just to make a conversation.

“Smart girl,” he joked, causing you to chuckle as you felt blush creeping out on your cheeks. You could see him coming closer to stand next to you from the corner of your eye, which didn’t help the tingly feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. “Excited fo’ tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms on top of the counter as he leaned next to you.

“Guess I am,” you answered, looking up at him and finding he was closer than you had realized. You smiled nervously as you met his eyes gazing down at you, before clearing your throat lightly. “What about you?”

“To be honest ‘m a bit nervous, love,” he confessed.

“Why’s that?” 

“I mean,” he started, his eyes still fixed on you, “ ‘s not every day I get to pretend ‘m married to a pretty girl like you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat as he reached one of his hands to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. He kept his hand on your cheek just as his eyes seemed to gaze down at your lips, so subtly that it felt like you might’ve imagined it. 

The silence in the room was loud as you could almost hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as he leaned down just barely, getting closer to you. He looked down one more time at your lips, this time making sure you realized the unspoken question behind that action. You suddenly felt water pouring through your fingers, as the forgotten cup in your hand overflowed. This caused you to jump back a bit, quickly turning the tap off and resting the glass on the counter. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, reaching out for a towel right next to the sink to dry your hand. “I’m sorry, that was-” you chuckled, glancing at Harry who seemed to watch you with an amused expression. “That was awkward, sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” He assured, picking the full glass and moving it in the counter so it was out of your reach. “ ‘t was actually quite cute,” he moved closer to you again, reaching his hand to hold at your jawline. 

You held back your breath as you felt his own hitting the top of your upper lip, your noses brushing slightly. 

“Been wanting to do this fo’ a bit now, love,” he spoke a bit above a whisper, his deep voice sending chills down your spine and making you grab at his sweater, ”would you let me?” his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly, “would you let me kiss you?”

You could feel your heart beating strongly against your rib cages, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. He was watching you closely, his dark emerald irises gazing down at you as your lips barely brushed. You nodded at him, trying to pull him closer.

“Use your words, darling,” he insisted, not budging from his position. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Harry I-” you moved your hand to grasp on his waist, “just —kiss me.”

Giving a satisfied hum, he finally leaned down, closing the space between the two of you. His hand remained stroking your cheek softly, as the other sneaked under your neck.

He moved his lips ever so slightly, his cupid bow founding its way above your inner lip, sucking on it gently. The kiss was teasingly slow, making you hyper aware of all of your senses. Your hands feeling the soft fabric of his sweater, grabbing at it as if asking for more. 

He moved the hand on your neck, pulling gently at your hair, making you angle your head up a bit. As his tongue poked to lick at your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You stayed like this for a while, pressed against the kitchen wall as you enjoyed the taste of each other. 

When you pulled back, he splattered a few kisses along your cheek, giving one last peck on your mouth before pulling back.

“As much as I don’t want to end this now,” he muttered, moving his hand, so they were both holding your cheeks, “We should get some sleep fo’ tomorrow.” 

“We should,” you agreed.

“We’ll get the chance to do this again,” he said, making you bite down a smile at the innuendo behind his words.

He gave you one last kiss before pulling away completely, reaching for the glass of water you had already forgotten about on the counter and handing it to you. 

You walked back to your rooms without saying a word, but still sharing glances and smiles along the way. And as you got to your respective rooms, you whispered quiet good nights before parting ways and closing the door behind you.

**

The days that followed were rushed, considering the filming had officially started. You two barely had the chance to be alone again, which was disappointing. But still you couldn’t find yourself time to miss the feel of having his soft lips against yours, considering the scenes you had with each other. What you did miss was being able to kiss him without it being written in a piece of paper, or having someone from outside tell you to. You missed the intimacy of feeling his tongue meet your own and having his hands pulling you close as you both craved for more. You missed the shared secret between just the two of you, that was knowing how it felt to have him all to yourself.

It was discomforting, earning for someone you barely even know. Jumping into a feeling you know there’s no way can end well. You both were playing characters. Lovers, yes, but it was all pretend. It didn’t help that he was so good at it. In front of the cameras he would be so loving that you often wondered how much of it was just part of the act. 

It was subtle things that made you think of it, like a glance across the room between takes. Him leaning close to you every time they called you to watch back something you had just recorded. Or when he sucked in your lip during a scene, so softly you could barely notice but still made your heart skip a beat.

But as much as it was nice to pretend that you two had some shared secret, you knew that the most likely scenario was that he was just doing his work and being friendly. So you tried your best to convince yourself that all of it was just your mind playing tricks, this way you could prevent yourself from inevitably getting hurt. That encounter in the kitchen was most likely his way of making things less awkward to when you inevitably would have to do it in front of a camera. That was it, nothing more. 

It seemed to have worked pretty well, you two had the chemistry Evan hoped for when he wrote his script. Nia kept teasing you with every given opportunity. You didn’t tell her about the late night kitchen situation, but you knew she could sense the ‘chemistry’ was not simply because you two were just that good at acting. No one was complaining though, considering everything was going so smoothly they suspected it could be wrapped up even earlier than expected.

Every time they would mention the possibility, you found yourself wishing deep down something would set you back on the schedule. You felt bad for it, and you never voice your inner thoughts, but you knew wrapping up early meant going home early, and you were getting a bit too comfortable getting to act all loved up on camera.

As if some kind of outer force had listened to your wishes, just as you were halfway throughout the week, mother nature seemed to be your biggest ally.

You had just woken up with the annoying tune of your alarm clock, one you had chosen for finding it soothing at first. But you soon found that those sounds are not meant to feel soothing at all, as it woke you from your deep slumber. You were quick to turn it off before rubbing your eyes softly and enjoying the warmth of your bed for a few more minutes. You could hear the gentle sounds of raindrops hitting your window, but barely paid any attention to it as you rose lazily, stretching your arms above your head.

Making your way down the stairs you first noticed Evan standing by the big window in the living room, looking out with a hand resting on his hip and the other one holding a mug. Behind him, in one of the armchairs, sat Harry, also drinking out of a mug as he read a book quietly. But as if he felt your presence as you got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked up, smiling at you as you made your way into the room.

“G’morning,” he spoke, alerting the man by the window of your presence as he turned around to look at you.

“Good morning,” you said back, before realizing the worried expression on Evan’s face, “is everything okay?”

“A disaster just happened, honey, look out the windows!”  he snapped, gesturing behind him where you could see the rain hitting the glass. The sky was dark with clouds, suggesting it was just the beginning of the storm that was to come. You looked back with a puzzled expression, knowing the weather was not the best, but as far as you remembered you had already shot all the scenes you needed outside. Evan rolled his eyes, “our natural light is gone, honey, it’s too dark to shoot!” he barked.

“Hey, no need to yell at her like tha’,” Harry looked back at his friend, attempting to calm him down, “ ‘s fine, we were early on schedule anyway, one day is not gonna delay it.”

He shot a look at Harry, his hand finding its way back on his waist as he let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is just incredibly frustrating.”

You smiled at him to assure it was fine, knowing how much stress he was putting on because of this project. “Doesn’t Nia have one of those light things you were using the other day to make the scene brighter?” You suggested.

Evan sighed, “that’s a reflector, it just— well, reflects the light, we would need the sun for it to work, and seems like she’s not showing her face anytime soon,” he weightened his shoulders down, clearly feeling defeated. “I guess today is our off day — we should use it to pray for sunlight tomorrow, otherwise I’m pulling my hair off.”

When Nia woke up, you could tell she was not happy at all with the news that filming had to be cancelled for the time being. She spent the whole breakfast whining and crying about the poor weather. You tried your best to console her, but knowing your friend you knew her dramatics showed off when she worried about something. She tended to overthink every scenario that could go wrong, which did nothing to help the pressure she put on herself.

The day went on as eventless as it possibly could, the rain outside just seeming to get angrier as time passed by. You did your best to distract Nia from her own head, asking her about the recent documentaries she had watched, knowing she could go on tangents for hours. You talked about crime shows you have started before filming and shared different theories you had on them. You even listened to her deep analysis of trashy reality shows she loved to watch and always tried to drag you to get into it.

You talked and talked with no end, considering there wasn’t much else to do. Nia’s aunt hated computers and refused to install any kind of wifi, leaving you with a shitty connection that barely loaded a five-minute video.

As the evening came by, and the raindrops still hit angrily at the windows, you decided to watch another movie — this time it was Evan’s choice of Freaky Friday. 

You volunteered to grab the blankets from the cabinets on the second floor, while Nia excitedly announced she would make popcorn for everyone.

Quickly moving along the hallway, you made your way in front of the doors and opened them. You could hear footsteps coming up the stairs as you tiptoed to  reach the top shelf where the soft blanket you had used the first night lied on top of. 

“Need help?” You heard a voice approach, looking over your shoulder to find Harry walking towards you with an amused expression on his face. You nodded, chuckling as you quickly stepped out of the way to allow him to take your place. He reached up, easily retrieving the blanket and giving it to you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, looking up at him for a moment.

“No problem, darlin’,” he said, fetching two other blankets  before closing one door with a swing of his hip. You closed the other one with a small giggle. You started to quietly move along towards the staircase when he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He kept his gaze down before speaking softly, “After the movie, think I’ll go back to my room a bit early,”  he looked at you for a moment, “ ‘f you want to join me.”

You stopped walking to look at him arching your eyebrows surprised, not expecting this kind of proposal at this moment. He stopped a step ahead of you, staring back with nervous eyes and shooting you a shy smile. “I’m not saying we have to do anything, I just-” he spluttered, “just wanted to be with you, without the camera and stuff.”

You smiled at him, “of course,” you voiced, “sounds nice.”

Shortly, you found yourself in the same position as the first day. Sharing a blanket with Harry, but this time Nia was wide awake next to you with a bucket of popcorn plopped on her lap. Some people would consider her to be the worst kind of person to watch movies with, considering she would always get too excited and comment on every scene she could. You had gotten so used to it with time, that it felt weird watching a movie without her voice interrupting a scene every five minutes.

It got hard to concentrate on this one in particular, and not because of Nia’s speaking over the lines, but the sudden feeling of Harry’s hand resting on your knee halfway through it. Your legs were crossed on top of the couch, making part of it rest slightly on top of his as he eased his thumb over your skin.

As time passed, he moved his hand up a bit, finding its final place on your inner thigh, causing goosebumps to arise on the back of your neck as he caressed it softly. You caught yourself holding your breath multiple times, something he was also probably aware of, considering the position of his arm on the side of your chest. 

The tension between you two was almost palpable as the end credits rolled up. At that point you had prompted yourself to lean your head on his shoulders. He grasped your skin slightly before removing his hand and motioning his position to get up, making you pull back from him.

“‘m going back to my room now,” he announced as he got up, shooting you a knowing look, “g’night.”

You stayed back for a few minutes so as not to look too suspicious, folding up the blanket you had used and scrolling through your phone for a bit. Not long after you excused yourself, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

You found him in the hallway, leaning in on the wall right next to his door as he looked down on his phone. As he felt your presence he gazed up, grinning softly before bringing his finger above his lips as to warn you to stay quiet.

The two rushed inside his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, considering your friends downstairs could come up at any second. He closed the door behind him, looking right at you as he leaned back. His room was similar to yours, the difference being a few more clothes lying on top of the small couch standing at the corner. The curtains hanging on the big windows were pushed open, allowing the moonlight from the now-clear sky to illuminate the place. 

Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared back at him, meeting his dark irises. He started stepping closer to you until he could lean his forehead against yours. His hands found their way caressing your jawline, one of them going as far as to pulling lightly on the hair above your neck. You held your breath, gazing up at him as you waited for his next move.

He smiled lazily, brushing his nose against your softly before placing a peck to the corner of your lips. He was teasing you, his hand leaving your hair to find its way down your body, paying special attention to the side of your breast before placing itself holding your waist.

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart speed up as you pulled him closer, wanting desperately to close the space between the two of you. Too scared that your voice would give out your desperation, you moved one of your hands to the back of his neck and pulled him in. He didn’t think twice before finally closing the space and allowing you to feel his lips against yours.

The kiss started slow, both of you still trying to figure it out how it was to taste each other like this. His lips were soft, moving teasingly as he sucked on your bottom lip. Your hand pulled his hair gently, causing him to whine into mouth, licking at your tongue as he deepened the kiss. The hand on your waist moved up, caressing the side of your breast softly as he tried to pull you in as close as possible.

He started easing you backwards, considering neither of you were willing to break the kiss to watch where you were going. You felt the mattress of his bed hitting the back of your knees. You allowed him to lay you into the bed, parting for a moment so you could move upwards, laying your head on the pillows. Shortly enough he joined you, placing his elbows on both sides of your head, not wasting any time before closing the space between your mouths again.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Slowly kissing each other, as your arm found its way back behind his neck and one of his hand caressed your cheek. You could get used to this, with him being the only thing you could sense. His taste. His touch. His scent. 

He was all you could think about.

When you finally pulled back, you could see his red, puffy lips even with the limited amount of lighting going into the room. 

He looked into your eyes for a moment, “you look so pretty like this, darling,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Could eat you up.” 

A small whimper left your mouth, as he dove back in to spread kissed along your cheek and down your throat. You bit hard into your lip and swallowed back a moan as he sucked in a spot right below your jawline. You could feel him grinding his hips down on your tights, making you aware of the growing bulge inside his sweats.

You placed your hand on his shoulders, pushing him gently and disconnecting him from your neck. He pulled back, looking back at you with a puzzled look. You kept pushing him until his shoulders hit the mattress, reverting the previous position you both were in, as you stranded his waist.

Looking down at him, you wanted so badly to discover his body, to make him feel good. So you took the same position he had on you. Placing your lips against his neck and running your tongue against it, sucking in his skin. You kept doing it as your hand smoothed down his body, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it enough so you could scratch at his love handles. He gave you a small moan, a sound so delicious to hear you that made you want to swallow him whole. 

Both his hands found their place on your waist, pressing you down so you could feel his need between your tights. You quickly pulled your head from his neck, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Please, love, just-” he grunted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Just do something, please, I-“

His hands gripped tightly on your waist as you rolled your hips against him. Neither of you could contain your moans as you repeated the movement, even fully clothed his bulge rubbed deliciously against the place you needed it the most. 

You leaned down again, this time pushing his shirt up as you made your way down his body, splattering open-mouthed kisses along his warm chest. You paid a special mind to the tattoos you met along the way, sucking spots over the wings of a butterfly inked on his stomach. As you licked along the leaves of the ferns that adorned his love handles, you felt one of his hands tangling in your hair, his hips rising slightly as he whimpered.

“A bit impatient, you are,” you spoke, feeling his belly tighten as you placed a playful bite under his belly button, causing another moan to leave his lips.

“Darlin’, please,” he whined, “Just- fuck, just need you right now.”

You decided not to tease him for too long, considering you needed it just as much as he did. Finally, you moved down once more to place a kiss above the hard on over his pants. He lifted his head, watching your every move as his hand that was placed on your hair pushed some strands away from your forehead. You wrapped your hand around the hem of his sweats, rising your eyebrows at him as you felt he wasn’t wearing any underpants. The thought of having such easy access to him making you press your thighs together, feeling your wetness already damping your underwear 

Slowly, you bit your bottom lip, keeping your gaze focused on him as you moved his sweats down, he raised his hips as to help you out. Once his cock was fully out, you stared back down at it lying proudly against his stomach. You ran your fingers gently along his length, causing him to hold his breath, his abdomen tightening once more. He was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with, causing your mouth to water a bit and your thighs to press together once again at the thought of fully having him.

You could feel him peering down at you as you wrapped your hands around the base and applied the smallest amount of pressure. The precum was already escaping from the tip and sliding down the tiniest bit. 

Moving your head forward you looked back at his waiting eyes, spitting on top of the head as you moved your hand up caressing it. This time he gave you an actual moan, throwing his head back at the pillows behind him. 

Looking down at him, you didn’t know where to place your lips first, wanting to bite and lick every part of his body. Finally deciding on sucking a spot on his thigh, right next to where rested an ink of a tiger head.

You kept the movement of your hand, twisting it and applying more pressure eventually as you watched him shift around under you. He raised his hips slightly as he pleaded under his breath for more, his hand firmly on top of your head as the other was thrown above his own.

You moved your thumb to run across his slit, caressing the head with a flick of your wrist as you moved your mouth to place kisses at the base. At this point he became a moaning mess, throwing his arm over his mouth as to muffle the sounds while you licked up his shaft.

“God- fuck- such a good girl,” he moaned on his arm, moving it out of the way so he could look down at you. “Doing so good, you feel so good- shit.”

Smiling at him, you jerked him off a couple of times before resting your hand at the base so you could replace it with your mouth.

You licked around his head, giving it a small kiss before you moved down as far as you could go. He cried out, tightening his grip on your hair and moving his hips up to meet your movements as you sucked on him.

He was desperate to reach his climax, and you were desperate to see him cum undone under your touch. So you started speeding up, your mouth licking at his veins, your hand helping you as you moved it along his dick. He was cursing and moaning over you, pleading for you not to stop. You kept moving your hand as you licked at his head once more before detaching so you could look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Almost there?” you asked, having him nod frantically at you, “will you let me have a taste?”

That seemed to do it for him, as he pushed your head back down, making you attach your lips to his head as you felt him shoot his load inside your mouth. You milked him as he came down from his high, feeling his softness on your lips as you swallowed down.

You sat up and looked down at his hazy eyes while he calmed down with heavy breaths. He adjusted his sweats quickly before moving himself up to pull you in for a frantic kiss. “God, darling, you’re a dream,” he spoke between kisses, his hands gripping at your waist as he positioned you to lie on top of him, moving one of them under your shirt, pulling it up slowly.

You quickly placed your hand on top of his stopping him from going further as you detached from him. He furrowed his brows at you. “I should go back to my room,” you said, “got an early day tomorrow.”

He gave you a puzzled look, “but you still haven’t- “

“it’s okay,” you interrupted, moving to get up from his bed, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night!”

You left his room before he could protest, wanting to slap yourself from running away like this. 

**

The next morning was thankfully much brighter than the one before, with sunlight shining through the windows at the earliest hours. You didn’t get a lot of sleep, tossing and turning around, replaying the previous night in your head. The thought of what could’ve happened if you had stayed imprinted itself in your mind. You started to overthink it. What did he even think of you? After running away like that? 

Your thoughts consumed you as you sat in of the stools in the kitchen by yourself, for the first time being the first to be awake. Your coffee running cold by the minute, as you frowned to yourself, taking a sip every so often.

It didn’t take long until you didn’t find yourself alone anymore, having Evan join you as he happily cheered about the nice weather. You nodded along to him, not really in the mood for talking as you anxiously poked at your nails.

It was when you walked towards the sink to wash your used mug that you saw Harry walking into the kitchen. His hair messy and his eyes sleepy, making you annoyed at how charming he managed to look even after just getting out of bed. 

He greeted you with a raspiness to his voice, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long as he smirked before moving to the cabinets. He stood next to you while you washed the dishes, grabbing himself a bowl while he worked on his breakfast.

Yours arms would brush every so often as you moved while doing your tasks, making you gaze at him. He kept a grin sitting on his face as he casually made a conversation with Evan, his dimple poking out the smallest bit, but still not looking back at you.

As soon as you were finished you left for your bedroom so you could get ready for the day, but not before sparing one last glance at Harry. This time his eyes were already trained on you as he chewed slowly his fruit salad. You felt your cheeks getting a bit warm from the eye contact, making you look down and leave the room with a speeding heart.

The work started early, as you ran around to keep up with the schedule after losing one day of productivity. 

Harry seemed to be in it for teasing you. His touches lingered longer than needed. His kisses were harsher, the need behind them being almost palpable. His gaze on you told you something you couldn’t really tell exactly what it was. Lust? Desire? You weren’t entirely sure, but every time you caught him watching you felt a warmth take over your face.

In one occasion, between takes, as Nia and Evan discussed the best position for the camera considering her broken tripod. You stood awkwardly waiting for their instructions as you played with the hem of your dress. You could feel him staring closely, looking up to find him with the same smirk he gave you in the morning. He looked quickly over your friends who were still trying to figure out the problem before leaning up close to you “Still haven’t let me have a taste, love,” he said quiet enough to that just you could hear, the words sending a chill down your spine and making your core twitch as you glanced back at him.

That same night, after you announced you’d tuck yourself in, just as you changed into your pajama shorts, you heard a soft knock on your door.  You opened up to see his darkened irises staring back at you as he quietly let himself in. And within a few minutes he found his place between your legs, your hand gripping tightly at his curls as you moaned into your pillow.

The  following day wasn’t much different, starting with a tight filming schedule that was coming to a close end. An exchanging of glances across the room and yearning touches with underlying motives behind them. Ending with you lurking into his room at the dark hours of the night, craving-filled touched and muffled moans.

**

The wrap up of the film was welcomed with a bittersweet feeling settling itself in the pit of your stomach. Knowing as much as you were glad everything had gone as smoothly as possible during this week, it was time to leave it all behind. 

You were nervous about how it would be with Harry after you got home. Was this the start of something that could potentially become a warm and beautiful feeling? Or was it just a lust-filled affair that would end as quickly as it had started? It made you anxious to think about it, not wanting to let go of it just yet.

Nia walked into the living room with two champagne bottles that had been brought up for this exact moment. The atmosphere was filled with chatter as everyone celebrated the end of the hard work. 

You were dressed in the fanciest clothes you had brought on your rushed-packed bag, which consisted itself in a black blouse and a loose pair of pants you stole from Nia’s wardrobe a couple weeks prior. But you once again could not compete with Evan’s sense of style, as he seemed right out of a cover with a hot pink turtleneck under a sparkly black dress that hung all the way to his feet.

But you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You watched as he laughed along at something that had been said, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before fixing on Nia as she offered to serve him the champagne she had just opened. 

He looked so good. 

Like you, he didn’t opt for a very glam look, wearing a simple graphic white tee with a rainbow printed on it, and a simple pair of checked trousers. But as plain as someone could argue it was, he still managed to look incredibly inviting, which made it harder for you not to latch yourself onto him.

You were coming into your sixth or seventh glass when it all died down. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt giggly as you cheered along with everyone about the successful week you had. Nia had already gone back to her room. She didn’t  drink as much considering she would have to drive early in the morning, wanting to leave most of the celebration for the premiere day. 

The glances stolen between you and Harry were getting more frequent, the longing in each other's eyes visible with the effect of the alcohol.

**

He had you pressed up against your bedroom door as he sucked in your bottom lip harshly. His hands gripped at your waist tightly, putting his weight against you.

You wrapped your hand around his neck as the other pulled at his shirt desperately with the need of having him close. You felt overwhelmed by him in the nicest way. Having his hips pressing against your own, making you open your tights slightly as you felt his arousal straining on his trousers.

You whimpered into his mouth at the feeling, suddenly needing him as close as possible. You could tell his desperation matched your own by the way his hand pressed on the side of your body and his mouth moved against you. His groans getting lost in your throat every time you tangled your fingers on his roots, pulling at it.

“You’re gonna kill me like this, baby,” he breathed out, his lips moving against your wanting ones, “so fuckin’beautiful.”

You tried to keep your shaky hands steady as they travelled down his chest, scratching as his tummy lightly under his shirt before you began pulling it up. He detached from you to quickly reach over his shoulders and pull it off completely.  He didn’t waste any time bringing his hand to unbutton your blouse, peppering kisses along your lips as he moved it down your shoulders, only to be met with your bare breasts underneath.

“Fuck me,” he groaned staring down at you, attaching your lips once again as he pulled you from the door as he fiddled with the zipper of your pants. You stumbled on each other's arms across the floor until you were met with the plush feeling of the bedcovers on the back of your thighs. 

You stepped out of your pants as they got loose around your waist and fell damply to the floor, allowing Harry to push you gently into the mattress. He quickly got rid of his own trousers, wasting no time before towering above you, connecting your mouths once again.

It was like no matter how close you were, it still wasn’t good enough to satisfy the craving you had. You still wanted more. Needed more. 

He was fully licking into you, his hands gripping your tights as he rolled his hips to meet yours. You moaned in unison at the feeling of your arousals meeting deliciously as he repeated the movement once more before parting your mouths so he could spread kisses along your neck.

“Harry,” you breathed out his name, dragging your nails along his back as you moved your hips up eagerly.

He moved his head from your neck o hover above yours, licking his lips teasingly as he looked down at you with dark eyes. He moved one of his hands to caress your cheek lovingly, as the other found your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple. “Can I have a taste, baby?” he leaned his forehead against your, not breaking eye contact, “just a fo’a bit, then you can have me.”

You nodded frantically, brushing your nose against his. He gave you one last peck on the lips before moving down again to lick down at your skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses at your chest, sucking harshly between your breasts.  His tongue moved along your belly, craving his finger into it playfully like you had done to him, making you squeal above him.

He finally settled down between your thighs, his hand gripping at them to keep it apart before moving teasingly slow to the hem of your underwear. Your breath got caught in your throat as you moved up to lean on your elbows, gazing at him, hyper-aware of his every move. 

He looked up, grinning like a devil, before moving his face down to nose gently at your mound. Pulling away, he pressed his hands on your sides, sliding your underwear off your legs as you helped him, raising your hips slightly.

You whimpered as you felt him kiss along your inner thigh, meeting your middle as licked you once. Your hips raised impatiently, making him smirk at you again before completely diving in.

You got lost in the pleasure as he licked his tongue into you, letting yourself fall back in the cushions behind your head. Your hand moved to grip at his hair tightly as he sucked in your clit, making you yelp and call out his name. His mouth was warm as his saliva mixed with your own wetness every time he licked into you.

Feeling your arousal pooling on your folds, you desperately needed to feel him as close as possible. Wanting every inch of him against you.

You pushed him from you, grabbing at his shoulder so he could move up to face you again. He didn’t protest, spattering quick kisses along the way before pressing his mouth against yours. The taste of champagne still lingering on your tongue mixed with your own taste on his as he licked into your mouth.

“y’taste so good, baby,” he groaned, parting from you as he moved to remove his briefs. The limited amount of light illuminated his face beautifully, making you able to notice the glistening of your juices down his chin. You felt your core twitch at the scene above you, desperate to have him fill you up.

“Please,” you urged him, grabbing at his hips to pull him down.

“Can I have you, darlin’?” His voice was raspy, as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, “‘d you let me?”

Your arousal blurred your mind, your grip on his waist tightened as you raised your hips impatiently, nodding along to his question.

“Have to hear you say it, love,” he spoke, leaning down to place kisses along your neck, “just say it, and you’ll have me.”

“You can have me, please, I-” you moaned desperately, babbling words without thinking, “I need you, please.”

He raised his head from your shoulders, giving you a quick peck before reaching down to guide his length between your folds. Your belly tensed as he rubbed his head against your clit, holding back your breath as he finally slid in you.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he choked, pushing his hips all the way, allowing you to feel every inch of him fill you up. You breathed out a moan, reaching your hand on his back. “‘s this all fo’ me?”

You whined out a ‘yes’, rolling your hips as a way of urging him to move. 

His movements began slow, his cock rubbing heavenly against your walls, making you clench around him. You both moaned and whimpered as your lips brushed.

“Can feel me deep?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours as he pushed his dick all the way in. You nodded, yearning for him to start moving again. “Can feel me in y’belly?”

“H, please,” you begged, gripping your nails on his shoulder blades.”Want you.”

“y’have me,” he kissed you hard before moving again, rolling his hips as he picked up the pace.

 The air around you was hot as you threw your head back with the delicious feeling of him hitting the spot inside of you. He was addicting. The salty taste of his skin. The touch of his hands gripping on your sides. The smell of his cologne faintly mixed with sweat. The sound of his skin meeting yours. It made you earn for him in every possible way. 

You felt your wetness dripping out of you as he pulled your leg up to your chest, allowing him to effectively hit deeper spots. The new position made a cramp start to creep up on your thight, but you ignored it to focus on the way his hips met yours.

Time seemed to pass like a blur as you pleasured each other, but soon enough you felt your orgasm building up. His thrusts became more frequent and smooth as he felt you clench more around him.

“that’s it, baby - fuck,” he grunted, moving his hand down to flicker your clit, causing to arch your back, moaning loudly. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

His cross necklace dangled over you as he watched you closely. You kept your gaze locked on his as you felt the feeling deep in your tummy take over your entire body. A moan got stuck in your throat as you opened your mouth to an ‘O’ shape, digging your nails further on his shoulders as you reached your high.

**

Getting home, you soon realized that throughout the week you had been so lost in your feelings with Harry that you didn’t even think of asking him for his phone number. 

The month that followed passed by surprisingly quickly. During the first week you were swiftly thrown back again into your old reality of course essays and textbooks. You hadn’t heard a word from Harry, and the most frustrating part is that he seemed to have settled his place inside your thoughts. You tried asking about him to Nia once or twice again, but every time she seemed to come up with vague answers and change the subject, so you figured she had other things to worry about. 

It was a disappointing end, to say the least. Even knowing from the start that being let down was the most possible outcome, it didn’t hurt any less. You often wondered if it had been something you’d done that made him pull away, or if he just wasn’t in it from the start.

By the second week you had gotten a job at a tiny local cafe you used to go after class to study and eat cinnamon rolls. That’s when time starting to rush by, as you found yourself busy through most of your day. Nia was working more than you’ve ever seen her. You two barely talked as she spent most of her time with Evan or inside her room editing. And as the week at the camp house got further away, it started to almost seem like you had imagined all of it. 

Having a lot of distractions helped, but you never seemed to push the thought of a certain curly-haired boy completely away. Sometimes during a tedious lesson you would daydream about the feeling of his lips against yours. Or right before you fell asleep you would think about the taste of his skin, how strong his hand were gripping on your thighs. Maybe even at work. When there wasn’t a lot of movement, you could almost hear the sound of his voice.

It was aggravating, the effect he left on you. It got to a point where you got angry; sometimes at him but sometimes at yourself. He was the one who had gone after you, and yet he was the one who disappeared. But again, he didn’t really owe you anything, and that’s what’s frustrating. You were the one who allowed him; you knew from the start that you would get hurt but you still went for it, anyway.

As you got closer to the premiere night that was planned, you started to get anxious. You would catch yourself daydreaming more often, not being as focused as you were. You even started picking your nails again, which is a habit you thought you’d kick it a long time ago. But truth to be told, you were nervous.

The thought about seeing him again made your heart race. You wished that you could somehow find a way not to go. Maybe ask Nia if the two of you could have a private viewing. You had even thought about bribing her with making your mom’s brownie recipe. But you already knew the answer before you even suggested it. This was an important night for her, and you would be there to support it.

You were overthinking this. Was it going to be awkward when you met him? How would you even greet him? Would he kiss you? Would he ignore you? Should you ignore him? All the scenarios in your head made you want to throw up and run away.

**

When the two of you finally arrived, you were greeted by a cheerful Evan, who jokingly teased you for being late. As you got into his house, you found a bigger group than you expected. It seemed like you and Nia were the last ones to arrive, as there was around ten other people in there. Some of them you recognized from being Nia’s friends, others you had never seen, but none was the one you earned to see the most.

Evan guided you across the living room area, “I’ll show you the kitchen so you two can get some drinks,”  He held up his glass as he spoke. Gesturing to the entrance of the room, “We’ll start everything in around ten minutes, so get ready.”

As you entered the kitchen behind Nia, you could feel her stiffen her posture a bit, before looking back at you. You frowned lightly at her, confused by her behaviour, gazing inside the room and finding immediately a pair of green eyes already watching you. It made you think back to the first time you were in this exact position, except in your own kitchen. This time, however, he was the one to approach you.

He looked really good, which did nothing to help the butterflies flying relentlessly in your stomach. He was in all black, a buttoned up shirt with a few buttons open, exposing a bit of the skin on his chest where a silver necklace laid upon. You swallowed dryly at the sight of his hand running swiftly through his hair, with a ring hugging each one of his fingers. 

As he got close, he greeted Nia first, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, before turning his attention back to you. He shot you a shy smile, before embracing you into a hug. You didn’t really know if it was your mind playing tricks but you felt him a bit hesitant as he greeted you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Pulling away, he cleared his throat, running his hand again through his hair, he almost seemed… nervous?

“‘S nice seeing you again,” he mumbled, “this uhm… ‘s my girlfriend, Jess.”

You could felt your heart drop with his words as you finally noticed a smiley girl coming to his side. 

She wasn’t much taller than you, her red hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. She matched him with a small black dress that annoyingly hugged her body in all the right ways. You could barely register her greeting you, as you tried your best to keep a straight face to hide the shock that took over your body. You felt a heaviness at the pit of your stomach, a feeling so distressful that made you want to scream as an attempt to make it go away.

You didn’t pay a lot of attention as Nia made a conversation with the girl, knowing that’s what she did best. You kept your gaze directed to Harry, your eyes asking a million questions - you didn’t even think you wanted to know the answers to. But he kept his eyes locked on the floor, eventually looking up at the girl in his arms as she seemed to mention him. But never meeting your own.  Her hand was caressing his chest lovingly while his found their way on her waist, keeping her close.

“I think I’ll get something to drink,” you announced, realizing you might’ve interrupted the conversation as they stopped talking. You turned to Nia, “do you want something?”

She looked back at you with sorry eyes, “I should go with you,” she quickly turned back to the girl, “It was lovely meeting you, Jess.”

“Oh! Sure,” she smiled brightly at you two, her hand moving to rest on Harry’s chest, “we should go get our seats as well, right, babe?” 

You left the scene as quickly as you could, not wanting to hear any more of it. Looking at all the drink options on top of the counter, you tried to think which one could get you drunk enough to stop feeling hurt over someone you spent just a week with, but still sober enough so that you could pretend everything was fine. Before you realized, Nia was standing next to you, getting two plastic pink cups before she stared at you with guilty-filled eyes.

“I should’ve just told you about it,” she sighed, “I didn’t want to make you sad, but looking back it was probably best if you already knew.”

You turned your head to look at her, “so you knew it all along?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt it close once again.

“Evan told me like a few days after we got back!” She rushed, “I don’t know if they were together while we were filming.”

You took a deep breath, knowing Nia was probably blaming herself for putting you into this situation. But you knew it wasn’t her fault, she would never purposely put you in this position if she knew about it before.

“You know what, it’s fine,” you tried your best to cover up the hurt and gave her a weak smile, “it’s not your fault Ni. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m sorry, bubba,” she said, “let’s get you something to drink so you can enjoy this party like the star you are!”

The two of you decided on the vodka mixed with watermelon juice, something you had never even thought of trying before but seemed to be ideal to handle the situation you found yourself in. You walked back to the living area, where people were already beginning to settle on the chairs. 

Following Nia, you prompted yourself on a seat at the edge closest to the door, opposite to where Harry sat with the girl. His girl. You thought bitterly, taking a big sip from your cup and cringing at the strong taste.

There was a speech you didn’t pay much attention to before they started the film, only giving a slight smile when you realized the mention of your name. 

Before you knew it, the lights were out and your face took over the screen. 

It was harder than you thought it would be.  Looking up at the scenes you had with Harry, knowing everything that happened behind the cameras. Knowing every touch and every kiss felt more than just playing a character. You knew the actual feeling of having him to yourself. But now staring at it right in front of you, it just left a sour taste in your mouth. 

You finished your drink barely ten minutes into the film, the feeling of your chest aching starting to become overwhelming as you watched your shared kiss on the big screen. You could feel your throat close once more, your eyes watering a bit.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you whispered to Nia sitting next to you, who gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up. You glimpsed quickly to Harry who had his eyes trained on you, the girl next to him leaning to whisper something in his ear.

You could feel the tears falling down stubbornly as you left the room. Standing in the hallway, you made the decision to turn to the front door instead of the back, not wanting to face anyone with reddish eyes.

You left the house, picking your phone with shaky hands as you managed to call a ride home, sighing in relief as your screen told you it was just about three minutes away.

You heard the door open behind you as stood on the sidewalk hugging yourself to get some warmth on the chilly night. You tried your best to swallow back your tears as you turned around, expecting to find Nia looking at you with pitiful eyes. 

To your surprise, the person standing there was Harry, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he took in your tearful eyes. He spoke your name in a soft voice, causing you to look away.

“Don’t-” you interrupted, raising your hand at him, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

He frowned at you, not wanting to upset you more. “I’m sorry,” he hesitated, taking a step forward.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, as you watched your ride pulling in front of you. You looked back at him, “I’m sorry too,” you said before moving to enter the car. 

You spared him one last glance through the window as the driver pulled away.