#I'm so glad they added this scene :') it says so much about his character ...

[meisaer]

imagine having bad coping mechanisms lol (natlan cast spectacle!!)

warning semi-long post (??) where everyone in natlan is buns at properly processing their trauma and they need to talk to mizuki immediately. like right now.

GRANNY CITLALI!!

okay probably one of the most relatable characters in genshin. just a thought. just a few thoughts.

Like a couple other impressionable characters, Citlali drinks as a coping mechanism. Maybe to forget, or to stop feeling, or all of the above. Quite tragic but also poetic, how her 'drunk scenes' (more so during the AQ) were portrayed as silly, fun moments when in actuality they're pretty sad. (same can be said for characters like venti, kaveh, faruzan, etc.)

Reads fiction novels as a way to escape reality. Interesting how some people make fun of her character for this. Interesting how people make fun of her character in the first place. Anyway she's literally every ao3 wattpad fanfiction.net user yesyes

Acts uncaring or disinterested when she actually cares a lot. Too much.

Likes that people are intimidated by her. Maybe she likes the control or thinks she deserves the respect after everything she's been through.

Hides in isolation for days on end. Could be ashamed to show her face, overall just doesn't want to see others, anxiety, etc. Maybe she doesn't want to hang around people she knows will die before her?

Ranting would also be a coping mechanism. Not sure what for. So people empathise with her maybe? She probably doesn't feel very seen or has someone to actually talk to. Would be alright if she were ranting to a therapist, not her grandson.

Mavuika!!...

oh god.

I don't even know HOW she copes. The willpower of this lady is genuinely bonkers. runs in the human-archon trope ig

She can't even imagine Hine as anything but older than the age she left her at. She's way too stuck in the past. Says she isn't. Lies through her teeth. Oh Mavuika you think "the past should stay in the past"? So why do you keep bringing them back? She straight up just denies her trauma. damn.

Healthy mechanism alert!! Painting!! Great coping mechanism queen I'm so glad you have one. (would be concerned if she just...didn't have an outlet for anything)

Puts on a brave face. I kid you not, she has not opened up to ANYONE about her past life, what she left behind, and how she's feeling about it. NO ONE. Not even Traveller. She's taking allat to her grave I'm telling you.

waiting for the day she cracks idk

Kinich.

can you imagine being so angsty and made-to-be-mysterious-and-secluded by the devs that you just don't have a single sad scene and you're just aura farming in every frame you're in

like mother like son wait yikes

He's got all that and the lack of emotion is so telling. He's just perfectly numb. I saw someone say that he spent his entire childhood being scared, that nothing fazes him anymore. Including death, and war, and Ajaw. Especially Ajaw.

The extreme sports thing is absolutely a mechanism to either actually feel a sense of adrenaline, or it's literally just the only thing that makes him happy. Who knows?

Adding onto that, I think Little Kinich felt a lot of emotions actually. Fear, anger, sadness, joy. And he saw that they all held no worth, and buried them all down.

I know we all joke about him looking like he doesn't know he exists, but fr I think if Ajaw didn't have such a loudmouth, Kinich would spend a majority of his free time dissociating.

I think the money hoarding would also be something to mention. He probably unconsciously (or consciously) does so to prevent him from becoming his father idk

waiting for the day he cracks too

Xilonen :3

the only one here with semi-healthy coping mechanisms (I am lying)

Sleep. Rest. Yeah. Well, it's more accurate to say avoidance, because she's afraid of her job taking over her life, so she runs away when she wants to. Not very effective since that need for rest is a direct compensation for her taxing job, but she's trying at least. Better than literally everyone else here.

she absolutely overdoes it though.

Music would also be a good coping mechanism. Good job Xilonen!

honestly the most sane person in the group. yes she does call the others weirdos (esp ororon poor guy) but shes not wrong. and shes the only one allowed to call them that btw trust

Ororon..

the goat (of being socially awkward)

Sees his plants more than people. Crazy heavy on that isolation (just like his granny!), might be because he fears social interaction and finds it safer to be around things that can't (really) judge him

Also someone else who doesn't really talk about anything until it becomes a problem. Yknow. like how AQ happened.

lowk reminds me of nagito komaeda . yes I'm stretching. but also its funny. and hear me out. if ororon were a little more obsessed in his pursuit to be useful...

MUALANI!!!!

my tragic baby :(( may all your days be filled with boom-sharkalaka happiness

Smiling. That's it. that's the coping mechanism. Good one? Could be. Not if she's using it to pretend everything's fine.

Absolutely the type to laugh everything off. Laugh to tell herself it's fine, and to tell others it's okay.

confession my first impression of mualani was that she was a forced-hyped camp leader who actually really wanted to go home and was faking her enthusiasm to children

Does not take herself seriously,,

XD her feelings away

Surfing! Great coping mechanism frfr

VARESA!

me when i have an earth-shattering inferiority complex and hide it by pulling the :P

Stress eating. Yeah, she needs to eat to become stronger but 99% sure she also eats just out of pure stress and for comfort. She loves food! Because it's familiar and something she's good at (eating) and it distracts her from more important things, like her low self-esteem!

Jokes and doesn't take herself or her feelings seriously. Just like Mualani. Another one thank you :D

That mask she wears to feel better about herself? Is a coping mechanism to help her confidence. Not the best. Not the worst. As long as she learns to be confident without it, and not separate the her without a mask and the her with one, it'll be okay.

THAT'S IANSANE!!!

crying she deserved so much better,,,,

Removes herself from the crowd. Dunno, during the AQ she seemed so...detached? Truly like a coach watching over the others. But it's kind of gotten to the point where she's not opening up and instead internalising a lot of her feelings.

She only briefly mentions that she lost her saurian during the war and then apologises for bringing it up like girl :( Girl :((

On another note she probably enjoys teaching others and that's a pretty sweet coping mech!! It's more so a distraction method though,,,

KACHINA KACHINA KACHINA

me when im a child soldier ..

Crying. Applause to Kachina for being the ONLY ONE IN THE CAST to have this coping mechanism that's actually good (in moderation). Kachina you are the youngest person here and the only one who gets it. I do think she does so a little excessively though, which means she needs to find other coping mechs.

Hiding when she gets nervous, flustered, scared, etc. She's starting to grow out of this though!

Quieting down and becoming meek. As a result of low self esteem.

CHASCA RAHHHH

where do i even begin with you

Dissociates. Like canonically. Will stare at random ripples in the water like Chuychu is going to rise up from it after a baptism. Chasca I am so sorry. Please talk to someone. No, the five-lined conversation with Traveller does not count. WHO is talking you through the guilt, grief, yearning????? Mualani?? Ifa?? Bro they can't even process their own trauma. You're going to have to go to unc Pacal or smth

Wow lookie here we finally have our first character that lashes out as a coping mechanism! Keep it in Chasca! You wouldn't want the curse to take over right!

Got a lot of avoidance here too, even when Chuychu was still in the picture. Actually, especially when Chuychu was in the picture.

Hallucinations?? Chasca please find help I'm so /srs rn.

DOC IFA!!

"sybau ts pmo icl"

Speaks casually to lessen the seriousness of the situation. He probably also uses it to calm patients but now he's also calming himself...too much. Don't worry bro I got you!

Taking care of others before yourself I see? Is this projection of your inner desire for someone to see you?

mb I still know NOTHING about this dude...he mysterious..he never talks about himself......but that's just a theory! he's not out yet!!

IL CAPITANO (THRAIN)

debated putting ajaw over here instead of you because why are you so guarded like that

Does not open up about himself. At all. Did he talk to a single person about this?? In a theraputical, not-for-relevant-information way?? 99% No.

Hiding identity. Out of necessity, sure. But also just to hide himself from the world and block out anything that may be attached to him from the past 500 years

Only thinks pragmatically. Will not allow himself to feel his own emotions.

Staying quiet.

theres definitely more that i conveniently forgot about because I am tired <3 ill update this later trust

[tatakaeeren]

Post-war Levi living his life and giving candy to children ❤

[1982grapejuiceblues]

The Space Between

Official Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Stranger Lanes Part 5

Summary: The night after their grocery run, Harry and Y/N settle into a softer, slower rhythm—one that neither of them tries to define, but both of them feel. What begins as cozy banter over groceries stretches into something deeper as they fall asleep side-by-side and wake the next morning still wrapped in quiet closeness. As the house wakes and the group’s dynamics shift, the change between Harry and Y/N becomes noticeable—visible in the space they share, the glances they hold, and the ease with which they orbit one another. Through small moments and slow conversations, they begin to realize they’ve been noticing each other for far longer than they thought. And now? They don’t want to stop.

Warnings: Emotional intimacy and physical closeness, Subtle group tension / awkward dynamics with exes, Unspoken jealousy (not graphic), Long stretches of slow-burn tension and silence, Extended quiet/physical vulnerability between characters, Strong mutual awareness / noticing / emotional softness, Vibes: soft, domestic, loaded eye contact, blanket warmth, “we’re not saying it, but we’re saying it”

A/N: You guys. The amount of messages that I've received these past two weeks asking me to update Stranger Lanes is insane, I'm so glad you love it! Without further ado, here we go! As always, comment or reblog to be added to the taglist! Love ya! <3

Word Count: 9.8K

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

By the time they got back to the lake house, her cheeks ached from smiling. Not the kind of smile you pull out for photos or to make small talk palatable—but the kind you forget you’re wearing, the kind that curls at the corners of your mouth because of something dumb someone said or the way someone looked at you across a narrow grocery aisle with too much toothpaste and too little judgment. Harry made her laugh. Not just polite, I-guess-that-was-funny laughter, but unfiltered, belly-deep laughter that left her leaning on the cart and pretending to scold him for making a scene when she was the one cackling in the cereal aisle.

It had been easy with him today. Maybe a little too easy. And now, as they unpacked bags of food in the warm yellow light of the kitchen, that same easy rhythm had followed them back like a soft hum beneath the surface.

He was beside her at the counter, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair a little tousled from running his hands through it all evening. He kept brushing against her, not in any overt way—just enough that their elbows collided when they both reached for the same bag of granola, just enough that his knee nudged hers when he stepped around her to grab a mixing bowl that wasn’t even in use yet. She should’ve minded. She didn’t.

The others were scattered throughout the house, drifting in and out of the kitchen to grab a snack or comment on something they’d forgotten. Ali had passed through twice just to eye the Doritos with suspicion, and Ben had made a barely veiled comment about “coordinated grocery store showmances” that Claire tried—and failed—to smooth over with a joke that landed with all the subtlety of a brick. But Y/N didn’t really care. Not in the way she used to.

Because Harry was leaning over the counter with a bag of apples tucked against his chest, humming some obscure tune under his breath, tossing her a look every time she opened a cabinet and couldn’t find what she needed. And every time, she found herself holding his gaze a little longer than necessary.

It had become a silent game, this exchange of glances. One she didn’t remember agreeing to play but now found herself reluctant to stop. He’d glance at her with those stupid green eyes and that crooked half-smile like he was in on some secret she hadn’t figured out yet, and it made her chest tighten in a way that felt suspiciously like wanting.

She reached for the bread and he reached for the peanut butter, and for a second, their hands brushed, fingers curling back reflexively. She felt it like static—quick, sudden, warm.

Harry looked at her. Not away. At her.

Y/N swallowed, but didn’t step back. “You gonna hoard the snacks or share with the class?”

His mouth twitched, amused. “You calling this a class?”

“I’m calling it a democracy. And I think I deserve equal access to the pretzels, at the very least.”

Harry leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice lower now. “Didn’t realize I’d been elected to office.”

“You haven’t,” she said, lips quirking. “You’re a temporary appointment at best.”

“Wow. Brutal.”

“Democracy’s ruthless.”

He looked at her for a beat longer, and then passed her the pretzels without breaking eye contact. “Here then. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

She tried not to smile. Failed. “I’ll file it for future reference.”

It was nothing. It was everything. The quiet exchange. The ease. The small flickers of humor folded into something warmer.

And it didn’t stop there. Every time she moved, he was there—not in a suffocating way, but in that rare, magnetic kind of proximity that made her feel like they were orbiting the same sun. That sun, lately, was shaped suspiciously like a grocery list and the way Harry grinned at her like he knew she was about to say something sarcastic before she’d even opened her mouth.

And worse—she’d come to like it.

More than like it.

The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, layered beneath the soft shuffle of feet on tile and the occasional thump of a grocery bag being set down. The rest of the house had grown quieter now—Claire and Ben had retreated to the back porch with a couple of drinks and the unearned air of smugness that still made Y/N’s stomach twist, while Ali, ever the perceptive guardian angel, had claimed she was going upstairs to “sort out the towel situation,” which Y/N knew was code for I see what’s happening here and I’m giving you space. Everyone else had followed suit, either drifting to their rooms or settling into the den, and for the first time that evening, the kitchen belonged to just the two of them.

Y/N stood barefoot near the sink, sleeves pushed up, organizing the pantry with something that vaguely resembled purpose. But her brain had long stopped caring about where the almond butter went. All she could think about was the way Harry had started humming again—some bluesy guitar riff that didn’t quite belong to a real song but had enough shape and rhythm to stay stuck in her head. It matched the tempo of the evening: a little loose, a little unexpected, but easy to fall into.

He was crouched near the fridge now, rearranging produce with more care than anyone who had just launched a pineapple into the cart an hour earlier had any right to possess. And when he stood and glanced over at her, catching her mid-stare, his brows lifted as if to say you good? with nothing but the arch of his face.

She nodded, too quickly. “I was just—thinking about how weird it is that you’re good at this.”

“Organizing groceries?”

“Being useful. Functional. I feel like I need to recalibrate my entire impression of you.”

He grinned, slow and smug, and leaned a hip against the counter like he’d just won a bet. “See, this is why it’s fun to keep expectations low. Then when I’m actually helpful, it’s a revelation.”

Y/N scoffed, tossing a box of pasta into the pantry without looking. “You act like that was some kind of elaborate strategy.”

“Who says it wasn’t?”

She narrowed her eyes, but the amusement curled in her chest before she could try to stifle it. He made her feel off balance, but not in a way that felt dangerous. It was… disarming. Like he’d quietly invited her into a different version of the week than she thought she’d be having, and she’d somehow agreed without realizing.

And maybe she wasn’t mad about it.

-

“Why are you so chipper tonight?” she asked finally, watching him move toward the paper towels like they hadn’t shared the same exhaustion earlier in the car. “You were grumpy all day yesterday. Fully brooding. Brood-y. Broodman.”

Harry barked out a laugh as he tore into the plastic. “Broodman?”

“It was that or The Grumble Knight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, Shakespeare. Let’s calm down.”

“You say that,” she said, leaning against the pantry doorway now, her shoulder brushing the frame. “But the Harry I drove here with would’ve had at least four sulky comebacks by now. And he wouldn’t have bought the marshmallows.”

“Those marshmallows were a peace offering,” he said, pointing at her with a dishtowel like it was a gavel. “I’m trying to be the bigger person.”

“Interesting choice of words coming from a man who tried to body-check me into the cereal aisle.”

“I guided you,” he said, nose crinkling as he tried not to laugh. “Gently.”

“With your hip. Like a hockey player.”

Harry grinned. “You stayed upright.”

“Barely.”

They paused again. A beat of stillness that felt a little too thick to be casual. Y/N’s eyes lingered on his face longer than they should’ve. She noticed the way his lashes caught the kitchen light, the faint trace of sun still warming his cheekbones, the softness of his mouth as he fought another smile. He was infuriating and charming and deeply annoying in the way people are when you’ve accidentally let them matter too much.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

Then Harry broke the moment, eyes flicking toward the pantry. “You still gonna tell me where you want this stuff, or should I just start hiding peanut butter in weird places?”

“Try it,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “I dare you.”

He smirked and stepped forward, closing the space between them just slightly—enough that she had to tilt her chin to keep her eyes on his.

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he said quietly, playfully, but there was something behind it now. Something that felt just a little heavier. Just a little more loaded.

Y/N’s breath caught for half a second. Then, just as quickly, she broke eye contact and turned back to the shelf. “You’re exhausting,” she muttered, trying not to smile.

“Don’t pretend you’re not thriving off the chaos,” he said, stepping away, but his tone was lighter again, teasing, like he’d sensed the shift and knew just how far to push it. “You practically instigated a three-minute argument over oat milk. You like the chaos.”

“Chaos,” she said, pulling a snack bag from the bottom of the tote and turning it in her hand, “is the only way to survive in a house this full.”

And maybe, she thought, setting it down, it’s also the only way to fall into something new without realizing you’re falling.

-

He watched her for a second longer than he should have—watched the way her fingers curled loosely around the edge of the counter, how she leaned her weight into her hip like she was trying not to lean into him instead. The overhead light wasn’t particularly flattering, too yellow and dim in the way lake houses always were, but it caught on her skin in places that made him stare anyway. The curve of her jaw, the side of her neck, the slight tilt of her mouth as she sorted through bags of trail mix like it mattered.

He told himself he was just tired. That was why his chest felt a little warm. That was why he kept noticing the little things.

But that wasn’t it. Not really.

The truth—uncomfortable, clear, and increasingly undeniable—was that something between them had shifted. Somewhere between the grocery aisle detour into cereal warfare and the way she’d leaned into him, laughing too hard to stand straight, something had cracked open. And now that it was out in the open, he didn’t know how to tuck it back in.

It had been easy to keep things distant before. She was smart and quick and had a mouth that didn’t quit, and he liked that about her—liked sparring with her, testing the edge of her wit. But earlier today, when she’d thrown her head back laughing about his passionate Wheaties speech, something had tightened in his chest. And when she hadn’t looked away afterward—had just stood there, watching him like she was seeing past something—he hadn’t wanted her to.

That was the problem now. He liked being seen. Not the easy kind of attention. Not the casual glances or forced conversations. But this—this quiet, offhand familiarity she offered. Like he didn’t have to perform around her. Like he could just be.

And now, with the kitchen emptied out and the hum of the fridge giving way to soft, companionable silence, that realization pressed heavier on his ribs.

-

“Okay,” Y/N said finally, reaching up to adjust a shelf like she had any intention of organizing anything. “We’ve got a suspicious amount of granola, and I’m blaming you.”

He walked to the other side of the counter, resting his forearms against the surface as he watched her. “I stand by my granola choices.”

“Of course you do. They’re chaos.”

“They’re curated.”

“They’re evidence of a man who doesn’t know what he wants.”

Harry tilted his head, amused. “That supposed to be some sort of deep metaphor?”

“Maybe.”

She didn’t turn to look at him, but he could see the way her lips twitched as she spoke. And something in his chest flipped.

He wanted to say something about it—about the way she noticed him, about the way she kept giving him these small openings and trusting he wouldn’t take too much. But he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Didn’t want to name it too early and watch it evaporate.

Instead, he opened a cabinet and started stacking cans, letting the moment breathe.

-

The quiet between them stretched again, long and comfortable, until Y/N broke it with a laugh that came out of nowhere.

He turned toward her. “What?”

She held up a small, crumpled receipt from one of the tote bags. “You bought a single kiwi.”

“I did,” he said, nodding solemnly. “It was calling to me.”

Y/N blinked at him. “You bought one kiwi.”

“Correct.”

“No other fruit. Just… the lone kiwi.”

“Don’t kiwi-shame me.”

She stared at him like she was trying to figure out if he was joking. “What were you going to do with it?”

Harry shrugged. “Bond with it. Maybe name it. Maybe slice it open dramatically at a key plot point later in the week.”

“You’re unwell.”

“I’m a man of simple needs.”

Her laugh was soft but full, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made his chest tighten again. She tossed the receipt at him without thinking, and he caught it midair, tucking it into his pocket with a grin that felt too easy for how tightly wound he actually was.

He didn’t say what he was thinking—that the grocery trip hadn’t really been about the food. That maybe the whole thing had just been an excuse to be near her longer. That he’d kept finding reasons to slow their pace, to prolong the wandering, to hold onto the moment before they had to come back to the house and face the rest of the world again.

But she knew. He could see it in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him again. In the way she let herself stay near him even after the last of the groceries were put away, even after the last bit of banter had faded. They were standing in the kitchen like neither of them had anywhere else to be, and maybe they didn’t. Maybe they didn’t want to.

He looked down at her hands, then back up at her face. “We did good.”

“With the groceries?”

“With… all of it.”

Her breath hitched just slightly—barely perceptible—but she nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “We did.”

-

When they finally stepped out of the kitchen, the house felt different. Not silent, but settled. The low murmur of the others had dulled to a comforting hum in the background—faint music from someone’s speaker upstairs, a door clicking shut, the rhythmic tick of the ceiling fan in the front room. The kind of quiet that only comes after a day has been lived fully and completely. And somehow, she and Harry had outlasted it.

Y/N moved toward the living room without saying anything, brushing her hand over the worn wood of the banister as she passed. She half-expected Harry to head upstairs, maybe say goodnight with that lopsided smile and a parting joke, but when she turned slightly, he was still following her. Quiet. Calm. As if it was obvious he’d go wherever she went.

The moment settled into her like warmth. Like gravity.

She tucked herself into the corner of the wide, overstuffed couch, legs folding beneath her, a throw blanket tossed absently over the armrest as if someone had abandoned it mid-afternoon. The lake outside the window was completely dark now, just a shimmer of moonlight off the glassy surface visible through the trees. She felt it—the shift. The almost sacred hush of a summer night when you’ve laughed too hard earlier in the day and your body remembers it in the best possible way.

Harry dropped down beside her a second later, but not too close. Not the way Ben or someone like him would’ve—overconfident, presumptive. He stayed a few inches away, elbows resting on his thighs, head tilted slightly back against the cushion. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter now, something lazy and loose threaded into it.

“You tired?”

She shook her head. “You?”

Harry hummed in response—noncommittal. But he didn’t move to get up.

The lamp in the corner buzzed slightly, its golden light catching on the curve of his jaw and casting his eyelashes in long, soft shadows. Y/N leaned her cheek against the back of the couch and just… looked at him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable doing nothing with someone. Not just silence for the sake of it, but silence that felt like it meant something.

He glanced over a beat later and caught her watching. And instead of looking away, he held her gaze.

“What?” he asked, his mouth teetering up at the corners.

She shrugged, but her lips parted into the beginnings of a smile. “Just surprised you haven’t tried to start another cereal debate.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, shifting slightly toward her now. “I still think your take was objectively wrong.”

Y/N let her smile widen. “You’re just mad I had better arguments.”

“Better marketing. Not better arguments.”

“Marketing is half the battle.”

“You’re exhausting.”

She gave a light shrug, the fabric of the blanket shifting against her arm. “Takes one to know one.”

Harry snorted softly and leaned back again, but this time, his knee bumped against hers. He didn’t move it.

The contact was small—barely noticeable in a room this quiet. But to her, it felt like a light being switched on. A soft there you are. And when he didn’t shift away, when he let the contact stay, something inside her responded with a kind of stillness that surprised her. Like her body knew something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

They stayed like that for a while. Not speaking. Not needing to.

-

The window let in just enough breeze to lift the edge of the curtain, and Y/N found her gaze drifting to it as her mind wandered. There had been so many ways this trip could’ve gone. And yet, here they were—her and Harry, of all people. Existing in the same corner of the world in a way that felt almost deliberate. Like they’d been steered here by a hundred tiny decisions neither of them had realized they were making.

And she didn’t want to waste it.

“You always this quiet at night?” she asked eventually, not because she minded the silence, but because she wanted more of his voice in the room.

Harry tilted his head toward her, mouth ticking up slightly. “Only when I’m trying not to ruin it.”

“Ruin what?”

“This.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. And she didn’t press.

Instead, she turned a little more toward him, their knees still touching now. She let her head rest back against the couch, mirroring his posture, letting the moment stretch.

She didn’t want it to end.

-

He didn’t remember the last time silence had felt this good.

Usually it meant something was missing—words that needed saying, a thought waiting to be cleaned up and made less jagged, or worse, something unsaid hanging sharp between him and someone who didn’t know how to fill the gaps. But this wasn’t that.

This silence felt earned.

She was sitting a little closer now—still curled up in her corner, but angled toward him. Their knees pressed side by side, just barely, but firmly enough that he knew it was deliberate. A shared warmth, a quiet we’re here. And the room held it. Carried it gently, like it understood this was something new, something precious that hadn’t been named yet.

He could hear her breathing. Not loud. Just steady. Present. And it somehow made the space around them feel smaller in the best way.

Harry didn’t want to ruin it. He didn’t want to break it with the wrong comment or a joke that would land sideways. But more than that, he didn’t want to pretend anymore—not after the grocery store, not after the car ride, not after the way she’d laughed today like he’d said the most brilliant thing she’d ever heard even though he’d been talking about cereal mascots.

There were so many things about her he’d started to collect without meaning to.

Like how she always tied her hoodie strings in a double knot and never fixed them once they slipped uneven. Or how she picked up boxes in the grocery store and read the ingredients—not because she cared about health, but because she liked knowing what was inside something. Like how her voice got softer—not quieter, just rounder—when she was trying to figure out how to say something honest. Or how she never leaned away when someone moved closer. Only in.

And then there were the things he didn’t know how to name. The way she felt in a room. Like she steadied it. Even when she was teasing him. Especially when she was teasing him.

That was the part that got him. The steadiness.

-

Her head tilted slightly, like she was half-lost in thought, and Harry felt the urge to say something rise up in his chest. Not anything big. Just something. To bridge the space between what they were doing and what they both knew they were doing.

But before he could, Y/N moved. Slowly. Almost imperceptibly. Her foot slipped down from beneath her and stretched just enough that her ankle bumped against his.

Harry didn’t move.

Y/N didn’t either.

She just stayed like that—close, still, barely touching but definitely touching. And when she looked over at him, when her eyes met his without pretense, it felt like something broke open again.

“Sorry,” she murmured, though her voice wasn’t apologetic. It was more like an invitation to respond. To meet her there.

He didn’t look away. “Don’t be.”

They sat like that for a moment—watching each other, but not trying to figure anything out. Just… noticing. Letting it be what it was.

-

She didn’t know what made her move. Not exactly.

Maybe it was the stillness. Or the way his breathing was calm but not quite even. Or the way she’d been watching the way his fingers curled around the throw pillow like he didn’t realize he was doing it, like he needed something to hold onto.

But it felt natural, the way her leg had shifted, the way her foot had bumped his. It hadn’t been a mistake. Not really. She could’ve moved it. She could’ve leaned back into her corner and made the moment small again. Dismissible.

But she didn’t.

Because the moment wasn’t small.

She looked at him then, and the expression on his face wasn’t something she had words for. Open. A little vulnerable. Like he was already where she was, but had been waiting for her to catch up.

And the way he said don’t be—soft, low, steady—made her feel something deep in her chest unfurl slowly and completely.

She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Not in a way that mattered.

-

Her voice, when it came again, was quieter than before. “You’re not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head slightly. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He smiled then, but it wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was the kind of smile that happened when something felt real. And the sight of it—unguarded, a little tired, completely honest—made something twist in her chest again.

She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to break whatever this was, whatever they were building in the spaces between eye contact and half-laughed jokes. Because this was the part she always missed. This part—the quiet, unspoken build—was the part no one ever paid attention to.

She wanted to remember this.

The way his voice sounded when he wasn’t trying to be funny. The way his breath hitched a little when she looked too long. The way his knee pressed into hers like he didn’t want to let her drift too far away.

She wanted to stay.

-

She didn’t pull away.

That’s what he noticed first. That after she shifted, after her ankle nudged against his and she looked at him like he was worth seeing, she didn’t take it back. She just… stayed. Let it happen. Let them happen.

He hadn’t realized how much of himself had been waiting for that—for the proof that this thing wasn’t one-sided. That the rhythm they’d found today wasn’t just a fluke of timing or convenience or boredom. That she felt it, too. The tension. The pull. The comfort and the edge and the way she never gave him the easy version of herself, and how he didn’t want it even if she did.

She shifted slightly now, just enough that her shoulder brushed his arm, and the contact was light—barely anything—but it traveled straight to his chest like it had weight.

He let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold.

-

He didn’t move away. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to. Something about her presence made everything else quieter. And not in a muted way. In a way that made more sense. Like his brain had finally stopped doing the thing where it ran in a hundred directions at once.

She made things quieter.

Clearer.

And now she was here, pressed just barely against him, and the house had fallen away. The whole house. The trip. The people upstairs. The water outside. Everything had dimmed. All of it.

Except her.

-

He turned toward her just enough to catch her profile. The shape of her mouth in the soft lamp glow. The crease between her brows that deepened when she was thinking about something she didn’t want to say out loud. The slope of her neck where it met her shoulder, loose and relaxed now, like she didn’t feel the need to tense around him.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say anything stupid. He didn’t want to push it too far. But he also didn’t want to lose this—this sliver of time where she was here and real and his world had narrowed down to the warmth of her leaning toward him without hesitation.

So he shifted his arm. Slowly. Cautiously. Until his forearm was resting behind her on the back cushion of the couch. Not touching. Not yet. But close.

She looked over at him, just her eyes. They flicked toward his arm, then back to his face.

He didn’t smile.

She didn’t look away.

-

It felt like something might happen.

Not something dramatic. Not anything that needed music or speeches or the weight of big declarations. But something important. Something small and undeniable and impossible to forget.

She could feel the heat from his arm now, close behind her shoulders. Not touching. But there. Waiting.

She wanted to lean into it. Just a little. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did—if he’d shift away, if the spell would break, if it would feel like too much. But her body wanted to close the gap, and her heart hadn’t argued once all evening.

Harry had been different tonight. Lighter, yes. Playful. But also present. The kind of present you couldn’t fake. And she’d been watching it happen in real time—his gaze on her when she smiled, the way he passed her things wordlessly, the way he hadn’t walked ahead of her once at the store. He let her be beside him. He wanted her beside him.

And now they were here, in the dim quiet of a worn summer living room, and he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t drifted off or shut down or offered some sarcastic remark to undo the softness between them. He was staying.

She didn’t want to pretend anymore either.

-

So she shifted again. Small. Just a fraction of space. Enough that her back met the warm line of his arm, and she let it rest there—light and certain and brave.

He froze for a second. Not tense. Just still. As if he didn’t want to ruin the way her weight felt against him.

Then, slowly, he relaxed into it. Let his arm settle behind her like it had always belonged there.

And it was everything.

-

Her heart beat slower now. Heavier, but not with anxiety. With knowing. With the kind of awareness you only get when you’ve been dancing around something for long enough to understand that it isn’t going away.

This wasn’t about fixing anything anymore. Not about making up for what they’d lost or comparing where they were to where they’d been. It was just this. Him. Her. The night. The shift that had started in a grocery aisle and hadn’t stopped since.

He leaned his head toward hers slightly, not resting against her, but close enough to make her breath catch.

She didn’t say a word.

Neither did he.

But in the stillness between them, in the warmth of the contact and the way neither of them felt the need to explain it, something settled.

A beginning.

-

There was something about the way she settled into him that made the whole day snap into focus.

Like all the noise and heat and tension that had woven itself through the morning—the posturing, the clipped conversations, the weight of unspoken things—had finally broken apart, leaving behind only this: the quiet rhythm of her breath beside him, the solid warmth of her against his side, the soft brush of her shoulder pressing against his chest.

He could’ve sat there forever.

No one had ever leaned into him like that without pulling away eventually. No one had ever stayed close without needing it to be a moment or a joke or something performative. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t a moment being made—this was a moment becoming.

And he didn’t want to miss it.

He let his arm settle fully around her now, his hand resting lightly against her upper arm, careful but certain. Like he was learning the shape of what this could be. And when she didn’t flinch, didn’t tease, didn’t shift away, something in him unclenched. Something deep and quiet and tightly wound that had been waiting for her to decide if she wanted this, too.

She did.

And that truth pulsed through him like steady heat.

-

It wasn’t the contact that undid her. It wasn’t the way his arm fit around her or the strength of his presence or the subtle curve of his body pressing into hers like he meant to stay. It was the ease. The way it felt natural. Uncomplicated. Like they had always ended days like this, quietly and without urgency, tucked into the same corner of the couch and the same fold of breath.

There was no pressure here. Just closeness. Just stillness.

And somehow, that made it all feel more real.

She wanted to say something. Just a small thing. A word or a whisper to acknowledge what this was without cracking it open too wide. But everything she thought of felt either too much or not enough.

So instead, she let her head tip slightly, just enough that it brushed the side of his shoulder. Not quite a lean. Not quite an ask. Just a shared quiet.

Harry didn’t speak. He just shifted, his fingers curling slightly where they rested against her arm. Like a promise. Like yes, I feel it too.

And it was enough.

-

The room had dimmed even more now, the lamp flickering once and holding steady, the only light against the coolness of the lake air drifting in through the window. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked, and someone murmured a goodnight. But the house was drifting into its own hush, and they were drifting with it.

Y/N blinked slowly, her body finally catching up with the weight of the day, her eyes heavy but her thoughts still alive and buzzing beneath the quiet.

He smelled like the outdoors and coffee and something faintly citrusy she couldn’t place. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath against her shoulder, the calm rhythm of someone who wasn’t pretending to be okay—someone who was okay, in this moment, with her.

And it was disarming. And lovely. And more than she’d let herself want, until now.

-

She didn’t want to sleep.

Not because she was afraid of what morning would bring. Not because she was waiting for him to ruin it. But because she didn’t want it to stop.

This stillness. This closeness. The way he hadn’t made it a big thing. The way he’d let it grow slowly, carefully, without needing it to become something right away.

It made her trust him more than she expected.

Maybe more than she should.

But she wasn’t scared.

She was… here.

And when she felt the weight of his head dip slightly, the gentle pressure of him leaning just a bit more into her, she let herself breathe into the moment like it belonged to her.

Because maybe it did.

-

The last thing she remembered before sleep took hold was the warmth of his hand, slow and steady where it rested on her arm, and the certainty—clear, quiet, and undeniable—that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

Not even close.

-

She woke slowly.

Not because she’d slept particularly well—she’d only half remembered drifting off, barely aware of when her limbs gave in to the pull of rest—but because she was afraid that moving too fast would shatter whatever quiet magic had wrapped itself around them the night before.

The first thing she registered was the soft pressure of something warm around her waist. Not heavy. Not restrictive. Just there. Steady. Familiar in a way that felt startling.

Harry.

He was still beside her. His body relaxed, breathing slow and even. One arm draped loosely around her middle, the other resting across his own chest. And she was tucked into him, head against the curve of his shoulder, like they’d been fitted together by some gentle, invisible hand while they slept.

She didn’t panic. She didn’t tense. That was the most surprising part of all.

She just stayed there. Eyes open, barely breathing, letting herself feel the moment before she had to move through it.

The room was awash in morning light now—faint and golden, slipping in through the narrow window over the couch. Dust motes floated in the quiet beams, suspended in the air like they were trying to hold onto the hush as long as they could. And outside, she could hear the lake birds beginning their slow, lazy chorus. The world was waking up. But the cocoon they’d created hadn’t cracked yet.

Her fingers curled slightly in the fabric of the throw blanket draped over them. She didn’t remember pulling it up. Maybe he had. Maybe it had just fallen that way. It didn’t matter.

All she knew was that she hadn’t slept like that in a long time. Not just beside someone. But with someone.

Safe. Easy. Warm.

She knew it should scare her. That if she thought about it too long, if she let her mind get too far ahead of her heart, she’d ruin it with questions and panic and doubts. But right now, lying in the soft hush of the early morning, she didn’t want to move at all.

-

A shift.

His breathing changed—just slightly, just enough.

And then his fingers twitched against her waist.

She stilled, breath catching.

A pause. A stretch of silence so heavy she could hear her own pulse.

Then, quietly, his voice—rough from sleep, soft at the edges.

“You’re still here.”

She turned her head slightly against him, enough to feel the faint rumble of his voice in his chest. “So are you.”

A beat passed. She could feel his cheek shift as he smiled.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d sneak away.”

“I thought about it,” she murmured. “Didn’t want to risk waking the human furnace.”

Harry chuckled, low and warm. His breath stirred the hair near her temple. “I am unreasonably warm. That’s fair.”

She smiled, but didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The morning felt like something suspended—like time had been stretched out a little, just for them. And for once, she didn’t want to rush into the next thing. She didn’t want to ruin the slowness.

-

It took him a minute to remember where he was.

Not the house—that was easy. The lake, the trip, the chaos of the friend group turned semi-hostage situation, the way Claire and Ben had imploded them all into the same orbit. That was background noise by now.

It was this—the body curled against his, the warmth of her breathing soft and even, the way she hadn’t moved when he woke—that made his brain catch up slower.

Y/N.

Still here.

Still in his arms.

And somehow, not weird.

Not wrong.

It felt natural in the kind of way that made him worry about how natural it felt. Like his body had already adjusted. Like it knew what to do with her pressed into his side, with her breath brushing his chest, with the silence that sat comfortably between them like it was supposed to be there.

He hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Not really. He’d meant to stay there until she shifted, until it got too warm or someone came downstairs and ruined it. But the longer she’d stayed close, the more his body had given in. The stillness had soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain.

And now—morning light and all—she was still here.

No rush. No excuses.

Just warmth. Just her.

-

“I’m sorry if I was—” he started, not even sure how he meant to finish that sentence.

“You weren’t,” she said before he could. “I wasn’t, either.”

That startled him a little. The honesty of it. The way she didn’t even let him apologize for something he hadn’t said yet.

And he realized, again, that she saw him. The version of him he didn’t always let people near. The one who second-guessed when things felt too easy.

His voice came quieter. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

Y/N turned just enough to glance up at him, her chin brushing his chest. “It’s not.”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

And somehow, it really was.

-

They eventually moved, but only because they had to.

Not in a dramatic sense—no one came barging in, no phone call interrupted the silence. It was just the sun creeping a little higher, the house shifting around them, the collective rhythm of morning making itself known in soft creaks and a far-off shower running upstairs.

Still, it took time. Several long minutes of neither of them saying anything, of her just breathing into the warmth of his chest and him keeping his arm where it had settled naturally around her waist. She felt his thumb move once, tracing the fabric of her shirt absentmindedly. Not possessive. Just present.

But the stillness couldn’t last forever, and eventually her body started to stir with the weight of the day ahead.

She shifted slightly. Just enough that their legs uncrossed, their limbs uncurled, their shared warmth gave way to the cooler space between them again.

And even though it was small—just a few inches of air—she felt the ache of it.

Harry sat up with her, rubbing the heel of his hand over his face, blinking against the light. His curls were flattened in one spot and sticking up in another. She could see the faint red line of the couch seam pressed into his cheek. And still, somehow, he looked stupidly good.

She pulled the blanket from her lap and folded it out of habit. Something to do with her hands. Something to keep the air moving before it thickened again.

“So,” she said quietly, glancing sideways at him. “How long until someone walks in and ruins this completely?”

Harry snorted, leaning back against the couch, arms draped across his knees. “Ten minutes. Tops.”

She smiled, but it faded quickly—softly—not because anything was wrong, but because everything felt right, and she didn’t want to lose that by trying too hard to hold onto it.

He must’ve sensed it, too, because he looked at her for a long beat. Then, quieter, steadier, he said, “You okay?”

Y/N nodded once. “You?”

His smile was small. “I am.”

And for a moment, that was enough.

-

The morning air was cool against the back of his neck when he finally pushed off the couch and stretched. He let out a quiet groan, partly for dramatic effect, mostly because his spine wasn’t built to spend the night curled up on a lakeside sectional with only half a cushion under him.

Y/N stood too, rolling her shoulders, pulling her hoodie tighter around her as she moved toward the kitchen without a word. He followed her out of habit now, like he didn’t know how not to. It didn’t feel weird. It didn’t feel too much.

It just felt like them.

Something had changed, and it wasn’t just the proximity. It was the ease. They were moving around each other differently now. Calmer. Not waiting for the next sharp word or cold glance or clumsy silence. They existed in each other’s spaces like the sharp corners had been sanded down. Like they’d forgotten, for a few hours, how to be suspicious of one another.

The house was still mostly asleep. The floor creaked beneath them as they padded into the kitchen, but the lights were off, and the world hadn’t quite woken up yet. Just the rustle of trees outside, the soft lap of water against the dock, and the distant clink of someone—Ali, probably—mumbling about coffee filters upstairs.

Harry watched as Y/N stood by the sink, her back to him, and reached for a mug from the drying rack. The one she’d used yesterday. A small floral one with a chip in the handle. She held it in both hands for a second, then set it gently on the counter like it was fragile.

Maybe they both were.

He crossed the space between them slowly, stopping beside her, leaning against the counter the way he had yesterday when they’d bickered over peanut butter.

Except now, she didn’t look tired of him.

Now, she looked softened by him.

-

“I was thinking,” he said, voice quiet in the hush between them, “we could go on another walk today.”

She didn’t look at him, but her shoulder tilted in his direction like she wanted to. “Another scenic route?”

“Something like that.”

She glanced up at him then, and the look in her eyes wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t guarded.

It was open.

And it hit him like a stone dropped into still water.

“I’d like that,” she said.

And just like that, the day began with a promise neither of them had to say out loud.

-

Ali was the first to see it.

Of course she was. She wasn’t loud about it. Didn’t say anything. But the second she walked into the kitchen and found them already there—quiet, close, in sync in a way they hadn’t been before—her expression shifted for just a second. Something soft. Something aware.

Then she moved toward the coffee pot and started fussing with the filters like she hadn’t seen anything at all.

Y/N caught the flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth anyway.

She kept her back mostly turned to Harry as she helped pull things from the fridge—fruit, eggs, the container of almond milk he’d made fun of yesterday. But it was different now. Every step she took near him came with the awareness that they’d slept beside each other. That they’d woken up warm and still touching, neither one in a rush to leave.

She could feel it in her fingertips. In her chest. In the way her voice softened when she asked him to hand her a fork.

She didn’t think she’d be able to hide it. Not really.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

-

More footsteps. Laughter upstairs. The house was waking now.

And then—Ben and Claire.

They entered together, too casual to be natural, both holding mugs that didn’t quite match their expressions. Ben had that look he always wore when he knew he was walking into a room with too much history in it. And Claire was smiling too tightly, her gaze flicking once between Y/N and Harry before landing somewhere pointedly else.

Y/N said nothing.

Harry, to his credit, didn’t even look at them. Just kept slicing a banana in long, careful strokes, setting the pieces gently into a bowl.

The air got thicker.

Ali cleared her throat. “I think we’ve got stuff for pancakes if someone wants to take lead on that.”

Ben made a vague noise, but Claire stepped toward the counter instead. “I can do it.”

“Let me help,” Ben offered.

“No, it’s fine.”

Y/N kept her head down. Kept cutting strawberries, even though they didn’t need more fruit. Kept breathing evenly.

Harry bumped his elbow against hers once. A light touch. Intentional.

She glanced at him, and he gave her the smallest, most devastatingly calm look—like I’ve got you. Keep going.

She did.

-

He didn’t like the way Ben looked at her.

He never had, even before everything. There was something smug about it. Something that suggested he still thought he had a claim. And even if Harry couldn’t quite name what he was to Y/N right now, he knew what Ben wasn’t.

Still, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Because she was next to him.

Because she hadn’t moved.

Because when he bumped her elbow, she looked at him like she wasn’t sorry for last night. Like she wasn’t planning to take it back.

And that was more than enough.

-

Ali talked more now, filling the space with questions about breakfast and day plans and whether anyone wanted to help bring the cooler out of the garage. Y/N slipped out of the kitchen for a moment to grab her water bottle, and Harry found himself alone at the counter with Claire.

He didn’t look up at her. He didn’t speak.

But she did.

“You two seemed… close this morning.”

He didn’t stop slicing the banana. “Is that a problem?”

Claire’s smile was light, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not for me.”

“Good.”

She lingered like she wanted to say more. But then she turned away.

Harry didn’t watch her go.

He didn’t need to.

Because Y/N came back into the room a second later, and without thinking, she stepped back to his side like she’d never left it.

-

It wasn’t that they were doing anything obvious.

No hands held. No whispered confessions. No sudden announcement over breakfast that she’d fallen asleep in Harry’s arms and woken up still tucked there, blinking into the soft light of morning like something in her chest had clicked into place overnight.

But everything had changed.

Because now, every time he walked past her, he didn’t brush against her accidentally. He drifted closer. Purposefully. Every time she looked up from chopping something or setting out plates, his gaze was already on her. Steady. Soft. Knowing. And when they moved around each other in the kitchen, they didn’t speak much—but their silences were whole conversations.

And people noticed.

Not loudly, not directly. But the shift was unmistakable.

The group, for all their oblivious chaos, picked up on the undercurrent. Ali clocked it instantly, her glances flickering like checkmarks—okay, okay, I see you two. Jules didn’t say anything, but her mouth twitched more than once when they reached for the same bowl of granola or started laughing at something no one else had heard. Even Eli, half-asleep and nursing his coffee like it owed him money, gave them a lingering second look as he passed them on his way to the table.

The only ones who seemed actively uncomfortable were Ben and Claire.

Which was a little too on the nose.

Ben kept making comments that didn’t land—backhanded jokes about “overcorrecting” and “people getting cozy all of a sudden.” Claire kept stirring the pancake batter too hard. And Y/N kept not looking at either of them.

She didn’t need to.

Because Harry was beside her. Solid. Quiet. Constant.

And when she felt the pressure of his hand at the small of her back as he passed behind her with a stack of mugs, it grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She exhaled slowly. Picked up the jar of jam. Set it on the table like her hands weren’t still buzzing.

-

He wasn’t trying to make a scene. He wasn’t trying to do anything, really.

Except not hide it.

Whatever “it” was. Whatever last night had become. Whatever he and Y/N were doing now—if they were doing anything at all.

Because the truth was, they hadn’t defined it. Hadn’t drawn a line or written the story down or decided what any of this meant. But what he knew—what he felt—was that she’d stayed. That she’d leaned in. That when she looked at him now, she didn’t do it with the skepticism from before. She did it like she knew him. Like she chose him.

So he didn’t perform. He didn’t overdo it.

But he also didn’t shrink.

When she turned to ask him if they had more butter, he didn’t answer right away—just looked at her. Long enough for her to notice. Long enough that her breath hitched.

She said nothing.

Neither did he.

But the space between them got quieter.

And that said everything.

-

The table was loud once they sat down, but Harry barely heard it.

People talked over each other. Laughed about something someone said last night. Ben kept trying to direct the conversation, his voice louder than necessary, his eyes flicking toward Y/N like he was waiting for her to jump in.

She didn’t.

She was sitting next to Harry.

Close. Not pressed up against him. But close enough that their knees brushed. Close enough that she leaned toward him when she reached for the strawberries instead of across the table. Close enough that it meant something.

Ali raised an eyebrow once—just once—when Y/N said something under her breath and Harry laughed before anyone else had a chance to catch the joke. But she didn’t say anything. She just smirked into her orange juice.

It felt like a secret. One the whole table was almost in on, even if no one had the guts to say it out loud.

And Harry didn’t mind.

He liked it.

He liked the quiet between them. The comfort of her beside him. The weight of her presence when she wasn’t trying to hold it back. The way she’d looked at him that morning like something had been decided.

And maybe it had.

-

The meal started to wind down. People stood up to rinse plates, talk about who wanted to swim, what time the hike might be. Ben made another joke—something about “partners in crime” and “getting too close for comfort”—but it fell flat.

Harry didn’t even look up.

Y/N didn’t respond.

Instead, she leaned slightly toward him as she stood, brushing her hand against his arm on her way to the sink.

She didn’t say anything.

But the touch lingered.

And his chest ached in the best way.

-

She found him on the back deck twenty minutes later.

The house had scattered. Claire and Jules were arguing over sunscreen, Eli was trying to convince someone to help him test out the paddleboards, and Ben—blessedly—had wandered off somewhere, maybe finally catching on that his presence wasn’t wanted. The kitchen was mostly clean, the dining table half-abandoned, and Ali had quietly told Y/N to “go take five minutes or forty” with a pointed look before disappearing toward the driveway.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

And she knew exactly where she was going.

Harry was sitting in the shaded corner of the deck, barefoot, his long legs stretched out in front of him, mug balanced on one knee. His sunglasses were pushed up into his curls, his shirt soft and wrinkled from sleep, and he looked unfairly at ease with the world. Like nothing could rattle him here.

Except maybe her.

Because the moment he saw her step through the sliding door, his entire posture shifted. Just slightly. Not a dramatic straighten, not anything performative. Just enough to say there you are.

And that was enough to make her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything. She just sat down beside him—close again, like they were already used to being close. Her thigh brushing his, her shoulder leaning in just enough to tilt her toward him.

The silence between them stretched, but not because there was nothing to say. Because everything was already being said.

Harry passed her the mug without a word.

She took it. Sipped. And handed it back.

-

The lake glittered in front of them, impossibly bright in the mid-morning sun. Kids shouted somewhere across the water. A bird wheeled lazily overhead. Everything felt suspended—like the world was moving forward, but this moment wasn’t. Like this was the kind of stillness people wrote about and never quite got right.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “Feels different now.”

He looked at her. “Yeah.”

She didn’t ask what he meant. She didn’t need to.

Because she already knew.

-

She was so close.

And it wasn’t just physical. It was her being here, her showing up, her choosing to be near him again when she could’ve so easily blended into the chaos of the group and let the night before blur into memory.

But she didn’t.

She was here, beside him, her presence tucked against his like she was built to fit there.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just sat with her, letting the breeze move through the trees above them, letting the scent of the lake wrap around them like summer itself was trying to keep the air quiet.

It didn’t feel like a conversation anymore.

It felt like a knowing.

And it made him braver.

-

“I think I notice more than I let on,” he said finally, his voice low.

Y/N glanced at him, curious. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed once, glancing down at the mug in his hand. “About you.”

Her breath caught. But she didn’t speak.

“I know you always skip the fourth question in card games. Even when no one’s paying attention. You tuck your thumb under your palm when you’re uncomfortable. You hum to yourself when you walk away from an argument.” He smiled softly, still not looking at her. “And you put the blueberries at the back of the fridge so no one else finishes them.”

She laughed quietly. “Okay, that one’s fair.”

He looked up at her now, the smile still tugging at his mouth. “I notice things.”

She held his gaze. “So do I.”

That surprised him a little. He blinked.

“I know you don’t like the first sip of coffee—always wait a second before drinking it. You reread instructions, even if you know what they say. You look away when you’re trying not to laugh.” She paused. “And you always stand behind people when you talk to them. Just far enough that no one thinks you’re trying to get too close.”

His throat tightened.

She shifted closer, eyes soft. “You don’t do that with me.”

And he didn’t. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but she was right.

He wanted to be near her.

He was near her.

And it didn’t feel like a risk.

It felt like finally.

-

They didn’t speak after that.

They didn’t need to.

Not every connection was made through conversation. Not every moment needed explanation or context or anything more than this—two people sitting just close enough that their shoulders touched, breathing the same air, watching the same water glitter beneath the sun.

Harry shifted slightly so their knees aligned again. Their legs pressed from hip to ankle now. Steady. Solid. Warm.

And she let herself lean.

Not because she was tired. Not because it was comfortable.

But because she wanted to.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

-

The breeze lifted her hair gently, strands tickling her face. Harry reached over without hesitation, tucking one behind her ear.

His fingers lingered.

Her eyes met his.

And for a long, breathless moment, they didn’t move.

There was a question between them. Unspoken. Not ready to be asked, but undeniable in its presence.

And then he smiled.

Soft. Crooked. The kind that made her feel like the morning light had shifted just for her.

She smiled back.

And leaned her head against his shoulder.

-

She fit.

That’s what hit him most.

Not the heat of her beside him, or the way she leaned without asking, or the way her hair brushed his jaw as she settled into him.

It was how right it felt.

How easy.

How like he’d been carrying a weight he hadn’t noticed until it was gone.

He let his cheek rest gently against the top of her head. Just a little. Just enough to say I’m here.

And she didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen.

She just sighed, slow and full, and let her hand rest on his knee.

-

It was quiet like that for a long time.

Long enough that the world started to fade. The laughter from the dock became background noise. The creak of the screen door lost its edge. The wind and the trees and the water became a rhythm beneath them, something that moved with them instead of around them.

He didn’t want to move.

He didn’t want to speak.

He didn’t want to risk even one second of disrupting the way she was curled into him like she’d always known how.

So he didn’t.

He just stayed.

-

Eventually, she closed her eyes.

Not to sleep. Just to feel it better. To memorize the way the sun warmed her cheek, the way his arm wrapped lightly around her, the way her entire body exhaled when she let herself believe—for one slow, golden morning—that this didn’t have to be complicated.

That maybe, for the first time in a long time, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Taglist: @this-is-tiny-mia @goldensunflowerssss-blog @notsosweetcreature @ohmygoldboots @pradastardust @hsbbyhunny @meganrose139 @reeadyreeady @harrys-flower-vol-6 @sunshinextemptress94 @somebunnybaby @justsimplybands @witch-rry @millsadoresyou@watermelon-medicine@pink-watermelon-cherry @babegoalsreads @namoreno @fairyjuicestyles @pologoonies @mp-269 @musicforastylesrestaurant @finelinereading @sigh-mon-reads @tonystaank @slut4phoebe @messyemmy @sasasstyle @officerslay @taliarosej00 @stylesftcher @stardustvalentyne @harry-winkes @cassofheartsss @xairaa @honeymoonluvv @loverrryxo @eggnoggs-world @drewrry @harryscherries28 @hannah9921 @harryscowgirl

Next Part

[solaireverie]

cl16 | lost in a film scene

summary: [ charles leclerc x f!actress!reader — social media au ] 

sometimes fantasy becomes real life. up-and-coming actress y/n l/n never thought she'd find love when shooting her newest movie, which incidentally involves formula 1, but charles leclerc is determined to sweep her off her feet.

— requested

faceclaim: simone ashley

author’s note: hi there!!! thanks so much for requesting ♡ idk how movies work so suspend your disbelief please lol. i hope that you enjoy this!!

[ masterlist / guidelines ]

89,123 likes

hollywoodupdates Universal Pictures has announced that yourusername will be playing Lila Gallagher, one of the main characters of a highly anticipated motorsports film that will be released next year.

view comments

user ugh i hope they actually represent f1 properly...

↪ user i heard that some of the drivers are involved so it should be okay!! 🤞

user y/n is gorgeous as usual 😍 can't wait to see her slay this role

liked by jacobelordi, raye, charles_leclerc and 23,392,341 others

yourusername monaco grand prix with slipstreammovie 🏎 ❤️🤍 glad to be back in the paddock again

view comments

user what's charles doing in the likes 👀

↪ user he was the one who invited her lmaooo

↪ user wait fr???

↪ user yep 😂 and he still had the audacity to play coy the entire time and act surprised when he saw y/n in the ferrari garage

user i really appreciate how y/n and the rest of the slipstream are genuinely trying to learn more about f1 and motorsport, can't wait for the movie! 🙌

liked by yourusername

user everyone say thank you to y/n for serving everywhere she goes

charles_leclerc enchanté 😉

liked by yourusername

↪ danielricciardo that's my line???

↪ user scratch that what's charles doing in the comments 🤨

charles_leclerc has added to their story

yourusername has added to their story

seen by blakelively, charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter and 3,492,591 others

charles_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 4,129,592 others

liked by charles_leclerc, jacobelordi, slipstreammovie and 52,128,392 others

tagged: slipstreammovie

yourusername and that's a wrap on slipstreammovie 🎬 i'm so excited for you to see the results of our blood, sweat, and tears — in theatres march 2024 🏎💨

view comments

charles_leclerc 👏👏👏

↪ yourusername 💗

↪ user oh my god???

user can't wait 😍

jacobelordi how was karting? 😂

↪ yourusername fantastic, thanks for asking 😌

↪ charles_leclerc if you call shunting it into the walls three times in your first lap fantastic, then yes it was

↪ yourusername french gp 2022...

↪ charles_leclerc okay fine! i never said anything 🥲

↪ user i don't know what's the best part of this conversation 😂 jacob indirectly confirming that karting wasn't a slipstream cast event, which means that y/n went separately with charles, charles teasing y/n, y/n becoming a f1 nerd, or y/n being an absolute savage

user hoping she's actually dating charles omggg

391,128 likes

hollywoodupdates yourusername has arrived on the red carpet for the slipstreammovie premiere! It seems that she's also brought a guest in charles_leclerc, who has been rumoured to be dating the actress since they met at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. Could this be the confirmation we've all been waiting for?

view comments

user i mean y/n just called charles her partner while talking to an interviewer so i guess it's true 🤯

↪ user she did?

↪ user yeah! i think the quote was "i'm really happy to have my partner with me today, especially since he helped me so much with finding the nuance in my role"

↪ user the racers who are also in love 🥹 idc that y/n is only a driver in the movie she'll always be a 2-time world champion in my heart

liked by yourusername, joris__trouche, slipstreammovie and 48,293,102 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc beyond proud of you, mon amour ❤️ you'll always be p1 in my heart

view comments

yourusername what if i'd rather be on pole position? 😏

↪ charles_leclerc there are children on instagram, y/n

↪ charles_leclerc but anything for you 😉

user I CALLED IT 🫡

user they're such a gorgeous couple 😵‍💫

user love how they're obsessed with each other... me core fr

user when's it gonna be my turn huh @ god 😒

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

[happylittleshrub]

Rambling About Videogame Rocket Part 4

It's been too long since I've posted one of these! I've been busy with life and also distracted by Marvel Rivals oops 😅

So some things I learned about Rocket:

He's been irradiated (according to him it feels tingly)

He can sense vibrations with his whiskers

He spells dead 'D-E-D'

He pronounces advocating as 'adrotating'

He hacks a drone and he gives it a name. Gubbins. Ngl it made me think of the Pokemon Grubbin lol. I headcanon that Rocket names his inventions so I loved how he gave the drone a name here! It's so cute!! He wants it to be the sixth guardian 🥺 But of course since it's something Rocket has an emotional attachment to it dies immediately. Ded.

This exchange:

Gamora: Your drone led us to a dead end!

Rocket: It wasn't a dead end for him!

Gamora: Actually...

Rocket: [small wounded gasp]

Rocket was so upset watching all the brainwashing the cultists were doing, I felt so bad for him, he was really uncomfortable, my poor boy 😢 He says it reminds him how the scientists would tell the experiments they were "the chosen ones" even as they were hurting them and that he and Lylla were the only ones to see through it 😭

One of my favorite scenes is where Rocket's working at a panel and Quill asks how he can help and Rocket makes him go stand in the corner 🤣🤣🤣

Also the panel blows up and then one of Rocket's whiskers is on fire and Groot snuffs it out for him and Rocket gives a muttered little "Thanks, buddy." HE'S SO STINKIN' CUTE!!! He just endears himself to me more and more with each playthrough.

He's hacking another panel when we get attacked by the cultists and he says "You better not let them shoot me in the ass!" Which sent me into a fit of laughter which was not at all conducive to battle. Don't make me laugh in the middle of a fight, Rocket 😂 I still giggle about it now

This line: "Groot can die but I won't let him. I'll replant him a million times if I have too" ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ MY HEART!!! Their friendship is still one of my favorite parts of this game they're just SO precious!! 🥹 Rocket also says that Groot is his family, I can't, they're just the sweetest 😭❤️

Also I'm adding Tella to my hit list next to The High Evolutionary and Rak-Mar. Rocket's story with her was so sad, "She made me feel special [...] Then she left me behind like trash." Like how dare she hurt him! 😭 He said it wasn't long after his laboratory escape either he was vulnerable!! And he thought she liked him and he wanted to impress her and she just used him. So yeah, screw Tella. All my homies hate Tella.

I loved how Rocket talked about technology making sense to him and how he tinkers with things to manage his stress. These little looks into his character and psyche are just the best. Also his bit before the backstory lore where he tricks Quill into thinking the device he picked up is a bomb. Classic Rocket.

Also got some more Rocket techno-babble in these chapters! I love it so much when he techno-babbles. I haven't the slightest idea what he's saying I just love when he says it.

Non-Rocket Notes:

I GOT TO DO A SPACESHIP BATTLE AND IT WAS AWESOME!!!

Gamora's story about the doll she had as a child was heartbreaking 😢 Her voice actress does such a good job conveying the emotion in the scene. Thanos frickin' sucks. I'm glad Drax killed him. Also it seems that Nebula is ded in this story which is a shame because I was curious as to what her character would be like here. Oh well. 😔RIP Nebula say hi to Lylla for me.

And now the Rocket Gallery:

I'm not sure how I got this dramatic shadow but it looks awesome

Rocket working and wearing his goggles 🧡

[romanticintheory]

on my knees BEGGING for more price and civilian!reader. i just read it and i can’t stop thinking about all the cute itty bitty interactions- their date, their convos, maybe him meeting her surprisingly scary dog (currently in love thinking about COD men and K9s yknow?).

Like if there’s not a single supporter for this, i’m dead in a ditch somewhere

what it's like dating john price as a civilian.

john price x gn!reader

part 1

more fluff, more domesticity, me being down bad

a/n: KSAHDASDKJ im so glad u love them as much as i do!! hope this does them justice for u <3

-

the date went really well, thankfully. he showed up at your place ready to pick you up with the bouquet of flowers he knew you deserved. call him old-fashioned, but he was adamant on making sure you didn't have to lift a finger for anything.

hell, he even asked you why you were standing out there in the cold by yourself, saying, "i could have come to your door so you didn't have to freeze all the way out here, sweetheart!"

he held out his hand for you to take as he guided you down the stairs, opened your side of the door for the car, and always walked with you on the side closest to the street.

the movie was a cute action comedy. it was even funnier with john because he'd sometimes pipe up at the action sequences talking about how unrealistic some scenes were.

when you told john that the main character's actor, a built, older-looking man, was used to be your celebrity crush in high school, he couldn't help but let a chuckle rumble in his throat and ask, "got a type then, love?"

"yeah, probably do," you admitted shamelessly.

the dinner was just as nice as the movie: he took you out to a nice restaurant and hung onto every word you spoke. likewise, you couldn't take your eyes off him whenever he told you stories about him and his boys.

he wouldn't tell you stories about him doing his job, mostly because he didn't want to disturb you with what he's had to do. he did, however, happily tell you stories about the ridiculous things he's seen his task force get up to.

"they sound like a handful," you said warmly, "you sure they're not your kids?"

"no, but they certainly sound like it," he leaned just a little bit closer to hear you better over the chatter of the restaurant.

"i get that. i've got a handful at home, too." you paused to take a sip of your drink. "a little puppy."

"really? what's its name?"

when he takes you back home, he wordlessly walks you back to your door.

"would you like to meet beau, john?" you ask, hand hovering over the door you unlocked.

he opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted by the sound of scratching and a dog panting on the other side of the door.

"well, only if he's okay with meeting me."

when you open the door, john is surprised to see a full-grown rottweiler launching at him at full speed. for a second, he saw his life flashing before his eyes before he realized the wagging of beau's tail.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry!" you call out immediately, "he's usually more polite around strangers. beau- beau get down!"

john only laughs at your panic and took your dog's friendliness as a sign to pet him. "'s alright, love. i trust you enough to know you wouldn't put me in harm's way."

he takes in beau's stature. from the looks of his larger-than-average size, he might be a guard dog for you. or maybe you just wanted company and decided to hone in on his scariness and bulk by adding that spiked collar.

"so, a puppy, huh?" he points outed humorously, locking eyes with you after realizing that your canine was, in fact, fully grown.

"hey, he's still a puppy to me!" you interject, kneeling down beside john's crouched figure to also show the rottweiler some affection.

"i see," he nods thoughtfully, turning his attention back to beau. "you're just as gorgeous as your owner, huh?"

your face is on fire again. "you flatter me, john."

"how does the saying go? it's not flattery if it's true?" he stands up much to the disappointment of beau and to take a step closer to you.

"you're too kind."

"jus' trying to treat you like how you deserve."

it's like he's trying to light you aflame on purpose. your embarrassment grows so much you have to cover the smile on your face with your hand. once your face has cooled down, you take a deep breath and let your hand fall down back to your side.

"thank you for tonight," you say quietly. "i had a really good time."

"glad to hear," he replies. "'m also happy to see beau likes me, too."

"well, we both have that in common, i guess."

"oh, who's doing the flattery, now?" john says playfully, his hands on his hips as you laugh softly at him.

"still you!" you insist.

"hm. maybe next time we can figure it out, yeah?" he proposes, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"next time? you already ready for a second date, price?"

oh, he was ready for more, but he didn't think you were ready to hear that.

"unless you're not," he tells you slowly, afraid of pressuring you into saying yes already.

sensing his worry, you reassure him with, "how could i not be?"

he relaxes at your admission and leans forward to give you a kiss on the cheek. "i've got your number. next week sound fine to you?"

"of course. whatever you like, soldier," you nodded, the lingering feeling of his lips on your cheek leaving a tingling sensation. if you were just a bit more confident, you would have kissed him then and there.

"i'll see you then, love."

he bends down to give beau a well-deserved goodbye pet before turning to leave, looking you in the eyes one last time before leaving for home.

[in-this-crystal-kingdom]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SUFFERING GAME GRAPHIC NOVEL

Okay SO. Everyone has some thoughts on this one for sure as I have seen. A lot of people are saying they took a lot from Wonderland and that it's a disappointment as an adaptation but here's the thing: I have viewed the books as separate canon from the podcast since around Crystal Kingdom. I don't necessarily see it as a faithful adaptation but as a cool way to get more people into the story without giving EVERYTHING away in case they decide to listen. However, that being said, I have some things to say. I'm going to start with the negative first because even though I LOVED this book I so have some things I will miss about it (but please understand that I LOVED THE BOOK SM GUYS, I will ofc be adding what I loved after this part)

My Issues/Things I Wish Were Included:

Magnus trying to find his own answers with the voidfish. I was really looking forward to how they would show and represent that!

"I'm afraid no one else will have me" was such a good scene, I really liked the vulnerability Taako showed then because aside from his scene in Petals we haven't seen a whole lot of that from him in the books (again, I veiw the books as separate canon, but it would be nice to see)

CAM! I missed Cam so much he was delightful

No Boss Rush

I don't like that they basically forced Magus to decide if he wanted to lose Julia and never mention Gov. Kallen at all. That was such an impactful moment and they kind of side stepped it unfortunately

Trust or Forsake is missing which is also unfortunate

A lot of what made Wonderland interesting is either spedrun or absent so they kind of took the Wonder out of Wonderland

Taako giving up his beauty is also gone! Which sucks ass! My only true issue with this book that I genuinely was heartbroken over. I understand it can be a hard thing to show, especially when it runs the risk of someone in real life looking at the design and going "ow, that looks like me!'. So like. I get it. I really do. But they cut so much of Podcast!Taako's growth in Book!Taako's character that it was a sore spot for me personally.

If they let Johann live in the next book I will be very upset

SPEAKING OF NEXT BOOK!! Now that I have all my negative out of the way ohohoh boy I'm gonna share the positives I have with it. Given that, again, I view the books as separate story than the podcast, I thought they did a wonderful job overall. Solid 8/10 for me! Here are the things I am still screaming about

Things I adore about this book and will be living rent free in my head forever

TAAKO AND KRAVITZ KISS LIKE 5 PAGES IN AND I SCREAMED CAREY ATE WITH THAT

Merle's kids 😭😭😭

JOHANN IS ACKNOWLEDGED IN THIS ONE RAAAAAAAA I WAS SO WORRIED THEY WERE TRYING TO CUT HIM OUT

I love the redesign of Wonderland looking like a circus instead of a roulette wheel, I liked that a lot

Kravitz calling Taako to tell him to be safe,,, the call getting cut off,,,, pain

I loved the wheel it looked so cool

Edward and Lydia were giving Velvet and Veneer and I am HERE FOR IT

Heart Attack my beloved 🥰

ARMS OUTSTRETCHED!!!!!!!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN TAAKO SAW KRAVITZ IN THE TAR??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE TRIED TO SAVE HIM?????? MCELROY FAMILY AND CAREY WHEN I GET YOU-

Seeing the umbra staff (*cough cough* Lup) BEAT THE SHIT out of Edward was lovely, no notes

HOW GRIFFIN DISAPPEARED!!! I WAS HOPING THEY WOULD DO THAT!!!

BLUEJEANS REVEAL

The Umbra Staff jumping into Barry's arms 😭😭😭

Taako having STATIC IN HIS EYES seeing the staff and Barry together CAREY PLEASE

MERLE SEEING JOHN, THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE

L U P SHE IS SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I CRIED I AM SO GLAD THEY GAVE HER LONG HAIR TOO!!

GOD THE BOOK ENDED WHERE I WANTED IT TO AND THEN SOME ACTUALLY (I thought it would end with the line "Lucretia, what have you done???" BUT MAN I'M NOT MAD IT WENT ON A BIT LATER)

THE IPRE PAINTING. THEM. THEY. ALL OF THEM. I AM DYING. MY CROPS ARE WATERED AS SHIT.

[lily-s-world]

A few weeks ago scrolling through Instagram, I saw a reel about an upcoming queer book called "The Nightmare Before Kissmas." I decided to give this book a try because the idea of Holiday royalty falling for each other sounded different and fun. And I'm so glad I did because it was so romantic, sexy, fun and super queer!! The type of romcoms I adore.

I think my favorite part was the fact that from the first chapters, they tell you "hey, I'm bi, and so is my best friend Iris and my brother is definitely not straight but also not into labels." And I love them for it, especially how none of them make a big fuss about it. It was just a part of who they are.

There is one thing I had noticed in M/M books, and I think a lot of people will agree; about the constant fetishization of these types of relationships. I had tried a lot of queer series, just for them to end lacking any kind of female and sapphic characters, and the writing to be more fitting for a p0rn movie. I'm not saying you aren't allowed to write sexy scenes in books, but there is a difference between adding a few scenes here and there, than filling your book with extremely explicit descriptions of the act instead of an actual plot.

And this book avoided all of that by giving you an interesting plot about Coal (the protagonist) working to create a better future for his family and Holiday. All while waxing poetic about the Halloween prince. Coal describing his feelings for Hex are probably the most romantic paragraphs I had read in some time. I was swoning by how much these boys adored each other and how well they communicated.

I went and politely slided into the writer Instagram, noticed she is also going to write a story about Kris (Coal's brother), which is cool because I like him. So I asked about Iris, and she was kindly enough to reply and said that Iris is also getting his sapphic story 🩷🩷

I'm gonna be obsessed with this trio for the time being.

[comfortzonequeen]

Under Starlit Skies

Summary: A story where reader and Austin Butler are working together on a romantic movie, and while filming, their on-screen chemistry starts to blur the lines with their real-life feelings for each other?

Warning: N\A

Y/N L/N and Austin Butler were cast as leads in a romantic drama, a project everyone in Hollywood was buzzing about. The movie, "Under Starlit Skies", was about two people who meet by chance during a magical evening and slowly fall in love. Their characters, deeply intertwined in emotion, had undeniable chemistry from the very first table read. But what no one anticipated was that this chemistry would spill into their real lives.

Day 1 on Set

The first day of shooting took place in a beautiful, secluded vineyard just outside of Napa Valley. The scene required Y/N and Austin to share a quiet, intimate moment under the stars. As they rehearsed the lines, the glow of the moonlight and the warmth of the nearby campfire set a calming tone.

"You're really good at this," Austin complimented, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Y/N smiled, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. "Thanks. I could say the same about you."

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, effortlessly bouncing off each other's energy. The crew was watching closely, captivated by how easily they seemed to connect. Even the director, a veteran of countless love stories, was impressed. "Cut! Perfect take, guys. Let’s move on to the next."

But neither Y/N nor Austin was ready to walk away. They lingered, sharing a smile, before heading off to their trailers.

Late-Night Rehearsals

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N and Austin found themselves spending more time together. The demanding shooting schedule gave them little time for much else, and soon they were having late-night rehearsals in Y/N’s trailer.

"You know," Austin said one evening, leaning back on the couch, "this script is great and all, but I think we could add something more to this scene. Make it feel... real."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe we play with the pauses between our lines. Sometimes, when people are falling in love, it's the silence that says the most."

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I like that. Let's try it."

They ran through the lines again, adding subtle moments of quiet, glances that lingered a little too long, and smiles that felt all too genuine. By the end of the scene, they were sitting closer, their knees touching.

On-Set Chemistry

The director had noticed something shifting between Y/N and Austin. Their on-screen chemistry was electric, so much so that the rest of the cast began making little jokes about it.

"You two should get a room," one of the crew members teased after a particularly steamy scene.

Y/N laughed it off, but her heart raced every time she was near Austin. It was undeniable—they were growing closer. What started as friendly banter had evolved into something much deeper. Austin would make her coffee in the mornings, and she'd wait for him after they wrapped each day. Their conversations grew longer, and the silences between them, even off-camera, were comfortable, full of unspoken understanding.

The Turning Point

One evening, after filming a particularly emotional scene, Austin invited Y/N to grab dinner at a quiet little restaurant off the beaten path. The small town they were filming in didn't have much, but the ambiance of the place was perfect.

Over dinner, they talked about everything—life, work, dreams, and fears. Y/N shared stories of her childhood, and Austin opened up about his career and the pressures of being in the spotlight.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly, his hand resting on the table near hers. "I don't think this film would've worked without you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. "I feel the same way. This has been... unexpected."

"Unexpected, but good?"

"Yeah. Really good."

There was a pause, the kind Austin had suggested in their rehearsal weeks ago. They held each other’s gaze, the energy between them shifting.

Austin reached across the table, gently taking Y/N’s hand. "We should stop pretending this is just for the movie."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his boldness, but the truth of his words resonated deeply. "What do we do then?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Austin’s smile was tender, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "We let it happen. No pressure. No expectations."

Balancing Work and Love

After that night, Y/N and Austin’s relationship evolved quietly. They tried to keep things professional on set, but their stolen glances and subtle touches didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew.

Off-set, they spent their free time exploring new cities together as the movie took them to different locations. Whether it was wandering through the streets of Paris or sipping coffee in a cozy café in Prague, they found moments to just be themselves, away from the public eye.

The intensity of their work on-screen bled into their real-life connection, but they both knew the importance of keeping things balanced. They supported each other, Austin showing up to set early to cheer her on during difficult scenes, and Y/N being a grounding presence when the weight of fame bore down on him.

The Premiere

When "Under Starlit Skies" premiered, the media couldn’t get enough of KC and Austin. Their chemistry on the red carpet was undeniable, with photographers constantly snapping pictures of them laughing together, stealing little touches, and whispering in each other’s ears.

As the movie played on the big screen, audiences were captivated by the love story, but what most didn’t realize was that the real love story had unfolded behind the scenes.

By the time the credits rolled, it wasn’t just the characters in the movie who had fallen in love. Y/N and Austin had found something real, something they hadn’t anticipated but couldn’t deny. And as they stepped out of the theater hand in hand, the world watched in awe, knowing this wasn’t just a Hollywood romance—it was the start of something beautiful.

End

Author's Note: This is my first ever imagine guys so please don't come for me. I know it's short but ...... No buts. But please feel free to tell me what you think. Been hella obsessed with AB lately.

💋😘

[lologoinsolo]

I'm usually just a lurker when it comes to fanfic buuut I've gotta say that your "In The Shadows" series is so wonderful. It's scary in the best way, and the way you describe scenes and imagery creates such a vivid image. Every time you release a new chapter I'm torn between reading it because 'Eek new chapter'! But then I'm also like 'Noo, what if something happens :('. The story has me on the edge of my seat every time. I also really love your world building (I'm likely a bit biased) especially with the 141. The way they function and are describes has me grabbing at every detail you give. They're so scary, yet I want to know so much more! It has me hooked for sure. I probably wouldn't survive a single night in the town if I was this curious lolol Sorry this is so long, I'm a rambler. Thank you so much for doing what you do! You are such a wonderful writer, and I hope you're taking care of yourself. Stay hydrated! (PS: Hoping this won't submit more than once, my internet is being iffy. So sorry if it does! Aaah so embarrassing Dx)

I love when people ramble in my inbox, I could listen to people all day if I could. I’m so, so, so glad you love it and came off your lurker status for it (you’re making me blush btw)

I am glad that you’re getting scared by them. Taking a crack at horror is not for the weak. I keep second guessing if this is horror or more of a suspicious/mystery drama…. I need to add more scenes of them killing. Welllllllll actually!! I don’t think this will be spoilers when I talk about Gaz and Soap’s way of killing/hunting. Under the cut is gonna be bloody (hahaha)

TW: Talks of past murders and death and just a general sense in how Soap/Gaz hunt…

I didn’t want to make them all the same kind of killer because in game and in their bio they’re all completely different in skills and overall character.

Soap’s way of hunting is flamboyant in a sense. It’s the thrill, the chase, the desperation in seeing his victim(s) try to run or outlast him. Before the rock was used (this isn’t a spoiler cause in the From Series the Sheriff is the one that found it) he was having the time of his life. He’s artistic in sense that he’ll rearrange bodies just for the wow factor that he knows it’ll bring to his later victims. But with that stupid rock now in use he’s been itching for fun. Goes far too overboard to sate himself when someone’s stupid enough to try their luck at night. (Now, can he jump the gun and scare off people because he’s overly enthusiastic? Hell, yes. Is there someone or someone’s that can rein him in… hehehehe, yeah.)

Gaz’s way of hunting is subtle. He lures, gains trust, speaks gently and kindly. Doesn’t want a poor little rabbit to run and make him work for it. He wants them to come to him. Everyone second guesses on Gaz because he makes himself personal. Plays on their fears and says to them, “oh, poor thing. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I promise.” And when that ‘poor thing’ opens the door or window well… maybe it’s their own fault for being so trusting. It’s an added bonus if they fall in love, everyone wants the big, bad guy to be soft for them so who is he to deny them their little fantasy. (Honestly I can talk about Gaz for hours. I love Soap but Gaz? Oh, yeah. I’m opening the door, baby.)

[abarbaricyalp]

hey! <3 procedural drama actors for the wip ask game? 👀

A, I am so glad you, of anyone, asked about this because guess what show inspired it 😅

This is from a fic where Sam and Bucky play two PI-ish characters (Kind of Elementary, kind of Tracker, kind of The Nice Guys) at a pivotal moment for the characters in the show and as their own careers are growing. A little pre-relationship/feelings realizations going on.

Here's the first part of the story I wrote.

"Your characters have finally gotten together after four seasons," the interviewer segued.

"We made them wait four seasons?" Bucky asked, looking over to Sam.

"We did," Sam agreed, smiling knowingly. It was the kind of face that their fans always meme'd and groaned about because it always meant there was something he wasn't saying.

"What was it like filming that first kiss scene?"

"It was after the fire," Bucky started, orienting not only himself but anyone watching the interview who maybe wasn't as dedicated to the show as some fans. He had media training. His manager should be pleased.

"Should've been after the sniper," Sam added with a knowing glance at Bucky.

But they couldn't get into that on camera. Not if he wanted his manager to remain pleased. "It really should've been," he agreed and moved on. "But, yeah, the ash make-up was all over Sam's face and every time they called cut and wanted us to redo the scene, continuity would put new make up on him. I had so much black powder on my mouth. I was tasting it for days."

"Right," Sam laughed. "There was that one spot on my jaw--"

"Yeah! They kept redoing this specific soot mark--it wasn't even important for the shot--but it was right where I kept putting my thumb to hold his face. There's still some black in my finger print--" He held out his hand to prove it. There really was still a smear of black makeup on his thumb.

Sam rolled his eyes fondly at the familiar complaint. "Well for me it was really gratifying. We've been working towards this for this character, for both of these characters, for a long time. Getting that pay off was really nice. Getting to play a bi character as a bisexual man feels...complete, y'know? I'm excited to see what happens to them next."

"Oh, you give the good, meaningful answer," Bucky teased. "Make me look like an idiot."

"I don't need to help you," Sam assured. He caught Bucky's jousting elbow with his own and laughed. When he caught Bucky's eye too, he felt that same blush creep over his cheeks that had been following him around since the episode aired. Bucky's face softened too, just a little, just for him.

[kryptonbabe]

The Transformers | 1×15 - Fire on the Mountain

Another 1st season fever dream episode in the same veins of Roll for It – with a plot held together by tin foil and some cool light strings. It develops in unexpected ways, and while not always the most logical ones, this show keeps the action fun and the dialogues amusingly silly, making the whole experience worthwhile.

A down point, however, is the sadly anticlimactic comeback of Skyfire, he deserved better than an unexplained resurrection, we could have an emotional moment, an unstable Starscream both angry and relieved with his frienemy's return, chaos, cheering, toxic Megatron lines, robot drama, so much that could've been. But no, apparently Skyfire died and was just chilling in a block of ice waiting to be defrosted again, my boy trapped in cycles of ice ages. At the end though I'm glad he got back so we could have this:

Dead, alive, dead again, alive again, Skyfire remains silly [Chuckling].

We also got an almost treason arc involving Thundercracker and Starscream, which I also wish was more developed because one of my favorite things about the Decepticons is how evil they are with each other, how their organization is not kept by admiration for a leader or strong convictions, but by a thirst for power and mutual fear. The Thundercracker / Starscream conflict on this episode adds to the tension of the already fraught relationship of Megatron and Starscream. Thundercracker's shady intentions are introduced to the power play, adding to the constant scheming of the Decepticons.

"Byyyye!" Mockery & contempt among the Decepticons.

That creates an interesting dynamic between the groups, particularly because the Autobots work closely together and care for each other in ways that make their team work way more effective than that of their enemies.

The difference between Autobot and Decepticon group banter.

I'm not saying anything about the plot, and that's because I don't think it matters much here, there is a story, but only as motivation to keep the characters moving, the focus is mostly on the character interactions and the action scenes. We have great episodes in this 1st season that I truly believe could be adapted into higher budget animation films (or other projects) – like The Ultimate Doom or Countdown to Extinction – this is not one of these, but it's still highly entertaining, a messy and yet joyful experience, much like what I've come to expect from this show, at least at this 1st season.

[archivewriter1ont]

⭐️ I’d love to hear the director’s commentary on a section of Echo and the Cadet Batch you’ve been wanting to talk about!

Thanks for asking!!

Probably the thing I have most wanted to say about Cadets is that I had absolutely no idea what form this story would take when it began! I had no ending, no middle, hardly even a beginning -- just that first chapter I wrote in a rush one day for my own sanity. It is by far the most chaotic thing I've ever written. Looking back at the first three chapters, the most alarming thing is that my original 11-chapter outline, which I made after chapter 2 was posted, did not have a SINGLE scene with the adult Batch before they were swapped back in the finale. Between my sister's suggestions that it would be criminal to leave out their Kamino shenanigans and the myriad comments that were asking if we would see the Big Batchers elsewhere in the fic, I rewrote everything in the outline. It finalized at 29 or 30 chapters with the Big Batch added in. I'm so glad it worked out that way, though. It was also providential that that big change settled into my brain at the time it did because I had enough time to rework the chapter I was writing before posting it.

Another thing I've wanted to say about Cadets, this time about an actual scene... I was totally nervous about posting Chapter 14: Baby Dominoes and Repaying Debts (Part Three), because of this part...

He was in total control of all his faculties, utterly sane and completely sure of what he had to do, whether it risked upsetting the timeline he had already lived through or not. It took only a flick of his wrist for his fingers to close around the grip of his blaster. Before anyone else could respond or even realize what he was doing, Hunter shoved the barrel of his DC-17 beneath Sol's ribs, pinpointing the location of the heart with the incredible senses the Kaminoan himself had helped engineer.  Without giving himself another moment to hesitate, he pulled the trigger.

I reread this thing a dozen times after editing, trying to decide if it fit Hunter's character or not. I don't like writing anybody OOC, so I was stressing about how the good sergeant actually gunning down Tau Sol would be received.

Luckily, everybody hates that guy as much as I do and didn't mind.😁 I've actually considered writing a multichapter fic in the "canon" timeline that would explore the little Batch's interactions with the Kaminoans in depth, especially Nala Se and Tau Sol, since they show up the most in my writing. If I do, I'm sure I'll grow to hate him even more (if that's possible).

Fun Fact: Tau Sol is actually my sister's OC, and the minute she told me about him I said Hunter deserved to kill him in some AU. So, I let him. But I'm still relieved no one yelled at me about it.❤️

[mmmmalo]

Been reading all of your psychosexual analysis of homestuck + it's characters and god this stuff is fascinating. It can be real hard to find any writing on sexuality, kinks and fetishes in fandoms but it seems that hs is almost like a gold mine when it comes to this topic thanks to the coming-of-age theme. The murder = sex post hasn't left my head since I read it and now when I see any scene mention / involve either of the two I can't help but think about how the other could be relevant. Never thought suicidal ideation could be so masturbatory before this.

Glad to say your posts have helped me get a slightly better understanding of anything I read. I'd never really thought much about things like positioning of characters in frames / panels, sequences of events and choice of words since I didn't really care for literary analysis before I got into homestuck. Sort of a 'came for the cool flashes, stayed for the writing' type situation, which is a pipeline that makes me thankful for the animations Hussie made because I'd only ever inferred that the writing was bad from conversations I'd seen people having about hs.

Anyway, you talked about how Rose's fear of drowning (loss of control) correlates to her non-con kink and now I'm wondering what you think the other characters fears suggest about their sexual interests? I'd assume John's fear of heights has something to do with the fall, and from there some sort of corruption kink / a fetish for anything generally 'sinful'; which would explain his interest in 'bad' girls like Vriska (and the way he eagerly adopts her mannerisms).

The planets tend to include each kid's fears / insecurities so it's not exactly hard to figure those out, but I'm not sure whether I'm making the "right" connections, since I'm just making the best with what I have (bare minimum literary knowledge) and homestuck makes a lot of references to outside works.

Extra request: if you've got any good books / posts / articles / whatevers on psychosexuality or such please tell me. I'm curious and bored

I'm glad you're getting something out of the blog! Goofy fetish talk is kind of rare, but it is striking when you find it: I watched Good Luck Chuck at Karkat's recommendation and that turned out to be a central motif. Sex/death substitution is a bit more common... here's a write up on Pulp Fiction you might like. You might also like these posts by SMG on Prometheus, he is the one who introduced me to a lot of the storytelling strategies I discuss on this blog. More generally though, I recommend looking for articles about movies you like and adding "psychoanalysis" to the search -- if nothing else, it's an easy way to find people who take sexual symbolism seriously.

Evaluating your own accuracy is tricky, but I can only recommend that you regard your current model of the story as provisional. Even as you search for information that strengthens your current understanding of the story, you'll likely stumble upon another framework that works just as well or better. Keep an open mind, some things have multiple answers

Re: fear-becomes-fetish motifs, the last major piece I wrote in this vein was about Dave, I think? It's kind of outdated though. My focus on individual psychologies faltered as I reoriented myself towards like, similar fear>fetish material on a societal level. One example: people inclined to worry about being Replaced by other races are the impetus for miscegenation porn, which repurposes feelings of resentment and inferiority for titillation -- this gets channeled into the "black always mates white" narrative of doom in Sburb, Derse (black) launching "seeds" at Prospit (white)/Skaia, Caliborn sexualizing his predomination over Calliope, etc. You can see traces of this narrative show up in characters like Kanaya (who agrees with Eridan that race purity matters, only to be haunted by cuck jokes like Watching Oblong Meat Products Tumble Into Places They Dont Belong) but its not like she even knows what black people are -- she's an alien. So when she tearfully agrees that Dirk can take better care of her wife than she ever could, it only /refers/ to the miscegenation porn structure, casting Kanaya as the impotent observer suffering yet another Lalondian "black out". There's a degree of abstraction at play that makes it difficult to say Kanaya "has" the kink being discussed through her, at least not in its entirety.

All of which is to say that while the kink angle is occasionally useful, it's not my current approach. Like you technically can link Jade's fear of lightning to her being a furry, but despite John explicitly referring to furry as a kink thing (and Jade having a daughter named Yiffy), the earliest reference to furry stuff is better parsed in terms of misogyny and transphobia, imo. You might be able to find more stuff indicating that Egbert secretly enjoys the Fall of Man (like her professed love of apocalypse movies, or the cheeky Save Rose From Corruption roleplay), but also the entry item could indicate a fixation on the Adam's Apple in the throat, as an early hint of June motifs. Or maybe I've just been away from this methodology for too long, and Egbert's traumatic fall from the slimer pogo indicates that the fear of heights should be linked to manbro bukkake theatre??? Idk, but again, that's not really my element anymore

[millionmaggots]

RGG Show was Mid, + a Tangent About Goro Majima

Ok, yeah, I'm glad I didnt get my hopes up, bc WOWIE the amazon prime RGG show is Not Good.

I wanted to like it, but in 100% full sincerity, i would recommend that you watch the unhinged 2005 movie over this.

The games beautifully mix genuinely serious story beats / subject matter with completely absurd moments of levity. This contrast allows you to see the silly and charming sides of the characters, making the story especially engaging precisely because those moments of happiness contrast so sharply with the characters' hard lives. Seeing what they could have makes it hit so much harder when they're put through the wringer.

Kiryu will go through the most gut-wrenching tragedy, then immediately after, you'll do a side quest about helping people find their lost items or something. Ultimately, the series is about humanity, and flawed people in horrible situations doing what little good they can.

The 2005 movie is ridiculous and borderline incomprehensible, but it still captures that mix of tragedy and farce. It's weird, it's campy, it's horny, and it makes little to no sense - It's fun.

I can't say the same about the new Prime series. It lacks the charm and silly antics that separate RGG from any other crime drama, and that self-serious nature just sucks all the appeal out of it.

I'm not upset that it isn't totally loyal to game canon - in fact, one of my main hopes was that it would reconcile Majima's super inconsistent characterization in Kiwami 1.

Him kidnapping Haruka just to get to Kiryu, holding a woman at knifepoint, etc., was all written for the original game in 2005 when he was meant to be a wildcard minor antagonist/villain.

The Majima Everywhere mechanic was added in the remake in 2016 after gradually becoming a much more complex and likeable character in 11 years worth of subsequent games after the original game's release.

However, the added content more in line with his later characterization was tacked on to the original iteration of him with little consideration for consistency, making him feel like one of two different people, depending on the scene.

With the show having the benefit of hindsight, I really hoped they would do something interesting with him, and balance out the genuinely detestable things he does with the silly amicable rivalry he has with Kiryu.

The story of the first game is mostly about Kiryu, Nishiki, and Yumi, but the marketing made a point to say it was (however loosely) adapting Kiwami 1. While I understand not wanting to advertise a brand new show with 2005 PS2 era graphics, I feel like that implied that it would reflect the minor narrative/framing changes and increased prominence of Majima, just as it does with Nishiki from the original game to Kiwami.

Essentially, I wasn't too excited about this series, but I had some hope because they had an opportunity to clean up the story and retell it without the limitations of being a remaster of an old game and following an eleven year old script almost word for word.

Instead, they told a gritty and joyless version of the same story without taking advantage of the freedom to rework a flawed but enjoyable story/script, and in doing so, lost its grip on the central theme of the series.

[foggynelsonarchive]

I wrote that other message, I didn't want to upset you, there's no need to answer this one if you feel offended. I don't want to sound like those Elnde and Foggy haters. But I just read that Deborah stole Elden's place in the show. Now, she is more important than him, and Foggy will die protecting her. I read somewhere that she doesn't like Elden and hopes that Foggy dies, so she will be much more important in Matt's life and for the show. Do you know if this is true? Is this the reason why you hate Karen? I'm sorry again, it's just my curiosity

Well... wow... so much is happening here that I had to stare into space for a few seconds to breathe and get my thoughts in order.

I want you to know that you didn't upset me. I truly understand where each fan is coming from and their frustration.

I understand that many fans were upset with Foggy's reaction. However, I'll never agree with the hate for him and Elden.

Interestingly, Charlie/Matt fans now seem to understand how essential Elden/Foggy is to the series, as they haven't sent me any hateful asks in a while now, and for that, I'm grateful. Perhaps it's because Charlie has shown his appreciation for Foggy, or maybe it's because, over the years, fans have seen that Matt and Foggy are true friends who need each other.

I've been getting asks from Karen/Deborah fans, though.

Some of these asks are very similar to yours. The difference is that yours is milder, which is why I decided to respond.

Well, as for Karen;

I feel really sad that I even have to answer this. Honestly.

I have always loved Karen.

Karen from the comics is so strong, sweet, and sensitive.

When I first saw Deborah as Karen in a photo with Elden for the first season, I swear I cried.

And when the series was canceled, I fought more for Deborah than for Elden because I thought the hero's best friend was loved the same way the hero loves him.

I took Elden/Foggy for granted.

My disappointment started when I realized that in interviews before the series was saved, Deborah always talked about Vincent, Charlie, and Jon. (If you have seen an interview where she talks about Elden, please send it to me, and I will be happy to reconsider.) I've seen a lot of people saying that she didn't seem to like Elden, and I tried not to take it to heart. After all, they are just co-workers; they don't have to be friends. I never took it seriously. I've never been interested in the personal choices of celebrities, anyway.

But yeah, I always found it curious that she praised her other co-stars, some of whom she shared less screen time with than Elden. But in that respect, it could just be a matter of behind-the-scenes affinity.

And then she posted about Foggy's death and added laughing emojis. Of course, it could be an indication that Foggy isn't going to die. But then a small war began where some of Foggy's haters celebrated. I was shocked to read the comments from her fans mocking Foggy's death. It's important to remember that these characters are significant to many people and that their deaths should be treated with respect.

When she mentioned having a lot of heart in the series, a chat group I'm part of raised the issue that this seemed like a tease, since Elden has always been the heart of the series. Again I found it curious, but I didn't take it seriously. It's so easy to be misunderstood on social media.

Then one of her fans DMed me, passive-aggressively saying something like this: "It's so beautiful that Deborah now has a heart in the show and Elden is no longer the heart of the show. She is now Matt's Goose. Unfortunately we couldn't save them both, but I'm glad DAW is happy and I hope Henson gets a job." The message was huge, I'm just summarizing. At that specific moment everything hit me hard and I expressed my regret for having cried for her one day. Then her fans came and I was blocked, and then I decided it was time to leave… Everything exploded so quickly. I'm just sorry.

Once again, I love Karen and I don't regret standing up for her. However, I do regret prioritizing Deborah over Elden, as I initially believed Elden would receive more support and that Foggy would hold more/or some significance in the new series.

Well. It all exploded very quickly. But no, I don't hate her. (God, who am I compared to Deborah or Karen to still hate them)

Now, I've gotten some asks about Deborah appealing to Marvel bosses about keeping Foggy dead so she can have more screen time.

This is absurd!

While I understand that Hollywood is a place where only the strongest survive and thrive, I simply don't believe Deborah would be that person. She's too talented to resort to such tricks. It doesn't even make sense!

I don't believe this is Deborah's behavioral profile. And I know a lot about behavior (I have a degree in it)

Yes. I saw countless people talking about things that I don't want to repeat here. But these are in no way rumors, but rather malicious speculation.

I'd like to clarify these things because you're not the first person to ask me about this.

Over time, these things (rumors and speculation and nasty asks about Foggy's death, Elden's looks, and Elden being swapped for Deborah, Jon or Dex) stopped being a source of disappointment. Now, they make my group chat laugh and inspire us to create our own theories.

Most of my Daredevil fan friends have moved on with their lives. Some, like me, don't have as much love for "Born Again" and that whole "I'm a good lawyer" thing, or for that scene with Foggy on the concrete floor. (Although I don't believe he will die protecting her.)

Of course, If the rumors are correct, I disagree that she has more prominence than Foggy since Foggy is Matt's best friend, and Matt needs him. I also can't agree to a series where Foggy isn't by Matt's side or even just in the series in every episode. ( but hey, I wish Foggy had his own series, so...)

I've been drawing Deborah/Karen since 2015, and I must admit, I usually don't draw people I don't like. In fact, I've gone as far as purchasing clothes similar to Karen's and even tried to collect some of her outfits at the Marvel auction. It's safe to say that I wouldn't have put in so much effort if I didn't genuinely like her.

Initially, I was disappointed about certain aspects, but looking back, I don't know why I was so upset about it. It's just a series, although "Foggy" means a lot to me, and I absolutely love Elden. If Deborah has more prominence in the second part, I'll be over the moon! She truly deserves it.

I'm longing to see Nelson and Murdock, Maverick and Goose again. Imagine Matt and Foggy discussing the senses; that's my ultimate dream!

Elden definitely deserves recognition and meaningful scenes in the series. However, if he doesn't, I'll be okay with that.

I'm gratful for Foggy, Matt's best friend, the tough, cute, goofy, sweet, wonderful lawyer that all three seasons gave me – I will always adore him, and that's more than enough.