#I’m always open to people reaching out and asking questions about the instrument and music in general

[hazzabeeforlou]

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[stevie-evans]

Closing Time

Who: Stevie Evans and Delilah James When: June 9, 2024 Where: 'Sip N' Time's Cafe Triggers: none Notes: Stevie talks to Delilah about his crush... 🙈

Stevie -Stevie went through the closing checklist. This is out of habit than actually using it. He tosses down a series of check marks and only had to sweep and mop before calling it a night. He lifted the receiver and pressed the conference button as a means to speak to Delilah over the store speaker instead of dialing her in the store’s office. “Hey boss. All I have left is the cafe sweep and mop. I should be done and ready to go in 20 minutes.” His finger removed from the button and Stevie grabbed the broom and dust pan and set to work moving chairs and tables to give the cafe a good sweep.

Delilah - The store had been closed for the last twenty minutes, and while Stevie cleaned up, Delilah went to go count the money in the back office. They'd surpassed last years earnings, and the year before that. Every time she used the green highlighter it made her surge with pride. Her little store was doing well thanks to all those that worked there. She'd just finished up doing the daily count when she heard Stevies voice over the PA system. A chuckle tumbled past her lips and Delilah got up, exiting the office. "Youve not got to stay, love" she yelled, wandering through the store to find him. " You can go home, I'll finish the clean up. You've done more than enough for today."

Stevie -With a song playing through a wireless bud, Stevie did quick work with the broom. He hum sang an old 50s song when Delilah’s voice barely pushed through the song’s instrumental break. “It’s fine. Truly. I want to make sure tomorrow’s opener has a clean cafe. Besides, this is a part of my work duties, boss.” He said with a charming smile. Stevie paused the music as it was rude to keep it going while they spoke. He returned to sweeping. “How’d the store do today?” He casually questioned, partly because he was proud of this place and wanted it to succeed. He sees firsthand the amount of work Delilah puts into it.

Delilah - "I know it's part of your work duties, but I can clean up." She replied, grabbing the dust pan and a hand broom, picking up what Stevie had begun to clean up. "We did really well, we made $800 more than last year. I'm quite proud - hence me trying to get you off early" she replied with a chuckle, glancing up at him. "Everything ok for you today?"

Stevie - They worked together, which came easy as it’s not their first time closing shop. Stevie went to get the mop bucket and set to work in the far corner. “That’s amazing, Delilah! Do you think that boost is from the Founder’s Day boost? I overheard several people raving about the pastries, especially the chocolate chip cookies.” He spoke and mopped in unison. “Remember that one woman who orders the dirty chai with a pump of mocha? I hadn’t seen her in a month. She surprised me this afternoon and said she’s been away taking care of her sister. She has left a big house in her late grandfather’s will and went to help move. Can you believe that? It sucks she lost her grandfather, but now I have this image of an old Victorian house filled with spirits and secret passages.” He said, reaching where Delilah was with the broom. Stevie eyed her for a quiet moment and then smiled, shaking his head slowly. “I was just thinking…” he started, then changed his mind. “It’s probably best I don’t bring this up while I’m technically on the clock.”

Delilah - She considered his question for a moment and shrugged, "Anything's likely at this point. I reckon the booth helped a bit, but our hard work has helped immensely." She replied, focusing on cleaning up the floor as best she could. Delilah listened to Stevie speak. She remembered the patron he was talking about, and pursed get lips. "Next time she's in we best be sure to give her a free coffee. I might ask for pictures of the place though, I've always been partial to a Victorian." She myself with a chuckle, dumping the collection of dirt in a waste bin before looking at Stevie, a brow arched, "Well, now you've got to say it. You can't just begin saying something only to stop!"

Stevie - True, it can be an amalgamation of reasons. Whatever it may be, it brought a smile to his boss’s features, something Stevie enjoyed. “If you’re in, I’ll tell you, but I’ll make sure she gets that freebie no matter what. Can’t have you miss out on that Victorian.” Stevie stuck his foot in this mouth and wished he could return that minute. Delilah’s eyes on him caused Stevie to falter momentarily. With a steadying breath, he stopped his mop job and casually clasped the long pole with his two hands. “I wasn’t trying to bait you by starting and stopping. My mind and mouth sometimes don’t sync. I think it’s a family trait.” He laughed, nerves tried to swoop in, but Stevie curtailed it. “It’s about that crush admission. I feel I need to apologize for it. It wasn’t appropriate of me. You’re my boss. Don’t places usually frown upon that kind of…I don’t know. Behavior?”

Delilah - A bright grin formed on her features at Stevies statement. He was a good egg, and she appreciated him and his hard work. " Why thank you kind sir," she replied with a chuckle, hoping that the patron came in when they were both working so they could get more of a story. Part of Delilah wondered if the house was haunted now that she knew it was a Victorian. They always seemed to have some sort of tragic past. Stevie stopping his movements had her pausing, head cocking to the side. As he spoke, her cheeks depend to a deep red. She had just been teasing him, and she'd regretted it after mentioning it. She didn't have an HR department, and she didn't want Stevie taking her texts the wrong way. Even if he was a very handsome guy. "Stevie... You don't have to apologize." She began, putting the dustpan and hand held broom down. "It's not like you were openly checking me out at work, or asking me out...Besides I'm your boss, I shouldn't have texted you the way I did, even if I was just teasing you. I suppose I just got a little carried away with it.

Stevie - “I felt I needed to. I’m glad you weren’t offended or wanted to move me to the back room to deal with inventory all day, so you don’t need to see me.” So, she was teasing him because she didn’t see him that way? Stevie wanted to question it, but this could lead to that awkward place he was trying to prevent. He likes Delilah, and he likes this job. It’s one of the better ones he’s had since ever. “I didn’t mind the texting. I found your reaction to it cute.” He admitted, giving her a sheepish smile. “I meant what I said with my answer; anyone who gets to know you as I have will see how incredible you are.” Even though he feels internally deflated, she doesn’t see him like that; Stevie knows that whoever she likes will be one lucky person.

Delilah - She waved a hand at him "I wouldn't banish you, Stevie." She replied, blue eyes assessing him. There was something in his gaze that had her wanting to furrow her brow. That though ght however, was quickly extinguished when he admitted to finding her reaction cute, the pink hue of her cheeks deepening. "You really are very sweet and good, you know that right?" Her heart felt like it was in her throat. She wasn't trying to flirt or give him mixed signals. Her feelings were all over the place what with Ethan coming back into her life, maybe if Stevie didn't work for her she'd give him a chance. The last thing she wanted was to lose him as a friend and coworker. "You do realize that the sentiment goes for you too, right? I'm quite shocked that you're single all things considered. I mean, you're so sweet, and charming, and just - look at you!" She bit down on her bottom lip, "Sorry, as your boss I need to not say that kind of thing. Just know that anyone who meets you should be honored. I know Im honored to know you."

Stevie - “This makes me happy to hear. I like the backroom crew. They’re cool people, except Joann runs a tight ship, and I don’t know the ins and outs. She’ll have me out and on my butt in a matter of minutes.” Stevie laughed. The blush on Delilah’s cheeks brought out the sparkling sapphire in her eyes, and Stevie secretly marveled at her beauty before snapping out of it. Sweet and good. These are the perfect words to describe Stevie, and he can’t tell if these words bother him at that moment because, yes, he’s those two things, but Stevie also wants to be seen as desirable. Even captivating. He wants to display the traits he’s read in countless stories where characters swoon in their intended presence. However, his self-confidence hit with the demise of his last relationship, leaving Stevie in a quiet, protective bubble. “I can say the same about you. My last relationship left me feeling like I wasn’t enough. I haven’t been able to get past it, I guess.” He shared. What harm can there be with doing so when he’s already admitted his crush? “I know. It’s okay. This situation with my crush on you isn’t exactly ideal. I think a secret HR person will appear out of the coffee machines and ask what’s happening.” He laughed at the visual. “It’s cool if you don’t see me like that. Or if you do, but the timing sucks or whatever the reason is. I just wanted you to know you’re crush-worthy. 100%.”

Delilah - A laugh passed her lips upon hearing Stevie speak. He was always cracking her up in one way or another, and that was one of the things she liked most about him, his humour and his ease around people. “She’s hard but good, I’m grateful for her even if she can drive me mad.” They really should have been cleaning, but Delilah couldn’t help but feel like getting to know Stevie and really listening to him was far more important. Besides, she lived above the store, she could pop down whenever and finish cleaning up. Her heart clenched slightly at his words. She knew that pain all too well, and it broke her heart to know that someone would do that to Stevie. Her first instinct was to wrap him in a hug but that wasn’t appropriate. Even if she desperately wanted to. “Look, I’ll start by saying this - your last partner was a bloody wanker for making you ever feel like you’re not enough. And there’s definitely no HR person because what I’m about to say would get me fired from my own job no doubt -“ she began, cheeks aflame. “It’s not that I would be opposed to anything Stevie. You’re kind and charming, and easy to talk to and so so handsome. I’ve just got a lot going on and I rather value you as a friend” she managed to get out, running a hand through her blonde hair. “I just wish that you could see you the way I, and undoubtedly many other people do. You’re amazing. If your ex ever shows up you let me know, and I’ll set them straight.”

Stevie - Delilah's store has a good mix of employees, all eager to watch the shop thrive. When Stevie applied for the job, he was still working late nights at a diner and in dire need of a change. Now, all these months later, he feels as if he's part of something important—not just for a paycheck but to watch a dream flourish. Stevie couldn't anticipate the direction this conversation would take when he brought up the whole crush topic, but now he felt guilt pit in his stomach. Stevie's not a woe-is-me sort, and he doesn't want Delilah to feel she needs to protect him from his cheating ex. Yet, the sentiment does chip at the guilt and he breathed a sigh. "If she shows up in Bearcreek again, I don't think you'll need to worry. She and I are ancient history. I don't even miss her anymore." He missed the friendship they once had, but that ended as soon as she told him about the other guy she slept with. Stevie's eyes settled on Delilah's blushed cheeks again, curious if his face was as red as hers because it felt hot. He's embarrassed and wishes he didn't bring any of this up. "Of course. I-I should have realized all of this was out of the question. I value our friendship too, Del. You're one of the few people in this city I talk to daily. None of that small talk." He knows she gets his meaning. "Are things okay? With what's going on in your life?" He remembered the mop in his hand and lifted it to place it back into the bucket. No matter how awkward he feels, he'll put his friendship with Delilah first.

Delilah - The store was her pride and joy, it was a miracle that it was still running so well, and she had to thank her employees for being so amazing. Without them the store wouldn’t be half as successful. “I have to worry about it a bit, I care about you.” She replied, lips pursed. Even if he didn’t kiss his ex anymore, the fact that someone had hurt him caused Delilah to feel protective. Even if she didn’t really have a full right to. It wasn’t that it was out of the question, but there were other factors at play that Delilah normally wouldn’t have to worry about. In a perfect world she might have teased him a bit more, even kissed him, but they didn’t live in one of those. “I consider you one of my closest friends, you know that.” Talking with him was easy. Comfortable even. Her mind immediately went to thoughts of her conversation with Ethan, and all the complexities that came with that particular relationship. “Someone I thought would be a part of my life in a certain serious way and then left… is now back. I’m not sure if you remember Ethan, but he’s back and it’s a rather big cock up.”

Stevie - As much as this conversation pains him, Stevie's thankful for it. For starters, they're speaking about it like adults, something he's not too surprised about, given how he and Delilah typically talk to one another. The thing is, once Delilah mentioned Ethan, Stevie's demeanor changed. He abandoned the mop in its bucket and faced her. "Oh..." he said at first as his gaze focused on Delilah's features and body language to gauge what this return meant to her. "Have you talked to him about what happened between you?" He asked and went to take the chairs down and offered Delilah to sit, Stevie taking the one opposite her. "How are you handling this?" Stevie said he would be okay if his ex returned, but that doesn't mean a storm of tumultuous emotions wouldn't brew underneath the surface.

Delilah -To say she was a bit of a mess about everything would be an understatement. Ethan leaving and torn something out of her that she was only just mending, only for him to walk back into her life. She sat down opposite Stevie, grateful that he still wanted to talk to her even though she didn’t exactly fully return his feelings. “We talked yeah… He said that he realized he messed up, that he wants to settle down and make a life for himself.” She pursed her lips then, crossing her arms over her chest. She hadn’t fully opened up about the Ethan issue with anyone yet, scared to know how her friends would react. “I feel…. Confused. My feelings aren’t as gone as I thought they were, but I’m still quite hurt. We- don’t have to talk about this if it’s odd.” Guilt ebbed in her and she hoped she wasn’t making Stevie uncomfortable.

Stevie - With a sympathetic gaze, Stevie took hold of Delilah’s hand and clasped it between his much larger ones. “We can talk about as much or as little when it comes to Ethan. You mentioned the guy to me in passing, but I never got what happened. Is it okay for me to ask why he suddenly left? Did this happen when you lived here or elsewhere?” If it was elsewhere then Ethan deciding on Bearcreek to be the place to settle will seem as if he wants a second chance…

Delilah - She looked at their joined hands, taking slight pleasure in the fact that his hands practically consumed hers due to the size difference. Her blue eyes closed and she let out a small sigh. She really was grateful for him. “We were friends and then it got to be more and it got intense and it was like we were dating? And I guess it went too hard too fast for him and he left.” She looked up at Stevie then, “it happened here, so he’s come home. So I can’t be too mad about him coming home but…” her smaller hand squeezed the hand clasped with hers. “I’ll be grand, I just have to take some time.”

Stevie -It’s as if a puzzle piece clicked in, and Stevie sees why Delilah is careful for anything to transpire between them. She’s already been through this with a friend, and the aftermath left her without that close connection with Ethan that she once had. It slightly pained him, but he’ll be okay. But will she with this current situation? She says she’ll be, but Ethan’s the one who left her when things got too serious. Stevie would struggle with that if he’s in Delilah’s shoes. “Has he mentioned trying to pick up where you left off?”

Delilah - Her chat with Ethan had been in her mind on repeat, the only thing that was distracting her was work. Though it felt nice to talk about it with Stevie, it was still fresh and hard to wrap her head around. “He has, but I’m not ready for that. I dont really fancy getting my heart broken again. I’ve told him I’m down to being friends and getting to know one another again, but as of right now I’m protecting myself… do you think that’s the right course of action?”

Stevie - “He wants to pick up where he left off with the more-than-friends part.” Stevie asked after he realized he wasn’t clear with the initial question. “I-“ He paused to think about this. What would he do? Could he return to a friend with his last ex? He was able to with exes before her, but the last one brutalized his heart. “I think you’ve made the right choice. Trying to pretend he doesn’t exist and avoid him at all costs isn’t realistic. It sounds like you have things to work through if restoring that friendship is important for you and him. But it’ll get tricky not to fall back into the familiarity of how good things felt when it was more than friendship.” They’re adults; there’s no point in pretending sex doesn’t happen. He’s stupidly fallen into that with his ex when she returned to visit her family over Christmas.

Delilah - A slow nod came from her at his words. The affirmation that she was doing the right thing was welcome. Even if it was probably hard for Stevie to hear what she was saying. Delilah had to admit that it would be difficult to not fall into patterns with Ethan. She had needs, and seeing him even with all the pain brought back passion filled memories. “I will admit that’s what I’m most afraid of. I have a hard time withholding from myself when it comes to … certain aspects of being more than friends so, I will most likely just be working much, much more to mitigate that.” Delilah squeezed his hand again and offered him a small smile. “You really are very good Stevie. I’m so lucky to know you… thank you for listening to me and not pushing me away when I teased you about your crush.”

Stevie - You’ll do great, Delilah. I know you’ll at least try your best. If there’s a slip, don’t do what I did and beat yourself up for months.” Stevie’s one to find things he likes about other people. The beauty in it. However, it takes a lot for him to fall head over heels, so he keeps gravitating towards an ex who wronged him in the worst way. The hand squeeze brought Stevie back, and he hoped it wouldn’t be too painful to see Delilah with someone else, wishing it was him instead. “Hey,” he said, his voice low yet sincere. “That’s what friends are for, yeah? We can talk about anything. Which includes teasing.” He offered a sweet smile and soon let go of her hand. “I better finish this mop job, and before you offer, I’ll take care of it, Del. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

Delilah- Her blue eyes assessed him, knowing that even despite his words, if she did slip up with Ethan that she'd most likely be chastising herself for a while afterwards. It was just human nature. She offered him a small smile, hoping that despite his crush, they could always remain friends. losing his friendship wasn't something Delilah really wanted to experience. "You finish up the mopping and get out of here, I've kept you far too late. I've got to go tidy up the freezer." She replied, attempting to not dwell on how cold she felt after Stevie let go of her hand.

Stevie - At least Delilah didn’t insist on finishing his mop job. “You got it, boss.” He said, lifting the two chairs onto the table again. Stevie watched as Delilah left, feeling an instant pang of loneliness. Why is it so hard for him to get out and date? It feels the few relationships he’s had were with people he’d grown close to, and their absence from his life sucks. Reaching out to his most recent ex is a mistake, but he’s someone he used to turn to about everything, and he doesn’t want to talk to Delilah about his feelings after the talk they just had. Stevie shook his head and set himself to work. Maybe he’ll go to Troubletones after work and put himself out there. Or he can talk to Sam about dating app advice. Something is better than nothing.

[aisyahstateofmind]

Design Manifesto

Our design manifesto consists of a few rules we live by when it comes to design. Some are technical, some are more wise. Some of mine are “I’ll always listen to Ariana Grande as I work”- I wrote this because as I continue to evolve as a designer, my choice of music always stays the same. I could listen to her acoustic, live, her instrumentals alone… there’s just something about her music that keeps my momentum going!

Asking questions and not being afraid falls under the same line to me. I find that asking questions can be so scary sometimes. I’m scared of what people might think of me when I reach out for help. But it can be much scarier suffering in silence. Back in Year 1, I was still new to the concept of college and still adjusting to the transition from secondary school. I struggled so much in Digital skills where we were first introduced to Photoshop. The tutorials and lectures went by so fast and it was hard to keep up. I couldn’t even start my assignments simply because I didn’t know how to. It took me a long time to muster the courage to ask my lecturer in-charge for some guidance. He was more than willing to help me and made sure I understood. After that, asking questions became a much easier task for me. It’s not as anxiety-inducing as it was back then compared to now. 

‘I’m open to trying new things’ is something I’ve been trying to practise. As I’m heading towards internships soon, I have to be more open-minded. This means working alongside new people, trying out new styles. I’m currently experiencing this across all my modules. Group work becomes more consistent and I’m forced to be out of my bubble. My sister always tells me stories from her internship, and she tells me the most important thing when stepping into a new company is to be open to collaborating. The work I start will eventually be passed on to someone else, and everybody gets a say in what the outcome turns out to be. 

Even my lecturers say the same thing, that’s why our workspaces are massive, to encourage collaboration.

Lastly, this isn’t a part of my group manifesto, but it is a part of my own. It’s to stand by my values at all times. What I mean by this is to always speak up and not let my ideas be drowned out. In class, ideas are often exchanged and along the way, they’re overlooked or misunderstood. In CTS, we learn to practise self integrity. If I like something, I’ll stand up for it. In Studio, I had a consultation with my lecturer and we were not on the same page with a poster I designed. He thought it looked ‘off’ and so I had to back myself up with my concept, the message I intended to convey through the poster. Afterwards, it slowly started to make sense and he eventually grew to like it.

495 words

[marvelmusing]

An Era of Power

Part Eight

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just as you and Aleksander begin to grow closer, Baghra issues a warning that has you questioning everything.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: I have reread and rewritten this like a million times, but I think I’m finally happy with the direction we’re going in.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Aleksander follows you as you lead the two of you through the hallways of the palace. The majority of the guests are still outside or climbing into their coaches before departing for the evening.

Whenever you catch his eye you can see the confusion, as he tries to figure out where you’re taking him. His frown deepens when you open a door leading to a servant’s hallway, your footsteps echoing in the space as you reach the far doorway.

The wood creaks as you open the door, and you tug on Aleksander’s hand once you’ve surveyed the empty stables. Soon you find the corner where you had stashed your cloak after your last trek out of the palace.

Letting go of Aleksander’s hand, you unbutton the front of your kefta, and fold the material carefully before you tuck it away safely. You raise a brow at him, and he unbuttons his kefta while you search for a spare cloak for him.

He hands you his kefta, which you place on top of yours as he shrugs the dark cloak around his shoulders.

“And what will we do if someone discovers our keftas together, abandoned in the stables?” He teases. Your cheeks warm as you shake your head at his implication and he smiles widely.

It’s easy enough for the two of you to slip out of the palace. With all the nobles and their carriages, and the performers with their carts and stalls, no one notices two figures walking hand in hand down the small path that leads to Os Alta.

The breeze has stilled, and your cloak provides ample warmth. Nevertheless, Aleksander keeps you close to his side as you walk together.

“Will you grant me some sort of clue to our destination?” He asks, and you smile up at him. The moonlight above you shines down beautifully on his face, highlighting each of his features with a delicate glow.

“I’m going to show you how I’ve spent my Winter Fete over the last few years.”

»»---------------------►

The tavern door creaks as it opens, but with the rumble of conversation and laughter inside, no one even glances at you and Aleksander as you settle at a table tucked away in the corner.

You laugh at Aleksander’s disgruntled expression as he sips on the watered-down alcohol you had purchased from the grey-haired man at the bar. Your own face crinkles when the liquid meets your lips, but you insist to him that the disgusting drinks are an important part of the experience.

If there’s one thing you’ve noticed about Aleksander is that he observes people in the same way you do - with intrigue and placidity. Of course, there’s a little detachment from it all as well on your part. These people are all tiny moments in your very long life.

What you always forget is that Aleksander observes you as well, often without your notice. He leans closer to make himself heard over the hubbub of the tavern.

“You’ve been refilling my drink.”

His eyes meet yours as you turn to face him with parted lips. You’ve been practicing using your power with minimal hand movements, and you’re surprised you had actually managed it.

“I have done no such thing.”

He raises a brow at you, the corner of his mouth quirking, and soon you’re smiling with mischief in your eyes.

“Oh really?” He muses quietly. You nod.

“Are you sure you’re not just drinking very little?”

He narrows his eyes at you and downs a rather impressive amount of the drink. His nose wrinkles and the sight tugs at your heartstrings. He looks like a small boy forced to eat his vegetables and you laugh quietly.

He turns back to you, and his expression softens at the look on your face.

Against the far wall of the tavern, a collection of musical instruments are being assembled, and you hear people asking around for a fiddle player. It doesn’t take long for them to find one, and soon the musicians are testing their instruments.

Someone calls out a request, and the music begins. Your eyes widen as a familiar tune meets your ears.

“Saints, I haven’t heard this song in years.”

“Neither have I.” Aleksander says softly.

The song in question was popular around a hundred years ago, when most songs were actually stories sung to a tune. This particular song was one of the older ones, with each line of the story the audience was encouraged to sing the accompanying line - continue, continue - in Old Ravkan.

“I doubt they’ll play the original one though.” He hums in agreement, and you’re both surprised when the singer’s recount the Old Ravkan lyrics.

In an instant, you’re singing along softly with a smile on your face. Your smile widens and your cheeks warm when you meet Aleksander’s eyes. He’s looking at you with surprise, and an emotion you can’t quite place.

When the next line begins, his voice joins yours and delight brightens your features. His Old Ravkan is as good as yours.

As the instrumental moment of the song approaches, you stand, and tug on Aleksander’s hand.

“Come dance with me?”

He doesn’t deny you.

Dancing with Aleksander at the Winter Fete had been like something out of a fairytale, every move was a dream as he had swept you into his arms. Being born into nobility, it’s likely he took dancing classes as a child.

What you don’t expect is for him to be good at this kind of dancing. The kind where you need to lift your skirts to keep up with the tempo. The kind where the two of you spin until you can hardly breathe for laughter.

Aleksander’s eyes are aglow with life as he stares down at you, his arm tucked around yours as you spin again. As the song slows for a brief moment, you remember how intense the final portion of music is.

Your smile widens as you lean closer to him.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His own smile twists into a wicked smirk.

“I must warn you; I am particularly quick-footed.”

He’s not wrong. As the music increases its speed, he meets your every turn and step with his own. Neither of you need to think about your next move, you simply bound alongside one another as the music guides you.

You’re both breathless as the song ends, and the people around you clap and cheer their approval. But your eyes are on Aleksander, and his eyes are on yours. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and your gaze falls to his mouth. The crowd surrounding you fades into nothing as Aleksander cups your face, lips meeting yours.

Someone in the crowd nudges against your back, and you’re pressed further into Aleksander’s arms. You both laugh against one another as he fumbles to hold you close. As someone else knocks into Aleksander, he suggests the two of you make your way home and you agree.

It’s rare that you’re outside this late into the night, and the stars shine brightly down upon you both. As you and Aleksander walk along the path that leads back to the Little Palace, you walk in front of him, staring up at the stars as you tug him along.

“I’ve always loved the nighttime.” You say, your words directed up at the starlit sky above you. Aleksander’s voice is small as he confesses,

“When I was a boy, I was afraid of the dark.”

He doesn’t look at you, his gaze is locked on your fingers clasped tightly by his own. You can’t help but imagine a small Aleksander being afraid of the dark, frightened by his shadows that plunge whole rooms into darkness. The stronger a Grisha child is, the harder it often is for them to manage their power. He must have been afraid of himself.

“My sister was afraid of the dark too. Madraya always turned the light off, so I would tell her stories until she fell asleep.”

There’s a pause between you, before Aleksander speaks again.

“She was lucky to have you.” You shake your head.

“I was the lucky one.”

His fingers squeeze yours, and you remember the look in his eyes when you had told him you had lost your sister young. No pity, just understanding. That it still hurt and would likely always hurt.

When you lift your gaze to meet his, you find the same look there. You smile softly at him.

The Little Palace is quiet as the two of you advance towards it, each and every window is darkened as the Grisha inside slumber after a day of partying. Aleksander frowns as you lead him towards one of the side doors on the left side of the building.

“It will be locked.” He tells you as you reach for the door. You simply nod and flatten your palm against the lock.

“It is locked.” Your eyes flutter closed as you summon your power, turning the mechanisms inside back to their original position. The lock clicks and you turn to him with a smile. “And now, it is unlocked.”

His eyes are wide with awe, but he shakes his head as he breathes out a small laugh.

The two of you step into the hallway, and you ensure that the door is locked behind you.

“Thank you.” Aleksander says softly, and you turn to him. “I haven’t had a night like this in a very long time.”

“Neither have I.”

Looking down, you fiddle with the edge of your sleeve. When Aleksander steps closer, you look up. He cups your face in his hand, and you shiver in anticipation as his power flows alongside yours. His head dips down, sealing your lips with his in a tender kiss.

You share a bright smile as you step apart. It’s only once you step away that Aleksander’s expression changes. He reaches towards you, his fingers curling around your bicep as you attempt to walk by him.

“You can’t go back to your rooms now; the night servants will catch you.” You lift a brow at him.

“And they won’t catch you going to your rooms?” 

“My wing is private.” You breathe out a laugh at his almost scandalised tone. Then the corner of his mouth quirks. “And I know a shortcut.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“General Kirigan, are you attempting to whisk me away to your bedchambers?”

“Perhaps I am.” He kisses your cheek. “But only for sleep, you have my word.”

“Lead the way then.”

»»---------------------►

The tune from the tavern is stuck in your head, and you hum the song quietly has you make your way down the corridor towards the Domed Hall for breakfast. 

Early this morning you had awoken next to Aleksander. It was a difficult feat, dragging yourself from under the covers and out of his arms. You can still recall how his dark, messy hair had been illuminated by the beams of light as they casted a soft glow over his bedroom. Whilst he was the one to suggest you leave before the day servants began their duties, he seemed very reluctant to let you go. 

You had kissed his forehead and assured him that he would see you at breakfast. The day after the Winter Fete was considered a Saint’s Day, and Aleksander always ensured to eat his meals alongside his Grisha on such days. 

The corridors are quiet as you walk, and you’re quite lost in your own thoughts - both of Aleksander and of breakfast. 

A bony hand grasps hard onto your forearm, dragging you into a room. It’s a small portrait gallery, but you’re far too alarmed to admire the walls of paintings. When a pair of sharp blue eyes meet yours a part of you relaxes. It’s only Baghra.

But it was also far too early in the morning for you to be dealing with Baghra. Especially when you wanted to go and eat breakfast with Aleksander.

Baghra doesn’t greet you. She simply begins her accusations.

“You spent the night with him.”

Your eyes widen slightly, as you realise that somehow Baghra knows. Then you raise your chin as you regard her.

“Yes, I did.” Her eyes narrow, and you roll your eyes at her with a short laugh. “We didn’t do anything if that eases your conscious.” 

“Foolish girl.” Baghra remarks scornfully and your frown deepens as she continues. “Absolutely no regard for my attempts to help you.”

You scoff immediately,

“When have you ever tried to help me?”

“Last night, I waited for you to return. With all that was happening, it was the only opportunity for you to escape him.”

“Escape him - the General? Why would I need to escape him?”

“To prevent you from living the rest of your life as a slave.”

Pressing your fingertips against your temples, you attempt to smooth out the crease between your brows.

“Baghra speak sense, please. What do you mean?”

“Morozova’s Stag is no ordinary amplifier. Once he has killed the creature, he will place its bones around your neck and your power will be his to control.”

You shake your head but fear still settles into your heart. You swore to yourself that you will never be used for your power again.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“You think you know him?” Baghra’s mouth twists bitterly. “Did he tell you how lonely he was - gave you a glimpse of the wounded boy? Distracted you with pretty words and hopes for your future together?”

Dozens of moments spring to mind, his words overlapping your thoughts. You and I are going to change the world. Such enthusiasm is a rarity these days. When I was a boy, I was afraid of the dark. Were all those words a part of some deception to keep you close?

“You’re lying.” You insist, but your voice wavers.

“I am the only one who knows the truth of what he is. Ambitious, power hungry, and he will stop at nothing to gain absolute control - starting with you.” You shake your head again, leaning heavily against the cabinet behind you.

“I wouldn’t let him.” Baghra scoffs.

“You think your little tricks are enough to stand against a shadow summoner?”

Baghra has always looked down upon your power, as if she knows that you aren’t a real Grisha - just some abomination created by merzost. Aleksander had always seen your power as a marvel. But was that genuine?

“Then what can I do?”

“Kill the Stag before him, though it’s likely he will search for it himself and simply return with your new collar.”

A shudder runs down your spine at the thought of the Stag’s bones being forced upon you, your power being ripped away from you, and used by the one person you have grown to trust.

You can’t imagine Aleksander doing such a thing, which is why these thoughts scare you so much. Would he really do such a thing? Baghra continues to speak, uncaring towards your fragile state.

“There is little else you can do. He will never let you out of his clutches now.”

There’s something like sympathy in her eyes, which confuses you even more. You hardly recognise such an emotion from this woman who has pushed and belittled you ever since you had met. Does this sympathy mean she’s telling the truth?

You shake your head. 

“Why would he need my power? The Stag is the only thing that will help me destroy the Fold. Taking that power from me wouldn’t benefit him.”

“He means to use the Fold as weapon, as he did when it was created.” You go still at her words. What does she mean? 

“The Black Heretic created the Fold. Hundreds of years ago.” Your words are pronounced carefully, and you can hear the questions hidden in them. 

“Child, he is the Black Heretic.”

You’re stunned into silence. Of all the things Baghra has told you, you never expected that. She turns, and you follow the direction she’s looking. The paintings on the walls. Some are of the Little Palace, the lake and woods surrounding the grounds during different seasons. There’s also a number of portraits. All of them are men, and even from here you can see the name beneath them - Kirigan. 

There’s a likeness between the faces that stare out from the intricate paint strokes but surely, it’s a familial likeness, not a secretly-all-the-same-person likeness. 

Baghra must see the numbness in your expression and believe that you have stopped arguing against her. She turns away, and you don’t ask her to stay. You don’t have the strength to ask her anymore questions. 

As the door clicks shut, and the silence closes in on you, your legs wobble and your hands shake. You press your back against the cabinet and slide down to the floor.

You stay there, sitting on the hard floor with the cabinet handle digging into your back as your thoughts consume you. Was Aleksander like you? But did it matter if he was like you, if he was planning to use you? 

All you know is that you can’t face him. You need to think. Your head throbs. You need to stop thinking. 

Somehow, you manage to pull yourself up when your hunger becomes too demanding to ignore. Luckily you had missed breakfast, meaning that you could bypass the Dome Hall and walk straight to the kitchens. It also meant you could avoid Aleksander.

It hurts to even think of him.

A few of the servants smile at you as you walk through the kitchen. It seems like years have passed since you were working alongside them.

One of the maids, Alisa, looks up from where she’s working and smiles easily at you. From your time working at the Little Palace, she had been the closest thing you had to a friend.

“Rough day?” She prompts, a sympathetic look in her eyes as she surveys your face. You sigh softly, breathing out a laugh that feels far too similar to a sob.

“You have no idea.”

Alisa is about to offer some reassurance; she has always been one of the kinder servants. But whatever she was planning to say is interrupted by a remark from a cook.

“Yeah, I’m sure life as a Grisha is real difficult these days.” 

Life as a Grisha has always been difficult. You’ve struggled through centuries of your people being persecuted and looked down upon. Swallowing down the emotion in your throat, you look down at your hands clenched tightly in front of you. When you look up again, you see Alisa watch your expression despite the large tray of burnt fruit pies that she struggles to keep level in her arms. You nod towards the tray as you approach her. 

“Are you throwing those out?” She looks down.

“Oh, yeah.” 

“I’ll do it.” She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please. You’re busy enough as it is.” You also want an excuse to escape the kitchen, and you know she sees it in your eyes. She nods, releasing her hold on the tray. 

“Thank you.” You give her what you hope is a convincing smile and walk towards where the unwanted food is thrown away. Once you’re certain no one is around, you tuck a pie under the cover of your kefta, and throw away the rest of the pies. 

You slot the tray away, and head out of the kitchens without catching anyone’s attention. Winding your way through the corridors, you wait until you’re alone before you lift the pie from under your kefta. Waving a hand over the pie, the pastry encasing the fruit shifts from the scorched black to an enticing golden-brown and your stomach rumbles. 

There is only one place where you will be left alone to think and eat. Where you will have the resources to question all that Baghra has told you.

With this in mind, you head to the libray.

»»---------------------►

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[watchmegetobsessed]

Floating Through Space - Harry Styles

a/n: im literally bursting from excitement over this, i’ve been working on this fic for so long and im pretty satisfied with how it turned out so i hope you’ll like it too! pleas please PLEASE don’t let this flop bc it means a lot to me 🥺 the song featured in the fic is obviously an existing one, i linked it into the right place so you can listen to it and get the vibe of it, that song is what inspired the whole story so i recommend giving it a listen! leave your thoughts and reactions, i can’t wait to read what you thought about the fic!!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

warning: drug use, smut and everything thats wrong with patriarchy lmao

word count: 25.7k

masterlist

This dressing room is no different than the other one thousand you’ve been to. The plaster on the wall is all cracked up, the red bricks peeking from under it in the corner, the dusty couch looks like it’s been through hell and just sitting on it would probably give you STDs. The mirror on the wall is cracked, the few water bottles you’ve gotten are not even cooled, they’re a warm room temperature. The glorious life of a musician, right?

Moments like this you question why you didn’t just choose to be the obedient daughter and became a surgeon like your parents always wanted you to be. You’d have a steady future and a nice income, a decent career instead of having to perform at a different bar every other night for nicks and pennies that barely cover your rent at the end of the month. But that wouldn’t be you. Wearing scrubs, smiling at patients, throwing out your dignity along with your dreams, you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you chose that life. Besides, you’d still be in school, barely nearing the halfpoint of your education if you decided to go along with your parents’ plan and it’s clearer than daylight that the school system is just not for you. It would be pure torture if you had to sit in classes for a decade just to work a job you never even wanted.

Looking around the small dressing room you cast your eyes over your band that consists of three people. It’s a temporary set up from three guys you met along your way, all of the struggling musicians as you and you saw the as opportunities. Places would rather have a band play with several men in it than just put one single woman on stage and pray for the best. It’s the sexist part of the industry not enough people talk about. You can’t even count how many pitying stares you’ve gotten through the years when you stated that you want to make a career as a solo female singer.

“Honey, you ain’t making it without at least one man behind you,” is what they’ve always told you. So you’ve gotten yourself three until you could stand on your own two feet without a male backup. You’re using them just as much as they are using you. They were already a band when you joined them, the lead singer just disappeared to thin air with her boyfriend and left them incomplete, so you joined forces to navigate your way together in the depth of the music industry, looking for that big jump everyone is dreaming about.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror you fix your eyeliner, checking yourself once again. Your thrifted checkered suit looks radiant on you especially with the neon green see-through top underneath, showing off a black bralette. It’s a male suit, hanging a little baggy on you at places, but you still feel like you’re pulling off the look. Your thick eyeliner makes your eyes appear even bigger than they already are and your hair is in an unruly mop of curls, making your appearance complete.

You’ve received tons of critiques over your outfits, but they are the only thing you are not changing on yourself.

“Don’t wear men’s pants.”

“You’d look better in a dress.”

“Why do you look like a guy?”

“What a shame to hide such a gorgeous body in clothes that weren’t meant for girls.”

Each and every comment is burned into your mind forever and you’ll never stop fighting against the judgment women has to face for not being the conventional beauty all females are expected to be.

There’s a knock on the door and the person behind it barges in without waiting for an answer. The tall, bald guy rushes in, looking a little stressed, but that’s kind of the normal for the owner.

“I’m not sure how to say it, but… you are not performing tonight,” he simply states and your anger sets in faster than ever. You’ve had gigs get cancelled, but not minutes before going on stage. However, he is still not done with his little informative speech. “And your instruments need to be used by another band tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Trey, the drummer jumps to his feet. “No way I’m letting someone else play my drum set!”

“You’ll get half the money if you let it happen,” the owner answers.

“Wait, what band did you find minutes before start?” you ask in complete shock.

“There’s this group celebrating a birthday in the VIP section and some boy band is apparently with them. Birthday girl requested to have the stage for them.”

“And you’re just cancelling on us that easily?” you snap.

“Not that I have a choice. If I don’t do it they are leaving and I’m losing a big amount from the night. Sorry guys, but this is strictly business.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you laugh bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. This would have been a great chance for all of you, you’ve been trying to get a gig here for months, knowing that a lot of people from the industry fancies it, you might have caught someone’s eyes, but it’s definitely not happening now.

“Are you letting them use your stuff or not?” he urges, hands on his hips as he looks at the four of you impatiently.

“But what about our gig? We’ve been on the waiting list for months, when can we actually perform?”

“Uh, I don’t know. We’re pretty booked, maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Summer?” you gasp in disbelief. “It’s fucking February!”

“Are you lending them your stuff or not? I don’t have the time for your little tantrum!”

“Yeah, if we get the money they can use it,” Connor, the bass guitarist answers before you explode right then and there. The owner walks out with that, leaving the four of you behind, forgotten and humiliated.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Trey groans, plopping down on the couch, covering his eyes with his tattooed arm.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you scoff under your breath, reaching for your bag to grab your pack of cigarettes you keep in it especially for cases like this, whenever you are about to go around and punch every living thing in the face in your reach.

Kicking the backdoor open you lean against the cold brick wall as you light the cigarette and start puffing vigorously, trying to get as much nicotine into your system as possible. You notice a group of guys standing near you in the alleyway, laughing on something, having a great time, oblivious to how hurt and angry you are feeling just a few feet away. You hear frictions of their conversation and it’s clear they are British judging from the accents that are hitting your ears. You finish your cigarette pretty fast and immediately reach for another one even though you know you shouldn’t have even smoked that first one, but you just can’t help it. It’s either the smoking or you’re going after the owner and kick him in the balls for being a bitch.

“Oi, can I ask for one?”

Glancing to the side you see that one of the guys has approached you, smiling at you warmly he nods towards the pack in your hands. Nodding you hold it out for him and he takes one. Before he could even ask for the lighter, you throw it at him and he catches it easily.

“Thanks,” he nods, holding the cigarette between his lips before lighting it and passing the lighter back to you.

“Lou, you really shouldn’t smoke,” you hear one of the others speak up as the rest of the group slowly joins you and the one you just helped out.

“S’fine, don’t act like me motha’,” he shrugs, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“At least not before we go on stage,” the blonde one shakes his head at his friend and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, so you’re the band that’s gonna play?” you ask with a forced smile, already feeling your blood boiling. Who the fuck they are and why do they deserve to steal your gig?!

“We’re just playing a couple of songs,” another speaks up shrugging his shoulders. “No big deal.”

“Glad it’s no big deal to you, because it would have been to the band that was robbed from tonight because of you,” you spat at them, clearly surprising them with your harsh reply.

“I assume you are part of that band, right?” the on with the curly hair speaks up, his green eyes burning down at you.

“Nice job, Sherlock,” you groan, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“You could play with us,” he offers, the others nodding in agreement.

“I don’t need your pity,” you scowl at them. “Bringing me on stage to try to make yourselves look like the good guys is not necessary. I’m just fed up with people like you.” The truth is coming out of you easier than ever. All the years on injustice is seemingly erupting from you, pouring down on these five.

“People like us?” the dark haired one asks with a confused look.

“Yeah,” you nod with a bitter chuckle. “Five conventionally hot guys grouped together for a band, making every girl between the age of ten and thirty scream just by a wink. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m betting my head that you’ve had it easier than others.”

“It’s not nice to assume things when you don’t know anything about us,” Curly speaks up, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I’ve seen enough not to care about what’s nice and what’s not,” you chuckle shaking your head as you take another long puff from your cigarette and throw the butt to the ground, stepping on it. “Who are you even? Some Back Street Boys 2.0?” you ask, folding your arms on your chest, earning a heartfelt laugh from the blondie.

“I kinda like her,” he smirks around his friends. “We’re called One Direction, you haven’t heard of us?”

“Not even once,” you shake your head.

“That’s kinda humbling,” the one with the cigarette smiles. “We’re from the UK. I’m Louis, that’s Liam, Niall, Zayn and Harry.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you guys didn’t just take my gig and lessen me with half my paycheck,” you smile at them sweetly before rolling your eyes.

“Wait, what? They’re not paying you because of us?” Liam asks.

“We only get half the money for lending you our instruments.”

“Let us pay the other half then,��� Harry offers right away, but you just laugh at him.

“It’s not about the money, Prince Harry,” you smirk at him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s about justice. How is that air that you just waltz in here and take our time and chance? What if there’s a producer out there who would have liked our music and offered a record deal? What if someone would have taken a video of us performing, put it up to YouTube and it would have gone viral? I assume you never had to go through this phase where you have to beg for every minute on stage so you can at least earn enough money to pay rent. You don’t seem like the type of band who had to perform in smelly bars four times a week for a ridiculous amount of money.”

They stay silent and you know you were right.

“I’m not saying you had it easy, but I’m sure you have no idea what it could have been. And I’m fed up with men walking over others just to have what they want.”

“Look, it wasn’t our intention to ruin your gig. Have your set with your band and then we’ll play a few songs too after that,” Liam offers, but you shake your head.

“No, we weren’t supposed to be just your opening act and it’ll turn into that. So have a nice evening, enjoy your showtime, I’m out.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall you walk back into the building and grabbing your stuff from the dressing room you move out to the bar area, desperately needing a drink.

Sitting on the last stool at the bar you ask for straight tequila and two vodka shots knowing it’ll do the job for the evening and pulling your phone out of your bag, you open up Google. Searching the name One Direction you’re met with quite a few hits and you start scrolling through them, reading about the five boys you just had an encounter with. Just as you thought, they didn’t start off as a traditional band, having put together at a talent show just three years ago, getting such a major push so early in their career, they have no idea how struggling it is to make it in the industry. They surely had their fair share of ups and downs, but they will never know what it’s like to sweat blood and tears for your dream when everyone just wants to drag you down and tell you you’ll never make it.

The shots and half of the tequila is gone, your band joined you to at least get wasted as you watch the technicians set the stage for a band that’s not you, but gonna play with your stuff. Sitting on the stool you’re having a fairly good time thanks to the alcohol when you spot Harry making his way towards you in the crowd.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready backstage?” you ask with an eyeroll as he joins your little circle, the guys eyeing him curiously. Ignoring your comment he pulls out a piece of paper handing it to you. As you unfold it you almost want to throw it back at him.

“This is to make up for what you lost tonight,” he says nodding down at the check in your hands.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” you firmly answer, but Trey grabs the check from your hands.

“But I do!” he snorts. He is such a pig.

“Let us do at least this one thing for you. We really do feel bad for taking your time and the offer to come on stage with us still stands.”

“No thank you,” you shoot him a fake smile before downing the rest of your tequila, the drink burning down your throat. Looking back at Harry you keep your eye locked on him as he watches you intently. He is a good-looking guy, you have to give that to him, but the circumstances you’ve met under just made it impossible for you not to hate him for the privileges he is being handed every day while you fight your way through life.

Harry sighs in defeat nodding as he licks his lips. For a split second, guilt takes over you for the way you’ve been acting towards him and the other boys, but then you remember that you don’t even know him. For all you know, he can be a royal asshole with the face of an angel. You can’t let guilt chew you and spit you out, you have to keep your guards up.

“Alright. We really are sorry. I’ll… see you around,” he nods before turning around to walk away.

You watch them perform their biggest hits, the whole place going crazy over the impromptu One Direction concert they just got for basically free. The VIP area is going crazy over the boys and with each sang song, you feel yourself getting more and more hopeless about your future as a musician. Here you are on a Saturday night, robbed from a job you’ve worked hard for, watching five British boys take your place on the stage that’s supposed to be yours tonight. You catch Harry’s eyes quite often while he is on stage, he keeps glancing in your way, a hint of guilt glistening in his green irises as he sings their songs with perfect vocals. You can tell he feels bad for the situation and you didn’t make it any easier on him or any of the boys, but you’re not really one to beat around the bush. They deserved to know what others in the industry below them have to deal with every day. It’s not always as glamorous as people might think and you’re the living example of that.

You don’t stick around for long after the boys are done on stage, you help your bandmates pack their stuff and head home before Harry or any other members of One Direction can find you.

Walking past the news stand that’s on the corner of your street, you stop upon seeing your own face smiling back at you from the cover of People Magazine, the title catching your attention.

“Grammy nominee Y/N Y/L/N shares her secret to her one of a kind fashion style.”

Grabbing the magazine off the stand you pay for it and continue your way home, holding the copy to your chest with a warm feeling in your heart.

It’s been only a week since the nominations have come out, but it still feels like a dream. You didn’t just get nominated in the category of Best New Artist, but your album Hands of Power got nominated as Best Album and your biggest hit of last year, Sleepless is running for the title of Best song. Three nominations the first time earning a spot on the list. Not bad.

Just as you walk into your place, your phone buzzes, the ever so smiling face of your manager staring back at you from the screen.

“Hey!” you sing into the phone, holding it to your ear with your shoulder, taking off your boots as you walk further down the hallway.

“Are you home already?”

“Yes, just arrived.”

“Great, I’ll be there in ten,” she announces and ends the call. Chuckling you just shake your head, dropping the phone to the coffee table before you move to the bedroom and change into something more comfortable. The flared jeans looked fire on you today, but you rather wear something looser when you’re at home.

You barely have the time to start the water for a tea when Taylor storms through your door using her keys you’ve given her some time ago. She is wearing all white that looks fantastic with her almond skin tone, a knitted sweater tucked into a maxi skirt, paired with strappy heels, she is always so elegant and perfectly dressed for whatever occasion.

“I have knee-shaking news, girl!” she announces as she throws her purse to the couch before joining you in the kitchen.

“I’m going to be the next Bond girl?” you joke smiling to yourself as you get two mugs from the cupboard.

“Better than that!” she cheers. “You are going to perform at the Grammy’s, baby!” she screams throwing her hands into the air as your jaw drops to the floor.

“You’re not just kidding with me, right?!”

“I would never play such a dirty joke with you. It’s one hundred percent true, I had an hour long phone call with some bloke today and they want you.”

“Yes!” you scream in excitement, jumping up and down like a child that just got a pack of candy. “I’ll make the Grammy’s my bitch!” you cheer, making Taylor laugh.

“Alright, Miss Dominatrix. We still have a lot of things to discuss and there’s one more thing about the performance.”

“Oh God, is this the part where you say something that ruins it completely?” you sigh in defeat as you take the kettle and pour the water into the mugs, dropping a filter into each.

“I don’t think it ruins it,” she shakes her head, but you have a feeling you won’t like what she has to say. “They want it to be like a… joined performance. You’d start off with Sleepless, then it would kind of mesh into your partner’s song and they would end it with one of their own songs.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad,” you nod.

“See?” she smiles warmly.

“Do we know who I’m going to perform with?”

“Harry Styles.”

You almost drop both mugs the moment the name is mentioned, but you manage to get them to the kitchen island and slip them to the counter, Taylor giving you a questioning look at your wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s… gonna work,” you clear your throat.

“You’re not sure your duet with the biggest male artist can work? Why is that?”

Licking your lips you try to find the right words to say it, but you’re not even sure why you got so shocked over it. Probably because the last time you saw him, you were still nobody, playing gigs at no name bars and he took your spot on the stage with One Direction. It’s weird, but since you’ve finally made it in the industry, you haven’t crossed paths with him and this would be the first time you meet after seven years.

“I’m not sure if he remembers it, but we’ve met before.”

“You and Harry?”

“Yes. I was playing with The Gambits years ago, it was before I started putting out covers on my own. We were supposed to play at this bar but they cancelled on us, because One Direction was there that night and someone wanted them to play instead of us, so we lost the gig. I had a pretty… harsh conversation with him and the band, basically telling them that their pretty man privilege is what ruins the careers of talented women.” “Oh Jesus, Y/N. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Taylor sighs leaning on her elbows on the countertop.

“Not that it’s something that would just come up in a conversation,” you shrug. “And as I said, he might not even remember it. It was a long time ago.”

“I know you are all about your rebellious past, good for you, but sometimes you’re making my job really fucking hard,” she sighs, grabbing her phone, already typing a message to God knows who. “Starting beef with Harry Styles before you even made a name for yourself? Who does that?”

“It’s not beef!” you protest. “I just gave them my piece of mind.”

“We’ll see what he thinks about it. I have to make a few calls,” she announces before walking out, already on the phone with someone.

Sitting on a stool, staring into your mug you think back at the time you met him. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were fighting to stay afloat, trying to make through the days, barely hanging on a thread. You didn’t know that five years later you’d sign your first record deal as a solo artist and seven years from that night, you’d be a Grammy nominee. It was a long and challenging time for sure with way more downs than ups until you finally got on track and you’ll never forget where you came from. Not when even as an acknowledged artist, you still face judgment and hatred no matter what you do. Being a solo female singer sometimes feels like harder than being president of the country and there are just so many things that need to change in the world of music, you will never stop fighting for girls that are in the same shoe you once were.

Through the years you’ve followed the career of the boys, especially Harry’s. You read about Zayn’s parting, their so-called hiatus and how they all went solo soon after. Genre-wise Harry’s work is what stands the closest to you, and you’ve witnessed all the backlash he has faced during his time in the spotlight. The shaming for whatever women he chose to date, his choice to get into acting and the way he has been dressing. People just don’t seem to understand they can’t have control over any of these and they’ve tried to bring him down one too many times, but he has been thriving lately, anyone can see that.

Your mug empties out by the time Taylor returns, taking her previous stop at the kitchen island.

“Alright, I set up a meeting with Harry and his manager for tomorrow. They still haven’t decided on the performance and apparently, Harry would like to meet you before giving his answer.”

“Oh God, he remembers me,” you growl under your breath.

“Or maybe he doesn’t and just wants to meet the person he is supposed to perform with. We can never know. We’re meeting them at his manager’s office at eleven tomorrow.”

One night is enough to make you go crazy over such a small thing as meeting someone. It’s not like you are nervous to see him because of who he is, it’s more about knowing what he thinks about you after all these years, in case he remembers you. He saw you as a struggling artist at rock bottom and though your encounter didn’t last long and he didn’t know you on a deeper, personal level, you still fear that he remembers and thinks that you’ve lost yourself over the years.

Authenticity has been a huge issue in your life. Early in your career, everyone wanted to change you. The way you dress, your hair, the style of music you write, nothing was good enough as it was, they wanted you to become someone else, someone who was not you. You fought all attempts until the right person came through and accepted you as yourself, but a tiny voice in the back of your mind kept telling you that they succeeded, that somewhere along the fight you did lose yourself and became what you always feared to be.

Meeting Harry is like meeting a piece of your past and having to face what you’ve become. It’s going to be like a mirror right in front of you and what you’ll see might not be what you expect.

Wearing your bright red dungaree with an oversized vintage shirt and a pair of white sneakers, you definitely don’t look like you’re dressed for a business meeting, but when did you ever? Pushing your hair back with a pair of cat eye shades, you leave a little earlier, knowing well traffic is horrible in these hours. You arrive to the office building just minutes before eleven, Taylor has already texted that she has arrived and which office you should come to. When you finally find the door you’ve been looking for, you take a moment to yourself before knocking.

“Come in!” a male voice calls out and you walk in. Taylor is sitting on the sofa that’s pushed against the wall on the left, a man is sitting behind the enormous desk and then there is Harry, standing by the window, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black slacks, and old Rolling Stones t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame as his eyes meet yours upon your arrival.

“Hey, I would say I’m sorry for being late, but I’m actually exactly on time,” you smirk, closing the door behind you. The man stands from the desk and walking around he meets at the front, holding a hand out for you.

“Perfectly on time,” he smiles warmly. “I’m Jeffrey Azoff, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”

“And this here is Harry,” he motions towards the man who has stepped closer and as you look back at him, you’re met with a blank expression for a moment so you can’t figure out if he remembers you or not. But then, a tiny smile tugs on his lips as he holds his hand out for you.

“We’ve met before, right?” he simply questions, and your eyes flicker over to Taylor in a kind of “See? I told you!” manner before you look back at Harry and shake his hand.

“Yeah, we have,” you nod. “A long time ago.”

“Congrats for your nominations,” he smirks, his hand letting go of yours and your let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, thank you. Back at you.”

“Alright, why don’t we start this discussion? We have a lot to go over,” Jeff suggests and you sit beside Taylor while Harry stays near the window, as if he is trying to soak up the sunshine coming through it that’s painting his skin a golden shade.

The concept is simple. The performance would be a mashup from Sleepless and Harry’s song Golden with an exciting and fresh way of mixing the two songs together in the middle, making your song flow into his in a smooth and effortless way. The songs sound compatible and you already have an idea how to mash them together for the transition, but you can’t help but feel doubts over the performance.

“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.

“Not to come off too harsh, but why is my song the first one?” you ask, earning a few puzzled looks. “If Harry finishes it off, he is going to be the one people will remember more and he’ll get the applause as well. The riffs in the songs allow them to be switched, how come it’s not me who comes second?”

You can see the shock on Jeffrey’s face at how straight-forward you were about your concern and that you even dared to speak up about the issue. He clearly hasn’t had to face anything similar before and when he glances at Harry you follow his gaze as well, but instead of shock, what you see on his face is amusement. He is smirking, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares back at you.

“She has a point,” he nods and you take a deep breath. For a moment, you really thought this is going to be the part where you are thrown off and Harry makes the performance only his.

“I, uhh—this is what’s been requested,” Jeff answers and you tilt your head.

“Okay, can we make a request to change it?” you simply ask, eyeing Taylor next to you who is typing on her iPad vigorously, taking notes of everything that’s said. She is already used to what you’re like, she is not even surprised you came up with the prompt to change.

“Hold on, so just because you want to be second, you get to be?” Harry questions, but he doesn’t come off as harsh, it seems like he is entertained by the conversation. “Does this mean I don’t deserve to be the second one?”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” you answer, taken aback from his accusation and you hate to admit, but he is right. You addressed the issue, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spot either.

“Alright, so then we need to seek a solution that benefits the both of us,” he offers, walking closer from the sunlight and you follow his every movement.

“We could do some kind of medley? Do an ultimate mashup from more songs and have more smaller parts split between us, finishing it together,” you suggest and he nods.

“That could work, but I have something else on my mind.”

“And what would that be?” Jeff asks, a little lost about the situation as he watches the two of you exchange ideas.

“We could write a song together, a duet, and perform that instead of our solo stuff.”

“What?” you snap right away. “You want to write a whole new song just for the Grammy’s?”

“Why not?” he smiles carefreely. “We have almost two entire months to do it, albums have been written in shorter periods, I’m sure we can handle just one song. And I think a collaboration would be a hit for the both of us now.”

You look at Taylor who just stares back at you, ignoring the panic in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she tells you. “I can see the collaboration working, it could be a huge hit.”

“And what, we’re gonna release it as a single after the show? Whose song is it going to be? I don’t have an album coming up until next year, do you get to have it on your third one then?”

“We can put it out as just a single. No one has to have it on any albums,” Harry replies. “If we released it after the show, it would be just the right timing. Neither of us had any new songs out in a while.” Clenching your jaw you’re trying to find a way out of this collaboration, though you’re not even sure yourself why. Taylor sees right through you, knowing well you’re planning your escape, but she has other plans apparently.

“Y/N, let’s have a few words outside,” she pushes herself up and pulls you with her. Once the door is shut behind the two of you she starts right away. “What the fuck is your problem? The song is a huge thing, it would be an instant hit with him on it!”

“Why do I need a song with him to stay relevant?” you question, folding your arms on your chest.

“No one said it’s about that. But we both know it would be a great push to your name that Jordan has stomped over not so long ago, calling you a Feminist Nazi.”

“Don’t even fucking mention him!” you whisper yell, refusing to even think about that trashbag of a man that ruined your life with his fake accusations.

“Look, I know what you are thinking, that you’ll be seen as just an object next to him, a pair of boobs and nice legs, but that’s not his brand. He doesn’t need you to be sexy next to him, he is known for his honest and real works that go farther than just twerking and being a hoe. We both know he produces meaningful music, so why are you so against it?”

“I just… I-I’m scared to work with him,” you finally admit and it’s the first thing today that surprises Taylor.

“Scared? Thought you’re not scared of anything,” she huffs.

“I never said that,” you give her a look. “Harry met me when I was nobody, it was just me and my big mouth, trying to find my breakout. What if we start working together and he sees that I completely lost that version of myself? I would feel like a liar, an impostor.”

“You are overreacting,” Taylor sighs. “You’ve changed on your way here, but I doubt you are that far from the girl he met before. I know we didn’t meet just a few years after, but I can assure you, you’re still that big-mouthed pain in the ass who fights every norm in the industry like no one else.”

You know she is right, she is always right. Taylor knows you too well, that’s why you love working with her, but sometimes, her honesty throws you way off, especially when she is stating the truth.

The two of you rejoin the two men in the office and they both look at you with anticipation as you fold your arms on your chest and move your gaze over to Harry.

“I would… love to work on a song with you.”

When you agreed to work with Harry you didn’t think you’d find yourself heading over to his house a few days later to have a writing session, but he offered right away that day in the office and Taylor accepted it before you could protest. You’ve had a day filled with meetings and fittings and now you’re rolling up his driveway after punching the security code in that he shared with you over text.

You’ve exchanged numbers on the spot and just like that, you’ve become one of the few people on this world that could contact Harry Styles anytime they want to.

You chose to be casual for the occasion, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie, you like to be comfortable whenever you’re working on new music and Harry’s presence won’t change your ways about that. You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest you’re still afraid of being alone with Harry and do such an emotional thing together as writing a song.

The front door opens just as you get out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Harry walks out wearing a pair of shorts and a green hoodie, looking like he hasn’t left the house all day.

“Hey, you found the address easily?” he asks smiling as you walk up to him.

“Yeah, everything went fine.”

“Do you want something to drink or eat maybe?” he offers as the two of you walk inside. If you’re being honest, you’re starving, the last time you had anything to eat was between two meetings around ten, but nothing since then, just a granola bar. But you’re a first time guest, you can’t just eat up his fridge, like you’re old pals, right?

However, Harry can see right through you.

“You haven’t had anything in a long time, right?” he softly asks and you purse your lips, feeling awkward already and you haven’t been here for more than two minutes. “I can make you a sandwich, if you’d like.” “Harry, no need, I—“ “No need, but I want to. Come on,” he nods at you, making you follow him into the kitchen. “So, who would have thought we would be here now, huh?” he smirks at you as he gathers the ingredients and starts working on your food while you sit on one of the stools at his kitchen island.

“Not me,” you admit chuckling. “I kind of didn’t think I would see you again, I mean, personally. I was seeing you a lot on TV after that.”

“Now might be a good time to confess that, that night wasn’t the last time I saw you.”

“What?”

“I went to one of your gigs a few weeks later. Stayed at the back, I just really wanted to see you play.”

“And what did you think?” you ask tilting your head to the side. Harry smirks, his eyes meeting yours before they return to the food under his hands.

“You absolutely smashed it. And I felt even worse for taking your time away that night. The people were robbed from a mind-blowing performance and had to see five annoying guys clown on the stage,” he laughs making you chuckle too. “I wasn’t surprised when your name surfaced a few years later. Knew you’d make it at one point.” He joins you at the island and slides the plate in front of you with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” you mumble smiling shyly before you start eating and only after the first bite you feel just how hungry you’ve been. “Now that we are at it, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you guys back then. I feel like I was a bigger asshole than I should have been and the whole situation wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“No need to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You were absolutely right. We had no business being on stage that night and what you said actually made us think about where we came from and appreciate our career more. You were right about having it easy at the beginning. We never had the phase where we had to push our way to the top like other artists, our first days were broadcasted on TV, giving us the biggest push ever.”

It’s good to hear he is not holding grudges against you for whatever went down in the past. You eat in silence while Harry types a response to a message on his phone before turning it with the screen down to pay his full attention to you.

“I actually just messaged Niall that we are working together and he is losing his shit over it,” he chuckles softly.

“You guys still talk?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Not all of us thought,” he adds, pressing his lips together.

“You miss being with the band?”

“It’s… good to rely on someone in certain situations. As a solo artist, you only have yourself and that’s about it. But I think you already know that.”

“I never really liked being in a band,” you admit.

“How come? I think you fit in well with The Gambits.”

You shrug, chewing on your bite slowly. It’s probably not the best time to admit that you prefer working on your own, when you’re about to get into a duet with him.

“I uhh… I always imagined myself being a solo artist and I just couldn’t stay with the guys too long, especially when I got my record deal.”

“Why?” Letting out a long breath you lick your lips looking at him.

“I would have never made it in a band with three guys. It would have always been about which one I’m sleeping with, who am I having an affair with or if I’m lesbian because I’m not hooking up with any of them. This is just how it goes for women.”

Harry stays quiet, taking your words in as you finish the sandwich that was literally lifesaving. You wash the plate even when he tells you to just leave it in the sink, and once that’s done, the two of you move over to his little home studio in the basement of his house.

“So, where do we start?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in one of the armchairs while he grabs an acoustic guitar and sits on the one next to you.

“How do you usually start writing?” he asks scratching his chin before he rests his hands on the body of the guitar.

“Well, most of the times I write when I’m pissed about something,” you huff and Harry smirks at you.

“Nothing pissed you off lately?”

“Not enough to make me write a song,” you point out. “See, this is one of the reasons why I was hesitant to write a song with you. It doesn’t come that easily for me.”

“And what were the other reasons?” You shut your mouth at his question, you weren’t expecting him to pick it up, but apparently, he listens more than you thought.

“It’s… a long story.”

“And we have all the time,” he smiles slyly. “But of course, don’t feel pressured to share. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other more so we can work together easier.”

Harry starts strumming his guitar gently, playing random riffs as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip. Taylor asked you to try and be more open than you usually are and though part of you wants to keep the wall high between you and him, something is telling you to try and reach out to him.

“I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face next to you. In duets between a man and a woman, females are often seen as just an object, a sight for the eyes but not as serious artists. I worked hard to be taken seriously and I was hesitant about collaborating with you even though your music is not necessarily what I should fear.”

Harry looks back at you with an unreadable expression and you feel like he is judging you for standing up for yourself. Your fight for yourself is often mistaken as “being a bitch” or “being too sensitive” and the amount of times you’ve been told to just chill is upsetting.

“Well, good thing then that I won’t write music about twerking,” he then finally speaks up, a smile breaking his blank expression.

“But you do write a lot about sex,” you point out with a smirk.

“That I do, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist at the same time.”

“You’re right,” you nod smiling.

 The writing process turns out to be harder than you thought. You’re not specifically inspired and Harry is the person to just throw things around until he finds something he likes. The two of you put together is kind of chaotic as you try to come up with something useful.

Two hours later you have a raw version of a melody that could serve as a chorus, but nothing else, no full melody, no lyrics. And if you’re being honest, you don’t like that chorus that much either.

“It’ll be fun to just stand on stage for three minutes and do absolutely nothing, because we couldn’t write anything,” you groan, sliding lower in your seat, rubbing your face with your hands.

“It’s literally our first session and we have plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t stress about it.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You don’t know how not to stress?”

“I literally haven’t had a stressfree day since about 2007, so no, I don’t know.”

“You can’t chill even when you smoke?” he asks and you give him a puzzled look. “What, you smoke, don’t you?”

“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”

“No, I’m not talking about cigarettes,” Harry chuckles softly. “You don’t smoke weed?” You shyly shake your head. “Really? I would have sworn you’re the type to relax with a good joint. Want to try it?”

“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Why not?” he shrugs and walks over to the little side table in the corner of the room and reaching into it he simply pulls a little plastic bag out with three joints in them.

“Are you just casually keeping joints around your house?”

“I don’t really smoke them, they make me feel sleepy. But some of my friends like it so I keep a few around,” he explains as he takes one out and puts the rest back. “You want to try?”

“I-I’m not sure… I have to drive back home.”

“You can stay for the night, I have three guest bedrooms,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Again, not trying to pressure you, I’m just offering.”

“Are you gonna smoke?”

“We can share one if you want. I would recommend smoking one by yourself for the first time.”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as you watch him tip-tap the joint a little, rolling it between his fingers before he takes it between his lips and reaches for a lighter. “Wait, shouldn’t we do it somewhere outside? The smoke is gonna get stuck in here.”

Harry stops, thinking about what you said and he nods. Grabbing the guitar he asks you to follow him and the two of you move up and out to the terrace, sinking into his lounge chairs. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you watch Harry light the joint and take the first few puffs. As he exhales the smoke he holds the joint out for you and you take it, hesitantly putting it between your lips as you inhale for the first time. You can’t help but scowl at the taste, the whole act of smoking feeling strange after years of smoking your last cigarette. You keep it down a little before puffing the smoke out and passing the joint back to Harry.

You keep switching until you make it past half of it and you finally start to feel the effect of it. You feel light, like you’re floating in the pool that’s in front of you, you can almost feel the water touching your skin yet you’re still dry.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, blinking at you with hooded eyes.

“I’m feeling… fine,” you chuckle softly as you take the joint from him and drag from it again. “Do you do other drugs?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, not often though. I’m not trying to pick up an addiction,” he smiles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Have you done anything?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Didn’t have the money for it before and then didn’t have time later. But I never really felt the need either.”

“And you said you put down the cigarette as well?”

“Yeah. I knew I had to do that sooner or later, it was starting to change my voice and I couldn’t have that.”

“That’s what we always told Louis, that his voice will turn to shit if he keeps smoking,” Harry chuckles softly, dragging from the joint before he passes it over to you, not much left of it.

“Did he ever stop?”

“I think he put it down when his son was born, but I don’t know if he started again.”

You give the joint back for him to finish it and you watch him put it out in the ashtray before he sinks down in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a bit, breathing steadily. You find it amusing how you can still see the guy that handed you a check years ago at that bar, trying to make things right, but he also looks like a completely different person at the same time. He is more mature and open in his mindset and just the way he approaches things in general. The Harry you met seven years ago was still searching his way, but the version lying next to you now is a lot more confident in who he really is.

“Want to take a picture?” he hums keeping his eyes closed.

“What?”

His eyes peel open and turn to face you, a smug smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been staring at me. Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

“You are way too full of yourself,” you scoff and pushing yourself up from the lounge chair you walk over to the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the way the light is dancing on the surface.

You never really thought about what weed would feel like in your system, but it feels oddly tranquil and relaxing. In a way your body feels a little strange, like it’s not even yours, but you also sense everything very… loudly.

“You alright?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind, the tapping on his feet signaling that he is walking closer to you.

“Yeah,” you nod without taking your eyes off of the water.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What?” you breathe out turning to face him.

“Do you want to go in?” he rephrases his question with a small smile.

“I don’t… have a bathing suit,” you answer and the moment the words leave your mouth they feel so ridiculous even when you were just stating the truth.

“Okay, but you are wearing underwear, aren’t you?” he smirks. “Or I’m completely fine if you want to go in naked,” he adds smugly.

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “Can you… maybe give me a pair of shorts? I’m fine without a bra when I come out but I would rather have my underwear on dry.”

“Sure,” he hums and turning around he jogs back into the house while you stay right there, staring at the water again.

With each passing moment you get calmer, the outside world and everything in life that’s not happening right in this moment eases into nothingness, your mind numbs in the best way possible.

When Harry returns he is wearing a pair of yellow swimming shorts, two towels are thrown over his shoulders and he has a pair of white shorts in his hands.

“This is the smallest thing I have, I think it’ll be fine,” he comments handing you the shorts.

“Thanks,” you nod before he shows you the way to the closest bathroom where you change out of your clothes leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the counter, you put on the shorts that are a little big on you, but once you’ve tied the strings it seems to be staying up steadily. Your simple black bra is not showing more than what a bikini top would, so you feel fine walking out in your attire.

Harry is sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs moving around in the water. His head lifts hearing your steps and he smiles at you, standing up when you arrive.

“Fits fine,” he nods, taking a look at the shorts.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

Walking over to the steps you dip your feet in first, testing the temperature before you start going in further, Harry following you right behind. Just as you expected, the water feels smooth against your skin, warmly caressing and swallowing your body as you get in, the surface reaching your chest. You let your arms move around, feel how the water runs through your fingers, it’s amusing and you enjoy it probably more than you should. It’s just water, but right now it feels like a pile of clouds.

“I know I suggested to smoke and then swim, but please don’t drown into my pool, I won’t be able to talk myself out of that,” he chuckles, easing him into the water until it reaches his neck.

“My life is in your hands, Harry,” you smirk at him before you follow him and let the water swallow your whole body up to your neck.  “This feels so nice.”

“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.

“Mm, like I’m… floating through space.”

“In a sense, you are floating in the water,” he chuckles. “You don’t feel sick, right?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smile at him shortly.

You move over to the edge of the pool, laying your arms to the side, holding yourself up so your legs could float in the water. You watch Harry dive under and swim across the pool, reaching the far end before he pushes himself over to you.

“When I went to see you perform there was a song I really liked, but I never found it anywhere later.”

“Which one?”

“The chorus went like… Crashing and crumbling, I’m fighting for my breath, Today won’t be the day I’m meeting death…”

You suck on your breath, surprised how well he remembered the lines even after so many years. He recalled them perfectly, even singing the melody a little with them.

“I never recorded it in studio,” you admit quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because it felt too emotional and I didn’t want it to be just out there.”

“What was the name of the song?”

“It’s called Till I Die. I wrote it when…” You take a deep breath, feeling heavy just by talking about it, but something is urging you to share it with him. “I left from home right after I graduated high school, broke contact with my parents completely and I had a few very rough years, trying to just… keep myself alive, I guess.”

“Can I ask why you left your parents?”

“We had very different visions of what I should become. And I didn’t intend to live the life they imagined for me. My parents are very… traditional, my career in their eyes is just some kind of circus when I’m the clown on the stage. They don’t take any of it seriously and they made it very clear at the beginning that they don’t want me to become a musician. I was supposed to become a surgeon, my dad is one and my mom is in criminal law, they both worked very hard to get to where they are, but they don’t think that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.”

The last person you shared it with was Taylor and though it feels odd to open up about these old wounds again, but having Harry as the one listening to you just feels right.

“You haven’t talked to them since you left?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“And they didn’t even try to contact you?”

“Well, I made sure they couldn't. Changed my number first thing I set my feet outside the house and I never left them any of my addresses. I know it sounds cruel, but I didn’t want to do anything with them after the shaming they put me through when I told them I don’t want to become their perfect little daughter. They told me that I could consider myself disowned from the family if I dare to even write a song.”

“Woah, that sounds really tough.”

“It was,” you nod. “I wasn’t asking them to support me in any other way apart from just being there for me. It’s not like I wanted to spend the money the put aside for my tuition to buy guitars and tour the country, I just wanted them to… accept who I am, but apparently, I asked for too much.”

You feel tears forming in your eyes, but you wipe them quickly. It’s been long since the last time you let the thought of your parents, you’ve been good at keeping these feelings bottled up and in the deepest end of your mind. It’s not like you’re going around and just share your trauma with anyone you meet, but it felt comfortable to share it with Harry.

“I’m sorry about that. Everyone should have a support, especially in our job.”

“I had… myself,” you chuckle bitterly. “Became pretty good at relying only on myself.”

“I’m guessing it’s another reason why you prefer working alone, right?” he smiles at you softly.

“You could say that,” you nod into the water.

“I know it’ll sound cheesy, but… if you ever want to talk, I’m here,” he offers.

“Oh, are we becoming friends?” you ask chuckling.

“We’ve known each other for long enough to be friends, am I right?” he smirks, splashing some water in your way.

“We met a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Everything I know about you is from articles and gossip sites and I think you can only say the same thing,” you point out.

“Okay, then let’s get to know each other.”

“What, do you want to play 21 questions now or something?” you huff.

“Damn right,” he smirks.

And that’s exactly what you do. Swimming around in the pool you ask each other questions, some are funny, some are more serious and you slowly start to get to know each other, seven years after meeting for the first time, but in a way it feels like it’s been just last week when you were talking in the alleyway.

The weed soon dies down in your system, leaving you incredibly tired and it’s only then you realize it’s already past one am. Pulling out of the pool, you both grab a towel drying yourselves up before making your way back into the house.

“The guest bedroom next to mine has a bathroom so I think that’s the best one. I can give you something to sleep in if you’d like,” Harry offers as you follow him down the hallway.

“I think I’m fine in my sweats, but thank you.” He shows you the room, tells you how to change the AC if you feel too cold or hot and then bidding goodbye he is about to go to his own room when you stop him.

“Thank you for… today. I know we didn’t get far with the song, but… I liked hanging out with you,” you admit with a shy smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about the song, it’ll be fine. And I liked it too. We can make it a regular thing, if you want. You can come over, we’d chill and try to cook up something for the song.”

“I, uhh… Yeah, that sounds good,” you nod, he shoots you a smile before turning around and disappearing in his room.

The morning doesn’t turn out at all any awkward, especially because you don’t get to stay around too long. You have a meeting at eleven so you have to leave in time to go home and get changed before that. Harry makes you coffee, which is lifesaving, the two of you sit at the terrace as you drink it and you arrange to meet in two days to try and have another, hopefully more successful session for the song.

You genuinely enjoyed your time with Harry and to think that you didn’t only smoked weed for the first time with him, but also opened up about your parents, you feel a kind of connection forming and you can only hope you’re not gonna regret it later.

You move on with work after leaving from Harry’s that morning, you have some fittings for upcoming photoshoots and an interview scheduled, so there’s not much time for you to sit around. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Harry again at his place for another session and you feel buzzed about it. You meet Taylor for lunch, sitting on the terrace of your usual place she is talking you through everything that’s coming up the next week, just like you always do so then you can put work aside and have a real chat.

“So how did the writing session go?” she asks, digging into her salad that she always asks with extra chicken.

“The writing? Not so well. But we had a good time,” you truthfully admit.

“Good, good! You’re finally making friends!” Taylor grins, satisfied with the news. You just roll your eyes at her, turning back to your food right when you notice that your phone has been blowing up with notifications.

Huffing you grab it from the table with the pure intention of muting it down completely, but then you see that several people have texted you the same link and it bugs your curiosity so you open one of the messages and tap on the link.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan, feeling your rage already pushing up your spine, clouding your vision in red.

“What?” Taylor snaps, reaching for her phone out of reflex.

“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”

“Who? Jordan? That fucker never learns?” Taylor hisses, her thumbs vigorously typing on the screen immediately.

“Someone asked him about me on Twitter and he dared to call me a lying bitch! I can’t fucking believe this man!”

You and Jordan worked together on a project a while ago. You were supposed to write lyrics to a song he was composing and it was meant for an upcoming popular Netflix show, so the anticipation around the song was huge, especially when word got out that Ariana Grande might end up singing it. During your time working together he very blatantly tried to hit on you, which you politely shut down, because one, you didn’t intend to date someone you were working so close with and two, you just simply weren’t into him. However, he couldn’t take rejection the way a mature, almost thirty years old man should. It started off very subtly, but once you’ve had a chat with him to stop posting obnoxious and suggesting things about you on his social media, because it’s making it hard for you to be taken seriously as an artist and that people will just see you as another celeb which you don’t want to be, he just completely lost his shit. He called you different names on Twitter a few times, the worst were Feminist Nazi and a cock teasing slut, and he just somehow never fails to mention that you lied about your intentions with him, when you were clearer than daylight that you didn’t want a thing from him other than work.

When you realized he isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, you took him to court, dragged his ass in front of the judge and won the case, which ended with him having to pay you thirty thousand dollars and he was ordered to clear all his platforms from your name for good. You really thought that taught him a lesson, especially because against your will, the case got some publicity and he ended up making headlines about the fault accusations he made about you, but it seems like he didn’t have enough.

You wouldn’t worry that much about his new tweet, knowing that he is the one lying, but the trials took a toll on you. It was at the beginning of the time when you were making yourself a name and even though you won, his accusations stung for some people and some even thought him to be the victim. You fell out of two brand deals and an important interview in the upcoming months which was a major setback and all for what? Because a man couldn’t accept rejection? The sad part is that if it would have happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have had to suffer any effect of it, people don’t tend to question a man’s words when he is showing this charming and nice persona to the public. If you accused him the same way you would have been dragged and titled as a sour crybaby and Jordan’s life would have carried on the same way.

The peaceful lunch soon falls through as Taylor turns on her beast mode to at least get the tweet down as soon as possible, already contacting the legal team you worked with before. It has to be against what you agreed on at the end of the trials, he can’t just go around and drag you again without any consequences.

In just about twenty minutes, the tweets disappear from Jordan’s feed, but you know it was already late the moment he posted it. If something gets out on the internet it never goes away, there are probably hundreds if not thousands of screenshots floating around that will preserve his words forever.

You part ways Taylor as he heads to an immediate meeting with the lawyers you worked together previously, she tells you to try not to worry about it, but you can’t just turn it off in you, that’s not how it works.

Making your way home you keep riling yourself up about it, thinking about what it’s gonna cause you this time, what opportunity is going to be taken because a man has called you a lying bitch, even after winning the previous trial against him that proves how big of an asshole he really is.

Changing into a casual attire you head to Harry’s place a little earlier, hoping it’s not a problem you get there an hour before you were supposed to. Arriving you’re a little taken aback seeing that there is another car parking on the driveway that’s not his and you immediately regret coming here, but before you could leave, the front door opens and Harry walks out. You couldn’t have left without noticing, the security system must have signaled your arrival when you punched the opening code in.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks instead of questioning your early arrival.

“I uhh—I’m sorry for being early, I could go—“

“Don’t be silly, come on in!” he waves at you and you walk up the stairs. “Two friends are here but they were just about to leave soon,” he explains as you walk in.

“Sorry for crashing the party,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“The more the merrier,” he smiles. “You seem a little stressed, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just… It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” you hear a woman’s voice from behind and turning around you see a smiley brunette walking towards you, a shy looking guy following behind her.

“Sarah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sarah, my drummer, and that wanker over there is Mitch, my guitarist.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with both of them you realize they look familiar from pictures you’ve seen from Harry’s tour.

“I saw that ugly tweet today, that guy needs to be kicked in the balls,” Sarah sighs with a sympathetic smile, Harry’s ears perking up.

“What tweet?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Sarah.

“Oh, just… Jordan Wells thinks it’s fine to drag people with absolutely no truth behind his words,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile.

“Jordan Wells? The name rings a bell,” Harry hums.

“He is a music producer,” Mitch chimes in.

“I think he was supposed to write for 1D one time, but the deal fell through. Guess we didn’t miss out on anything,” he jokes and it brings a genuine smile to your face.

“You surely didn’t,” you comment under your breath.

You chat with Sarah and Mitch for a bit before they decide to head out, but Sarah asks you to come around sometime they are hanging out and you gladly say yes, wanting to know her and Mitch better, they seem like great company and even greater musicians, it’s always good to meet people who are like you.

As Harry walks his friends out you make yourself comfortable on the couch, reading Taylor’s texts about the update on the recent actions, she has gotten in contact with Jordan’s team and legal steps will be taken if Jordan doesn’t show any sign of improvement in the very near future.

“Hey, want something to drink? Wine or beer maybe?” Harry walks in as you look up from your phone.

“Wine sounds fucking fantastic,” you breathe out earning a soft chuckle from him. You follow him into the kitchen and watch him get a bottle of white wine with two glasses. “I hope Sarah and Mitch didn’t leave early because of me.”

“Oh, not at all. They knew you’d be coming over and would have left around this time, so don’t worry about it.”

He joins you at the kitchen island with the two glasses handing you one and you take a sip from it with a satisfied hum.

“So, want to talk about this Jordan ordeal?”

“There’s not much to talk, really,” you shrug. “He is a jerk and I just can’t seem to get rid of him and I didn’t even date the guy…”

“What did he do this time?”

“Oh, he just casually called me a lying bitch on Twitter, so that’s fun,” you let out a fake laugh, raising your glass before taking a big swig from it.

“Not that creative, if you’re asking me,” he jokes making you laugh. “It’s a very plain choice of words.”

“Yeah, not as good as his best which was calling me a feminist nazi.”

Harry almost chokes on his wine as you say the words, coughing a little while you watch him with an entertained smirk.

“That’s… an interesting way to express his opinion about you,” he answers diplomatically.

“Right? I was thinking about getting a sign of it, like a Live, Love, Laugh one, in the middle of my living room.”

“Would be a wonderful touch of décor,” he smirks. “Alright, I have a proposal for today’s session.”

“Shoot it.”

“You seemed to enjoy your weed experience the last time, I thought we could give it a try again, but we would try to write this time as well.”

“You want to write while smoking?” you ask raising your eyebrows at him.

“Only if you want to. I just thought it would relax you a bit, might even come up with some interesting ideas for the song.”

“Are you trying to turn me into an addict?” you narrow your eyes at him and he just holds his hands up innocently.

“Told you, no pressure,” he smirks angelically.

“I feel like I’m not even coming here to work but to meet with my new dealer,” you chuckle making him laugh. “Okay, we can… give it a try.”

 An hour and one joint per person later the two of you are lounging in his living room, he is sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar on his arms while you are curled upon the sectional, fumbling with the strings of your hoodie.

“We should just… fucking steal a song,” you snort, finding your comment hilarious.

“Which one were you thinking about?” Harry smirks your way, his fingers gently strumming some random melody on the instrument.

“I really want to have a Madonna song to be mine,” you sigh dreamily.

“You’re a fan?”

“Oh, I grew up on her. I have an elaborate choreography for Hung Up,” you snort.

“You need to perform it for me.”

“No fucking way,” you laugh shaking your head. “Not even weed can make me dance for you.”

“Come on, I need to see that choreography, you can’t just hint it and then never show it to me!”

“Nah, not happening,” you laugh, sliding lower down in your seat, your head resting against the armrest of the couch.

You listen to him play the same melody over and over again with your eyes closed and though you really like what you are hearing, no words are forming in your mind that could serve as lyrics. Your phone buzzes on the cushion next to you and grabbing it you see a text from Taylor.

Taylor: Lawyers are on the case, we’ll have more tomorrow, don’t stress about it too much. Night! Xx

Sighing you drop the device back next to you, covering your eyes with your arms.

“You alright?” Harry softly asks.

“Nah, I just want to… disappear,” you sigh, tired of this fight you’ve been fighting for way too long.

“Is this about Jordan? He is a fucking ass, most people know it.”

“But not everyone!” you snap throwing your hands up. “And that fraction that still believes that he is saying the truth is enough to ruin my life. I’m fucking fed up with the injustice women have to face because of the patriarchy we are forced to live in!” Pushing yourself up you run a hand through your hair, hugging your knees to your chest. “It’s so fucking upsetting, like everything I do goes straight down the drain because of one little thing and I’m stuck with trying to rebuild my whole future plan.”

From a sudden urge, you move down to the floor, lying down on the fluffy rug that runs under the couches and the glass coffee table. It feels nice, kind of grounding to lie flat on the floor, especially because your senses are all messed up again because of the weed, but in a good kind of way.

“You worry way too much on longterm things. Try to stay in the moment a little more,” Harry tells you, putting the guitar to the side so he can move his feet to the floor, leaning onto his knees. “You can’t control this much what happens in the future, you should only care about today. And today, you’ve done good, you made it through another day, you did what you had to do and that’s it. Stressing about tomorrow or the next week or next year is just way too much to deal with all the time, twenty-four-seven, three-six-five, that’s just no way to live.”

Lying on the floor you stare up at the ceiling seemingly blankly, but your mind starts to swirl over what he just told you. The worlds are running around, mixing and mingling until something starts to form, making you gasp.

“Grab the guitar,” you tell him, sitting up abruptly. He pulls his eyebrows together, but does as you told him to, holding the instrument on his lap as he waits for you to instruct him more. “Play that… that melody you’ve been playing, but a little faster.”

He turns his attention at the guitar, trying the strings out a few times, feeling the melody under his fingers before he starts playing it just how you asked as you slowly start to sing the lines you have just thought about.

“You made it through… another day, you made it through another day… You did it, let’s celebrate…”

The lines fit perfectly with the melody he has come up with and the more you sing, the wider his smile grows as you move along in the forming song.

“Some days you feel you’ll break, but you made it through another day, yeah, you did it, let’s celebrate…”

“Don’t fucking stop!” he chimes in, never stopping the riffs, trying out new things as you go, slowly perfecting it together with the lyrics.

“Twenty-four-seven and three-six-five, you made another day, you made it alive! Made another day made it alive!” You sing loud and clear, completely lost in the melody Harry is playing, the lines just flowing out of you, like a dam has been taken down and now everything washes over you at once.

When the chorus is about to come up however you run out of ideas, your eyes meet Harry’s and he sees that you’re stuck. His eyebrows knit together, tongue runs along his lips before he starts playing the melody of the chorus and takes over the singing as well.

“So today, baby, remember it’s okay! We’re all floating through space, today, baby, remember you’re okay! We’re all floating through space…”

He plays a little with the lines, repeats them, tries a few times before he stops singing, you are now standing up, watching him end the melody, neither of you saying a word as he room grows silent. A sudden urge drives you to go closer and you sit back down to the floor in front of him, your eyes casting over the now silent instrument on his lap. Looking up your eyes meet his and you feel like the air is kicked out of your lungs.

You’ve heard so much about moments when you feel yourself pulling towards someone, when it’s like a magnetic field but you never actually experienced it until now. Staring back at Harry you feel that pull everyone has talked about and you finally understand what they were trying to say. It’s like there’s a string coming from your chest that’s connected to him and he is tugging it without even doing anything.

Reaching forward he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers dancing down the side of your face as you catch his eyes wander down to your lips. Sucking on your breath you feel the moment, you know what he is thinking about because you think about the exact same thing. Kissing him. You are desperate to find out what his lips feel against yours, what he tastes like, what it’s like to have him so close to you.

“You want to kiss me,” you whisper and it’s not a question, more like an observation.

“I do,” he admits with a soft smile, but doesn’t move closer. “Can I?”

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to do in our situation,” you breathe out, though you don’t agree with the statement fully.

“You think too much,” he chuckles softly, leaning closer just a tad bit, but there are still a few inches between the two of you. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“Then we should just do what we want to,” he suggests with a small smirk and he looks ridiculously handsome with his dimples and shining green eyes that are glued to you.

“And then what? We’ll just go on like it never happened or there’s going to be more happening? How are we supposed to—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry closes the distance between you and him and presses his lips against yours, swallowing the rest of your stammering speech. Whatever doubts and hesitation you felt just a moment ago, it all vanishes into nothing as you melt into his kiss, his lips caressing yours gently, softly capturing them, savoring and tasting you with caution, giving you the chance to pull back anytime, but nothing in your body can make you stop kissing him in this moment.

His palms cup your jaw as you push yourself up, slowly making your way to straddle his lap after he has blindly put the guitar to the side, hands coming to rest on his shoulder for leverage. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you close until your chest is pressed up against his, lips never disconnecting in the kiss.

Kissing him feels like second nature, like it’s not even the first but the hundredth time, but on the other hand, every touch and tiny sparkle is so new and unusual, you’ve never felt like this before.

Harry slowly pulls back, pecking your lips a few more times before he stops, nuzzling his nose against you in an adorable and innocent way that brings a smile to your lips.

“Doesn’t it feel good to just do whatever you feel like doing?” he asks with a soft smile, making you laugh.

“Kind of.”

“Nothing has to change. Or something can, it’s up to you.”

“You are so upsettingly cool and respectful,” you blurt out chuckling and it makes him laugh, his head falling back against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I guess?” he smirks with a shrug.

“See? Respectful!” you grin, your hands moving up to cup his face. The pad of your thumbs gently tap against his dimples that are showing thanks to the wide smile on his lips right now. You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him again, even though your rational side is trying to make you stop. You just can’t, his lips are screaming to be kissed and who are you to deny that?

You’ve been running errands all day. Following an early meeting you ran to your favorite vintage store to get another armchair for your living room. Then you went grocery shopping because your fridge has been ridiculously empty the past two days and later you had a quick fitting for a few outfits you are supposed to wear in the near future. You’ve ran into a few fans too, having small chit-chats with them, taking photos, so it’s been a busy day.

It’s been a week since you and Harry have kissed and despite your fears, it hasn’t been awkward at all. He didn’t bring it up, but you don’t feel like he is pretending it never happened, which is kind of a great balance. He is giving you just enough time and space to figure out what it really meant to you, because quite frankly, you have no idea.

Obviously, you find him attractive. You’d have to be completely blind to say that he is not handsome and just simply good to look at. You’re attracted to him and not just to his looks, but to his whole persona.

It’s just you’re not sure it’s a smart idea to start anything with the man you’re working with and though you know Harry is nothing like Jordan, part of you is still scared the whole thing will happen all over again if you get involved with another man from the industry.

Workwise, everything is going well. You’ve successfully finished the song you started that ominous evening and have started recording it in Harry’s home studio, working some more on the melody, bringing a lot more into it than just a single guitar. What more, you’ve been coming up with new ideas for other songs, lyrics popping up in either your or Harry’s head and you just keep sharing them with each other, saving them for later once the song for the Grammy’s is done.

Heading back to your place you get a call from Harry, his smiley face appearing on the screen of your face as you accept the call and his accent fills the car through the speakers that are connected to your phone through Bluetooth.

“Hey, hope I’m not calling in the middle of a meeting,” he greets you and you can tell he is smiling.

“No, I’m just on my way home. What’s up?”

“I’m meeting with Sarah and Mitch for dinner tonight, thought you’d like to join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends, I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with me.”

“But I like spending time with you,” he chuckles softly, a blush making its way to your cheeks at his words.

“Are you sure you want me there? What about Sarah and Mitch? I crashed your last meeting with them as well.”

“You didn’t crash anything, Y/N. And I’m positive I want you there, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And just so you know, Sarah asked if you’d be joining us, so I assume they wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Oh, well, okay then. Send me the time and place.”

“Wonderful!” he beams, his enthusiasm making your chest warm.

By the time you arrive home he has already texted you the details and you have just one hour to spare before you have to head out. You opt for a quick shower and an outfit change, switching up your ripped mom jeans and simple t-shirt to one of your favorite jumpsuits. It’s a little baggy, but the waist is cinched in with an inbuilt corset, giving the whole fit a very interesting twist.

Arriving at the restaurant Harry has texted you the address of, the waiter escorts you to the terrace at the back that’s a lot more secluded and you feel yourself relaxing that you probably won’t get photographed. Harry is the only one who is already at the table, sitting with his eyes fixed on his phone, but he immediately puts it aside when he sees you approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey! You look amazing!” he greets you pulling you into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks, a simple white shirt tucked into it, a knitted cardigan thrown on, a typical Harry outfit. “And thanks for the invite,” you add as you take the seat next to him, assuming Sarah and Mitch would like to sit next to each other.

“Don’t even mention it. We’re friends, it’s really nothing. I’m glad you could make it.”

The way he called you friends is giving you mixed feelings. Part of you is happily jumping up and down at the fact that he considers you as a friend, given how you don’t have many of those. It’s been hard opening up to anyone since you’ve made a name for yourself, you’ve ran into occasions a lot when people wanted more than just your friendship from you and it made you rather closed off when it comes to making friends.

On the other hand, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Is that all you are? Just friends? More importantly, is that all you want to be, or more?

Sarah and Mitch arrive soon after, joining you at the table and the waiter takes the orders before leaving the four of you alone. It seems like they genuinely like it that you’ve joined, so you can enjoy the evening a little more relieved.

Sipping on some amazing wine, you eat and talk and you feel like you’ve known these people your whole life. You especially like Sarah, she is so open-minded and funny and you think they make a great couple with Mitch who is obviously more closed off, but it’s obvious how much he worships his girlfriend.

Sometime in the evening, when you’ve already had two glasses of Chardonnay and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable, you move closer to Harry without even noticing, leaning against him gently and his hand rests on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze under the table, making you want to move even closer to him to feel more of his touch, to get more of him.

Neither Sarah, nor Mitch questions the two of you being a little cozier and you’re thankful for the safe and stressfree environment they are providing, not making you overthink what you do, just letting you enjoy the moment.

At the end of the evening, you can’t shake the thought that you don’t want to say goodbye to Harry just yet. He pays for everyone’s dinner, leaving a generous tip for the waiter and you stay back at the table while Sarah runs out to the restroom and Mitch takes a quick call from his father, leaving you alone with Harry. His hand is still resting on your leg, a little farther up, but still in a very safe zone in the middle of your thigh.

Turning to face him your eyes meet his, his green irises glistening in the soft lighting and he looks so beautiful, you just want to kiss him again.

“Do you have plans after this?” you find yourself asking.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

“That sounds like a nice plan,” he smiles at you warmly and you just know that if you weren’t out in the public, he would have leant in for a kiss and you wouldn’t have stopped him.

When Sarah and Mitch return all four of you head out and they don’t question when you follow Harry to his car. They say goodbye and Sarah makes you promise to join them some other time too and you happily say yes to the invitation.

Not much is being said on the way back to your place, he plays some music quietly as you navigate him through the streets.  

“Welcome to mi casa,” you smile as you key the two of you into your apartment you’ve been living in for the past few years.

It’s nothing luxurious, just a tad bit bigger than what one person would need as a home. You would have been fine living in your previous home you lived in before you’ve gained fame, but you needed a much bigger closet so you were forced to move. It’s a two bedroom apartment with one big bathroom, an open concept kitchen and a spacious living room. And of course, a closet as big as your bedroom. It’s the perfect size and you haven’t even thought about buying a bigger place just because you can, it would be a waste of money and space. The interior is very much vintage with all your mismatched furniture and colorful walls, but you think it’s quite cozy and just the ideal space for you.

“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water.

“Some water would be great, thank you.”

Filling up two glasses you hand him one as you lean against the counter, silently eyeing each other. It should be clear to him that you had intentions with asking him to come over, especially after being your cozy with each other during dinner, but you’re a little lost in what you should or even want to do. You just know you want him close.

He drinks up his water, his eyes meeting your gaze as a small smirk tugs on his cherry lips.

“You want to kiss me,” he states, using the exact same words you used the night when you kissed for the first time.

“I do,” you nod, feeling a little breathless.

“Then do it,” he simply answers, making you smile.

“Cool and respectful, as always,” you grin at him as he moves closer, stopping just a few inches away from you, your feet almost touching. Reaching up his fingers gently caress the side of your face and you feel yourself already melting under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a shiver running down your spine at his words. You close your eyes for a moment, giving yourself the chance to pull out of it, but you realize you don’t want that, not even the tiniest bit. Opening your eyes they meet with his gaze before you move closer, closing the distance between you and him, lips meeting in a warm and chaste kiss.

Though it grows a little hungrier, you can tell he is still holding back a little, giving you the chance to stop whenever you want to, but you don’t intend to. Pushing yourself closer to him, your arms curl around his neck as his hands grip your waist, your tongue meeting his as you deepen the kiss and melt into his embrace.

Pulling back you grab his hand and head to the bedroom, going back to kissing him the moment you reach it. You easily slide his cardigan off his broad shoulders, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants before taking it completely off, throwing it somewhere to the side. You smirk against his lips, hands wandering down his naked chest and you can’t push down a moan as you feel the warmth of his chest muscles under your touch.

When you feel him try to blindly figure out how to get you out of your jumpsuit with not much luck and this clears your head for a moment to realize what is about to happen. Pulling back your gaze meets his and he stares back at you with caution, ready to stop whenever you tell him to, but that’s not what made you pull back.

“Harry, I…” “We don’t have to do anything,” he softly tells you, his fingers dancing down the side of your face until they reach your chin and he pulls you in for a delicate and slow kiss.

“I want to,” you whisper. “It’s just that… I want you to know that I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man before.”

Searching in his eyes you look for any sign of what’s going on in his head wishing you could just simply read his thoughts.

“You’ve never been with a man?” he asks, seemingly not as surprised as you expected him to be. You nod, licking your lips, waiting for any kind of reaction, a part of you expecting to be upset, though you know he has no right to be mad at you for any of it. “Do you want me to be the first man?” he then asks, with a loving and warm smile as his hand on your hip pulls you against him playfully.

“Yes.”

“Then help me get you out of this jumpsuit, because I can’t figure it out for my life,” he chuckles making you laugh too.

You show him where the corset opens and then get you out of it with joined forces, finally leaving you standing in just your underwear. Harry’s gaze runs down your body, a look of hunger and passion shining through his green irises as he pulls you close again, kissing you with a lot more vigor this time.

Soon enough, his slacks slip to the floor and you climb to your bed, Harry following closely, climbing on top of you before rejoining your lips. Your knees open up wide for him, allowing him to sink his hips between your thighs, his crotch meeting your heated center, a moan slipping out your lips when you feel his erection rubbing against you through the material of your underwear. He kisses his way down your jawline and neck, gently sucking on the soft skin, peppering kisses along your collarbones before he reaches your chest. He easily unclasps your bra and slips the straps down your arms before getting rid of the barrier that’s been keeping him away from your naked chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathes out shakily, before his lips wrap around your right nipple, his hand cupping your other breast. You keep whining and whimpering as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple before his mouth moves over to the other breast, giving it just the same amount of attention.

He kisses down your stomach, glancing up at you as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties silently asking for your permission to go further, still so respectfully looking out for you. As an answer, you lift your hips up so he can easily slide the material down your legs and throw it to the side.

“Oh fuck!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your bud, playing with it oh so perfectly, making you shudder. If you didn’t think Harry was perfect, his tongue work is now surely making a statement on that.

With every lick, kiss and suck he pushes you closer to your release that’s nearing in a fast pace like never before. Reaching down you lace your fingers through his chocolate curls, tugging on the lightly, making him moan against your core. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, but you want to cum with him inside you, so you pull him up, lips meeting again as you still taste your own juice on him. It’s heavenly.

Without breaking the kiss you reach down and into his underwear, palming his fully hard cock, earning a satisfied growl when you wrap your hand around him. The feeling is quite unknown, you’ve only once had to face a penis before, it happened back in high school when you were still figuring out what sexuality meant to you. Gave a wobbly and quite short handjob to a guy from the grade above you, never even talked to him again. The experience left a major effect on you, never even got close to being intimate with a man, but being with Harry now is putting everything into a whole new light.

“Do you have a condom?” he mumbles against your lips, clearly just as excited to carry on as you are.

“Yeah,” you nod and let go of him, rolling to the edge of the bed so you can dig into the drawer of your nightstand, successfully finding the little silver packet. Tearing it open you hand it over to Harry and get back to your previous position as you watch him kneeling up, rolling the condom on carefully. Your lips part when your eyes fall on his cock, seeing now how big he really is. Harry catches your eyes and leaning down he kisses you softly.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?” he kindly tells you, but you smile at him coyly.

“You might be the first man I’m with, but your dick won’t be the first thing to be inside me,” you answer with a smug smirk and it brings an amused look to his face.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss as he settles himself back between your legs.

Though you really tried to sound confident the other moment, you still feel a little nervous about it and Harry senses it right away. Holding himself up on one arm he cups your face in his other, kissing you slowly, taking his time with his lips, as if he is trying to make you forget about everything else but his lips.

“Are you still sure about this?” he softly asks, looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes, but there’s none.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you,” you nod and reaching down between your bodies, you take him in your hands again, positioning him to your center.

Harry captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he pushes into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, feeling a little tight around him, but not in an uncomfortable way.

“You alright?” he asks once he is almost fully in.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you breathe out with a small nod. He pecks your lips and slowly pushes all the way in before he starts to move out and then slide in again, picking up a not too fast but still firm pace with his movements.

You gradually get used to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, it’s surely a whole different experience than using a dildo or any kind of toy you are used to. The thought that it belongs to him is bringing you a sense of intimacy you haven’t felt in a long time.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you dig your fingers into his hot skin that’s coated with a thin layer of sweat as he keeps moving, slowly picking up his pace as you both get closer to the endgame.

“Harry, faster, please!” you plead, legs coming to wrap around his waist so he can thrust in deeper, making you go completely nuts from the way your orgasm is already forming in the pit of your tummy.

He obeys without a second thought, slamming into you faster and harder, making you continuously moan his name, the room is filled with moans and panting, the slapping noise of his hips meeting yours.

Harry buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, definitely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. You just grab a handful of his hair, shutting your eyes closed as you feel yourself nearing the end.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, barely hanging on.

Instead of stretching it out and trying to play with you, Harry clearly wants you to combust. Reaching down between your bodies his index and middle fingers find your clit and he starts circling on it, adding that little extra you needed to fall over the edge.

Moaning and whimpering under his massive body, your orgasm washes over you in waves, bringing you such an intense satisfaction you’ve never felt before. He keeps up his thrusting and just a few moments later his movements fall out of his rhythm and mumbling your name over and over again, he gasps as he rides his high while you’re still trying to catch your breath following your own.

With a heaving chest Harry rolls off of you, gets rid of the condom and throws it to the small bin you keep next to your night stand and then lies flat beside you as you both just silently stare up at the ceiling, very much in the best kind of after sex haze.

“How are you feeling?” he then asks, rolling to his side, his hand coming to rest on your bare stomach. Turning your head to the side you crack a smile at him.

“I feel like I’ve just been properly fucked,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh wholeheartedly. Rolling to your side his arm falls to your waist as you scoot closer, your face only a few inches from his. He is so pretty up close, his features never fail to amuse you, hard to believe he is a real human, lying right next to you.

He closes his eyes a little, letting his head sink into the pillow as his fingers delicately dance up and down your side and back. You feel like you owe him to say something, dropping a major detail about yourself in a heated moment.

“I had two girlfriends,” you speak up, his eyes fluttering open to your words. “The first one was when I was eighteen, we dated for almost a year, then I briefly dated a guy, but it was barely just a month. And I had my second girlfriend when I was twenty. We were together for two years.”

“Are you still friends with them?”

“I still talk to the second one. Her name is Mila. We broke up because she moved to Spain for a job for a year and we didn’t want to do long-distance. Then we just… grew apart, but we still talk sometimes. She lives in Atlanta now, she has a girlfriend and she told me that she is planning to propose soon.”

A soft smile tugs on your lips as you talk about her. She was an important person in your life in a time that was truly challenging. Mila supported your dreams, she went to a lot of your concerts and she was the first one you called when you got your record deal even though you weren’t together anymore. She has seen you go from performing in dodgy bars to rocking the stage of arenas.

“Congrats to her,” Harry smiles through tired eyes. Reaching up he tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning closer he envelopes your lips in a soft kiss.

“We really shouldn’t have done this,” you hum, though you can’t wipe the satisfied smile off your lips.

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

“So what? We aren’t allowed to like each other?” he smirks cockily.

“You like me?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear,” he chuckles rubbing his eyes. “But yeah, I do like you, Y/N. A lot.”

“I… like you too,” you admit shyly. Leaning in he kisses you again before pulling you to his chest as he lies on his back.

“Can I stay the night or you want to throw me out?” he hums closing his eyes. Chuckling your snuggle to him, making yourself comfortable, enjoying the warmth of his body after so spending so many nights alone in this bed.

“You can stay, but you have to behave.”

“Oh I will behave my best, don’t worry.” A chuckle rumbles through his chest as you both fall silent and soon enough, drift off to sleep.

You wake up tangled in the sheets, but no one else is lying in bed with you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you look around and though there’s no sign of Harry in the room you spot his clothes on the floor. That’s when you hear the pots and pans clinking somewhere outside and you smile to yourself. You pull a t-shirt on with a pair of clean panties before heading out, finding Harry in your kitchen, wearing your pink fluffy robe and nothing else as he is making what seems to be pancakes.

“I don’t remember hiring a chef,” you joke walking closer, sliding a hand down his back as you lean against the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I really wanted for you to wake up but I was afraid my growling stomach might wake you up,” he chuckles as he flips the pancakes in the pan with the spatula.

“Found everything you needed?” you ask, walking over the fridge to grab the orange juice.

“Yeah, you have a neatly organized kitchen,” he hums. “Sorry for snooping around though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pouring the juice to two glasses you hand one to him which he thanks softly before placing the golden pancakes to the plate on the counter and pours another bunch into the pan.

Sipping on your juice you watch him move around, making breakfast in your robe and you can’t help but smile at the sight of this fine man in your kitchen. Harry catches you eyeing him and he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, his voice still a little groggy and husky.

“I just… really want to kiss you,” you shrug placing the glass to the counter.

“I think we are over this whole asking for permission thing,” he smirks, stepping closer he leans down and kisses you gently, tasting like orange juice and something sweet, he has probably ate one of the pancakes. His hand that’s not holding the spatula finds your waist, the t-shirt bunches up on your side as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss before you hear sizzling coming from the stove.

“Whoops, not trying to burn the place down,” he chuckles as he turns to the pan and flips the pancakes. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his jawline before stepping away from him to set the table for breakfast.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks over breakfast.

“I have a meeting with my label on Saturday, but nothing else.”

“I’m having a few friends over Saturday evening, kind of a late Grammy nomination celebration. Want to come over?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good,” you nod smiling.

“I was thinking that maybe you could spend the night and then we can finish recording on Sunday.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

Harry takes a quick shower after breakfast before heading out, promising to call you later and though it still feels a little odd that he says goodbye with a kiss, you very much like this new setup between the two of you.

Friday evening Taylor is over at your place, she loves helping you sort out promo stuff you get sent all the time, especially because you let her take whatever you don’t want, half her closet was meant to be worn by you.

Sitting on the floor with boxes surrounding the both of you, you’re digging through them with a bottle of wine, some 90’s music playing in the background, it’s a nice and relaxing evening.

Your phone lights up with a text on the coffee table and you already know it’s from Harry. You haven’t stopped texting since he left from your place just a few days ago.

Harry: Do you think it’s a look for the Grammy’s?

He attached a photo of himself in all denim, looking very much like 2001 Justin Timberlake at the AMA.

Y/N: Should I match and pull a Britney?

Harry: Is that even a question?!

“Okay, who’s the girl?” Taylor asks, making you tear your eyes away from the phone’s screen.

“Huh?”

“Last time I saw you smiling like this at your phone you were talking to that girl you met at that award show. So who is it this time?”

“It’s… not a girl,” you admit, placing your phone back to the coffee table.

“Oh, did a guy finally manage to sweep you off your feet?” Taylor gives you an amused look, genuinely surprised to hear that this time it’s a guy that has you wrapped around his finger. “What is his name?”

“Harry,” you shortly answer and see her eyes widen.

“Wait, is it… Harry as in Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Oh my God, I knew I could feel some sexual tension between you two at Jeff’s office!”

“There wasn’t any, what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see it because you were too busy trying to blow off the duet, but it was radiating from him.” She gives you a look, putting the sweater she’s been examining to the side. “So, how are things? Are you guys an item, or…?”

“We didn’t label anything, he just said he likes me and I like him too. And he… spent the night the other day.”

“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“

“Yes, we had sex,” you confirm blushing.

“That’s like huge! The first man you’ve been with!”

“I know,” you chuckle.

“How was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you truthfully admit with a sigh. “I didn’t think it could be this good with a guy. Maybe it’s just because it was with him.”

“He surely looks like a guy that takes good care of his girl. So what’s gonna happen? Are you guys together?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care about names and labels, he just likes to do whatever he wants and if I’m being honest it’s kind of refreshing. We are just… enjoying whatever we have.”

“That sounds very liberal,” Taylor chuckles. “But I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone for way too long, I think he might do good to you.”

“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.

“How is the song writing going?”

“We’re finishing up recording on Sunday. I’ll send it to you when it’s done and we can start all the paperwork and everything.”

“Amazing, you are doing great, Y/N, I’m proud of you,” she smiles and climbing over she wraps you in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Tay,” you smile at her. “Alright, now do you want these lace socks or should I burn them?” you ask holding up a whole pack of them, making her laugh.

Harry said it’s just a chill get together, nothing fancy so you decide to wear a khaki maxi skirt with a shirt tucked into it that was a gift from a fan, your first album’s name embroidered to the front. It’s one of your favorite pieces and you like wearing things your fans make you, gives the whole fit a plus.

Arriving to Harry’s place you spot that there are a few cars already parking on the driveway. You leave your overnight bag in the trunk, grab the bottle of wine you’ve brought and head inside. Unlike every time you’ve been here, the silence is now switched up with soft music and chatters, quite a few people lingering around the house already.

Just as you walk farther inside, Harry appears on the stairs and his face lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey! Did you just arrive?” He jogs down the rest of the stairs and walking up to you he pulls you close for a quick kiss without hesitation.

“Yeah. I know you said not to bring anything, but I hate coming to parties empty handed,” you chuckle softly, holding the wine bottle up.

“Thanks. Have you eaten? Jeff is grilling outside, but help yourself with anything.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Sarah and Mitch are already here, but come on, let me introduce you to a few people.”

Harry takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. He drops the wine off in the kitchen before joining all the other guests. It’s really not that many people, just about thirty of his close circle. Musicians, people he has worked with and stayed close with, people he has known for long. Everyone seems welcoming and open, many already know who you are and it’s always a good conversation start, so there are not many awkward silences, especially because Harry is always near you, making sure you feel comfortable around his friends and it means a lot to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Harry asks, when he finds you in the kitchen, refilling your glass. He walks up to you, placing a hand to your waist as he kisses into your hair.

“Yeah, your friends are nice,” you smile at him.

“I know, that’s why they are my friends,” he smirks, so full of himself. “Want to hear something interesting?”

“Always.”

“I was talking to Adam and our song came up and then out of nowhere I referred to you as my girlfriend.”

Seemingly he is testing the waters, trying to see how you react to the title, even a little afraid of what you might say, but it doesn’t scare you.

“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”

“Are you okay with it? I wasn’t really thinking about it, just slipped out.”

“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.

“You don’t have to call me your boyfriend, call me whatever you want. It’s just a habit of mine, I guess,” he explains, popping some nuts into his mouth from the little jar on the counter.

“Alright,” you nod. Harry stares back at you for a moment before a smile stretches across his face and leaning down he kisses you shortly before taking your hand and walking back to the living room with you.

The last guests leave around midnight. After bringing your bag up to his bedroom you start cleaning up while Harry walks out the last couple leaving. You start loading the washer and put away things you’ve cleaned before.

“Oh, thank you for cleaning, but you don’t have to. I can take care of it later.”

“It’s nothing, I want to make myself useful,” you chuckle softly as you start the washer. Harry comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses into your neck.

“I have other ideas for that,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the side of your face.

“Yeah? What kind of ideas?” you teasingly ask, closing your eyes when you feel his hand slide under the waist of your skirt, moving down your abdomen until it reaches your core.

“Fun kinds,” he chuckles lowly. His other hand turns your head so his lips could meet yours, you’re still pressed up against him, melting against his chest with your back just right, like you’re two puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when his fingers wander into your underwear and they start doing their magic. “Harry!” you whine, reacting intensely to his actions.

“I fucking love hearing my name from your pretty mouth,” he growls, kissing you hard before his lips part from yours and he starts bunching up your skirt.

You don’t protest, in fact, you lean forward, grabbing onto the edge of the counter as he pulls down your panties and you hear the zipper of his pants. Glancing over your shoulders you see him pull out a condom from his pocket and you can’t push down a laughter.

“Did you keep that in your pocket all evening?”

“Wanted to be ready when I finally got you all for myself,” he smirks, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, rolling on the condom.

His hands come in contact with your hips and ass cheeks, giving them a light squeeze before you feel him lining himself up with you. His palm slides up your back as he pushes into you, both of you moaning at the fulfilling sensation.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathes out as he pushes all the way inside before starting to pull out.

“Go hard, Harry. Please!” you whimper as he starts thrusting into you. Harry lets out a growl and slams into you, making you gasp at the harshness of the movement, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

The kitchen is filled with the noises coming from the washer next to you and the slapping noise of Harry’s hips meeting your ass with every forceful thrust he makes. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips, probably already making them red, but you couldn’t care less. You hold onto the edge of the counter, but then you move one hand to cover his on you, needing to touch him in some kind of way.

Leaning forward Harry kisses your back between your shoulder blades through the thin material of your shirt and you moan his name when he hits the perfect spot inside you.

“Shit, Harry! I’m g-gonna cum!” you gasp, perking your ass up more so he can go as deep as possible.

“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”

“I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah? Then hold on for a little longer, I’m almost there.”

You try your best to keep everything inside you under control, your orgasm is really on the edge and you can only hope he is nearing his end too.

“Harry! Please!”

“Fuck, okay, okay, cum for me! Let me feel you!” he moans and his words bring you the release.

You clench around him, moaning and whimpering and it finally pushes you into his bliss too. His thrusts slow down but they are hard and go deep, helping you ride the last bits of your high.

He pulls out and gets rid of the condom before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you up from your position so he can kiss your lips.

“How about we take a shower while the washer finishes?” he suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Mm, good idea.”

Once the song is fully finished you submit it to your label after an agreement that it should come out through yours, but it wouldn’t be tied to your or Harry’s upcoming album. Everyone seems to love it, Taylor is over the moon when you show her the final version and Jeff is just as happy about it. Having only three more weeks left until the Grammy’s, you send them your request to perform the duet instead of the medley they asked. Their answer comes the next day and they are more than happy to have you premiere your new duet at the show. Everything seems to be on track.

Following a rehearsal for the Grammy performance, you’re staying over at Harry’s, just eating takeout and having a lazy evening after a whole day of working. You’ve put on a new Netflix movie, but every time you look at Harry you feel like his mind is somewhere far away.

“Want to share what’s on your mind?” you ask softly, not wanting to be pushy, you’re just trying to be there for him.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” He looks up at you, clearly hesitant whether he should share it with you or not.

“About what you said about your parents.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. Pausing the movie you turn all your attention to him. “What about it?”

“I was just talking to my mom the other day, she is coming here for the Grammy’s and I thought about how you… won’t have your parents there with you.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, but then I thought about how you said you haven’t even let them contact you since then and that maybe they’ve changed their mind about the whole situation. You’ve clearly proved them wrong with building yourself a career, maybe they can now see that what they did was wrong.”

You remain silent, chewing on his words. You’ve been great at not thinking about your parents these past years, it feels weird to have a conversation about them out of nowhere. Harry takes your silence as a warning sign, though that’s not the case.

“You know what? I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s not really my business, I shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry,” he shakes his head.

“What… would you do if you were in my place?”

Harry looks at you, surprised you are willing to continue the conversation. His hand finds your thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I think it might worth a shot to just… contact them. See if they want to maybe get in touch again.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then… you know you made the right decision leaving. I know it’s scary, but I think you should take a chance.”

“I’ll… think about it,” you nod shortly.

“Take your time, do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get comfortable in his embrace before starting the movie again.

Two weeks before the show you are headed to a fitting with Harry, your matching sets are nearly done, but they needed you to try them on and make sure they fit just perfectly. True to your and Harry’s extravagant fashion, this performance won’t lack any over the top fits either. It was clear from the beginning that you would be matching, but you made it clear that you want to bring it to the level where you’d be wearing the exact same outfit, so now there are two sets of suits in the making, the pattern of the whole two piece is recalling a kind of space vibe, blues, purples and black meeting in the colors with hundreds of embroidered stars and planets littering the fabric with additional crystal stars to make it even more extra. It’s truly one of a kind, especially paired with the sheer, tulle shirt you both will be wearing underneath.

“We look fucking great, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you stand next to each other, examining yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the small podium.

“We really do,” you smirk, satisfied with how the performance is coming together. It’s gonna be the perfect way to celebrate both your first Grammy nominations, a huge milestone in your and Harry’s career as well.

Grabbing his phone he quickly takes a picture in the mirror of the two of you, pulling you to his side as you smile into the camera through the mirror. Then you leave him alone on the podium as they are pinning his pants to make it the perfect size. Stepping to your bag you fish your phone out and reading just the first few words of Taylor’s last message she sent about ten minutes ago, you feel all blood rushing out of your face. Tapping on the notification you start reading.

Taylor: Please don’t lose your head, but we are dealing with this.

She attached several articles and you start digging through them.

“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”

“Harry Styles cozied up with Y/N Y/L/N at dinner with friends.”

“Can we expect some hot make out sessions at the Grammy’s from Harry and his new beau?”

And then there’s the absolute worst.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N going to take Harry Styles to court too?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble under your breath, vigorously typing back to Taylor to take them down. Two pictures have been leaked from the time you had dinner with Sarah and Mitch, it’s so odd because it’s been weeks since then, where were these pictures all along? Not that it matters, all you want is for them to be gone.

Against your better judgment, you go online and check your social media even though you know you shouldn’t snoop around now that it’s out there. No surprise, you and Harry are trending, but the reactions are very much mixed.

The impact of your case with Jordan is still major. It doesn’t matter that you won, people are still questioning whether he said the truth or not and now they are afraid you might drag Harry down just like you did with Jordan. That you are just trying to use his fame to get more attention and then ruin his career, making a victim out of yourself again, because apparently that’s what you’ve been doing.

You’re not only being dragged, but all of a sudden, nothing is about the music and the art you are making, people just want to know if you’re fucking Harry Styles or not. A lot of the times you’re not even named, only referred to Harry’s new lover or what’s worse, his hookup. You’ve lost all the credit you worked so hard for and for what? Because you dared to have dinner with a man?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asks walking up to you. Your eyes snap up at him and he immediately sees the shock and anger in them, setting panic in him as well. “What is it?”

“The fucking… pictures,” you hiss handing him your phone so he can see the articles for himself. He scrolls through them with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before handing the phone back once he has gotten to the end of it.

“Let’s finish this up and head home, okay? We’ll figure it all out.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you nod, trying your best to keep your anger at bay while the designers finish up on the outfits.

An hour later you walk into your place, talking on the phone with Taylor, discussing the situation though there’s not much you can do at this point. It’s all out, the pictures can’t be taken down. She suggests to just keep quiet for now, she’ll call Jeff to see what could be done as damage control.

Throwing your phone to the bed you feel your whole body shaking from the anger, it’s agonizing to know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll figure it out,” Harry speaks up, trying his best to calm you down, but it’s not really working this time.

“Stop saying it, you don’t know that for sure. I can’t believe this bullshit is happening all over again,” you breathe out shaking your head.

“Again?”

“Yes! I’m being fucking dragged for something I shouldn’t be.”

“People will always have controversial opinion on everything, you can’t get them all to like you.”

“It’s not about liking, Harry!” you snap. “I couldn’t give a damn about people liking me, but they discredit my work. Have you read those articles? I’m seen with a man and suddenly, I’m not even seen as an artist anymore. I’m not even my own person in some of them, just a girl who is linked to you. How is that fair?” “It’s not, but stressing yourself about it until you’re sick is not gonna help anything,” he retorts in a firm voice.

“So I should just sit around and so nothing while watching all my work go to shit?”

“Nothing is going to shit! This is how it goes, there’s always something people talk about but they will forget about it in a week. That doesn’t take anything away from what you’ve proved through your career.”

“Now that’s a lie. Because if they did forget about things in a week, they wouldn’t be bringing up the whole Jordan thing now. I dared to stand up for myself against a man and look where it took me to! I’m the drama queen, the lying bitch who likes to ruin men for apparently no reason and they see me as a threat when it comes to you too. People are talking about how I’ll take you to court as well, they think I’m just using you even though they know nothing about me! And the worst part is that it wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a woman. Whatever happens, however we react to the situation, it will never have the same effect on your career than it will have on mine.”

“So what, you’ll just live your life without ever doing anything that’s gonna upset people? There will always be someone who’ll judge whatever you do, you can’t do anything about that and if you let them get to you now, they’ll know they can mess with you easily.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore everything? And not do a single thing about it? It’s easy for you, you’ll walk away from this without a scratch on your name, because you are a white man who can do no wrong in the eyes of the world.”

“Okay, now you are being mean for no reason.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you retort. “And you know what else is part of the truth? That I’m not even having it the worse. There are women who are even more targeted because of their religion, their skin color, their nationality or sexuality and people don’t even realize how hard it is for any of us. I’m sick of the injustice we have to live with just because of our gender!”

“I do acknowledge the problem on hand, I’m aware of it and I’m all for doing against it, but we are not gonna solve it instantly, it’s a long process. Sometimes we just have to pull back a little, be smart about things.”

“They will never stop about this,” you shake your head, stubbornly clinging onto your opinion. “I won’t be seen as a serious artist anymore, just some girl who was linked to you. It’s fucking done, over.”

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” Harry asks with caution.

“Exactly what you are thinking about,” you reply with a bitter laugh. “I can’t be a respected artist if I’m with you.”

“That’s not true. It will die down, they will see that you are more than just who you’re dating and everything will be fine.”

“What’s not fair is that I have to work for it to be fine while you are still the same artist you were before it all blew up. Don’t you think it’s unfair?” you call him out and part of you knows you’re being mean and unnecessarily rude to him, but you just can’t control it any longer. You need to let it out and unfortunately, he is the one who is here to take the blame.

“It is, but what are you expecting me to do about it? Release a statement asking people to only talk about my dating life to make it equal? What can be done is that we try to fight this together, show them that you’re more than just a woman who is linked to a man in any kind of way.”

“Yeah, like realization is just gonna hit them,” you snap. “I’m at a turning point in my career, Harry. Whether I win a Grammy or not, this time is going to have an impact on my future. If I’m seen as just a girl linked to you, I’ll never make it. I’ll be forgotten and dragged again and I can kiss my career goodbye.”

You know you were way too harsh, but it’s what you think to be the truth. You didn’t fight your way to this point in life just to be seen as a man’s girlfriend rather than the artist you truly are. And right now, you can’t see yourself get out of this situation without letting go of Harry.

“Y/N, please don’t let this ruin what we have. We can get through this, you can’t let them control your life this much. Who are they to tell you what to do? That’s not the Y/N I know, come on!”

He tries to step closer, reaching out for you, but you take a step back, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“I would prefer to be alone now,” you sternly say, folding your arms on your chest, closing yourself off from him as you don’t even look at him, because if you did, you know you would break.

“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“

“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.

He stares at you, hoping you might change your mind, but you’re quite set on this. He knows you well enough to know you won’t budge anytime soon. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly turning around, he heads towards the door as you’re already fighting your tears back. He stops right before he is about to walk out.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he quietly says before walking out, the door shutting closed behind him.

The sobs start immediately and you fall to the ground, tears soaking your cheeks, already missing him more than anything in your life. You really thought it would be different this time, that things might get better, but you were naïve.

The next two days go by in a blur. The whole fucking internet is filled with those damn pictures of you and Harry, nothing has been about any of your Grammy nominations or even about your music, you’ve officially became the woman Harry Styles is dating.

Harry was titled as a Grammy nominee in every goddamn writing that surfaced, he was completely credited for his work while you could be happy if your name was written correctly. With every new article, your faith in having the career you worked so hard for lessened until you felt hopeless. You’ve officially became a dumb celebrity, just a woman who was known to be dating a man in the industry.

On the evening of the second day you have enough. You just read yet another degrading piece of you that was clearly written by a man, they once again talked about your case with Jordan, joking about history repeating itself and you swear you could scream and throw a tantrum like a baby at how useless and helpless you feel.

You put your laptop to the side and reach for your phone, dialing Taylor’s number.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks right away, knowing well how hard these past days have been. She came over the evening you sent Harry away and tried to comfort you, but nothing could help you that night.

“Hey, I want to ask you to do something and not try to talk me out of it.”

“Oh God…” she sighs, already knowing you’re about to do something stupid according to her.

“I don’t want to perform at the Grammy’s.”

“What? With all due respect, are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m not stupid. But I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, this has got to be the most ridiculous move you’ve ever tried to pull. Why do you want to throw such a huge thing away?”

“I can’t… sing that song with Harry. If I stand on the stage and sing with him… I just can’t do it, Tay.”

“Of course you can! Suck it up! I know you miss him and it fucking sucks what’s happening, but you have to do it!” she tries to convince you, but you’ve already made your mind up.

“No. I’m not doing it. Please let them know that it’s going to be just Harry performing.”

And with that, you end the call.

Taylor knows better than to try to fight you, she doesn’t call back though you know she wants to murder you right now probably, but she’ll come around, she always does. You make yourself a tea hoping to relax your nerves with it though you know nothing can help you now. You wish you had someone to rely on, someone you could talk to right now, but usually Taylor is that person to you and lately Harry has been your support, but you can’t call either of them. The rest of the people you consider friends… they are just not that close to you. You’re left alone, again.

As your gaze wanders over to your phone, a thought pops up in your mind that makes your hands sweat. You think back to the conversation you had with Harry about your parents and you can’t shake the urge off to finally make that call.

“Fuck it,” you breathe out and grab the device, opening up the contacts until you find what you’ve been looking for. Your thumb hovers above the call button for a while before you finally tap on it and start the call. It rings four times before a voice speaks up on the other end.

“Halo?”

“Hi mom,” you reply and hear a gasp from her at your voice.

There’s less than a week left until the Grammy’s. For your own sake, you haven’t been online outside of answering work emails, you just can’t deal with the shit show your life has become on the internet.

You haven’t left your home unless you really needed to go somewhere, did most of your meetings over the phone or videochat and postponed a fitting as well. You’ve officially caved yourself up in your apartment and you are not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Taylor keys herself in, she hasn’t even mentioned that she might drop by, but you’re not surprised. She is probably here to try to bring you out of this pity party you’ve been holding for days. When she sees you lying on the couch in sweats and messy, unwashed hair, she sighs, shaking her head.

“You really need to pull your shit together, Y/N.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your fuzzy blanket up to your chin.

“No, you’re not. This is not the bad bitch I know.”

“Bad bitches have bad days too.”

“This is not a bad day, you look like a fucking zombie. This is not what a Grammy nominee should look like days before the big show.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m performing or anything,” you shrug, but the look in Taylor’s eyes make yours go wide. “Taylor, I’m not performing, you informed them about it, right?”

“This is why I’m here,” she sighs walking closer, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I never cancelled on your performance.”

“I told you I’m not doing it!” “I know, but I was hoping you might come around. But you seem to be still acting like a stupid bitch, so that didn’t happen. However, I’ve gotten an interesting email today.”

She pulls out her phone and opens the email before handing it over to you. Shooting her an unhappy look you start reading.

-

Hi Taylor!

I got your email address from Jeff, wanted to write to you myself. I’ve officially pulled out of the Grammy performance so it’s going to be only Y/N in it. We are also working on a statement to release over the whole ordeal and my lawyers have been after the bigger gossip sites to get the articles down. I want Y/N to have the Grammy experience she deserves and I know it can’t happen with me in the performance. Tell her that I’m sorry for ruining it for her, she deserves so much more. I’m sorry she was brought into this.

I hope to see you soon, take care!

Harry

-

With parted lips, you look up at Taylor who is smiling softly at you.

“He… pulled out for me.”

“He did. Talked to Jeff on the phone, they have already let them know Harry wouldn’t be performing, they will make it official tomorrow.”

“But he deserves this just as much as I do. He is a nominee too.”

“Well, seems like he values you more than his own success.” Taylor lets out a long sigh and scooting closer she places a hand to your knee. “Look, I know you’re upset about how the media treats you just because you were seen out with Harry, and I know that you’re afraid of getting labeled as just the girl he dates and not get taken seriously as an artist, but you can’t let them stop you from living your life how you want to. There will always be judgment, there will always be men who are worse than trash and want to bring you down, but you are stronger than that. Pushing Harry away and being alone for the rest of your life is not a solution. What you can do to put them to their place is give them a big fuck you, date the hottest man in the industry and continue being the bad bitch that you are, fighting against the way you are being treated. Speak up, show them who they are dealing with, share your truth, like you always do! But you can do all of this with Harry by your side. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy, don’t make yourself miserable because we live in a world where men are still placed above women. Fight for the change but don’t forget to think about yourself as well in the process.”

You feel the tears sting in your eyes. The weight of this past week is just way too heavy to carry, but Taylor is right and you are realizing that you’ve made it harder for yourself. The sobs come before you could stop yourself and Taylor pulls you into a hug.

“I know, I know. It fucking sucks, but you can’t let them win,” she soothes, running her hands up and down your back. “Show them how big of a bad bitch you are and get the man too.”

“You think Harry still wants to be with me?”

“I think that man would be on his knees for you in a heartbeat if you asked,” she chuckles pulling back. “Statement about the performance will be released tomorrow. That’s how long you have to figure it out,” she tells you with a knowing look before leaving you alone with your thoughts, however you don’t have to think long what you have to do.

You have not been the only one these past days took a toll on. The fight the two of you had left Harry completely drained, angry and helpless. He hated that he was the reason you weren’t credited as the talented artist that you are and he couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make it better. That’s when he came up with the idea of pulling out of the performance.

Now he is ready to spend the remaining days until the award show hidden from the world, not even leaving the house. Everyone close to him knows he is better not to be disturbed now, so he is quite surprised when the security system lets him know that someone has arrived.

As you drive up to his house you spot him immediately, stepping out the front door with a shocked look on his face, probably expecting you to be the last person to be there at the moment. You wipe your sweaty palms against your thighs as you walk up to him, feeling anxious to see him and talk to him, especially after the last conversation you had.

“Hey, I’m sorry for coming here without calling or anything…” you shyly start, stopping in front of you.

“Don’t be silly. Come… Come on in,” he clears his throat inviting you inside.

You’ve walked through this front door so many times in the past almost two months, but this is the first time you feel so odd, standing out, like you have no place in here and it’s all thanks to yourself.

“Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Harry walks past you but then turns to face you, talking to you with such warmth and kindness, even after how you acted, putting blame on him for something he has no control over. It completely breaks you and can’t stop your eyes from watering as you look at him. You really hoped you’ve run out of tears in the past days, but it seems like that’s not the case at all.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out shakily and you step closer to each other at the same time, he envelopes you in his strong arms and you fist his shirt at his chest. “I know it was none of your fault, I just got so desperate and afraid that it might ruin what I worked so hard for.”

“I know. And you were right about everything. Everything you said was true and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t right to be mad at you just because you have different privileges, it’s not like you can change who you are. So I’m really sorry about that, and also for pushing you away when you were just trying to be there for me. I was so stupid,” you breathe out, wiping the tears sliding your cheeks down away.

“You just panicked, it’s okay. Don’t apologize for wanting to protect yourself.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder you wait for your sobs to die down before you look back up at him. Reaching up he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at you warmly and that smile alone ensures you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the right person.

“Taylor showed me the email you sent her,” you bring it up, clearing your throat.

“You deserve it all to yourself so people can see how amazing of an artist you are.”

“I’m not doing it without you,” you shake your head stubbornly. “We wrote the song together and we’re gonna perform it together or else I’m not doing it either.”

“Y/N, you know if we step on that stage together they are gonna twist the whole thing and make it about something else. I want you to have this opportunity for your career without me ruining it with just my presence.”

“Fuck them, if they take it as something it’s not. They are not gonna take the chance away from us to perform our song. If they are such fucking dumbasses that they make it all about what’s between us, that’s their own personal problem. If I need to, I’ll go on a Twitter rant and tell them this myself. I want you on stage with me or else I’m not doing it either.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, pressing his lips together as he stares back at you, probably realizing you are dead serious about pulling out of the performance and he is right. He doesn’t even know you were the first one to cancel on it, you’d do it again without hesitation.

“I guess we are performing then,” he cracks a small smile and throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down, lips smashing against his, the kiss mingling with giggles and smiles.

Harry wraps his arms tight around your waist, pulling you up from the ground as he spins you around, making you squeal as you hold onto him.

“I have to call Jeff to call the Grammy’s not to post the statement,” he hums against your lips and he pecks them a few more times before letting go of you to quickly make a call to his manager.

You move over to the couch in his living room as he talks to Jeff, who is luckily very understanding about the sudden change. Hugging your knees to your chest you watch him pace the floor, exchanging a few more words with the man on the phone before ending the call, his gaze dropping to you again. Sitting beside you, he kisses your temple, dropping an arm around your shoulders as you lean against him, head resting on his chest.

“I called my mom,” you drop the bomb suddenly and you can feel him tense up for a moment, probably shocked by your words.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head your gaze meets his as you carry on. “She was… very shocked to hear my voice.”

“I bet,” he hums. “What did you talk about?”

“I just… asked how they are doing and told her that I’ve been thinking a lot about them. She sounded genuinely touched by it and said I’m always welcomed for dinner or lunch if I’d like to see them.”

“That’s amazing! See, I told you they would love to hear from you!”

“Yeah,” you smile at him softly. “I think I want to go over sometime after the Grammy’s.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”

“Would you please come with me?”

Your question catches him off-guard he seems surprised that you would want him there, but then his expression softens as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I would love to, if you want me there.”

“I do,” you nod.

“Then it’s settled,” he smiles warmly as you lay your head back to his chest, his fingers gently dancing up and down your arm and for once in your life you finally feel settled, like everything is going to be fine.

Highlights of the 63rd Annual Grammy Awards: Y/N Y/L/N blows up stage with new hit duet

The killer duo surprised us all with a brand new duet titled Floating Through Space, performed it together on their big night. Wearing matching galaxy themed suits, Y/L/N and Styles have closed off the evening with probably the most success, the latter winning two out of his three nominations, receiving the award for Best Music Video and Best Pop Vocal Album with his latest album, Fine Line, while Y/L/N was titled best new artist, becoming a Grammy winner early in her career.

Tabloids blew up earlier this month when the two singers were photographed cozied up at dinner with friends, speculations started about their possible romance, but Y/L/N has made a clear statement on the question with her red carpet appearance before the award show. Wearing a head to toe black Gucci gown paired with a dramatic cape, the message “I’M AN ARTIST, ASK ME ABOUT MY ART” painted onto it in red, making a bold statement about her opinion on the way the media has been treating the star.

Both singers remained silent on their alleged romance, but proved to be the best of their time with their joined performance with their new emotional duet. Following the song’s debut on stage it was released to the public as a single right away, taking over all charts with its overwhelming success.

Listen to Floating Through Space now on Spotify and Apple Music!

Your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel as you stare up at the home you grew up in. It looks almost the same, sometime through the years you haven’t been around your parents have painted it a light blue color from the paste yellow, but it’s still… the same.

“Hey.”

Turning to your right you look at Harry who is smiling at you warmly as his hand reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, you’re still their daughter.”

“That’s not what they told me the last time I was here,” you whisper, feeling your throat closing up.

“We all say things in the heat of the moment. Seeing how happy they were about this lunch proves that they regret what happened.”

Nodding you take a deep breath to get ready for whatever is going to happen. Leaning over the console you pull Harry in for a kiss and it calms your nerves a little. Getting out of the car he takes your hand and squeezes it to let you know he’ll be right by your side all along. As you walk up to the front porch a sense of strong nostalgia washes over you.

You didn’t have a bad childhood, your parents provided you so much growing up, it’s sad to think what it has become. In a way you feel more anxious than walking the red carpet a week ago for the Grammys even though you’re just meeting your parents, but this is a turning point in your life that needed to come sooner or later.

“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be fine,” Harry murmurs, kissing your forehead before you ring the doorbell, feeling weird that you come here as a guest, not as someone who belongs here.

You hear footsteps approaching on the other side, two frames appear through the clouded glass of the front door and then it flies open, pushing all air out of your lungs, clinging tightly onto Harry’s hand. There’s a moment of silence and just staring at each other before the tiniest smile tugs on your lips.

“Hi mom, hi dad.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[purecantarella]

Revamped Rhapsody

double update? who is she? HAHAHA but for real i wanted to release these two at the same time to sort of compensate for being gone for a week. i hope you all enjoy this one too! im nayeon x idol!reader disclaimer/s : i had fun writing some good good angst

Words were important to you, it was a part of your passion and your work. Language was something that you'd adored since you were younger but the premise that you always found it a little odd how words could be twisted to mean or imply different things, just on tone and situation alone.

You wouldn't know or understand it was when you were permitted to write your own songs in your company. The blend of different meanings and people made you find a deeper understanding for the words and lyrics of songs. Then when you met Im Nayeon, the only person who could fill your mind and heart with a rhythm that followed the way you fell in love with her.

It began when you met after you entered the practice room she reserved by mistake.

You tapped away at your phone, your bag hanging lazily over your shoulder as you pushed in the door of the practice room. A familiar song that wasn't yours blasted through the speakers. Your head slowly raised as you saw the eldest member of TWICE staring intently at herself as she danced. You'd watched live performances and met once or twice backstage very briefly, but it was a different sensation to see her in her zone. No cameras and no expectations.

'She has a good form...' You thought to yourself, in an awestruck daze. Just as you were about to retreat to find the right room, a sharp thud and a small squeal sliced right past the blaring music from the speakers. You hastily turned around to see the vocalist on the floor, holding her leg.

"Oh gosh, are you okay?" You asked dropping your bag and sliding to her side. When she got over the initial shock, she recognized you. Her celebrity crush. The vocalist blushed and nodded quickly. The sparkle in her eyes as she gave you her iconic bunny smile made your stomach turn in the best way. "Y-Yeah, I'm good!"

A smile graced your lips as you saw the usually confident extrovert awkwardly fidget with her fingers. "You wanna get up or is this whole floor thing a part of your routine?" You joked to which she laughed, shoving your shoulder gently.

"Oh gee thanks, jerk!" You chuckled before getting up and offering your hand to the shorter woman. Once she took it, you pulled her up slowly, making sure she wouldn't tumble over. "Is your leg okay?" Nayeon nodded quickly.

For a second, there's a silence and a pause. You two just staring at each other like you had for years. Like you knew each other in a much deeper way than just idols who shared the same company. There's a point where she thinks that you might just lean in but nothing comes of the inkling.

"Uh, well I should go. Leave you to it..." You rushed as you took your bag from the ground. Turning to face Nayeon then the door then back to Nayeon. "Uh, I'll see you around?" You asked, readjusting the strap on your shoulder.

"I'll be counting on it." You grinned as you left, the lead vocalist running through your head the entire time you were practicing for your latest comeback.

Brushing past each other in the hallway of the company building became more frequent, on some occasion you both even ate lunch together rather than with her group and your managers or other friends. You both became a little more than smitten with each other and wound up dating a couple months after you first met.

Im Nayeon became your inspiration for working hard, to build to become the person you know she deserves. Of course, she thinks you're pretty great. She was your muse, she just hadn't put all the pieces together yet.

When your latest song dropped, of course she listened to it immediately. Then as she listened to the lyrics that you wrote, the way you described the perfect girl for you, how you began to fall in love with this girl, it clicked in her head. Nayeon rushed out of the TWICE's practice room, making the girls look at her with either a smirk or a look of genuine concern.

She sprinted across the building to reach you in your practice room. As the door flung open, your body shifted to the side, immediately smiling as you saw your girlfriend. "Nayeonie, hey what's u—" She pressed her lips to yours, cutting you off in a passionate meeting much to the dismay of your managers who sat behind you both.

Jumping into your arms, you placed your hands under her thighs as you pulled away. The dopey yet confused smile on your face made her giggle again as she placed a series of kisses over your face.

"You wrote a song for me..." You smiled even wider and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Of course I did, Nayeonie..." You paused for a second before adding, "I love you."

The smile on her face mirrored your wide and bright one as she kissed you again. Deeper and overflowing with an intense amount of love. "I love you too, dummy..." She whispered against your lips.

Despite how much you loved each other though, two years into the relationship both of you became extremely busy. Busier than you'd ever been since you were breaking into the international market and as was TWICE. Coming home to each other tired and grouchy. You'd tried to push it further but with one last fight after a long day of taking orders, you called it quits and left her dorm.

Your break-up was the toughest time for both of you, since you'd never gone public, you both had to maintain the happy facade for both your fans. It was particularly rough on you since a lot of the songs you'd been set to sing all the time were about and for her.

She anticipated every one of your songs since it was the only way she could hear your voice. Hearing how you forced yourself to be bouncy and in love with someone. At least she hoped you were forcing yourself.

On the day of your Sponsored Events, the day your latest song was to be performed during the event. The vocalist watched and saw the visible tiredness under your eyes but you still performed your heart out. Then a familiar melody played. One that Nayeon listened to all the time.

It was the first song you wrote about her. Except the lyrics were different. They were sadder, depicting your break-up rather than how you were beginning to fall in love with her. The lively guitar sound of the original was traded in for a softer and more delicate piano instrumental. As she looked at your face and heard the words that fell from your lips, it all came back to her in a wave, making her heart shatter all over again.

The rest of the girls came in after a while to check in on her and opted to stay with her to offer her some sort of comfort.

Nayeon watched your face intently, the ‘idol’ smile that was plastered onto your lips. You didn’t want to be there. She knew that. The interviewer went through a series of questions about your career and finally about the song. Your song for her, both versions. The smile on your face grew tighter, uncomfortably so.

“So two years ago, you released a song that you revamped and performed for us.” The interviewer asked you and you nodded, a dry chuckle falling from your lips. “And you said before that that song was written for a very special girl. What’s the story behind that one?” He pried making your jaw evidently clench. The girls sitting next to Nayeon eyed her carefully as she stared at your tense form. Silently anticipating what you were going to say.

For a moment, you collect yourself. The sadness swirling in your chest again from rewriting the song that you wrote for her. Having to channel all those emotions without crying on national television. You took a deep breath, releasing it with a pathetically winded laugh. “Short of it is that sometimes you need to let go of things to keep them whole. Uh…” You cleared your throat softly. The smile on your face fell a little, a sad and wistful grin left in its place. “Some things just need to happen to make way for better things, I guess.” You finished, the interviewer stunned.

A silence hung over the live feed for a moment. Nayeon and the rest of TWICE waited patiently to see what would happen next. The man leaned forward, propping his elbow onto his knee as he looked at you and asked, “If you could change the circumstances, Y/n…Would you choose to stay with her?” A somber smile on his face as your head upturned a little, eyes red and watery. Without a second thought, you nodded slowly.

Nayeon’s held tears trickled slowly down her cheeks as she held back a soft sob. “If I could…” You took a deep breath, lifting your hand to fan the tears out of your eyes, laughing softly at yourself before continuing. “I would leave everything behind to be with her.” The vocalist’s members had their arms around Nayeon as you spoke. She had pretty much bawled her eyes out as the unspoken confessions left your mouth.

“But I could never do that to her, not after all her sacrifices. I can’t.” Your voice finally cracked as the feed finally cut. The room echoed the eldest’s soft sobs while you did the same on the other side of the city.

okay, so this one was a little wobbly because i was not sober when i wrote this. had a bottle of soju and i'm feeling good HAAHAHH anyway, i hope you all enjoyed this and remember that requests are open and comments and criticism is completely welcomed! keep safe everyone and i will see you all very soon 😊😁

[pascalsummers]

Paralyzed (Bucky x Male Reader)

Summary: You tend to freeze around your crush a lot. Maybe a song will help

A/N: This is my first post on here! I hope you enjoy it! Also the song used is called Paralyzed by Big Time Rush.

-

Having your crush think you hate them was the biggest mistake of your life. You didn't mean for it to end up this way but life had a way of messing with you. It all started the first day you meet Bucky. You were sitting in the living room scrolling through your phone when he walked in. You heard about the man from Steve and the rest of the Avengers. You were an Avenger yourself but a more "Call me if you need me." member. So you never actually saw how he looked. "Oh, you must be Y/N? I'm Bucky." He said causing you to turn around to him staring at you. The moment your eyes meet you instantly fell in love with him. This is why you stared at him wide-eyed before speed walking out of the room. Sadly you had the unfortunate tendency to get paralyzed every time you saw a crush of yours. Meaning you never actually talked to any of them. You tried to talk to Bucky but every time he looked at you your confidence fell to the floor and you quickly left the scene. It didn't take long for the rest of the Avengers to see you in action. It confused all of them to see you avoid Bucky like the plague especially Steve. This is why you were being seated in the conference room with Steve and Tony at the moment. "I already told you guys I don't hate Bucky!" You exclaimed leaning back in your chair. You were always asked the same question and it irritated you. Of course, you can't blame them since you never gave them a straight answer. "You say you don't hate him. But leaving the room the moment he walks in doesn't say much else. You see the problem here?" Tony said waving his hand around the room emphasizing why you were dragged in here in the first place. "Bucky's a good man Y/N. I know his past isn't the greatest but he's trying to make up for it. You don't have to be friends with him just... give him a chance okay?" Steve pleaded, giving you a small smile though you could see the hurt in his eyes. Steve was probably the most hurt by your actions since he and Bucky go way back. You opened your mouth to say something but decided against it. Instead, you mumbled a small okay before walking out of the room and heading straight to yours. Though you weren't at the tower a lot they still wanted you to have a room letting you know you were always welcomed. As you turned the corner you found yourself bumping into someone. "Sorry, my-" You started before you looked up and saw you bumped into none other than Bucky himself. You immediately looked at the ground avoiding his gaze. "Sorry." You said quickly before speed walking away from him.                                                             + + + + Bucky watched as you walked down the hall, your form slowly getting smaller before disappearing completely. He let out a heavy sigh as he turned his head back to where you were standing. Bucky was used to people avoid him considering his past. Though watching you do it hurt him more than it should have. Though that was probably because he had a small crush on you. He continued walking down the hall finding the conference room door wide open. Walking closer he could make out the voice of Tony and Steve who seemed to be talking about you. "I think he's scared of me," Bucky said leaning against the doorway catching the attention of Steve and Tony. Steve let out a small sigh. "Could be. I'm sorry Buck." Bucky waved him off. "It's not your fault. I'm... used to it. even if it's from an Avenger." He said trying not to sound as hurt as he felt.                                                             + + + + After locking yourself in your room you fell onto your bed, letting out a long groan. You knew you had to tell Bucky sooner or later. With your other crushes you usually never saw them the next school year and could forget they ever existed. But Bucky? you couldn't forget him you didn't want to forget him. So with that, you dragged yourself to your desk and began writing. You were a singer in a band before you joined the Avengers. The team would always want to hear you sing whenever it was brought up but you were too shy to do it. Whenever you got a crush you always wrote a song about them and kept it in a binder in your house. You never performed those or your other original songs cause of nerves. This week though all of that would change. It didn't take you long to write the song which surprised you. "Okay, now to show the band." You said to yourself as you grabbed your bag and stuffed the papers in. You opened your door and did a quick peek outside seeing if Bucky was coming down the hall. Once the coast looked clear you stepped into the hallway and made a beeline to the elevator. Finding your bandmates was also a walk in the park. Since all of them were roommates anyway and never left home. You showed them the song and they were ecstatic to perform it. So that week while you were out of the tower you and your bandmates worked on the song till it was perfect. Now the only hard part was performing it.                                                             + + + + It was about a month after the talk with Tony and Steve and things were... progressing between you and Bucky. Now you could be in the room with him for at most two minutes before running away! The team didn't like how short the time was but it was some progress. The Avengers were in the living room talking amongst themselves when you barged into the room catching everyone's attention. "You okay Y/N?" Natasha asked still moving the bowl of popcorn out of Clint's reach. You took a deep breath and collected yourself. "My band is having a show tonight and I want you all to come and watch me!" You said as fast as you could before your confidence ran out. The room fell silent for a minute before everyone started cheering. It surprised you how eager they were to hear you sing. With that, you told them all to get dressed and gave them the location before leaving the room. You mentally high-fived yourself for getting this far. Now all you had to do was sing the song and confess to your crush at the same time.                                                             + + + + "Dude you are shaking more than usual." Brett, your guitarist, said while he messed around with his instrument. Brett and you have been friends ever since you were kids so he knew what was up when you gave them the song. You took a deep breath while fiddling with the mic in your hand. "I have so many first happening today. My first time singing a song in front of the avengers, my first time performing an original song, my first time telling a crush I like them? It's... a lot to handle at once." You admitted feeling a little bit better after getting it off your chest. Brett gives you a kind smile. "Y/N your gonna do great. Just remember to breathe and know that I will always have your back. Okay?" You smiled at his kind words feeling yourself relax more. You were going to say something else but a voice signaling your band to come on stage stopped you. "Well, no turning back now." You joked as you took one final breath before walking onto the stage. Immediately you see the Avengers all seated at a table closest to the stage all wearing a suit or a dress. Seeing Bucky in a black suit with his hair tied back almost made you faint on the spot but you had a job to do. After the clapping died down you cleared your throat and began your little speech before the show. "Hey everyone it's good to be back! So today is a special occasion not only because we have earth's greatest defenders here with us tonight but we're also performing our first original song!" The amount of clapping and wooing you heard was almost deafening. Though you didn't know if they were clapping about the song or the people. "The lyrics are pretty self-explanatory so I won't bore you with the meaning. Without further ado here's our song Paralyzed!" With that, you signaled to your band to begin playing the song. As the song began to play you took one last breath and closed your eyes feeling the music flow through you. It was now or never.                                                             + + + + To say the Avengers were excited to hear you would be an understatement. They were practically bouncing in their seats like little kids waiting to hear you sing. Well except for Bucky who tried to keep a neutral look but anyone could see he didn't want to be there. Before they left he told Steve that you probably didn't want him to come but invited him anyway to be nice. Steve could see the look on Bucky's face and tried to reassure him. "Come on Buck. We're here now aren't we? Might as well enjoy it right?" He reasoned giving Bucky a small smile. Bucky rolled his eyes in response but tried to get comfortable. Though he thought you hated him, he did want to hear your voice. Even if it would never be directed towards him. You, you walked into the room On a Friday afternoon That's when I saw you for the first time And I was paralyzed The moment those words left your mouth the Avengers were surprised by how good you sounded. Though Bucky furrowed his brows as he thought about the first time he met you. "Could he? No that can't be it." Bucky reasoned with himself trying to focus on your voice instead of the lyrics. I had a million things to say But none of them came out that day 'Cause I was never one of those guys That always had the best lies Bucky once again thought about the first time you too met and how the lyrics seemed to fit. Though he once again wrote it off as a really weird coincidence. Right? I try to speak, but boy you got me tongue-tied I try to breathe but I'm f-f-f-frozen inside I try to move but I'm stuck in my shoes You got me paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

I see you walking, but all you do is pass me by Can't even talk, cause words don't come into my mind I'd make a move if I had the guts to But I'm paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed As you sang those lyrics the Avengers started to piece things together. They went wide-eyed when the realization hit them. It was a love song. A love song about Bucky. Now I learned a lot from my mistake Never let a good thing slip away I've had a lot of time to look back And my only regret is Not telling you what I was going through But you didn't even know that "I think this is about you, Buck," Steve whispered during the second chorus, playfully jabbing his friend in the side. Bucky barely registered Steve's voice as his mind tried to wrap around the fact that you didn't hate him. In fact, it was the total opposite. As the years go by I think about you all the time, whoa If I get the chance I hope I won't be paralyzed, paralyzed by you Bucky watched as you closed your eyes, finally feeling all your confidence return with a vengeance. When you opened your eyes your E/C ones were staring into his blue ones. You walked into the room On a Friday afternoon Bucky couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips as he watched you. The rest of the Avengers spent the time looking between you and Bucky still shocked by the love confession. "I think it's safe to say no one was expecting this?" Clint whispered to the team who all just slowly nodded in agreement. When the song ended there was silence for a small moment before the crowd went wild. Bucky watched you breathing heavily, your eyes still trained on his. Without much thought, Bucky got up from his seat and walked to the stage causing the room to fall silent. Bucky could see the worry in your eyes as he got close to you. Though it only lasted for a small moment before the man pressed his lips to yours. The crowd once again went crazy including the Avengers who were more than happy to see the two of you together. "I thought you hated me." Bucky breathed out as he rested his forehead on yours. You chuckled slightly still trying to catch your breath from the song and the kiss. "I don't hate you Bucky. I'm just an idiot." "Well, you are my idiot now doll." He said before pressing his lips to yours again.

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Love in G Major

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 2,500+

Warnings: Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, you’re one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when you’ll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before you’re supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isn’t your soulmate.

Five hours.

You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.

It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You weren’t supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.

After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.

Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.

You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.

It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.

Four hours.

You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.

‘At least I still have my cello,’ you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.

You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didn’t shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.

Except it wasn’t your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you weren’t going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.

“Here she is,” he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.

The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldn’t help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.

“What am I doing on stage,” you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddler’s smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. “Riddle me this,” the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, “what is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled as a minute passed.

“Well, if you don’t know, why don’t we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?”

And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You don’t know how you could live with his blood on your hands.

“Wait, I have the answer,” you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddler’s elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldn’t be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.

“Well, do go on.”

“It’s music,” you said, staring at the deranged man’s face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.

“That’s correct. And with that, let us start the games.”

Three hours.

After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.

“Batman, I have two riddles for you,” he said, addressing the camera. If you weren’t stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldn’t he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.

“There are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, ‘What is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?’ You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.”

As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably weren’t as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, it’d probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.

You just hoped that they could understand the Riddler’s riddle and show up to save the night.

Two hours.

An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddler’s henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.

“Well Gotham,” the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. “Batman still hasn’t arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.”

At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.

“Our special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.”

You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.

“Now come on (Y/N), don’t be shy. I know that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity but I don’t bite.”

You shivered under the Riddler’s gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.

“(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. She’s going to play a song that shows up in the cards,” he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with ‘Please, no’s mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.

“And if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.”

You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.

As you turned around to shake the Riddler’s hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.

“Let the game begin,” he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to change the rules,” you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.

One hour.

You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.

You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bella’s hands and feet.

Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering “listen.”

You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.

You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robin’s laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bella’s father, the sound of the GCPD’s sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.

As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you don’t fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bella’s father.

“Why don’t you go and seek some medical assistance?”

“I will sir,” you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldn’t see Robin near them.

“I think you have something of mine,” Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.

“I don’t know what you’re…,” you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know… maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,” you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.

“Alright, you can keep it. Just don’t tell Batsie,” he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. “I’m sorry for cutting you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.

“Let me introduce myself again,” he started taking off his mask, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Why don’t we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?”

“I would like that, love bird.”

[ellitx]

From Me To You | Venti x Reader

[Name]'s been spending more time with Aether writing letters. When will she go back to him to spend time together?

word count: 9.7k

           “Now, who would love to listen to a bard’s song? One can harmonize with me to sing along~”

           Sun-kissed white clouds blossom in the blue, free to fly with the wind. In the long horizon, they take on azure hues. It was a wonderful day to sing ballads to the people of Mondstadt. 

           Children and adults have crowded around Venti, the little ones' eyes sparkled in awe whilst the grownups are eager to listen to the stories he’ll share. A chuckle slipped from his lips and took out his trusty lyre, Der Frühling.

           The sweet refrain of the lyre spoke a musical language to their soul. The strumming sound had a hypnotic soothing quality that he craved. To lose himself to the melody of the stringed instrument was his idea of heavenly noon.

           The bard’s music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand; the sound rushing in and around every person near the Cathedral. Some reacted to his poetic words, others continued in chatter, but it always speaks to them in some manner.

           A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, or admire his storytelling of the previous heroes. Before the notes filled the air, every person was an island. With it, they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginning of togetherness feels warm.

           His fingers ceased his strumming and gave a bow to his audience as they cheered and clapped from the wonderful performance and his melodious voice that favored their ears.

           “Thank you!” He chuckled and the lyre dissipated from his hands, hiding in the unknown as he tipped his beret towards them fill it up with moras. Needless to say, he will spend it on a tavern to buy Mondstadt’s beloved dandelion wine.

           Watching the townsfolk walk off and continue their business, he glanced behind him to look at the Cathedral. “I wonder when will [Name]’s guests leave?” He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

           “I wish they’d leave already.”

           Lost in his thoughts, a man then bumped into him making the bard stumble backward. He didn’t even apologize or spared a glance at him. “Hey!”

           The fellow simply ignored him and ran off with his friend.

           Venti whipped his head to see what the sudden commotion was all about. The citizens that were crowding in the town square caught his interest. He trotted his way near the semi-circular platform and observed.

           “What’s going on there?”

           Leaning forward on the bricked base to take a closer look, a familiar silhouette greeted his eyes. It was unexpected to see that the outlander has already come back. Aether waved to the people who welcomed him and smiled at them in thanks.

           The bard was confused as to why he was here. What was his reason for his sudden appearance without their knowledge?

           For some reason, it made his stomach churn.

           It felt like bad news.

 —

            “[Name]! [Name]!” Venti called out her name as he ran inside the Basilica drawing Barbara’s attention. 

           “Ah, Venti! You mustn’t—“

            “I understand what you’re saying… but this is more important.” Sister Jilliana sighed and let her palm rest on her cheek in worry as she looked at [Name]. 

           “Yes, but…”

           The door then slammed open, surprising the two females inside and cast their gaze on the bard. “[Name]!” He uttered her name once more and took a deep breath to regain the oxygen back to his lungs.

           “Venti…?”

           “Young man, how many times must I tell you to knock before entering this room?” Sister Jilliana scolded as a frown painted on her face. 

           A sheepish smile tugged his lips and closed his eyes to them apologetically. “Pardon me, Sister.” She breathed out wearily, already used to his abrupt barging, and motioned for him to come inside much to his pleasure.

           Venti hopped his way to [Name]’s bed and enveloped her frail form in a hug. “What is it?” She asked as she caressed his dark locks that made him relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of her fingers grazing his head.

           He nuzzled on her neck and gave light kisses on it making her cheeks flared up in embarrassment and pushed him gently before the nun could see his scandalous acts. A sullen look appeared on his appearance when she denied his love for her as he let his arms fall back to his side.

           He almost forgot what he was going to say since he was so excited to finally see [Name] considering that he wasn’t able to visit her because of curfews. She has been stuck in here for who knows how long now, and just misses being with her.

           He clenched his fist and placed it on his mouth as he coughed to get back to his composure. “It seems like he came back already.” She tilted her head in puzzlement at his words, unable to fathom what he meant.

           It was ambiguous and equivocal so to say. Maybe he just wanted to play some word games again? Before she could speak out, someone was knocking on the door and Barbara came to announce something.

           “The traveler is here.”

           The female’s [eye color] oculars lit up and smiled. “You mean him?” She asked more on the bard than the deaconess. The former furrowed his brows and intertwined their fingers together, nodding hesitantly.

           “I forgot it was supposed to be today.” [Name] muttered and glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. “Please ask him if it’s alright with him to wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

           “Of course.” Barbara smiled and closed the door quietly. Sister Jilliana cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at her like a mother scolding a child. 

           “I’m sorry, Sister, but is it alright if we talk about this some other time?” She pleaded and clasped her hands together in an imploring way. 

           The nun shook her head and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Some other time? You know you need to stay in bed and rest!” [Name] lifted the blanket from her form and let her feet dangle on the edge of the bed ready to set off.

           Venti watched them quietly— with him following behind her— as she made her way to the exit of her room. “Young lady, your health will be at risk if you don’t stay here—“

           “Don’t worry! I’ll make sure to drink my medicines!” [Name] said hastily and grasped his hand with hers before leaving the woman alone in the room as the door shut closed.

           “Wow, it sure has been a long time since we’ve been here, huh.” Paimon said as she floated over the outlander’s head. He nodded in agreement and admired the marvelous garden from the window, absently nodding off to the wonderland.

           “Aether!” The male whipped his head to the source of the voice and beamed at [Name] with his floating companion waving her hands excitedly. “[Name]!” Paimon exclaimed as small particles of constellations trailed along with her when she greeted them.

           “Hello to you too, Paimon!” The female giggled as she danced around her. While the three of them were busy with their small reunion, Venti can’t help but glare at the blonde male. 

           Great, now he’s getting her attention I’ve always needed.

           He grumbled to himself and clutched tightly on her hand to remind her that he was still there. Why is it that if he needs her affection so badly, something will sabotage and interfere with them? 

           “Sorry to keep you waiting,” [Name] apologized to Aether to which he brushed it off saying it’s fine. “and thank you for coming all this way.” She bowed to them and showed them her smile.

           “You gotta loosen up, [Name]. You don’t have to be so formal around us.” The fairy started with a pout. She then looked at Venti who was clinging to her as a frown appeared.

           “And why’s the Tone-Deaf Bard here?”

           Venti huffed and scowled to the emergency ratio. “I’m the one who should be asking that, mind you. What are you two doing here?”

           “Paimon…” The traveler scolded and placed his hand on his forehead, shaking his head in aggravation if she ever caused a scene inside the church. Seconds later, he regained his composure and looked to the bard.

           “Sorry about Paimon. [Name] requested us to come here.” Was his answer to Venti’s question. The latter bit his lip and held the frail teen close to him protectively. 

           What for? He asked to himself, absentmindedly letting the winds get strong and sharp on their skin.

           [Name] laughed airily when he did that and gave a short peck to his cheek to calm him down. She noticed he’s been more watchful than ever and it’ll be bad news if he’ll go out of control.

           “Let’s take a seat. I’ll go and prepare tea for us.”        

           She tipped her head and beckoned them to follow her to the room. Aether looked around the area before taking a seat on the couch while Paimon awed at the sight of a plate of cookies resting peacefully on the table and grabbed a handful of it.

           “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Venti said as he wrapped his arms around the female’s waist from behind and buried his face on her neck. He fiddled with the ribbon that was tied to her dress while she started brewing tea for the guests.

           “I already have enough. Staying in bed for days is even more tiring.” The faint scent of the sugar reached their nose as she took several and kept it in the sugar pot to bring it later.

           He hummed as a response and watched her pour the freshly brewed tea on four teacups and placed it on a tray. His fingers wrapped on the handle and carried it before she could take it.

           He didn’t want her to move so much and decided he’ll take care of this one. [Name] escorted him back to the living room and took a seat as Venti served the drink to Aether. The traveler thanked him and blew gently to cool it before taking a sip.

           Sighing at the aromatic drink, Aether glanced at them. “Should we start?” He asked and settled the cup back on the table. “Of course, it’s better to begin right away. If I recall correctly, you were alright with helping me for one week, right?” [Name] pondered.

           He bobbed his head. Paimon gave a curious look as she munched on the cookies. “Oh right! Traveler and I are happy to help you anytime! Uh… what was it that she asked us again…?”

           Aether groaned at her lack of focus, too tired to even give her an answer. “I can discuss it with you if we take it to the sunroom if you don’t mind? It’s nice and bright out there.” 

           [Name] stood up from her chair and patted her outfit to tidy up the creases that formed. Venti’s brows arched in curiosity and inquired about them. “What are you doing?”

           “I’m having him help me write some letters.”

           He was beyond confused at such a simple request, yet why did she ask Aether to come all this way just for that if he can just do it for her? He furrowed his brows and looked down on the floor, feeling dejected that she’s not relying on him.

           “I could’ve done that for you…” He muttered bitterly and clenched his fists. She felt her heart sink at his morose state and apologized. “I’m sorry, Venti but this is something different.” She cupped his cheeks as her fingers touched them affectionately. Rather than having the warm and loving feeling, it just felt heavy like something was weighing on his shoulders.

             Breathing a sigh, he rested his palm over hers and leaned closer as their temples made contact. “Who are you writing to?” He whispered and admired the swirls of [eye color] in her eyes as they twinkled. 

           “Well…” She closed her eyes and smiled blithely. “Someone very far away.”

           That was not the answer he was expecting. He whined at her enigmatic comment and kissed her lips as a counter much to her surprise and bashfulness to his direct public display of affection. 

           [Name] could feel the heat growing in her cheeks. By now they must be beyond attractive rosiness. She felt as if all her insecurities were writ large across her face and there was nowhere to hide. 

           “Ahem!” Paimon cleared her throat to garner their attention. Venti’s eyes focused on hers and hummed innocently as if nothing happened. “Seriously? Right in front of us?” She remarked and folded her arms.

           “So? Any problems with it?” He asked in a snobbish tone and held [Name] close while she covered her whole face with her hands, too ashamed to face the guests and Venti himself. 

           “W-we should get going now, Aether. I don’t want to delay your travels any further.” She stuttered then looked at the bard. “Venti, can you stay here?” She pleaded and hoped her begging would work on him.

           “Eh, why?” 

           “This is something private. I’m really sorry if I’m being surreptitious today, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” [Name] brushed her lips on his cheek before setting off to the sunroom with Aether and Paimon following after her.

           The blonde looked behind his shoulder and stared at Venti’s small frame standing idly in the middle of the room. He felt bad for him that they’re keeping a secret from him. Aether has to fulfill the girl’s request. He hopes the Anemo archon won’t misunderstand everything.

           By the time they arrived there, his eyes caught on the typewriter sitting on the lone table with Barbara situated on a chair, humming a song. She lifted her head up when she saw three figures from the corner of her eyes and greeted them with a big smile. 

           “You guys are finally here.”

           Venti peeked from the window and watched as their lips moved to try to comprehend what they’re saying from the other side of the room. He tried his best to do lipreading but when [Name] turned her head, he immediately ducked and hid from her eyesight.

            He clicked his tongue in annoyance, not that because she almost caught him, but because of the outlander and his little companion. “I knew he was bad news.” 

           Hearing the loud screech of the chair, he jerked his head in the direction of the noise as his teal eyes widened and his mind went blank as did his heart at the sight of his dear toppling if it weren’t for Aether catching her in time.

           The female’s chest tightened and her breathing was ragged and short as she clutched tightly to whoever was holding her for support. Everything turned cloudy and fuzzy, she blinked several times to recover her focus but to no avail, the world then went dark as several voices called out for her.

           Venti panicked and soon dashed inside, ignoring the calls of the nuns that wanted him to stop.

 —

            “Are you okay…?” Asked the bard as he connected their hands together and rubbed circles on the back. “I’m fine. Sorry if I gave you a shock.” 

           [Name] was currently laying on her bed, tucked inside the blanket. Here she was again, stuck in her room with the smell of medicines and flowers wafting around the room. 

           When will she ever have a day to finally get out of here and enjoy the outside world with her friends instead of being cooped up alone? Venti continued letting his finger graze on her hand to distract himself and believed she’ll get well soon.

           “I’ll be better right away.” She assured him with a smile. He stayed quiet and unheedingly interlocked their fingers to continue to play with it. [Name] didn’t mind at all. If that’s what makes him feel at ease then she’ll allow it without asking.

           “Hey, Venti,” She called out quietly. 

           “Hm?”

           “Can you sing for me?”

           The motion of his finger halted as a smile donned his face. “Of course. Anything for you.”

           He first started humming, improvising a ballad for her— to make a melodic and lilting harmony just for her. It soothed her ears listening to his soft voice as her eyes flitted, ready to set off to the wonderland of dreams.

           Humming should be a soothing sound, dulcet tones creating a wordless melody, something to help her drift away to a reassuring Neverland. Venti’s gentle humming fills her room, he knows she prefers it if it’s sedating.

           From now until then, [Name] will savor each note for they make her feel at home like nothing else can. 

           “Venti,” She uttered her beloved’s name one more time.

           “Yeah?”

           Her fingers dug on her blanket before shaking her head and smiling. “It’s nothing.” There it is again. [Name] became reluctant about what she’ll say. His brows knitted together at her furtive behavior.

           Ever since Aether came, that’s how she’s been acting. Seven days of not being able to get close to her while they write, is it even possible for him to do that? The sisters watched him closely if ever he tried to sneak inside. 

           It really infuriated him that they’re separating him from her.

           What other ways could they possibly spend time together without any disturbance? He snapped out from his daydreaming when the squeaky voice of the fairy reached their ears. He didn’t bother to look at or even spare a greeting to them.

           So when the blonde stood near her bed and placed a pouch on her hand, it made him curious to know what was inside there. “[Name], we’ve brought the seeds as you asked!” Paimon exclaimed as she appeared over Aether’s shoulder.

           “Will these be enough?” The latter asked. The female sat up and carefully opened the bag to see the contents. She hummed in affirmation and smiled at him in thanks.

           “Thank you. W-was it a hassle to find these…?” She queried slowly. “It’s fine! We’ll do anything as you asked even if it��s killing abyss mages!” The traveler gawked at Paimon’s words before sighing and nodding.

           She giggled at their words, putting down the pouch on the lamp table. “I wouldn’t go that far to ask such things, but thank you.”

           “Excuse me,” A head poked out from the doorframe as Barbara revealed herself. “[Name] needs to rest now and it’s almost past the curfew hours. Sister Jilliana will be mad if she sees you’re all here still lingering.”

           Venti’s eyes cast to the clock as he watched the hands ticked. “Isn’t it a bit too early?”

           “What do you mean early? It’s getting dark already and we better go now! She really needs to sleep after what happened.” Paimon huffed whilst she crossed her short arms.

           The archon groaned when Aether grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from [Name], unwilling to let go. Venti removed his hand before running back to her and giving a short yet sweet kiss on her head, cheeks, and lastly her lips.

           He slowly parted from her wanting to linger his lips on hers a bit more. The feeble girl looked up at him, his azure optics already glued to hers as a faint tint of red brushed on the apples of her cheeks. She closed her eyes when he pecked her head once more and whispered,

           “Sleep well, okay? I’ll come to visit you again.”

           [Name] nodded, finally laying down and tucking herself comfortably inside the blanket. Night rolls around and after a time the sandman came to heavy her lids. She felt the shuttering of her synapses, the quiet lure into sleepiness. As each limb becomes heavy and the heart slows to a more peaceful beat, the comfort of bed calls.

 —

            “Paimon’s so exhausted. Where are we going to rest anyway?” The pixie yawned as she trailed behind Aether. “[Name] already saved a room for us in the Knights of Favonius headquarters, we can go there now.” 

           “Wow, she already planned ahead, huh.” 

           Nighttime stretched ahead as long as the road they had traveled in the daylight hours, now charcoal-hued and cold. The birds were silenced, no one walked the streets, the only serenade being the ever-present chirping from the crickets that hid from shadows or maybe even from the bushes near the statue.

           The Knights in front of the main door saluted to the Honorary Knight with him greeting them back. Opening the door, the familiar room people around him gave him a sense of nostalgia.

           “Welcome back, traveler.” Jean welcomed him with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I presume there were a few monsters along your way here?”

           Paimon laughed and shook her head. “Nah, we wiped them out in one go. He’s really strong and no one is able to defeat him!” She exclaimed proudly while placing her hands on her hips as her chest was puffed out.

           “Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.” The Cavalry Captain then appeared behind Jean as he smirked seeing the two companions. “I thought the news of you coming back were just mere rumors, it seems like I was wrong after all.” He sighed nonchalantly.

           “We can’t just ignore [Name]’s request so we immediately left Liyue.” The fairy replied. Kaeya hummed before bidding them a goodbye to go to archon knows where.

           “You should take a rest. Your travels have tired you off after all. Noelle already cleaned the room and if you need anything just ask us.” Aether took note of the Acting Grandmaster’s words and bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

           A yawn escaped his lips unintentionally as the corner of his eyes started to tear up from drowsiness. 

           “Yeah, we better need that. Paimon’s getting sleepy, I might pass out from here.”

           With Aether and the emergency food wishing Jean a good night, they marched off in their room and slumped on the bed once they saw it, drifting off to dreamland.

 —

            After a sleepless night on the ward, [Name] sank into her bed. It was three in the morning and even the birds were quiet. There was no single sign of a human nor an animal walking outside.

           She drank in the silence through every pore, soothed by its meditative quality. Each time a worrying thought emerged, she mentally jotted it down on a notepad and closed her eyes to drift those thoughts off and replace them with something positive.

           When her uneasiness had finally leached into the void, she moved her weak limbs up the stairs to bed, then she lay there wrapped in her duvet— cocooned by the thick protective buffer of the absolute quiet.

           A thumping was then heard from the window as she whipped her head in alertness. A small silhouette can be seen outside but was hard to make through to see who this stranger was because of the dark.

           The window opened, making her panic until the kisses of the gentle breeze calmed her down and eased her beating heart back to its normal rate. The figure landed on the floor softly and approached her carefully.

           The familiar green outfit and the smile she loved oh so much made her chest flutter in excitement and glee. She threw the blanket to the side and stared at the young man, eyes tinged with confusion and wonder.

           “Venti? What are you doing here so late?” The said male giggled and flopped himself next to her and caressed her hair bringing it to his lips to kiss it. “Didn’t I tell you I’ll come to visit you?”

           [Name]’s brows dug and averted her gaze. “Well yes, but I wasn’t expecting this kind of time would be your visit.” 

           He intertwined their fingers together and pulled her form close to his as he gave light kisses on her neck. A breathy sigh was evoked from her lips and laid her head on his shoulder, reciprocating his hold she missed dearly.

           After giving her affections, Venti grabbed the shawl that was lying on the chair and draped it over her shoulder. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He gently pulled her up from her seat and took the pouch given by the traveler.

           “Won’t the guards see us and catch you once they know you’re intruding again?” She whispered and hesitantly allowed him to lead her. “No worries. It’ll be really quick.” He laughed mirthfully without care of the consequences.

           She heaved a sigh before asking, “Wait, why show it to me now? We can just do it when the morning dawn arrives.” He stopped his tracks in front of the window and faced her.

           “I wouldn’t be able to do that. The curfew, Sister, and then the traveler will steal you from me again…”

           She can feel her heart shatter at the sight of his downcast look but he quickly replaces it with a grin. “Now, don’t feel so blue. I can’t help but be saddened by it too. Let’s change it with a smile for something new?” He leaned close and brought his hand behind her as he rhymed, making her chuckle at his cute frolic.

           “See? It suits you more with a smile than a frown that has been compiled. Now let’s make haste before the moon will be replaced.”

           Venti pulled her as they exited from the opened window and knelt down on one knee with his back facing her. “I’ll carry you there,” [Name] looked around the area before obliging and wrapping her arms over his shoulder as he hoisted her up.

           From the distance, a certain traveler was aimlessly walking around for a midnight stroll. Aether was having trouble going back to sleep and left Paimon resting in the headquarters to relax his mind. The familiar face of Venti caught his eyes, bringing him wide awake and wondering what he was doing.

           It was even more surprising to see [Name] was with him. Wasn’t she supposed to rest to recover? What is she doing outside with him so late? He immediately hid behind the corner and watched them from afar in curiosity.

           Venti carefully had his hold underneath her knees and surreptitiously sauntered towards the Anemo God Statue Plaza. He easily summoned the wind to lift them up to the statue’s hands and landed gracefully. [Name] brought down her bare feet on the cold surface and admired the view from atop.

           “Careful.” He cautioned and held her arm. The female sat down and let her feet dangle at the edge. When Venti mimicked her actions, she laid her head on his shoulder surprising him but didn’t mind at all.

           He took out a pouch he had taken from her room and placed it in her hand. “You wanted to blow these dandelion seeds, right?” She glanced down at it and nodded. “Yeah, but how do you know they were dandelion seeds? I don’t recall telling you about it.”

           He cheekily smiled and laid his head on top of hers. “The scent of dandelion is easy for my nose to pick up. And knowing what you’ll do about it, I decided to help you.” 

           “Then can you cover your ears for a while?”

           Venti did as he was told though it’s not entirely covered per se. He left a bit of space to listen and know what she’ll whisper to the seeds but got caught red-handed. “No eavesdropping! You know this is something private.” She pouted.

           He lightly laughed and kissed her nose as an apology before covering them up again with his hands and turning his back.

           [Name] brought her hands close to her lips and whispered her wishes onto it. A handful of it should suffice, maybe in another day, she’ll do it again. She heard from Sister Grace that the dandelion seeds will carry their feelings in their hearts with the wind. 

           If it is true then she hopes the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, will listen to it and lead her message to a distant place.

           She gently blew them away and watched them scattered along with the air and drifted off as the glaze guided the particles to the unknown. 

 —

            [Name] read the text on the paper written by Aether as she discussed some things about it. She closed her eyes and smiled at him gratefully as Paimon floated above her head to take a peek at what’s written on it.

           Venti rested his chin on his palm and watched them from the other side of the room that separated him from his beloved. 

           What could they be talking about?

           The sound of shoes’ heels tapping against the tile brought him back to the real world and saw the blonde deaconess holding a tray of pastries and cups of tea in it. He jumped to his feet and neared her.

           “I can take it to them.” He outstretched his arms expecting Barbara to simply give it to him as he smiled at her blithely.

           The girl moved the tray away from his grasp and shook her head. “No, you won’t. Though I appreciate your offer, I can do it myself.” She looked at him apologetically when he frowned. His eyes followed her figure entering the room and huffed.

           “Sheesh. Why must nothing in life ever go right?” He slumped on the couch before taking another glimpse at the sunroom. He saw the Honorary Knight handed her another piece of paper as [Name]’s eyes scanned over the text.

           A forlorn expression was then etched on her visage. Her eyes turned glossy while she read the letter and her shoulders shook tremendously, accidentally crumpling the paper from her hold and holding it close to her as if it was something precious.

           Tears dribbled from her eyes, letting it flow freely on her cheeks as small drops of water fell on the ground. It hurt Venti to see her like this. It hurt him to see her cry.

           His heart ached to see her in this vulnerable state that he could do nothing but watch from the other side, not even allowing him to approach her to give her the comfort she needed.

 —

            Another night came by quickly. Aether was strolling at the town square to craft some materials and buy some food before heading back to the headquarters. When he felt a light tapping on his shoulder, he turned around and saw Venti standing there with a smile.

           “Oh, Venti. It’s good to see you again. Is something the matter?” He asked and faced him fully. “What are you doing?” The bard asked as he glanced at the bag he was holding.

           “Just shopping.”

           “Is it for [Name]?”

           The traveler paused, thinking of what he should say. There was nothing to hide from him so he presumed it was safe to tell him. 

           “Yes.” 

           When he answered, Paimon appeared out of nowhere and crossed her arms. “Hey! Be careful what you say to the Tone-Deaf Bard!” Both of them ignored her as Venti continued to question him.

           “Are you going to write letters with her again?” The blonde nodded in response. 

           “How long?”

           Paimon grumbled but before she could lash out at him, Aether grabbed her legs and covered her mouth with his hand. “Six more days.”

           Venti narrowed his eyes to the emergency ratio before looking back at him. “Who are you writing to?” The traveler’s mouth opened slightly and gave a quick answer.

           “It’s something I can’t tell you.”

           The archon clicked his tongue and glared, “Why?” His voice sounded more demanding than a question. Aether was taken aback by his tone. He never heard him so aggressive before that it made him shudder in fear.

           “It’s something confidential.” It took him a lot of courage to reply to him, hoping the raven-haired male won’t outrage at his vague answer. This is the only question he won’t answer. No matter who asked, only he, Paimon, and Barbara know who this is written for.

           “It can’t be someone from her family…” As much as it hurt Venti, he knew the fact [Name] was all alone and the Church had to be the one to take her in. He was always there for her, but so, who is this person she’s writing for that requires him not to be included?

           “Hey, tell me. Who is it for?” He asked more softly. Aether stared at him for a second then sighed quietly.

           “Venti, didn’t you come here for a reason?”

           “A reason…?” He echoed. He hummed and placed his fingers on his chin, thinking. “[Name]’s asleep and the nuns won’t let me check up on her,” Venti remarked and folded his arms.

           “Shouldn’t you need to rest as well?” Aether’s words made him snort in laughter. “Bold of you to assume that I require sleep.”

           Paimon was finally released from her companion’s grasp and pointed accusingly to the bard. “Then shouldn’t you go to a tavern or something?! That’s what you always do when it’s nighttime!”

           Venti let out an annoyed sound and looked at the small accomplice. “Well, I don’t want to!” Her eyes widened in shock and looked at Aether. “D-did you hear what he said? The Tone-Deaf Bard doesn’t want to drink?!”

           The latter sighed and shrugged his shoulders unsurely.

           “I’m going back! I bid you all goodnight!” Venti stomped his way out as the outlander watched his small form disappear from the distance, wondering what was his sudden change in tone all about.

 —

            Three days had already passed by and whenever Venti and Paimon saw each other, both of them had a glaring contest. It actually amused Aether to see this happened and when he told [Name] about this, it made her laugh.

           He was assured to know that Paimon was unintentionally occupying Venti’s time. He didn’t tell her about this though since he knew she would stay silent and back out. Aether and [Name] were glad to see Venti was returning back to normal with his usual rhymes appearing more often than ever.

           It did scare him whenever the bard gave him death glares when he’s not looking. He can feel those sharp glances ever since he came back to Mondstadt and he was sweating so furiously when he knew that.

           At least this time, it was getting less and less.

           Or so he thought.

           “Will this do?” Barbara handed her the paper and [Name]’s optics skimmed over the words, silently reading it. Her eyes caressed the strokes of the pen, seeing the personality behind the lines and punctuation marks. Finally reaching the last words of the letters she closed her eyes and smiled.

           “Yes, it’s perfect.”

           “I’ll write along these lines then,” Aether said and took another piece of paper and placed it in the platen as [Name] thanked him. The door slightly creaked open but went unnoticed by the three.

           Venti peeped at the small gap of the door and observed them. Instead of writing in the sunroom, they were currently inside her room to continue doing it. It was hard for him to find a location where he can keep watch of her, so taking a small peek won’t hurt right?

           The frail female’s breathing suddenly became shaky and the tightness on her chest arrived once more accompanying it with immense pressure. It alerted her when she saw the door was fully opened for her to see Venti standing there with a panicked look.

           “Venti...”

           He didn’t know Sister Jilliana was there, so when she turned around, he quickly made up an excuse and looked away from them. “I-I was just going to call for the traveler. Something urgent came up.” 

           “Is that so? Is it alright if we hold it for a while?” The nun asked him to which he avoided making eye contact with her. “Can I have a short break?” Aether jumped in and waited patiently for an answer.

           “H-huh? Why now?” Paimon asked. The blonde gestured her to play along and she quickly understood what he meant. Paimon flailed her arms in the air, an attempt to make it more convincing. “Oh! Um, yeah, we really need a break. I hope [Name] doesn’t mind it?” She meekly smiled at them.

           The sickly girl shook her head and told them it’s fine. The chair creaked when he stood up and approached Venti who had a distant look. He closed the door quietly and followed him until they stopped near the altar.

           “I suppose we both know that I just fabricated my words out there,” Venti mentioned that he didn’t bother to confront him. Aether nodded silently in agreement. 

           “I just wanted to check how she’s doing.” When he remained quiet, the archon called his name. “Hey, stop taking away the time she and I spend together.” He begged that his voice almost cracked.

           He was desperate to just be with her.

           “I’ll be gone in a few days.” The outlander stated and looked him directly in the eyes. 

           “Then at least please tell her I’ll be there while you’re writing the letters. I want to be by her side. I just wanna be there and hold her hand tight! Please!” Venti’s voice gets louder and louder, letting his words echo inside the church. He grabbed his shoulders and tightly dug his fingers onto them as he begged.

           Aether deterred his view from his and grabbed his hand, putting it back to his side. He feels guilty for doing this to him, but he has to keep his promises. No matter how much he pleaded, he had to deny all of his requests. 

           “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” The bard gritted his teeth and pushed him. 

           “Why?!”

           He quickly regained his balance and looked away. “Excuse me, I have to go back.” The traveler left him alone in the nave as he strode back to [Name]’s room. Venti blankly stared at his back as his hands clenched into fists, making his knuckles turn white.

             “Do you think we can finish today?” [Name] asked and stared at the stacks of paper neatly arranged on the table. “If we maintain this pace, yes.” The Honorary Knight replied. Paimon gave her another paper and asked if she could review it.

           She suddenly took on a pale look, as if she’d been painted white-wash— even her lips were barely there. Beneath her feet, the wooden floor felt soft, not as much as even a firm carpet, but not right for oak plants. It was hard to make out the details of the room after the autumn fell outside; but after a while, she could make out the features of the room.

           Before she could grab onto the letter, her form abruptly collapsed as Aether quickly caught her to prevent her from injuring herself any further. “[Name]!” Barbara screamed in worry and approached her.

           “I’m… fine.” She assured them in between her breaths.

           “But—“

           “Please keep going.” She cut him off and looked at him pleadingly.

           The wind blew through the room with a powerful fury, scattering the stacked envelopes as if they were leaves of fall. The slam of the door was the tempest inside Venti made audible. 

           It was how he wrote the pain in the air, hoping that someone would understand how to stop [Name] from pushing herself— praying that there would be enough assurance in the world to calm the winds that tore at his insides.

           “That’s enough!” He shouted and ran to her, holding her weak form in his arms. “Just stop already!” Tears rolled down his cheek and cradled her close to him and cried on her shoulder, dampening the sleeves of her dress. When he felt someone touch his shoulder, he slapped it away. 

           No one should interfere with them. He had enough already. Can’t they see how critical he was to see her so weak as each day passed by?

           “Why… why must you write these letters…” His voice was hoarse from his shouting and buried his face on her hair to take in her scent. “Who are you writing them to?” He cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. 

           From his mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of the people around them were suddenly wet with tears. “They’re important letters.” She said and brushed his hair with her fingers to calm him.

           “They’re for someone I don’t know, right? Someone who doesn’t even visit when you’re sick!” [Name]’s eyes enlarged when his words entered her ears as she tightly clutched onto him. She can feel her own eyes swell up with emotions as she cries and let them escape freely without restraints. 

           “There’s nobody out there who’s truly worried about you!” 

           Everything was quiet except for their cries inside. When he pulled back, she wiped the salty fluid that stained his cheeks and leaned on his shoulder. “Are the letters more important than me?” He uttered, the tone in his voice was shaky and breathy.

           [Name] kissed his head and ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him. “Nothing’s more important to me than you, Venti.” He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his hand to get a clear view of her appearance.

           “Why is everything full of lies...” Her brow arched in confusion as she felt his fingers tightly gripping her waist. 

           “You aren’t getting any better at all. They said you’d recover soon!” So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down on his face. His chin trembled and breathed heavier than he had before.

           “I know that you’re… I’m going to be all alone again when you’re gone!” His throat burned from screaming. Even gasping for air was simply not enough for him. [Name]’s [eye color] optics are slowly but surely becoming glassy. 

           Tears are now streaming down her cheeks from his words. She hugged him tighter and whispered sweet nothings to him, no matter how much she tried to assuage him, it only failed as he continued to sob hysterically and screamed on top of his lungs.

           “How much longer do I have with you?!”

           Barbara sniffled her cries by covering her mouth with her hand and turned away as it ached her heart to know [Name]’s undecided fate. 

           “If I’m going to be left alone all over soon,” Venti grazed his fingers on her face and connected their hands, afraid she’ll disappear if he let go of her.

           “Then forget about the letters and spend this time with me! Be with me! Please, [Name]!!” Aether slowly approached them and lifted the bard up by grabbing his shoulders. He knows he’ll try to escape from his hold and so he tightly grips his arm to stop him from getting close to [Name]. 

           When he turned to face the traveler, there was no sign of tears. Not in his eyes or in track marks on his reddening face. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, and hard. Once more, Aether was the enemy. Venti’s states had no greyscale, only the polar extremes existed.

           The blonde took in a deep breath, the burning hard stare would last only as long as it took him to think of the most brutally cutting things he could tear him down with. 

           “Let go of me, Aether!!” He ignored his request and did his best to hold him a bit longer until he calmed down. Venti gnashed his teeth and because of too much resentment he had for the traveler, he disappeared into the thin air with teal feathers fluttering along.

             Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he ran and ran outside of the city. His calves burned, his breathing forming clouds in the air becoming short gasps. He started cramping and his body shook uncontrollably, finally stopping in front of the giant tree in Windrise.

           He was on his knees on the ground, facing the tree, screaming and crying. His whole face is red and shouting at the very top of his lungs. His upper body and shoulders wrack with every sob that forces their way out, chest rising and falling unevenly as he gasps for breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

           He balled his hands into fists and gripped his hair to let out a blood-curdling scream. Unbeknownst to Venti, Aether chased after him after his disappearance and stopped in his tracks when he saw his curled up form. 

           “Venti…”

           The said male continued sobbing and disregarded his presence. “I’m taking the time you can spend with [Name] away for a good reason.” Aether justified.

           “Shut up…”

           “It’s only natural that this would be painful for you. You’re already carrying the burden of her illness on your body. So please stay strong for her.”

           “Shut up!”

           The archon lifted his unsteady body and faced him. Endless streams of cries continuously flowed on the sides of his face and choked out, “I made her cry…”

           “No, you were worried about her condition.”

           “You’re wrong.” Venti countered.

           “I’m not.”

           He dashed at him and punched his chest making him fall back on the ground. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong! She fell sick because of me!” He shouted and proceeded to throw punches at him repeatedly.

           “You had nothing to do it with.”

           “You’re wrong!!”

           Each punch slowed down and grew weaker, allowing Aether to ease his raged up condition while Venti mindlessly poured out all of his emotions onto him. 

           “There was nothing anybody could’ve done.” The former muttered under his breath. 

           “Shut up!”

           “Just like how the unknown god captured my sister from me. I couldn’t do anything to save her there… Nothing can be done about this.” The bard’s brows creased as he went quiet and stopped hitting him.

           He already lost count of how many times he had cried on this day. His gaze cast downwards as he fell on the ground, breaking down. 

           “[Name]… [Name]…” Aether knelt down before him and rubbed his back reassuringly. “Why do you write those letters?” He inquired whilst his shoulders trembled.

           “Because everyone has feelings they want to deliver to someone.”

           “Who cares about that? They don’t have to be!” It only brought him more pain and isolation, and so Aether can be quite sure that the cries are of the desperate pain that keeps on slicing deeper.

           The blonde’s golden optics were flicked with dolefulness, continuing to stroke his back. “No letter that could be sent deserves to go undelivered.” Out of complete silence, the cry arose. Out of complete reverence, the things of the world stilled to listen.

           Venti’s mind was clouded with pain and sorrow, his heart grew cold and numb with pent up emotion. Over lands and seas, through forests and valleys. Every ear in the universe stilled to listen, every heart broke, so heavy so miserable his song.

 —

            It was the final day and they have eventually finished writing. It was time for Aether and Paimon to take their leave. Venti sighed in relief to receive the news that there were no more letters to write. No more Aether of taking [Name]’s time. And also no more signs to see the emergency food.

           They were currently outside the Cathedral as she wanted to bid them farewell and safe travels. His warm hand made contact with hers and secretly poked his tongue out at Paimon to annoy her.

            Her squeaky voice reached their ears and stomped her feet in the air as she faced her companion with an irked look. “Ugh, I can’t stand that Tone-Deaf Bard! Let’s just go already!”

           [Name] chuckled while Venti only brought her closer to his body and slithered his arms around her waist protectively. He puffed his cheeks out as they watched their figure disappear below. Unlike her, he didn’t wave them goodbye much to her confusion.

           She asked him about it in which she only received a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and a short yet sweet kiss on the lips from her lover.

           Aether was no stranger. He wasn’t a piece of bad news either. Deep down he knows he’s a thoughtful and sympathetic person.

           I wish I could’ve read the letters they wrote.

           He stole glances at her before pushing her inside the Cathedral to go back to her room and cuddle with her.

           I wonder who they were for.

           “[Name],” He called out. She hummed to let him know her attention was on him. He rubbed circles on the back of her hand and kissed the nape of her neck as he whispered softly against it.

           “I love you.” 

           A small chuckle slipped from his lips when he saw how her cheeks flared up from his confession. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, attacking him with shy kisses.

           “I love you too.”

            Seasons fade in and out like soft lullabies, their transitions slow but never faltering. Like mother earth herself they only turn in one direction, always onward and never back as the wax and wane of the pace of city life changes. 

           In summer, everyone is high in energy, all systems go. With the first wash of autumn air, moving over the high-rises and suburbia like a shallow wave, the people slow down to a quieter pace. 

           The winter is flatter still, but never falling into a negative spin, the folks of this city love the snow too much for that. 

           Then spring comes to wake the metropolis: people, trees, and blooms. Folks walk under newly unfurled leaves, smile at the fresh new flowers, and tilt their faces upward to the new warmth in the sun's rays. 

           Soon summer is back and the seasonal carousel is complete for another year.

           All those seasons he had spent with her, he cherished them the most in his heart and held it dearly like a gift given to him. He kept the memories and spent his life with her during those past months.

            Here come the drops, soft and steady, falling from a sky of white velvet. They come all together and yet as pioneers. And though he is soon quite wet, he stood idly in front, letting the drops blurred his vision.

           They stood at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was them showing respect or maybe they were too afraid to look at what was coming. The coffin was pulled from the hearse by six strong men, all wearing suits. The silence dwelled as they exited the church. It wobbled as they carried it to the front and gently placed it down.

           The coffin was dark stained cherry and it was perfectly polished. It had a cushioned and silky lining. Struggling to hold back the grief, tears flow steadily. Silently down the immobile face, a feeling of ache swarmed within him. The numbness and emptiness remained as they walked behind the mahogany coffin— the soul unwilling to acknowledge the finality of death, never to look upon her face again or feel her embrace.  To see the warmth in her eyes, or be surrounded by her love. 

           Words from the minister, speeches at the service bring a fresh onslaught of tears, well-spoken words, a tribute to her life and love, everyone in black, dusky pink roses on the casket; they all watched the casket lowered into the grave through tear-stained eyes. 

           One by one they all left, leaving him alone standing in her grave, as he cried his goodbye to his love.

 —

            A dove was soaring in the sky, fluttering its wings in the air as Venti watched it fly over to him. In its feet was a paper rolled and clutched onto it. When it landed on his lap, he gently took the item from the bird and unfolded it.

           His emerald eyes scanned over the writing, taking in each word inside his head.

            Dear Venti,

           Happy birthday! I’m sure there are many things that make you sad. You may be crumbling under the weight of your responsibilities. But don’t give in.

           Even if you’re so lonely that it makes you cry, please don’t forget that I’ll always love you.

            A lone tear dropped on the paper as his cheeks were stained wet from reading the letter he had received. He brought it close to his chest as if it were her that he loved holding so dear.

            Four years passed by, and the fourth later had arrived.

            Dear Venti,

           Happy birthday! I love you with my aura, placing it about you like the deepest star-filled sky. Space and time have no meaning for my love, it has always been boundless and eternal. It is a love that self-sustains through even the meanest of winters, its own heat, and light is the warmth, the hope.

           Even if you were cold to the core, I would wake you like the spring wakes the flower and watch you grow, watch you bloom. Everything that I am is yours… All I ask is to take care of yourself in the same way you would care for a person you love completely, in the same way, I love you.

            The twelfth letter was delivered.

            Dear Venti, 

           Happiest birthday, love! I love you so very much sweetheart. I have a hard time explaining how I feel. I have never felt anything like this before. You are always there for me no matter what. 

           You are the most loving, caring, compassionate, and absolutely most incredible person that I have ever met. Thank you for always being there, for the flowers— they are beautiful, for your kind words, hugs, kisses, and unconditional love. I have never in my life been so very happy. I feel much loved, beautiful, and very happy.

           I'm so proud of you. You are a very strong person. It is really amazing that we are strong for each other in different ways. We truly understand each other and feel for each other. When you hurt, I hurt. When you are happy, I'm happy. I just love you so much and I never want to lose you. I give you my heart, my love, and my life for now and forever. 

           I love you.

           He always waits for each year for his birthday to come, for her letters to be delivered to him. The messages were getting longer and longer as every year passed and even the past memorandum he had received, he still kept it with him.

            Happy birthday, love! I hope you know that it’s okay to cry once in a while. Whenever you're anxious or afraid, always remember I’ll always be here. I love you more than life itself. There are no words I can say to truly tell you how much I really love you.            

           I want to thank you that you were the reason I stayed strong even if I was sick. I learn more and more from you every day. My heart is forever yours. I know saying, "I love you" is powerful, yet I feel it's not enough. 

           You give me the most amazing feelings inside. It feels great to actually love and be loved in return. I love you so much, I wish I could repeat it to you so many times.

           Please remember, I’ll always and forever be watching over you.

            Now here he was at the hands of the Statue, watching the skies move as the dove once again landed on his shoulder. His eyes caught on the sight of the dandelion seeds soaring past as a smile tugged his lips.

           He remembered [Name]’s wish for him when they were out here to blow the seeds away late at night. So every time he sees a dandelion up above in this statue, it reminds him of her and he’s here to fulfill it.

  —

            “Welcome back.” Jean greeted from the office as Aether placed the stack of letters on the table. “That’s a lot of letters.” Kaeya whistled in amusement and ran his fingers on it to feel the scratchy and thick envelopes.

           “They’re letters set to be delivered to Venti over the next fifty years.” He announced and stretched his arms to relieve the cramps formed in his limbs. Lisa almost spitted on her tea and gawked at him in surprise.

           “F-fifty years? No wonder why you wrote so much.” She set down her cup and grabbed a napkin to wipe her lips.

           “Were you alright?” The Acting Grandmaster asked in worry. Aether and Paimon nodded as they smiled. “It was no biggie for us.”

           “I must say this is a wonderful idea,” Kaeya remarked and grabbed a stack of it to feel the weight on his hands. “I’m already excited to see them delivered every year.”

           “Me too, but…” Their chattering ceased as their focus went on his face which had his cheek dripped with liquid. It was surprising to see the traveler cry in front of them, though they didn't dare open their mouths to point it out.

           “By the time they are, [Name] will already be gone and she’s still so young— so quick to get lonely, will have been left by the one he loves so much.” Crying is natural and strong for it belongs to those with the courage to show their vulnerable self, and this was none other than Aether himself.

           He recalled the day he saw both of them snuck out from the Cathedral. He didn’t mean to watch them, but he knew how both of them cared for each other so much and their love for one another just by observing [Name]’s words written on the letters and Venti’s affectionate yet protective hold on her.

           He understood how Venti felt. He knows the feeling of losing someone you love so dearly. The bard already told him about his history with his friend from long ago and now that it was recurring again, it aches his heart to know he’ll lose someone again.

           It’s like history is repeating itself.

           “He’ll be all alone again. I…” He balled his fists and closed his eyes tightly. The tears trickled down his face as he sobbed quietly. The members of the Knights approached him and rubbed his back to comfort him.

           “I was fighting back tears the entire time I was there.”

           “Yes, but Aether,” Lisa lifted his face and looked at him with gentle eyes. “He will receive the letters you’ve assisted [Name] writing in.” He wiped his tears and eyed the envelopes with lustrous vision.

           “Besides, no matter how far apart they may be…

            loved ones will always watch over you.”

heavily inspired by violet evergarden

[void-inked-pen]

The Mandolin

ROTTMNT Fantasy Fic Collab Between: Me and @undercoverwizardfanfiction​

Above art by: @imaginashon​

Inspired by: @thehandleisjammed​

Characters: Mikey and Donnie

Pairings: holds charmy back if you know what’s good for you, you’ll know the answer is never (or do you want this one at your throat?)

Summary: in so many ways they are still strangers to one another but if they keep a open heart to one another they might someday call each other brothers

---

He is the master of focus.

Were words no one had ever spoken about Mikey ever. But right now, his eyes were focused (well, cross eyed) on a large red beetle situation on an even larger flower. He is only vaguely aware of Raph calling after him before he leaps out from his hiding spot like a chimera pouncing on its prey. His hands are only about to close around the bug when the beetle takes off in surprise (Mikey is only mildly sure he heard the bug ‘meep’ as it went) before he landed in the flower bush. After a few moments, and after a few of Infinity’s concerned coos, he pops his head back out of the bushes.

 “I almost got him that time!” Mikey says with a wide grin. Raph and Leo both give him a look that’s between two degrees of confusion but Donnie, under his hood, shakes his head with a tremble to his shoulders in what was probably suppressed laughter.

“Mikey” Raph calls tiredly, “we’re almost to town, can you please keep up?”

“Yeah on it!” He jumps out of the bushes and hurries over with a skip to his step.

Donnie watched his younger brother skip up to them with mild amusement. He had only known his youngest brother for a few months now and his upbeat attitude and absolutely innocent curiosity was both endearing and only slightly envious. When was the last time I was like that? The thought came out of nowhere and almost completely wiped his decent mood. But the answer that came bothered him more than the initial question; he couldn’t remember.

Trying to return to the present and not follow that train of thought any further, Donnie rubbed his tired eyes and continued following his brothers into town. Leo and Mikey were chatting away about the differences between some sort of bird, while Raph remained vigilant like some sort of escort.

“You know,” he said walking up beside the oldest. His sudden appearance startling the larger turtle. “This trip would be more enjoyable if you relaxed a bit, big guy.” Don smirked as Raph just huffed in response.

Mikey tries his best not to to smile at Raph’s tired expression that clearly says ‘how the hell can I relax with three loose hyperactive hooligans to look after’ but is grateful when Raph doesn’t say anything (except for sighing with the exhaustion of someone three times his age and on their deathbed).

Donnie and Raph walked in comfortable silence for a while before they both realized they couldn’t hear chattering behind them anymore and turned around to see the two youngest entranced by an expensive stall of goods.

Mikey turns back to is conversation partner after watching the oldest pair ahead of them settle into a calm stride. What had he been talking about again? “The Waxing Owl!” Mikey exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air suddenly returning to his train of thought, “the Waxing Owl is totally cool! You have no idea!”

“And….it’s different from a Full Moon Owl?” Leo asks. Though his expression is confused and only borderline condescending it’s a massive improvement to just a few days ago, “I mean i just wanted to know the difference between a african swallow and a european swallow-“

“Yeah yeah! Cause Moon Owls can tell the future! And if you see one during a certain moon phase that’s the kind of luck you’re supposed to get! I’ve heard entire groups of people scouring the Mist Forest trying to see one during a Waxing Moon! Its so cool and- and if you see a Waxing Owl AND a Sun Burst flower in the same month then-“ and just as it was a moment ago, Mikey loses his train of thought as his mouth drops open. Normally it would be a weird dessert he had never seen before or an extra snuggly puppy that would get his attention. But what has him now is a large storefront, he barely notices the elaborate lettering or the shopkeeper out front shining up his new door. Mikey is already standing in front of the glass with both hands pressed against it. Through the now misting up glass he can see a wooden box with a long neck and strings , “Woooooooooooow” He says “What’s that thing?”

“Hey!” the store keeper snaps hard enough at Mikey he flinched away “Off my window cretin, I just had those refinished. “

Mikey stumbles back and bumps Donnie, who nearly loses his balance as he tries to use his bad leg to keep from falling, “So-sorry Dee.” He says quietly, shoulders hunched and sad. But he looks back towards the window , “I-I've never seen anything like that before.”

Donnie steadied himself before looking up at the store window.

“You… Mean the mandolin?” He looked back at his brother for confirmation and could have sworn he saw twinkles in his eyes. “It’s an instrument you strum with your fingers and part of the lute family. I heard a famous musician used one to serenade a rich maiden into marrying him.” Donnie left out the part about how the musician was actually the family's hired fool, mainly because the story also didn't end well.

Mikey appeared to practically be vibrating in excitement as he stared at the string instrument. “I’ve always wanted to play something like that, Todd used to tell me stories about a caravan that performed music as they traveled but he didn't have an instrument of his own to teach me.”

Donnie looked at him thoughtfully before glancing back up at the mandolin again and almost balking at the base price. He subtly looked back at the store owner who appeared to be getting more and more annoyed with the four yokai’s presence. Ever so gently, Donnie grabbed the smaller turtle by the shoulders and shifted him away from the storefront.

“I think... we’re gonna have to pass on this one Mike.” He said, observing the store with a critical eye.

The younger turtle gave off a disappointed whimper and looked away sadly before hopping back into a conversation with Leo. Don could have sworn when they were leaving the storefront, the blue turtle also seemed unhappy with the price of such a simple instrument. With one more glance back at the snooty storekeeper, Donnie made a decision.

After some discussion, they (Raph) decided that staying in town was far too expensive on their already limited funds. Mikey wasn’t entirely sure why Raph was suddenly so eager to leave, especially since they hadn't visited the library yet. But it probably had to do with the wary look that the large turtle was giving Donnie, who had stayed silent after their run in with the shopkeep.

What Raph DID allow, however, was for Mikey to pick out some sweets at a baking booth that they could enjoy after dinner. It wasn’t long after that that the four of them left the town behind them. Not far enough to be gone from its sight but far enough for Raph to give a sigh of relief.

“Ok boys, let's get camp set up and dinner ready.”

“You know, if I was in proper attire, I probably could have talked that man into giving us his entire store and thanking us for it.” Said Leo with a stiff upper lip as he gathered the smallest branches humanly possible.

“yes, and attract every bounty hunter and well meaning lawman in town.” Donnie made a show of reaching over and pulling up Leos’ hood. The red slider pouts at him before readjusting his hood to allow him to see better. “Rude.” He scoffs.

Don smirks in turn before going over to where Mikey was pouring over a pot of vegetables.

“Here,” he hands over the herbs he had gotten earlier, “Keep it up. I’m going to go see if I can find any more in the forest.” Donnie says. He’s grateful when Mikey only gives him a beam in response before going back to his cooking.

Donnie makes sure to glance and ensure he hadn’t gotten Leo and Raph’s attention (Raph was too busy brushing Buddy to babysit him) as he stepped back in the direction of the town they had come from, and in a blink, disappeared…

-----

“Hey, has anyone seen Donnie?” Mikey looked up from his ministrations after hearing the slight panic from the blue turtle. Leo was looking around with a worried look, one he’d been expressing a lot more lately after they had met back up after the ‘missing ring’ incident.

“OH! He just went to gather some more herbs for me in the forest. Don’t worry, he said he’d be right back~” He said in order to calm down Leo, but somehow agitated his other brother instead.

“Wait, he said what?” Raph looked up from brushing Buddy with alarm. “Son of a- okay, here’s the deal. Leo, you stay here an watch Mikey and I’ll go after Donnie before he does something stupid!” Raph stood up quickly, dropping the brush as he spoke his orders.

“I’m sorry, but whomst are you calling stupid?” Everyone jumped as the purple turtle in question, hopped down from a tree.

“Seriously Dee, you gotta stop doing that.” Leo breathed in relief. Donnie only raised an eyebrow in confusion before walking over to Mikey.

“Okay, then explain. Where were you?” Raph crossed his arms with a knowing look.

“Gathering these,” Donnie turned around and held up a small cluster of herbs, “like I said I was.”

The two oldest glared at each other for a few seconds in silence before Raph grumbled away in defeat. Donnie, feeling victorious, turned back towards his younger brother only to see something he wasn't expecting. Mikey was looking at him with a blank expression.

“...What?” “... Why did you lie?” Mikey asked in concern. Donnie tensed up.

“I...” Don paused, looking back to where Raph had returned to his chore before putting the herbs down in Mikey's hand, “I didn’t-”

“Yes you did.” In a way, Donnie hates that Mikey can usually see right through him. And he happens to be looking through him with those eyes that still held the softness of a child far younger than Mikey. Somehow it feels harder and harder to lie to him by the day.

Donnie manages a sigh, before sitting down by the fire to give his leg, and the new stinging wound on his side, a break. “For the record, I technically didn’t lie. I did get more herbs.” Again those eyes bore into him like a truth telling light, “But, I didn’t like the way that shopkeep talked to you earlier.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out the mandolin that Mikey had been admiring.

The youngest lets out a soft gasp, hands over his mouth for a moment before he reaches out as though to take it before drawing his hands back, “W-why did you steal it thought?” Mikey asked quietly.

“I just told you, you wanted it and that shopkeep was a–”

“No-I...” Mikey pauses again, “I mean why do you steal? At all?”

Donnie felt something in his chest tighten. He had to look away in order to calm his breathing and stop the dust around him from shifting. Why do you steal? The question rang in his head so loudly it was beginning to get harder and harder to hear the crackling of the fire.

A hand gently placed itself onto his shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching and tensing up hard at the touch. But the hand didn’t move away.

“...I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you I just… I wanted to know” Mikey said softly.

It took a few more calming breaths for him to finally look back into those kind eyes.

“... You could say… it was the family business that helped me become the thief I am now,” Don sniffled, “but truthfully… It's how I managed to survive so long. Mike, not everyone has the option to follow a path of honest work. If I had tried to follow any number of opportunities towards something I was passionate about… I wouldn’t last long.” Donnie said that last line almost too quietly to hear.

“What do you mean?” Mikey’s face scrunched up in confusion.

With another deep breath Donnie prepared himself. “If i tried to follow a path academically, like I had always wanted… She would find me.” He shivered as he continued, “If I had tried to make ends meet as a crafter, I would have failed due to my magic limitations… Mike, I never had the option for much else.”

“B-but.” Mikey tries to start back up again even as he interlocks his fingers and lowers his head, “That’s not fair.”

When he looks up again he’s surprised to see Donnie giving him a soft smile. His eyes could easily be mistaken for either pity or some other emotion that Mikey doesn’t understand. But the thief reaches out and places a rough but soft hand on Mikey’s scalp, rubbing it in the same way one might ruffle someone’s hair.

“Just please enjoy it? If Raph asks where it came from you can blame me. He blames me for everything else.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but often days he felt Jupiter James’s words spoke through Raph more then Raph’s own sense of morals. And, considering Raph was one of the kindest people Donnie had ever met, made his heart ache. But as he does with everything else, Don smiles.

For a moment Mikey feels the hand on his scalp twitch like he’s considering tapping their foreheads together but instead he hands over the earned prize that Mikey takes, unable to hide the excited smile on his face, already strumming the strings with giggles in his throat. Testing them to see what noises it’ll make. It won't be long before Mikey teaches himself how to play.

Donnie has to wait until the middle of the night before he finally sees the arrow wound in his side (It was a cheap, extremely lucky shot). But as he tends to the wound, he still smiles.

To steal for himself was just for survival.

But to steal for his brother, to make him smile was an act he’d never regret.

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

Thanks for reading! 

also thank you Ash for the beautiful art for this fic~ all of this was kinda spur of the moment and im glad this turned out so fun!

we had fun writing this together~ The fantasy AU is one of my personal all time fav au’s and I highly recommend reading more in the ao3 collection

- Pen

[ragingbookdragon]

A Shot In The Dark

Batfamily x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I'm going to start the flow of Ghost-Maker fanfiction onto this site, watch me. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The butler cleared his throat. “Master Bruce, Ghost Maker is here.” A grunt signaled his response. “I shall take my leave.”

“I forgot you still had the butler hanging around.”

Bruce didn’t look over from the screen as the vigilante stepped into his peripheral. “Are you here about Kolkata?”

“Spice has been entering the U.S. through the black market.” He looked over. “It’s in Gotham.”

“I know. I tracked a shipment in on one of Penguin’s cargo ships.” Bruce shot him a grin that practically bled, ‘I just one-upped you’. “The same one you tagged after me.” He knew Ghost-Maker wasn’t going to take the bait, easy as it was, but still, the way the man’s jaw set told Bruce just how ticked it made him.

“The only way to stop it from getting in is to head over and stop it.”

Bruce shook his head, tapping at the screen. “Interpol can shut down the operations in India. I just want it stopped in Gotham.”

Ghost-Maker sighed. “Why do you always have to take the easy way out of things? What’s stopping you from going?”

“Tim’s got a presentation at Wayne Enterprises tomorrow, Cass has a dance recital, and Damian has a debate team championship.” He glanced at him. “I promised I wouldn’t miss them.”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” he asked and the other nodded.

“Like clockwork.” He pointed to a drawer. “Hand me the instrument from the bottom drawer.

Ghost-Maker bent over and pulled open the drawer; a small carved flute rested inside, and he picked it up, examining the instrument. It was made of carved onyx, slashes of tiger-eye and jade up the sides; holes were drilled into it in a fashion telling him it would produce music if he blew into the piece at the top.

He handed it over. “Why do you have a flute in your drawer? And why do you need it?”

Bruce didn’t respond, merely bringing the instrument to his lips; he blew softly, an almost mournful sounding tone. Setting the piece down, he waited, and to Ghost-Maker’s surprise—which didn’t happen often—a cloud of black smoke began to swirl beside them. Faster and faster, it spun until it suddenly dispersed and in its wake was a woman—a rather bare woman…in a rather exposed position, her arms stretched out above her head, and one of her legs up in the air like it had been resting on someone’s shoulder and the other leg like it had been around their hip.

She let her legs fall, almost gracefully, and she heaved an incredibly annoyed sigh. “One of these days, Bruce Wayne, I will refuse your summons.”

“Well, it wasn’t today,” he quipped, spinning in his chair to look at her. “Were you in the middle of something?” his tone denoted that he knew she was, he was just being a sarcastic ass about it.

“I was.” She griped, then let her head loll back on the floor. “In the middle of silky sheets with all those fine bedfellows and now here I am on a cold, hard cave floor with no one to drive me into sexual-oblivion.” She stuck one perfectly nailed hand in the air. “Ahem.”

Bruce rose from his seat and took her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. “However, can I make it up to you, (Y/N)?”

Cocking an elegant eyebrow, she murmured, “You do not have enough resources to make up the good time you just pulled me out of.” Pushing out of his arms, she bypassed Ghost-Maker like he wasn’t standing there stunned out of his mind about what just happened.

“Is my wine still down here?” she asked, already bending down to rummage through the drawer. “Hmm, I see I answered my own question,” (Y/N) remarked, pulling out a bottle of wine so old, vintage didn’t seem to describe it. Popping the top, she took a sip and snapped her fingers, a silky black robe instantly clothing her naked body.

Leaning on the desk, she crossed one of her smooth legs over the other, idly swishing her foot. “So, why do you need me?”

Bruce nodded at the screen. “Do you know about the spice shipments in Gotham?”

(Y/N) hummed. “The shipments of spice that Penguin’s buying from black market deals that are originating out of Kolkata? Those spice shipments?” she shrugged. “I might know something. Why?”

“We’re trying to stop Penguin from getting it into Gotham.” Ghost-Maker interrupted before Bruce could say anything and she gazed at him.

“And you are?”

“Ghost-Maker.”

“Hmm.” She said, though she sounded disinterested. “Come here.”

“Why?” he questioned, though he obeyed and before he could even react, she reached up and touched his jaw. In a flash he saw every memory of his life in his mind, and she pulled away, tone curious.

“Oh? So, you are the one Bruce thinks about. The hedonistic anti-hero that copes with his psychopathy by challenging himself to fix the world.” A smirk tugged her lips. “Interesting.” Her eyes found Bruce’s. “Why is your ex-boyfriend in Gotham? I thought you did not want him anywhere near here? From both of your memories, you are both antagonistic to the idea of working in each other’s locations.”

“You just read my memories?” Ghost-Maker inquired, reaching up to touch his face. “How?”

“Telepathy, amongst many other dark things that would make even a person like you quake in fear.” (Y/N) glanced at Bruce again. “Answer the question.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend.”

“Wrong question and even more wrong answer.” She shot him a knowing look, one he matched with a firm look of his own and she waved a hand. “Fine, I will relent for now. What do you need to know about Penguin’s shipments?”

Bruce hit another button on the computer and a picture of a manila file came up. “It’s locked in his personal office surrounded by turrets and armed thugs.”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled pathetically, and she whimpered pitifully, “Aw, can the two of you not get into the office with your powers combined? So sad.” She raised a hand and touched the tips of her pointer and thumb to one another, then she lifted it to her mouth. She blew a single, sharp ear-splitting whistle and both Bruce and Ghost-Maker heard ringing in their ears as a dark smoke began to pool from the edge of the cave, the type that sent shivers up someone’s spine.

A low growl sounded from the smoke and out of the vapor stepped a dark hound, black as midnight, with glowing red eyes and rows of razor-sharp teeth. (Y/N) clicked her tongue and it bounded to her. She reached down and caressed its head, speaking in a language that neither Bruce nor Ghost-Maker understood.

She stood back up and pointed to the screen, uttering one more word, cold and firm. “Hunt.”

The hound barked but it still sounded like a growl, and it turned, sprinting towards the wall; it collided with it in a hail of smoke, and (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “Cù-sìth will get what we require.”

“I haven’t seen your hell-hound in a long while, (Y/N).” Bruce noted and she scowled.

“Death hounds. Cù-sìth and Garmr are death hounds.”

“And where is Garmr now?”

She frowned, looking away from him. “He is…recovering from a sustained injury.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head. “I appreciate your sympathy and trying but injuries that death hounds receive can only be healed by darker magic.” Her fingers swirled with her sorcery.

“Is that why you’ve been in hiding for a few months now?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I have devoted most of my time to healing his injuries.”

Bruce took her hand, gently but firmly. “(Y/N), is there anything you need from me?”

She met his gaze, holding it for a moment before sighing again. “Do you think you could find nightshade and belladonna extract for me?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, then he nudged her in the ribs with a grin. “You’re not planning on poisoning anyone, are you?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Maybe just a bit. You know, not enough to kill them but just enough to drop them out of a city government meeting where an especially important vote is being decided.” She winked. “Care to wonder who it is?”

Bruce grunted, pulling from her. “I already know who it is.” He took a seat at the computer, and she leaned against the desk, her thigh brushing the arm rest. “You’re not allowed to poison people.”

She let out a humored breath through her nose and reached out, gently carding her fingers through his short dark hair. “Joy-killer.” (Y/N) took a moment to gaze at him, then she shifted, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “When is the last time you rested?”

“A few hours ago.”

Frowning, she corrected, “I meant when was the last time you actually had a restful sleep?” he opened his mouth, but she was quicker. “You are not getting younger, Bruce.”

“I’m fine.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes.

“You are so stubborn.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “Do you get decent sleep?”

“Of course,” he retorted. “Only Bruce thinks sleep is for the weak.”

“It is.”

(Y/N) looked back at Bruce. “That’s because you are a stubborn ass.”

Before he could respond, a growling caught their attention and they all turned to the entrance of the cave, seeing Cù-sìth coming towards them, the manila folder in his teeth. She plucked it from his mouth and flipped it open, scanning the contents; when Bruce reached for it, she jerked it away and clicked her tongue.

“Oh no. Only those who have maintained a correct sleep schedule are allowed to read this.”

Bruce glared at her. “Give me the file.”

“No.”

He started rising from his seat. “Give. Me. The. File. (Y/N).”

“I think you are forgetting that I am not one of your little minions, Bruce.” (Y/N) snapped her fingers and he sunk back into his seat, compelled by her magic. “You do not tell me what to do. Ever.” She looked at Ghost-Maker. “Come with me to the docks and we will take care of this.” Then she met Bruce’s gaze again. “When I snap my fingers again you will go up to your room and sleep for a few hours.”

“(Y/N),” he warned. “No killing.”

“I will do as I wish,” she offered nonchalantly, handing Ghost-Maker the file. “You know I have never adhered to your rules.”

Bruce’s glare darkened. “I know.”

“You know as well as I that you get rude when you are tired. Sleep now. Let us take care of this.” (Y/N) held out her hand. “K, take my hand.”

“How do you—”

She ignored the vigilante’s shocked question, taking his hand and the world twisted and turned around them until the smoke cleared and they were outside the gates of the dock. “You will want to take your mask off.”

“I’m not taking my mask off,” he retorted, and she shrugged.

“Then you will be sick in your mask.”

He stared at her, then he spun around, undoing the clasps of his mask, barely getting it off his face before he was vomiting into the grass.

(Y/N) merely watched. “I told you. Magical teleportation always wreaks havoc on the stomach the first time.”

“What—what are you?” he asked, then went back to puking.

When he went down on one knee, she leaned over and steadied him. “Older than what your mind can comprehend.” (Y/N) reached down and placed a hand on his forehead, then he stopped retching and coughed a few times. “There. Your digestive system should relax now.”

He didn’t necessarily shove her away, but it was obvious he didn’t want her seeing him because he pulled from her touch and wiped his mouth, quickly pulling his mask back on. “Don’t ever do that again.” He warned and she snorted.

“What? Heal you or teleport you right to the location of your target?”

With his mask back on he glared at her, light blue slits glowing brightly. “Call me K.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you and Bruce are so much alike.” (Y/N) hauled him to his feet by his sword scabbards and let him go, starting towards the opening of the gate. “This will be a rather enjoyable night.”

“You need adequate protection.” He said. “You’re going to get killed without anything on.”

(Y/N) tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “My, my, Ghost, are you worried about me?”

“I don’t feel empathy,” Ghost-Maker said, hurrying to walk beside her.

“That is not completely true. At least through the memories I have seen.” (Y/N) looked over at him. “You are empathetic to Bruce. It is not like my empathy to him, but on some level, you do care.” She smiled. “Nothing is completely void of some form of empathy.”

She looked over at the dock, scrutinizing the cargo ship. “There are armed guards along the pier. A frontal assault will get us caught…no airstrikes…” she hummed, then brought a hand to her chest. “I have an idea.

“Care to share?” he asked, looking over at her, and to his surprise, she transformed before his eyes, taking on the shape of one of the thugs on the ship. “Huh. That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.” She said, though her voice was much deeper, like a mans and she stood up. “I will infiltrate the ship from the front. I trust you can go through the back?”

He pulled out his swords and (Y/N) swore she could practically see the smile growing on his lips as he said, “Absolutely.”

“Then be swift.”

***

A few hours later they appeared in the cave, and she sighed, gazing at the man collapsed at the desk. “I forgot how easily he deflected magic. Even mine.” Shrugging, she left the file beside him, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “At least he is sleeping though.”

Pulling away, she looked at Ghost-Maker. “You did well this evening. Your training is almost superior to Bruce’s.”

“It is superior to Bruce’s.” he griped and she tsked at him.

“Well, from what I have seen in your memories, I am afraid you have not much proven superiority to him. Equality, yes, but not superiority.” (Y/N) hummed and smiled at him. “I hope you and I can do missions together again, Ghost. It was rather enjoyable to have a talking partner. Bruce does not like to talk unless he has to.”

As she started walking towards the stairs, he followed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“You may.”

“Where do you live?”

(Y/N) eyed him. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Your meditation techniques appear similar to mine.” He smiled at her. “I was thinking you and I could meditate sometime.”

She paused and looked him over, a hand on her hip. “You want to sleep with me? Really?”

“You already told me what I am. A hedonistic crime-fighter.”

“Technically I said antihero, but I digress.” (Y/N) stepped up to him, staring into the glowing blue slits. “But I saw your abilities…they could be…intriguing.”

“I can show you now, if you’d like?” Ghost-Maker tipped his head to the entrance of the study. “There’s enough rooms for us to disappear into.”

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head, walking ahead of him. “Bruce would not be happy about that.” She reached the top step and turned back, grinning at him. “But worry not, Ghost. When I am ready to see you, I will find you.”

“I look forward to it.”

[thismaydestroyme]

Little Did I know Pt. 2

summary: in this short story, harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. i included some song lyrics from different amazing artists, and i pretended that harry and y/n wrote it.

author’s note: i wrote the beginning of this two months ago me being lazy i picked up where i left off because i’m too lazy to read through this. so if there’s any major fuck ups then…. i did warn you that i’m incompetent

word count: 3165

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out, and little did you know Harry was front and center watching your trainwreck of a performance. 

Harry did a whole french inhale without breaking eye contact with you. “I really wanna dance tonight with you.” Y/N hears Brittany playing in the background which you pause the music, to see what Harry would say about your little ‘performance.’ 

“Really? A slave? don’t you think it’s pretty dramatic don’t ya think?” Harry says, raising one of his eyebrows. You know he’s just playing around, but you coudn’t help feeling embarrassed how he fucking witnessed… that. You don't want Harry to know that you’re embarrassed, so you did the next best thing. 

“That fucking snake was huge. Did you know she was holding an Albino Burmese Python? I bet MTV wasn’t expecting that. Do you think MTV got filthy rich from that performance? Everyone tuned in for that performance and till this day it’s still the most talked about.” You ramble and spew out random information you bet Harry couldn’t care two shit about.” Harry has a smirk on his face, you bet he was enjoying you looking like a damn idiot. 

You start profusely apologizing until Harry interrupts you, “Do you want to come over?” He says all nonchalantly and walks away without you even agreeing. You’re all stunned and weren't able to even say one single word or even move your two feet. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see you not moving, “C’mon weirdo, don’t act all shy with me now.” He threw back. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, but your feet finally start to move and your feet are heading straight to Harry. 

Harry turned his head and started to smirk, but he kept walking which had you feeling some nerves building up in your stomach. You’re not scared per se, just you’re going to Harry Styles house. This is normal. This is fine. This is just a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Cool. 

When you finally get to his entrance Harry is already inside and he disappears somewhere because you don’t see him. You hesitantly walk inside and shut the door behind you. When you turn around you couldn’t help, but notice the disarray this house is covered in. Your mouth gape opened, but you immediately brought your hands to cover up how shocked you are. You couldn’t help but gawk at Harry’s place. There’s a big pink couch in the center of the room which is covered in boxes and clothes. There’s a TV on the floor which doesn’t seem to be plugged in because you don’t see it even plugged in. You try not to be too judgy because he did just move in, so what do you expect?  Harry having his life all sorted out in a span of a couple of weeks? 

You almost missed the nice white fluffy carpet that’s underneath the couch. Even though Harry’s place is a disaster, you can envision what Harry is planning on doing when he has his stuff all situated. In the back of your mind you hope he might even invite you back if he does a ‘welcoming party.’

Before you could even investigate more Harry walks back in with two bottles of water in his hand. He’s already drinking out of one of them, so he handed the one that hasn’t been opened to you. You reach your hands over to grab it. 

“This isn’t safe for the environment.” You states while unscrewing the cap. 

“Well.. you belting out to Britney is an endangerment to our society, so I guess we both got the short end of the sticks.” 

You immediately start drinking your water because you didn’t have your next rebuttal. You start scanning the room and hoping it’ll have your heartbeat settle down because you can feel it through your chest. Harry moves from his spot and starts taking boxes off the couch and to make some room for the both of you. He had to take down three boxes, so you could both sit comfortably. 

Harry walks over to you, but you freeze. Harry was pleased knowing he had you all flustered. It was one of Harry’s turn ons. Harry sits and brings his arms draping on the back of the couch which would have you being in his arm if you decide to sit right there. A couple of seconds of you contemplating you walk towards Harry and hesitantly sit down. 

“I’m not going to bite.” he whispers in your left ear. Feeling his breath in your ear made you slightly clench your thighs together, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. But knowing your track record he probably did notice.

You try to come up with a conversation starter that hopefully doesn't hold all the spotlight on you. You look down at her close water bottle and scrambling for something in her head. 

“Now you’re shy. The last time I checked up you were coming for my head after that  mishap with your dog earlier.” 

“You deserved it. You were attacking Cosmo, so yeah. I was in fact coming for your ass.” You glance your eyes to Harry. You’re overly protected over Cosmo. Cosmo is your life.

Harry gave you a smirk. He couldn’t help but to admire your bluntness. He barely comes across people who lit a fire inside of him. They always try to please him because he is a celebrity, and people just want to please him- which he doesn’t mind, but he does wish they sometime bites back. Having you in his presence he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, little did he know, he wants to get to know you more. 

“What do you do, Y/N besides piercing people’s eardrums and being a dog mom.” 

“Ummm.. that’s a loaded fucking question. But you being Harry fuckin’ Styles I guess I have to come up with something to make myself more interesting and less… chaotic. Well I’m a 21 years old who doesn’t have anything to offer to this world. I live my life accepting I’ll probably be working at Newbury Comics. And on top of that I love music, but I’ll be considered unqualified because I have no talents, and all I could do is muster up some mediocre lyrics that I have stored in my notes app.” 

Harry didn’t break any eye contact when you were summarizing your sad life. That created a pit in your stomach because you never experienced anything that could ever compare to Harry’s tense gaze. 

Harry never encountered anyone in the span of meeting them baring their skin to him. He couldn’t help, but feel some sort of pride knowing he created a space for Y/N to be able to let your hair down and express herself in full detail. He feels more drawn to you because he knows what you’re feeling. The unknown is a scary thing to feel, but you’re doing that with grace without you even realizing it. Just accepting reality is the biggest thing to acknowledge, and you’re doing just that. 

“What do you have on your notes? Could you even help me write my next album.” Harry shrug glances his eyes away from you. 

You feel a surge of worries entering her body. You don't know what’s going on, and you don't like it. “What?! You barely know me. My so-called ‘lyrics’ could be shitty and cliche. What are you getting out of this? My humiliation?” You don't like being taken as a joke, but that’s all  you could come up with this peculiar interaction. Harry sees a naive little girl. 

“You’re pretty,” Harry says. And that’s all he said. He got up and walked out the room. You're left on the couch alone, and not understanding what he just said. Just a few minutes ago he asked for your help, and now just a few seconds ago he said you’re pretty. What kind of fuckery is this?!

You immediately got up and walked to whatever room you could find Harry in. It wasn’t that hard because Harry is in the kitchen. 

“Harry! I need you to explain. Talk to me, please.” You say while running her hands down your face. You thanked yourself for not wearing any makeup.

“Uh, you beg. I like that Y/N,” Harry chuckles and closes his fridge door. 

“Well…. I do find you attractive and I see a potential in you. I might be wrong or I might be right. There’s nothing wrong with finding out and seeing what you have.” Harry says. Harry isn’t afraid to look people in the eyes, but you sure do. You’re debating if you should  take this risk. Harry did say there’s nothing wrong with finding it out. 

“Fine. I will take that jump with you.” You say unsurely, but you have some faith in him and a little bit in yourself. 

“Good. Now can you stop being tense and enjoy yourself. You’re in fact talking to the one and only Harry Styles.” 

“Shut up, doofus.” 

One month Later

After Harry made the deal with you a month ago,  you guys have been surprisingly working together quite nicely. You guys wrote one complete song, and that song is now called, “Dirty Little Secret.” You can’t wait to hear Harry sing that song with his band because you’re pretty sure it will fit the band theme for his upcoming album. Harry doesn’t want to limit himself, but he does have an idea to make his third album mostly rock. 

Harry didn’t expect you to be a fuckin’ genious. Watching you in the corner jotting down lines in your beat up notebook with a pen in your hand made you start feeling someway. You always appreciate the art seeing people enjoy what they do, but Y/N is truly gifted because she has no experience with producing music. One long night two weeks ago you guys were sleep deprived because there was a week where you guys would stay up all night to write and you would stop when you saw the sunrise. Y/N found her love in music because of her father. He was a huge factor that made her who she is today. There was substance in her when she would talk about the accent in a song, how she would bounce that off with the bar while you would play the instruments. Y/N is truly a force to be reckoned with and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to have her on tour with you. 

Y/N never felt more alive after her father passed. It’s like Harry woken something inside of her. You never thought you would experiment with music with Harry Styles, the artist for this generation. You’re not going to lie that you would watched all of his interviews and he would talk about when he write songs he has no boundaries, and it’s crazy he upheld that ideology because Harry made sure you know that there’s no right or wrong way, the only way is to play around and see how it goes. 

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” You ask Harry dropping your notebook on the coffee table that’s covered in rolled up papers and a lot of take out boxes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He says. You nod at him, and you got up to grab two cups of ice water for you both. 

Your notebook page flipped to a new page and Harry couldn’t help but notice to see “Bubblegum Bitch” written in all caps. Harry got intrigued, so he happily kicked the table so the book could fall, so his excuse could be, “Y/N it fell.” 

Harry kicked the coffee table with his big ass feet and the notebook happily splat on the floor. Harry reached for it and started flipping pages to see that title again, and it took him a couple of tries to find it. 

“Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for”

Harry couldn’t help but not try to read all the lyrics. He wants to digest it all, but he knew Y/N could walk in any second. He couldn’t help but make a small gasp when he skimmed to the part of the song that had him falling on his knees 

“I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch.” 

“Harry, what are you doing?” Y/N says timidly. On the outside Y/N is calm and cool and collective, but on the inside you’re shaking and screaming. Your songs are attended only to you, not for other eyes to see. You’re still not confident with your writing abilities when it comes to songs for yourself, but knowing your idol probably read more than one line of your song is having you want the ground to swallow you up. 

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you and pretend Y/N. Bubblegum Bitch is amazing, fuck maybe fucking brillant Y/N. Shit.” Harry says he looks at you but goes back down to your notebook flipping pages after pages. 

You’re stuck where you’re standing. Feeling the condensation of two cups of water you’re currently holding is the only concept you’re able to maintain. 

Did Harry say that he likes your songs? Did he say brilliant? You’re not able to speak, all you’re able to do is walk up to the coffee table, drop the cups down and grab your notebook from Harry's grabby hands and collect your belongings. This is too much. You feel too much. You simply can’t right now. 

Harry sees you picking up your stuff and shoving your notebook and pens in your purse you bring every time you visit him. Harry couldn’t help, but feel bad that he could possibly make you feel uncomfortable. 

Harry stands up and starts walking up to where you are putting the last thing in your bag, “Y/N I’m sorry if me going through your stuff made you angry, but I couldn't help it Y/N. What I read was amazing, you’re amazing.” Harry hurrys out his words because he felt if he didn’t say it fast enough you would vanish. 

You’re trying to hold back your tears because it’s getting too much for you. The last time somebody read your stuff was your father, and right now you feel like you’re betraying the intimate moments you had with him. He was the one you would share your songs first with him. Now that he’s gone, you couldn’t put yourself out there to have someone else read it. You turn back around and you try to give a smile to Harry. 

“It’s okay, I- I just have to go. I’m sorry. We can talk later.” You push past Harry to make it to the front door, but you feel someone hand on your wrist so you immediately stop. 

“Y/N, I can’t have you leave, when I know that you’re not okay. Can you please talk to me? Please?” There’s a hint of sadness in Harry. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him without having the answer he’s yearning for. 

You turn around and there’s Harry. His green eyes are pleading with yours, and you couldn’t help, but do what Harry is asking you to do. 

“Okay, I don’t want pity. Okay? Tell me you understand.” You ask Harry because the last thing you want from him is sympathy. 

“I promise Y/N. Would you mind if we sit down?” You nod your head and he walks you back with his hand in your hand. You both couldn’t help but feel some sort of palse running inside you both while holding each other's hands. It’s something both of you guys can’t simply forget. 

You got to the couch and you both sat down, no longer holding hands. You adjust yourself so you can face him. “Okay. My father died a couple of years ago and he was the only one I let read my stuff first. After he passed I never showed anyone my stuff because it would feel like I’m replacing him. I’m not mad that you read my stuff- I was just surprised, and I couldn’t help it but feel sadness creeping over me. Once again, I’m not angry at you, I’m just adjusting to a new milestone I just crossed without me not realizing it.” You say, and you’re hoping Harry doesn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry”  because you’re sorry to. 

“Well, I’m not sorry for your loss,” Harry says and you couldn’t help, but smile and laugh. “but I’m not sorry that I read it. You have something Y/N and I know you told me you haven’t had any experience in music industry, but fuck that. You have passion and I feel that every time we write something together in the past month, I don’t think I'll be able to forget about you when the summer is over.” Harry says. There was so much sincerity in what he just said.  

You thought it was all one sided because you felt so much being with Harry. You felt you were finally seeing a rainbow you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Harry brings so much out of you that you. Harry was always there when you were scared to take the first step. Him being there with you made it less scary because he was there every step of the way.

Harry didn’t expect he would’ve met someone this summer who would make such an impact on him. Harry thought he would do a lot of hooks up, go to parties and write for the entirety of the summer. But the universe had something planned for him. He met Y/N. He didn’t want to tell Y/N he that he found his first and only love, but he didn’t want to scare her. She could probably feel the same way or she only saw him as a friend but neither of them were ready for that big leap of faith. Even Y/N knew Harry is someone she couldn’t live without because he brings something out of you that you never felt in your entire life and that was courage and faith. 

Y/N met her faith. Only time could tell if faith would lead Harry and Y/N the soulmate they both were looking for.

“Harry, I don’t think I could possibly forget about you.” Y/N whisper because you felt if you used your normal voice the bubble you guys created would shatter within seconds.

Faith is a silly thing because faith could have you longing for something that’s impossible to grasp or faith could have you leaving you vulnerable, but that vulnerability could unlock something you never dreamt was even possible. 

[hizashiiis]

Bakusquad + “Why are you awake” Part Two

PART ONE HERE

So here’s part two! Fun fact, the song Jirou plays you in her part is actually a song I wrote! I didn’t include any of the lyrics though because its lowkey really cheesy :/

I hope you like this! This one is for Sero, Mina, and Jirou.

Warnings: insomnia, depression kinda

Sero Hanta

- Sero is very much a hypocrite when it comes to getting enough sleep

- He’s constantly up at all hours, even sending you random texts if he can’t sleep

- But when you aren’t going to bed at a normal time?

- He’s so sad

- He looks like you kicked his puppy and then him in rapid succession. 

- It’s crazy because he seems to just instinctively know when you’re awake

- Like he bolts up in his bed all, “they ain’t in bed. I’m abt to beat some ass.”

- He’s never sure if he’s right though, so he texts you a meme he made specifically for you being up too late

- It’s probably really cheesy and outdated, but the effort is there

- If you respond to it (because you will) he knocks on the wall between your dorms and talks to you 

- Often, you both just stay up like that

Sero’s body is awake before his mind, moving him to sit up in bed before he can think. He was having a really intense dream; something about talking mice. He didn’t mind it, but he woke up as if he’d had a nightmare. 

Faintly, from the wall beside him, he can hear low music playing, but he can’t make out what song it is. It’s coming from your room, though, so he’s concerned. 

The sky outside is dark, clouds drifting across his windowed view of the moon. It must be pretty late; all the noise is gone, leaving nothing but static air, and the music. He leans over his bed to look at the time on his phone. It’s around 2 am. The song you’re playing ends, and he recognizes the next one. It’s on your sad playlist. 

He sends you the meme, as well as an invitation for a hug as soon as it’s morning. You respond almost instantly, assuring him that you’re fine, you just couldn’t sleep. But he knows you better than that. 

Knocking on the wall between you, he hears the music stop suddenly. He calls out to your wall. 

“Mi amor? What’s keeping you awake?” He’s met with silence for a moment before your shaky voice responds.

“I’m okay. I just kinda got hit with some sad, y’know?” He does know. He knows that this happens sometimes. It happens to him, too. But he hates hearing your voice sound so lost. You almost sound hopeless, and he can’t bear it. 

“I understand.” He places his hand up to the wall, wishing he could hold you. Unfortunately, you had both been told off by Iida for sleeping in each other’s rooms more than enough times lately, so he couldn’t just go see you. He opts instead for hugging a stuffed giraffe you had gotten him after the Sports Festival. 

“Do you want me to distract you, or do you want to talk about it?” He asks, stroking the giraffe’s head as if it’s your hair, not knowing that on the other side of the wall, you’re holding a stuffed lion the same way. 

“Distract me?” Your voice comes out only just loud enough for him to hear you, but he understands. He begins to tell you a story. He’s told it before. It’s about a great hero, one who fights crime valiantly, and his partner, also a fantastic hero. He ad-libs parts of it, making pretend villains say silly slogans, and recounting how the heroes save the day. 

As he reaches the end, he hears you giggle a bit. “Oh? Did it work? Are you smiling over there, my sweet?” He calls to you, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“A little bit.” You respond, playing with your stuffed animal. “If you keep talking, maybe I’ll even smile more.”

He laughs, eyes bleary with sleep, but happy to talk to you the whole night.

Mina Ashido

- Honestly, she’s no better than you about staying awake

- She tries to sleep, but her thoughts are always racing

- Sometimes it’s thoughts of you, sometimes of new things she wants to try in training, or things she wants to see if she can convince her friends to do

- But she wants you to get adequate rest, even if it’s hard for her to do the same

- She used to get told off for sneaking to your room every night, but then Momo and Iida saw how much better you were performing in school on the days after she’d been there, and they started letting it slide

- It’s nicer for her, too, because she has someone to ramble to as the two of you fall asleep

Mina skipped down the hallway toward your room. It was a bit past midnight, and usually, you would be asleep by this time. It was well past lights out, and classes had run long that day, not to mention the endless exams that were happening at UA right now. So when she reached your door, she was surprised to find you watching a movie on your phone instead of snoring. 

“Hey bug! Why are you still up, don’t you know what time it is?” She says, throwing a grin your way as she puts her blanket down next to you. 

You shrug, yawning. “I could ask you the same thing, love.” She pouts at that, tossing her arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

She watches you watching your show for a few minutes before saying anything. It looks good, she supposes, but she has a better idea of what to watch. “Scoot over.” She pushes you lightly, giggling as you scrunch to the side to give her more room. “Do you wanna watch something with me?” She asks, holding up her phone. 

You look at her for a moment. “That is what we are currently doing, is it not?” You hold up your phone in return, showing her the paused screen. 

“But I have a better movie!” She insists, unlocking her screen and shoving it above yours so that you can see her pick. She’s right, it is a better movie. You guys have watched the entire Studio Ghibli filmography, but even you know that her favorite, “When Marnie was There,” is the better option at this particular moment. 

You toss your phone to the side, pulling her in to lay next to you. “Fair enough, bubs, I guess yours is better.” You feign reluctance, watching her excitedly press play and tuck the blanket in around the both of you. Her arm curls tighter around your shoulders, and she giggles as the opening credits start. 

“Hey Minari?” You use her favorite nickname, looking at her through hooded, sleepy eyes. She hums in response. “Why is this one your favorite?”

Hearing the question, she pauses the movie, turning to look right at you. She’s quiet for a moment, thinking about her answer. “I guess because they remind me of us! Like I’m Marnie, and you’re Anna, and we’re having this great adventure together!” You feel your face heat at her words, thinking about the movie more critically now. Mina continues, “It’s like…” she pauses, finding the right words. “Like Anna is learning how her friendship with Marnie can make her feel more right, as a person. And I feel like that about you!” 

You’re tearing up now, unsure how to respond. Mina is so many things, and being with you is that important to her? It’s a new feeling, but certainly a welcome one. You pull her down, giving her a kiss. And then another kiss. And one on her nose. 

“Press play, Mina.”

Kyoka Jirou

- Lol u think she sleeps?

- She does, but not at night

- Were it not for classes, Jirou would be essentially nocturnal

- So you try to remind her to go to sleep

- Sometimes you’ll walk past her dorm at night, and you hear her guitar, softly playing her favorite songs

- Before you got together, sometimes you would sit outside her door and listen to her play

- Not in a creepy way, there’s just a little common area right outside her room and you like took a book there, you weren’t like ooh it’s late i think i’ll sit outside someone’s room and listen to them

- You aren’t Mineta. 

- But anyway

- Now that you are together, Jirou thinks it’s really sweet that you listen to her play

- Sometimes she leaves her door cracked open so you can come in

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and the light is on in Jirou’s room. You had come out to go to the bathroom, but you noticed her guitar, and decided to stay. The soft strumming is pretty, and you’re glad to be one of the few people allowed to hear it. 

Opening Jirou’s door just a bit more, you nod toward her desk chair in a silent question. She nods, so you go sit down. 

She’s playing a song you don’t recognize, and the lyrics are sad. Even still, it’s beautiful, and your eyes seem to naturally close, taking in the melody of her voice. She used to tell you her voice wasn’t anything special, but she seems content now to let you listen. 

The guitar resonates with the last few chords, and the ending note is held for three beats. When she’s finished, Jirou opens her eyes and looks at you, waiting for your thoughts.

“It was beautiful. Did you write that?” You ask her, your hands fidgeting with the urge to hold her own. She nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

You don’t acknowledge the sad theme of the song. She’s told you before that sometimes sad songs are easier than happy ones. That the melody is clearer. You don’t mind. All her songs are beautiful, and they reflect her in them, and isn’t that what makes a piece of art?

“I have another one, if you’d like to hear it?” She looks nervous; something you never see on her.

“I’d love to!” Your exclamation seems to snap her out of the anxiety in her eyes, which narrow a little. 

“Just…” She starts, looking away from you to adjust the capo on her instrument. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Confused, you nod, and she starts playing. 

The song starts out with a few chords repeating in a loop, and then she begins to sing. The lyrics are confusing to you at first, and you still aren’t sure why she’s told you not to freak out. But then she gets to the chorus, and it begins to make more sense. 

Lyrics, in essence, are a poem, and this one is a love poem. Her thoughts, written out, are so sweet and loving, that you’re sure you don’t know what to think. She sings elegantly, like someone who’s never known how to dance, and yet is waltzing perfectly across a shining floor. 

She finishes the song with a declaration of loyalty, and you realize your eyes are watering. She looks at you, waiting for your thoughts. 

You say nothing. You don’t know how to say anything, so you stand, cross to her, and pull her into a hug. She’s not usually one for physical touch, but she holds you tightly. 

“It’s about me, right?” You laugh, leaving a kiss on her calloused fingers. She rolls her eyes. 

“Obviously.”

She smiles at you, pulling you to lay on her bed as she puts her guitar in its case, taking the capo off the strings. “You should sleep. It’s like, morning now.”

“You should too.” You retort, still holding her hand. 

“No.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You are an aspiring concert violinist who attends an audition for the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra, under the new direction of famous conductor Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.2K

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBNquKkKcF4

A/N: Hello! This is an AU fic heavily inspired by one of my favorite tv shows Mozart In The Jungle. This is going to be at least 3 more chapters, and I already have the second part done so it should be uploaded by the weekend. Also, I added a link to the piece that is heavily mentioned throughout this fic. It’s not necessary to listen to it before reading (or at all haha), I just thought I’d add it in for anyone curious :) Hope y’all enjoy! Please let me know what you think, and my inbox is always open for any questions. Also: I do not own Mozart In The Jungle...Jeff Bezos please do not sue me. 

You rushed through the bustling streets of Manhattan, silently cursing yourself for not getting a cab. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference; rush hour in the city was horrendous no matter what form of transportation you chose. But at least you would have been sitting in an air conditioned car and not running through the crowded streets. You tightened your grip on your violin case as you hurried across the street, destination clear in your mind.

You had been finishing up your final private lesson of the day when you received a call from one of your old college friends. They informed you to drop everything you were doing, not literally because that would include your very expensive and very fragile violin, and hurry down to symphony hall because one of the first violinists in the Manhattan Symphony had sprained her wrist and they were holding open auditions.

A part of you knew the odds of being selected from hundreds of the best violinists in one of the most affluent cities for music was slim to none, but you also knew you had to take this chance. It’s what you had been working so hard towards during undergrad and grad school, and it would be nice to have a more...stable job. The Manhattan Symphony Orchestra was one of the greatest and well respected orchestras in the world, and you would kill to earn a chair.  

You ran faster than you had in months, and made a mental note to add more cardio to your basically nonexistent workout regime because wow, you were out of shape. Rounding the corner, you quickly dodged running into other pedestrians and could see symphony hall a block away. Despite the burning in your lungs begging you to stop running like a mad woman, you picked up the pace and sprinted to the building.

Ever since you started playing the violin you swore to anyone who would listen that you would play in the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra. Your siblings would always ask for concert tickets to see their favorite band, or sporting tickets, but you always begged your parents to take you to the symphony. While your siblings hated it and complained how long and boring it was (and the outrage that they weren’t allowed to bring food inside), you were enraptured by the entire experience.

You fell in love with the sounds of Dvorak, Beethoven, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky. Sitting in the concert hall you waited in anticipation to watch the musicians who had spent their entire lives preparing for that moment; to pour every ounce of their soul into their instruments. Ever since the moment you stepped inside your first concert hall at the young age of five, you knew this is where you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Shaking those thoughts aside you hurried through the building to where the blind auditions were being held. You silently thanked whatever genius came up with the idea of a blind audition, because you were a mess after running over twelve blocks from your apartment. Following the signs on the walls, you found the warm up room, but was surprised to find everyone packing up.

There were over a dozen people of various ages, and you noticed one of them crying. A woman around your age noticed your disheveled appearance and sighed. “If you’re here for the blind auditions, they were cancelled.”

You felt your heart drop. “What? Did they already find someone?”

“No, because the new conductor is a total psycho,” Someone else said angrily. “She kept yelling about how we’re all wasting her time and she’d rather have her pet rabbit play New World Symphony.” He motioned to the girl who was sobbing. “And she told Megan her tone was so bad that she would personally throw her violin into a wood chipper so no one would have to suffer through her performing again.”

The new conductor he was referring to was one of your favorites. Agatha Harkness. She was beloved throughout the music community and had many fans, but you had heard rumors of her hard work ethic and ability to make people cry in under a minute. You thought back to your undergrad violin lessons where one of your professors told you that your tone while playing Mendelssohn sounded like a dying donkey. Musicians were often times very blunt.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“A bit?” The guy rolled his eyes. “This job isn’t worth it. I’m going to audition for the second violin chair in Iowa. It might not be as great of an orchestra but at least their conductor isn’t the devil incarnate.”

As the others continued to pack up, you still felt your gut twisting at what could have been. Feeling rejected, you left the room and saw the back entrance to the stage open. From a quick glance around it appeared the hallway was deserted, so you quickly ran through the door, violin case still in hand.

Time came to a stand still as you walked on stage and stared into the seemingly empty concert hall. You dreamt about this moment more times than you cared to admit. There was something so peaceful about being on stage. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and pictured a scene you had spent years dreaming about. Realizing the opportunity to play in this hall wouldn’t likely come again, you made the split decision to open your violin case.

Staring at your violin, you briefly wondered if this was a good idea. But, you silently argued that no one else was around, and besides, you did run half a mile to get here. It would be a waste to not play and appreciate the gorgeous acoustics. Plus you could feel your fingers aching to play something, anything, to let out the feelings of  disappointment from missing the auditions.

Gently pulling out your bow, you applied a generous amount of rosin before grabbing your violin. You took a few minutes to tune, and the moment your bow hit the strings you felt a shiver at how the sound bounced off the walls. You went through a condensed version of your normal warm up and played a few different scales before debating on what piece to play.

Although your friend had briefly explained the audition would be sight reading and then playing excerpts from Dvorak’s New World Symphony, the auditions were over and you wanted to play something else. It wasn’t the flashiest piece, or one of the better known violin concertos, but it felt right. Vitali’s Chaconne arranged by Charlier. You had originally learned the gorgeous piece during your junior year of undergrad for a concerto competition and it had quickly become a favorite.

Clearing your mind of everything but the music, you closed your eyes and began to play. Your bow swept across the string, producing the opening g-minor chord. The melodic sound rang through the empty hall and you felt your heart ache at how good this felt. It had been a while since you had the time to play this piece, but it was like it had been no time at all. Your fingers danced across the strings and you felt all the uneasiness leave your body.

While this wasn’t the most complex piece you had ever played, it required your full attention. The chaconne was structured as a simple sixteen bar phrase that was rephrased and dallied up with different techniques and melodies which made it easy enough to memorize, but hard enough that you needed to focus on the pattern your fingers made.

With every movement of your bow, every run you made up and down the fingerboard, you were letting out the pain and sadness you felt radiating through your body. It was hard to put into words how playing the violin made you feel, but the best explanation you had come up with was that it was your salvation. There was no sweeter medicine than performing. No matter how out of control life was, how bad things got, your solution was turning to music. It saved you.

As you neared the end of the piece, you felt your bow arm gently ache and you knew you had to have complete focus if you were going to hit the upcoming octave slides that led to the double stops of doom. Octaves were never a violinist’s favorite technique, and they were your own personal kryptonite. You had rather tiny hands, which made the stretch from your index to your pinky rather difficult on a good day. You changed the position of your hand to make the reach to hit the upper octave, but briefly winced when you realized you had fallen flat on the lower note.

You ended with a flourish of your bow on the final g-minor chord and let out the breath you had been holding in. You stood there for a moment, soaking in the afterglow of your performance and enjoying the quiet that radiated throughout the spacious room. Just as you went to clean off your violin and leave before you got kicked out, you heard the sound of slow clapping from within the hall. The hall was dimmed and you saw a figure sitting far up in the upper rows. The mystery figure continued clapping and they stood up and walked down the steps towards the stage. There in all her glory stood Agatha Harkness, the newest conductor of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra.

“Not bad, but your octave slides could use some touching up,” Agatha offered as she stood at the bottom of the stage. “You tend to go flat on the lower notes.”

You felt your breath hitch as you saw the famous, and apparently very scary, conductor staring at you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“Ah so you aren’t here for the auditions?” Agatha questioned, arching an eyebrow up at you. “What are you doing here then, breaking and entering? I’d hate to have to call security on you.”

“What? No, no I’m not...” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red. “I came for the auditions but I was told they were cancelled.”

Agatha laughed, and you noticed how it was more of a cackle. “They were. But believe me dear, I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in my shoes.”

“One of them said you threatened to throw their violin in a wood chipper. Isn’t that a little mean?” You pointed out.

“You did not have to listen to that imbecile butcher the opening of Mendelssohn,” Agatha argued, folding her hands across her chest. “Throwing her violin in a wood chipper would be the least I could do to ensure no one else suffers hearing that disgrace of a sound ever again.”

You stifled a giggle that threatened to escape. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Agatha waved her hand in the air. “Maybe. But you,” she pointed a finger at you, intrigue colored her features. “You were good. Vitali’s Chaconne is a personal favorite of mine. Everyone always chooses to play Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major, or Mendelssohn, or Brahms, or something big and flashy. I’ve always preferred a more subdued piece like Vitali. Violinists don’t take enough time to appreciate the beauty of a chaconne.”

You stared at her in disbelief. Almost no one had even heard of Vitali’s Chaconne, but she did and it was her favorite. “Thank you, Miss Harkness. I-“

“Ah ah ah,” Agatha waved a finger to silence you. “I’m not finished. You were good, but not great. Your octave slides were flat. Your bow hold is giving me a headache, you need to relax more. Your vibrato is too fast, we need to work on slowing it down. Didn’t your teacher ever tell you that? And don’t even get me started on your opening chord.” She eyed the younger woman before continuing. “But despite all that, you have promise.”

You were speechless. She wasn’t yelling at you? “You think I have promise?”

Agatha nodded. “Which is why I’m offering you a job.”

“I got the position?” You smiled. “I can’t believe it.”

Agatha’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not ready to play with the Manhattan Symphony.”

“But you said you were offering me a job,” you repeated the words of the older woman.

“And I am. As my personal assistant,” Agatha explained as if it was the most obvious answer.

“You want me to be your assistant?” You said in disbelief. “Miss Harkness I’m not so sure if I’m qualified-“

Agatha cut you off again. “If you’re serious about being a violinist, especially being a violinist in my orchestra, we need to work on your technique. Natural talent only gets you so far my dear.” She shrugged. “And I may have just fired my newest assistant for being entirely incompetent.”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admitted. This certainly isn’t how you expected your day to go.

“I’m not going to force you to work for me, dear,” Agatha drawled out. “You can walk right out that door and continue on with your presumably simple and boring life.”

“And if I stay?” You prompted, already knowing what you were going to choose.

Agatha slowly walked up the steps of the stage and approached you. “Well then I’ll have my work cut out for me. As will you, darling. I’ll be working you quite hard.” You blushed at her suggestive tone and she smirked at your reaction. “Blushing already? I’ve barely even started.”

You cleared you throat before nodding. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Then let’s get started.” Agatha smirked. “This is going to be fun. Now, let’s take it from the top.”

Working for Agatha was interesting. She was very hard to read, and you could never tell if she was mad at you or if she was just in a mood. You had spent the past few weeks helping her prepare for the first symphony rehearsal of the season. Granted you weren’t doing much to help, all she was asking you to do was make copies of parts and to organize folders for each section.

Today was different. You entered the mostly empty building with a drink holder containing two cups of coffee in one hand and your violin case in the other when the sound of Agatha’s heels came click-clacking down the hallway. From the moment she rounded the corner, you could tell she was in a foul mood.

She was mumbling something incoherent but she stopped when she spotted you. “You’re late.”

You chose to not comment on the fact you were an hour early and instead carefully set down your violin case to hand her one of the cups of coffee. “Bad morning?”

“Hayward is an asshole,” Agatha seethed. “I had the entire season planned out but he thinks I’m not appealing to our investors.”

Well that explained it. Tyler Hayward was CFO of the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra and was a Grade-A asshole. You only had a few interactions with the man but they had all been quite unpleasant. He was less than pleased to discover Agatha had fired the assistant he hired and chose to hire you without consulting him. Luckily Agatha had all but kicked him out of her office and told you to come to her if he gave you a hard time.

“How is Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9 not appealing to investors?” You asked in confusion. “Everyone loves The New World Symphony.”

“That’s not the problem. He thinks I’m playing it too safe with the soloists,” Agatha explained and you thought of the soloists selected thus far. You could see how they would be safe options, but who doesn’t love Joshua Bell?

“But it’s too late to get out of those contracts without losing money,” You pointed out. “Does Hayward not know that?”

“Oh believe me, Hayward always gets his way,” Agatha spat out, and you noticed she appeared to be growing angrier. “He’s still mad I was voted in as music director by the board instead of his choice for the position, so he’s punishing me. And now I have to deal with Maximoff.”

You made a mental note to address the first part about Hayward later when Agatha wasn’t as grumpy, but grinned at the mention of the famous pianist. “Maximoff as in the Wanda Maximoff? She’s-“

“A wild card and not the soloist I envisioned having,” Agatha finished for you, glaring at the mere thought of the woman as you both walked towards her office.

“But she’s an amazing pianist,” You argued, remembering the one time you had the opportunity to watch her perform live with the Royal Philharmonic. “The way she plays is beautiful, and magical, and-“

Agatha growled and glared at you, picking up the speed she was walking at. “And she has no control. She doesn’t listen to direction and thinks she’s always right. Her ego is her downfall.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Wow, that sounds absolutely nothing like you.”

Agatha let out a laugh but still sent you another glare. “Don’t push it, darling,” Agatha warned you as she unlocked the door to her office. “I am nothing like Wanda Maximoff.”

You rolled your eyes after she turned around. “Right. So I’ll take the Beethoven parts out to make room for Wanda’s piece?”

Agatha sighed and combed her fingers through her wildly curly hair. “Well I’d rather just tell the little Sokovian princess she’s not allowed anywhere near my orchestra. But since that would be frowned upon, yes put the Beethoven back. Her agent should be emailing us the parts later today.”

You set off to prepare the dreadful task of reorganizing each folder while Agatha studied different scores. She had her baton out and was mindlessly conducting as she went through the fourth movement of the Dvorak. Over the past few weeks you had started to fall in love with watching her conduct. There was something so mesmerizing by the way she could bring different pieces to life with the mere movement of her hands. You watched her right hand lightly grip the baton and noticed the position of her fingers lightly grasping the silver object while her blue eyes scanned the score.

She felt your staring and smirked as she continued conducting. “See something you like, dear?”

Blushing furiously you went back to your task of sorting music, but every once in a while you allowed yourself to take a break to watch Agatha conduct, and although she smirked whenever she noticed, she didn’t make any more comments. Eventually you finished the work and put the folders away while filing the Beethoven in the cabinet.

“Good, you’re done,” Agatha said as she stood up. “Now it’s time for my favorite part of the day.”

You internally groaned and realized what she wanted. “Where you make one of the interns cry and go get lunch?”

“Close, dear. But no.” She motioned to your violin case. “Come.”

This was your least favorite part of the day. Now, you were used to receiving constructive criticism, and even just good old fashioned criticism. Over the years you had less than kind violin teachers, and you shuddered at the memory of Stefan throwing a chair across the room when you only had three pages of Mendelssohn fully memorized two months before your recital preview. He kept yelling in Russian that he would not be the first faculty member to have a student fail a preview. Or the time Jacqueline caused you to have a panic attack right before your sophomore year concerto competition because she didn’t ‘like your stage presence’ and went on some insane rant, and then yelled at you more while you were sobbing. Ah, the fond memories you had of college.

But there was something so intensely nerve wracking about performing in front of Agatha that it made all of those encounters seem like fun and games. You weren’t sure what it was about the woman, but there was just something about her presence that constantly had you on edge. What made it ten times worse was that Agatha seemed to be aware of the effect she had on you, and did whatever she could to make you blush.

You took a few moments to tune your violin and roll your shoulders back while Agatha made herself comfortable in the audience, but you both knew she wouldn’t stay out there for long.

“Now darling,” Agatha called out from her seat. “I want you to remember what we’ve been working on. The first impression you set when your bow hits the string needs to be dominating. I want to feel like you’re pinning me down on the stage. Make me want it.”

You stared at her incredulously and shook your head, trying not to visualize what she just said to you. “Right...pinning...dominating,” You murmured as you straightened your stance and took a deep breath. Setting your bow on the string, you made sure it was positioned at the frog.

“I can see you tensing from all the way out here,” Agatha said in a mocking tone. “Do I need to come up there and help you relax?”

You knew her coming anywhere near you would do the opposite to relax you. “Nope. Just stay where you are!”

“Oh, are you the one giving orders now, my dear?” Agatha teased as she slowly got out of her seat and made her way towards the stage. “I’m just trying to help. You need to relax your shoulders, otherwise you’re going to end up with a hunchback.”

“I like the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” You offered weakly as you watched her stalk her way up the stairs, her heels clicking up each step.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.” She closed the distance between you and put her hands on your shoulders. “You need to relax.” She examined you closer and arched an eyebrow. “And breathe, my dear. Unless you want to fall in my arms.” You had taken to staring at the floor of the stage until you felt her hand gently cup your chin, forcing you to gaze at her. “Am I that hideous to look at that?”

“Ha, you’re so funny,” You managed to get out before taking a deep breath, and once again tried to relax your shoulders.

Despite your best efforts, you still felt tense, and Agatha noticed it as well. Letting out a gentle huff she moved behind you and began to rub your upper back. “Jeez, have you ever had a massage? It seems like you need one.”

“That’s a bit above my current pay check,” You quipped and blushed when you heard her responding chuckle.

“If you’re asking for a raise, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Agatha replied, her breath tickling your ear and sending delightful shivers down your spine. “You need to let go, darling. This much tension in your shoulders will do too much damage to your posture.”

She hit a particularly hard knot and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. You thought you heard Agatha mumble something under her breath but you were so lost in the sensation you didn’t ask her what she said. Agatha continued rubbing your shoulders and you slowly felt yourself relax into her touch.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured. “Good girl.” Your eyes shot open at the praise and you heard her lightly chuckle. “Relax, dear. I could do this all day.”

Your shoulders eventually loosened up and you couldn’t help but groan when Agatha took a step away from you. “Quit your whining and play that chord,” Agatha demanded as she turned away from you, clapping her hands loudly. “I want to be wowed.”

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your stance before setting your bow back on the string. You were hesitating, and Agatha knew it too.

“Any day now. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” Agatha’s words were sharp but you knew she meant it as encouragement.

You let go of any fears you had of what would come next as you positioned your fingers on the string and rolled your bow to produce the g-minor chord. Your left wrist was loose enough to slow down your vibrato and you went through the first section without any interruptions from Agatha. As you began the next phrase you remembered what Agatha had told you about making it bigger and better than before.

“Always leave them wanting more,” Agatha had instructed her. “Make each phrase slightly different. No one wants to suffer through ten minutes of the same few notes.”

You added more vibrato for this phrase and changed the dynamics so you were growing in sound until you heard her calling for you to stop.

“Stop! Stop, that’s enough,” Agatha yelled as she walked back towards you. “That was...better.”

“Dare I say you sound surprised?” You joked causing her to glare at you.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” She questioned, but eventually relented. “You’re getting better.”

You grinned wildly at her praise. “That was the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far today.”

“Keeping score?” Agatha mused, a smile threatening to tug at her lips at your enthusiasm. “Like I said, you’re getting better, but there’s a lot of work to do. I want to hear those octave slides and not feel like my ears are bleeding from your intonation. Chop chop.”

[tea-and-spoons]

What happens when... I develop a new food allergy?

Whether this is your first food allergy, or the most recent in a long list, it can still be a rough adjustment and overwhelming amount of change.  But as someone who has gone through this more than twenty times, I promise you it’s not the end of the world.

The majority of this post is related to severe, anaphylactic food allergies, but I’m of course always going to advocate for being careful, and some of this will apply to milder allergies too.  This advice also works if you were just diagnosed with celiac disease, or another condition that makes you sensitive to cross contamination.  I’m going to let your doctor handle the medical side of this, but I’m hoping this post will cover all the other things you need to know!

I made some pretty thorough lists of things to check, replace, or clean to make sure you’re safe from allergens- I’ll put those at the end of this post.  It is a lot- recruit a non-allergic friend to help if you can!

But before I get into the lists, here are some other things I’ve learned about getting a new food allergy.

-Update your doctors, including your dentist.  And also update any emergency info you have around, like your medical ID in your phone.

-Research other names for your allergen and what it might be found in.  Food labelling can be very sneaky, which is Not Cool, but you get really good at reading ingredient labels once you know what to look for.  I would stay away from googling too many other allergy related things though, it’s an easy way to get into a panic.

-Talk to the people you live with.  Hopefully they’re good about it, but they might take a while to understand, or might even be angry and resistant, which honestly is beyond me.  If this is your situation, I am so so sorry.  You deserve to feel safe in your own home, no matter what.  If you can set some ground rules and get people on board even a little bit, that will help, and hopefully everyone will come around eventually.

-You should also talk to your partner, or anyone you might be kissing (or who might be kissing you, even on the cheek.  Hi grandma.)  Their foods, medications, reusable water bottles, and toothbrush are all possible ways you could get sick.  So even if they haven’t eaten allergens in hours, it could still be on their toothbrush and that can be enough to cause a reaction.  This research article (Maloney JM, et al. Peanut allergen exposure through saliva: assessment and interventions to reduce exposure. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2006; 118: 719-724.) found that waiting at least an hour and having something allergen free to eat was the best way to de-poison-ify for someone you want to kiss.  I’ve also heard from other allergists that 3-4 hours is the right number.  So I would ask your allergist what they recommend for you.

(note:  I would like to keep this blog safe and friendly for spoonies of all ages, but if you are in need of more information about dating and allergies, feel free to message me and I’ll send you some links!)

-One thing that surprised me with some of my food allergies was the cravings.  Sometimes I never want to even hear the word “pineapple” again, but especially if it was something like eggs that are more a hidden ingredient, I struggled with cravings for foods I couldn’t have anymore, like French toast.  And I’m not even someone who likes food that much!  So I’m here to tell you that the cravings are normal, and will subside in a few weeks.  It also helps to just not be around things you can’t eat for a bit.  And to look for replacement recipes for your favorites- there’s so much out there, it’s really impressive.

-The other common (emotional) reaction is anxiety.  Anaphylactic food allergies can be life threatening, of course you’re scared!  It is 100% normal to be worried and afraid and anxious and terrified, especially after an allergic reaction.  That response happens to help keep you safe!  But it’s also exhausting, and can get out of control.  My best advice here is to follow the concrete steps you need to be safe, and then tell yourself that you’ve done everything you can, you know what you’re doing, and even if something goes wrong, you know you are prepared.  You can be prepared and careful AND not have to be scared all the time.  There is zero shame in seeing a therapist about this too, they can really help.  (My advice here is borrowed from my lovely therapist!)

And here are the lists I mentioned earlier!  I hope this helps you feel safer and more prepared.  Severe food allergies are a big change, but you got this!

Things to replace:

-Toothbrush (and maybe toothpaste too)

-Any food that is still safe but might be cross contaminated (like flour, sugar, spices, things that go on toast… basically any open containers)

-Kitchen sponges and rags and anything else that gets used to hand wash dishes

-Chapstick and lipstick

-Stim toys that go in your mouth

-Cast iron kitchen equipment

-Cutting boards

-Reeds (if you play a reed instrument)

-Ice cubes, if you have a tray in your freezer that people reach into

Things to clean:

-Kitchen itself, including all appliances and countertops

-Anywhere else food is kept or eaten (such as pantry, dining room, couch, in your purse, desk, locker)

-All cooking supplies (plates, pans, silverware, crockpot, basically everything)

-Potholders and oven mitts

-Pillowcases

-Dish towels

-Doorknobs

-Handles

-Light switches

-Remotes

-Cloth napkins

-Reusable water bottles

-Kitchen drawers that might have gotten crumbs or residue in them

-Retainer or mouthguard

-Lunchbox

-Toys and fidgets

-Purse/backpack

-Writing utensils

-Car steering wheel, controls, and handles (especially if you’re the driver)

-Inhaler, spacer, nebulizer, CPAP mask, and other related equipment

-Oral thermometer

-Face masks

-Phone, computer keyboards, touch screens

-Hand or wrist braces

-Video game controllers

-Any musical instruments you play, but especially if it’s a wind instrument.  Plus the case, and any cleaning equipment.

-Whatever your toothbrush is stored in

Things to check the labels on:

-All your food (what you have at home, and anything new you buy)

-Toothpaste

-Floss

-Shampoo and other hair products

-Hand soap and dish soap

-Deodorant

-Makeup and chapstick

-Medications

-Lotions

-Sunblock

-Pet food (if their food turns out to contain your new allergen, you might want to clean or replace their toys as well.  And a bath for the pet themselves!)

If I missed anything on my lists, please feel free to add on in the replies!  If you need someone to talk to or have questions, you’re welcome to message me.  And I promise this gets easier 💙

[shepard-ram]

Antidote for the Lovesick [Antarctic Empire!Wilbur x Reader]

(Fluff, Not a request: Another one inspired by light anons asks- anyways I'm planning on working on my requests again after this. School will be out for the year soon so I will be writing more in a few weeks!)

----------

While the Royal family was well known by default, (and fairly well liked as far as monarchies go) none were as popular as the prince second in line for the throne. It seemed he made for the public eye, able to talk himself out of any situation. With the handful of poems and songs that made it to the people rumors and half-jokes that he must be part siren stired around him. There's no doubt that even without his crown he would have made himself an adored public figure.

It doesn't take much thought to see why prince Wilbur was a star in the empire's negotiations. The Emperor himself was a close second but he was often more fussed about internal affairs. The crown prince was intimidating and a genius when it came to battle, but all that confidence melted when it came to social interactions. Meanwhile the youngest prince... let's just say he hadn't developed the filter needed for the job.

So the poet prince sat at the table and charmed his way into countless treaties and alliances. Needless to say he got very friendly with many rulers and ambassadors alike. The more connections the better after all, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong person got a little too attached.

It was a simple meeting with some local nobles, and one enchantress. It could be It's own story. One starting with the prince's usual banter and a crush forming in its wake, but ending in a turned down confession and alot of shouting. By the time he retired to his bed a soon to be revealed curse was taking its hold.

That morning was filled with emotions and panic. At first he wanted to believe it was nothing more than a sore throat. However the more he tried to make any sound the more he was forced to accept what had happened. His voice was turned to a screech akin to a horse being stabbed. He desperately attempted to sing, only producing a sound that sounded as painful was it was to make. He wasn't just silenced, his voice was replaced with the one of dying demons.

His younger brother was the first he ran into. At first the youngest laughed, after all it was one hell of a noise, but he soon realized just how shaken the poet was. From there it was very quick, how the news spread to the rest of the family. The youngest still didn't stop trying to make fun of his brothers situation. But soon the royal doctors where at his bed chambers with whatever potions and medicines that they thought could ease the affliction.

As soon as they came they left without the barest hint of success. As much as the winged Emperor would've preferred to keep this a private matter it was clear they needed as much talent as possible. They needed more ideas and the skills to make a cure to the curse. So an invention spread to every city and almost every town. It was a simple one, explaining the princes condition and offering a hefty reward to anyone who could put an end to it.

This little piece of paper changed your life.

You were a rather young alchemist, specializing in all remedies natural and magical. The money stood out to you more than most. You weren't starving by any means, but no one in your little rural home town was exactly rolling in cash. Before you knew it you were packing up your things and getting the final "good bye"s and "good luck"s from your family and friends as you set off to the capital.

You weren't the first one to try, not at all. In fact you were one of last with the confidence to try. The thing is, you didn't have the herbs you planned to use.

"Why wouldn't you have them ready?!" You understood why the crown prince was on edge, things were looking more and more hopeless with each attempt. You stayed calm and explained it The best you could.

"The plants I need can be very precise with the conditions they need to grow in, and are often conned on the market. I trust my own abilities more than a salesman looking to make a quick buck." You knew your words reached the trio listening to the pitch, so you made your request. "All I need is the space to grow them and time, they'll take about two months at most. Maybe the royal garden?"

They shared a glance, but it seemed they already had the answer decided.

"How much space do you need?"

You quickly got to work, preparing the soil for the medicine and writing down some notes about the exact qualities of the future remedy. By sunset you were tidying up the servants quarters they had provided so you can stay close the growing ingredients.

On one of your first evenings you were tending to the young plants. That was until you heard a heavenly sound drifting from the other side of the garden. At first you just enjoyed the background music while finishing up your current occupation. As soon as you could you put your watering can down you stood up, very eager to track down the source of the wordless lullaby.

It was a painting, the clouds of bushes more than tall enough to hide the silent signer sitting in the middle of them. The grass while not gone completely was worn out, a clear sign the prince sat in the almost enclosed ring often. You stood in the opening of a leafy doorway. Watching in awe as he played a guitar, eye's closed with so much ease you'd believe it was creating the music by itself.

Eventually the music faded, and in a kick of humor you clapped. Startled he jumped to his feet, calming down a little when he saw that you didn't look at all hostile.

"Sorry for the surprise, my prince." You marked with a small bow. You didn't miss the little uncomfortable look that flashed across his face. "But I couldn't help but notice your song, it's absolutely amazing." You offered with a light voice. "I- I get the rumors now." You could tell you caught his interest with that. "Can you play some more for me, these plants grow faster and better with the company of music."

Rather or not that's just a myth you weren't entirely sure, but with a small smile he honored the request. He followed you out of his little hedge room and closer the area you were tending to. Sitting on a nearby bench watching you work on the newest attempt to reclaim his unnatural voice.

"How about I get to know my patient a little?" The music hiccuped in its players curiosity, silently prompting you to continue. "I ask you some questions, yes or no ones. It might be helpful when it comes to fine-tuning this" you gestured to the dirt that would soon be covered with fully grown medicinal plants. In return he gave his first answer, a nod.

Over the days you grew fond of the routine you fell into. Sometimes you would be asking questions, looking up from the garden to catch his answer. Sometimes you would be telling him stories from your home, about the many people who have come to you for remedies. Sometimes there would be no words, just the gorgeous calming sounds of his music. You could both feel how comfortable this was.

"Would you prefer if I called you only Wilbur?"

A happy nod.

Only Wilbur was very different from prince Wilbur. You've always thought of the prince as this fox, prideful and cunning and charming in untrustworthy ways. But only Wilbur wasn't on this higher devine level, he was a person. A person with passions and vulnerabilities. Only Wilbur melted ideas about himself you didn't even realize you harbored. You liked only Wilbur, that was certain.

You made a promise to both yourself and to him that day. You would lift the curse, you had to.

It had been 43 days, the herbs were ready. "Maybe music did make them grow faster" you entertained. It was the only day you were with the plants without Wilbur. He was in his bed chambers so you could focus on brewing.

You looked over your notes thousands of time over. When you took this job you knew it was going to be one of your most important ever, but now you weren't just curing a prince- you were curing a friend. You paused in setting up your equipment. The term friend felt, incorrect with how exactly you felt about Wilbur. You shoved down the thoughts and continued, now was not the time.

Was it hours, or was it a few minutes? You couldn't tell and you didn't care. In a glass bottle you held the product of your labor. Corked and wrapped in many clothes before being nestled in your bag just to be safe. You took a deep breath and set off for Wilburs room.

He hesitated taking the bottle from you, like he had grown attached to his own silence. When he did take the potion it was all still slow and methodical. As if taking the cork off wrong could ruin everything. It felt like your entire body was on stand-by, paused as he downed the entire container. With a small drink of water he waited for a minute.

Then with a little nod from you, he hummed. The simple notes never sounded so rich and deep, filled with over a month of built up thoughts and emotions. Two faces lit up hearing it.

"You- you really did it." Wilbur was so quiet. As if speaking too loudly could break the newly repaired sound.

Then laughter, and the rambling of words that didn't need to make sense. Because you could hear them.

Then a hug, one of so much more than gratitude. One accompanied with an over abundance of "Thank you"s.

"How could I ever make this up to you" He only now slowed down, only enough to take your input.

Looking over at a familiar instrument you gave that input to him, "Can you play some more for me, my prince." He chuckled, a sound that you already loved as he sat back down on the bed with his guitar.

You recognized the song. It backdroped your first siting of him. Only now did you finally hear it in its entirety. It was a love song. Lyrics sweet and sincere and raw all rolled up by the accompanying strumming. When the last cord drifted off he looked at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"If I understood the rumors then, now I just might be a believer." How much of that was exaggeration, you honestly couldn't say.

"I'm assuming that's good."

"Trust me, it's more than good." Watching as put the instrument back. "You should probably go tell the others the good news. Especially so I can get my money" you added jokingly. With that you got one last hug and thank you before you both left the room.

As you were walking back to your room something hit you. The realization that this was over. You were going to your temporary room and packing up so you could leave. You never expected to bond with the prince this much, and in the moment you regretted it. If only a little. You swallowed the sudden mood shift and started packing.

"Hey where are you going!?" An already familiar excited voice rang out, running towards you.

"I'm getting ready to leave." You said, bluntly.

"Wait, really?" As if he didn't know you weren't moving in permanently. Without thinking he grabbed your arm like you trying to run away. "We're having a big feast tonight, to celebrate your achievement. You should probably be there."

"That sounds great." You could feel the wave of sadness fade off.

"I thought I always sound great." You chuckled.

"I really wish I could deny that."

"No you don't."

"Only because I wouldn't get my money if I could."

"Come on, that's not the only reason."

"Like it's any secret I care about you."

That put an end to his humor, "Here, let's get ready."