#Yes that this the entirety of dandelions

[thedo0zyslider]

Cut Scene - Dandelions

[Scapped scene for this fic!, song is dandelions by ruth b!)

Oli hums, kicking his kegs idly as he watches the bar goers. It's a lazy Wednesday evening, and the Sheriff is currently shooting frequent glances in his direction. He always does that when Oli shows up to the tavern, which happens at least once a week. The other patrons just pretended to not notice at this point.

The bard is currently sitting on the bar counter like he owns it or something, instrument in hand. A lute, if Jimmy remembers correctly. Though he might be wrong. He, admittedly, hasn't paid the bard much attention in recent weeks. Not since fWhip and him fought....

It's pretty late into the night, and people have slowly started to file out of the saloon, and into the streets. Jimmy thinks, if Tumble Town had two saloons, most of them would be bar hopping. That, amongst other reasons, is exactly why they don't have two saloons. He can't be bringing up an empire of drunkards, now can he?

"Hey, bard!" One of the patrons yells out, sudden and catching the Sheriff's attention. He lookd over, curious. The shout had natrually caught Oli's attention as well. "You gonna play something or are ya just gonna sit there?"

"If you want a song you have to pay, my good man!" Oli says, a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice. He tugs his lute father into his lap, hands hovering over the strings; anticipating a request. Other patrons are looking in his friends (if they are still friends....) direction now, excited for a show to go with their drinks. Jimmy can't help but find the energy contagious.

The man who had spoken laughs, probably a little more wasted than Jimmy had assumed on first glance, and throws some coins into the air. Oli catches them with practiced ease.

"I think a slow song is befitting of such a slow night at the tavern." Oli says, casting his gaze over to the Sheriff. There's something sparkling in his eyes, something Jimmy can't decipher. Oli plays a few starting notes on his instrument, warming it up. Someone, or maybe a few people, in the crowd start cheering hom on. He smiles like it's the best day of his life.

Jimmy barley hears anything the patrons are saying. With just one mysterious look, all his attention has been focused on Oli, and will be for the rest of the night.

Oli starts strumming the lute slowly, focusing on the chords. He starts singing a love song, one Jimmy has vaguely heard before. He wishes he could remember where. "Maybe it's the way you say my name. Maybe it's the way you play your game"

"But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you. But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you"

Jimmy listens, along with everyone else in the tavern, taken away. The people around him still talk and drink and joke, but in quieter tones. Jimmy’s too mesmerized by the sound of Oli's voice to do much of anything.

"And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime, and I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine" Oli looks at him again on that part. It's a very brief glance, lasting no more than half a second. It takes the Sheriff's breath away regardless. "'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine, mine."

"And I see forever in your eyes. I feel okay when I see you smile, smile. Wishing on dandelions all of the time, praying to God that one day you'll be mine."

"Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time" Oli's voice slows a bit, before starting the next part of the sing, and he throws a wink at the crowd. More people throw him money. He catches it, and looks at the Sheriff again. Jimmy couldn't meet his gaze, even if his life depended on it.

"I think that you are the one for me. 'Cause it gets so hard to breathe. When you're looking at me, I've never felt so alive and free."

"When you're looking at me, I've never felt so happy. And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime" This is the part where Jimmy is very glad he doesn't have a drink. He's sure he would've spilled it or choked on it by now. Part of him wishes he had a chair, so he could go slack without sliding down the wall he's leaning against. The other part of him knows he wouldn't be able to get up if he did.

"And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine. 'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine, mine."

"And I see forever in your eyes. I feel okay when I see you smile, smile." Yeah, no, Jimmy’s glad he doesn't have a drink or a table. His beer would definitely be all ivef the table. "Wishing on dandelions all of the time, praying to God that one day you'll be mine."

"Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time." The Sheriff realizes, at this part, that he's blushing red. He keeps listening, and hopes no one notices. The other patrons have definitely already noticed.

"Dandelion, into the wind you go, won't you let my darling know? Dandelion, into the wind you go, won't you let my darling know that?" (Jimmy wonders what fWhip would say, if he could see this now. If he could see how red the Sheriff's face was and how fast his old flames heart was beating...)

"I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine, mine. And I see forever in your eyes. I feel okay when I see you smile, smile."

"Wishing on dandelions all of the time, praying to God that one day you'll be mine." The song starts to end, and the last of the coins are drunkenly thrown at the bard. Jimmy wishes it wasn't ending, and he could listen tk this man skng forever. "Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time. I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine, mine"

The crowd cheers when he's done. Somebody loudly orders more drinks for the whole place, Sheriff included. Oli gets offered more money, gets requests to play more songs. The bard happily obliges, indulging Jimmy’s customers and all the money they give him. A waitress brings his drink to him, the one that customer had ordered. Jimmy doesn't take it.

Oli sings until closing time. The Sheriff doesn't hear any of the songs, rather disappointingly. He's still stuck on the first one, the love ballad, the one Oli had sung and looked right at him. He'll find himself stuck on it, mesmerized by it, for the rest of the night and then some.

Eventually, the saloons closes. All the seats empty and the patrons are ushered out as midnight approaches. The bartender cleans up, then leaves. The only people who don't are Oli and The Sheriff.

"That was a nice song." Jimmy hums. The building is silent, and has been silent since everyone else left. They're been standing here for five minutes, maybe ten, not speaking. He doesn't think either of them really know what to say.

"Thank you, Sheriff." Oli responds, crossing his arms over his chest. He's no longer sitting on the counter, having moved so the workers could clean it. His lute is strapped to his back, like it always is when he travels. He's basically ready to leave. Jimmy wonders why he hasn't all ready.

Silence falls between them for a second time, after that. They still don't know what to say. Minutes tick by. The Sheriff turns words, lot of words, over in his head. None of them, no matter how many he tried, sound right. None of them leave his mouth. It's frustrating. And horribly awkward. Jimmy wishes, not for the first time, that he had better people skills.

"Well, I'll be off now." Oli speaks up next, and starts heading towards the door. He had to pass Jimmy to get to it. The Sheriff stiffens at the realization. He hopes that is awkward as well. He hopes it doesn't make this whole thing worse than it already is.

"See you soon." He mumbles, trying not to make much eye contact. Jimmy fails horribly at this. The bard walks towards him, and the doors, brown eyes never moving from the Sheriff's form. And Jimmy, try as he might, can't manage to look away.

"Yeah," Oli responds, stopping infront of him. And before either if them knows whats happening, the bard acts on an impulse and leans forward. He places a quick kiss on the Sheriff's cheek, then moves away fast as a rattlesnake. Like he had never even leaned in at all. "See you soon."

Jimmy watches him leave after that, his face bright red and the rest if his body frozen in place. He doesn't move for a long time after, and almost forgets to lock the tavern up once he does.

[vanessamooney]

Heaven Above - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Draco finds you late at night in the astronomy tower, set during 5-6th year.

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

On black nights where the air stood still and the sky was littered with flashing bulbs of hope she came and sat on the highest peak of the astronomy tower. Her legs were curled against her chest, squeezed uncomfortably tight by her frail arms. It was cold; not cold enough to shiver but cold enough to sit and ponder in thoughts that swirled within them the very galaxy.

Of course, she wasn’t allowed up here so late - no one was. It was so much like a game, one of the only thrills she partook in. It was worth it for her, even if she were to get caught; but she never did, not by wandering prefects, not by professors or other misbehaving students. Never by them. 

She was caught by the moon, and the stars, and creatures watching from the forest she wasn’t aware of. But she was aware of the moon, aware of the planets and the yearning which pulled her closer, which made her twinkling eyes widen just that little bit more, made her inhale just that little bit deeper and made her nostalgic for lifetimes ago that she never really experienced. 

It was the sort of magic the professors never taught, the sort of magic which had no history books or lessons to attend or true believers. Magic from another world, so much more fragile and fussy than the magic which spouted from her wand. It took tender love and peculiar attention for this magic to blossom; the kind which granted wishes made on stars and pleas blown on dandelions. 

Y/N let her legs dangle along the edge, fighting the cold stone against her skin. She planted her palms firmly next to her hips and she pondered on her own self and the foreboding which wrapped her in chills. She imagined she was the dandelion, and her petals were blown to be forever spread across the cosmos, never to be seen again.

'Don't get too close to the edge lest you fall,' 

She heard the familiar voice of Draco echo around the tower and into the distantness of the night. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and slowly turned to see the blonde boy standing with posture so rigid and his blue gaze piercing through the darkness. 

She met his gaze, her own expression unreadable. 'Malfoy,' she acknowledged, taken aback from the unexpected company. 

Y/N and Draco had spent the entirety of their schooling at Hogwarts in the same house, exchanging glances and polite nothings. 

In second year, the glances became longing and stares became more noticeable. Polite exchanges became longer and their seats in the great hall grew closer. Their friends became mutual and late night study in the library turned into giggles.

In third year their hands brushed each others during potions class, receiving unapproving looks from Snape. Weekends were spent with butter beer moustaches and unexpected flowers plucked from gardens.

In fourth year Draco asked Y/N to the Yule Ball and she was sorry to tell him that a Durmstrang boy had already asked her and she had said yes. Draco watched that year as she danced the night away with another boy, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

His eyes held the same look now as they did that night and she saw his face heavy with grief as the moonlight illuminated his features, 'Y/L/N,'

She motioned for him to join her, a flicker of sympathy softening her features even more - as if he didn't melt her just by being a flame. 

Draco joined her on the cold floor of the astronomy tower, the moon bathing them in her light. For a moment, they simply sat in silence, legs swinging in the tension, taking in the breathtaking view of the night sky stretched out before them. 

'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a breathy whisper as she gazed to the stars. 

Draco nodded in agreement, sneaking a glance of Y/N's side profile. He noted how flushed her lips were from the cold, how rosy she was and how the scent in her long hair enveloped them in peonies and myrtle with the gentle blows of the wind.

'Why are you out here?' 

'I could ask you the same thing,' 

'That’s true,' she smiled, 'But I asked you first,' 

Draco couldn't help but return her smile, he always had a soft spot for her. 'I just needed some air,' he admitted, his tone laced with a reserve that hinted against his own words. 'Now you,' 

'I just needed some air,' Y/N parroted, a glint of mischief lighting her up momentarily as they both let out a slight chuckle. She laid her heavy head on the willing shoulder next to her and he relished in her touch.

Draco felt a rush of warmth flood through him as Y/N mirrored his words, her playfulness always brought a sense of lightness to the atmosphere and he wishes he could selfishly lock her into a box, all for himself.

'Do you remember the first time we snuck out of the castle together?' he asked suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence that had settled between them. It was a moment he had buried deep within himself, yet it resurfaced now in the stillness.

Y/N lifted her head from his shoulder, looking at him inquisitively. 'How could I forget?' she replied, her voice filled with amusement. 'It seems like life times ago now,' she remembered, of course she remembered. 

She let out a heavy sigh upon the resurgence of buried memories, her gaze faltering to the twiddling thumbs in her lap. Her watering eyes met his and she couldn’t help but let out a sob, her eyes fluttering with embarrassment.

'What happened to us?' She breathed out shakily.

Draco reached out instinctively, his thumb brushing away her tears as he met her gaze with an unwavering intensity. 'I wish I knew,' he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret. 

With a lingering kiss on her forehead. Y/N leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his warmth as she struggled to compose herself. She reached out to rub his forearm to comfort him too but Draco had flinched, frantically pulling the white sleeves of his shirt down. And with a silent knowing glance, she knew exactly what happened to them. 

[novelistrry]

Her mouth gawked open at how casually he said it was like it was completely okay for her eyes to be ogling him like he was a piece of meat. Every single time he wore that shirt, she felt guilty for the ways her eyes could have burnt holes through his chest. Now, she was thinking he wore that shirt so often on purpose— to make her squirm. She tucked her face into the neck of her arm to hide from him.

“Stop hiding from me. Want to see your bashful face,” he pulled her face from the neck of her arm and placed his fingers below the underside of her chin once more so she wouldn’t pull away. “Y’know if you were one of the seven dwarfs, you would most definitely be Bashful.”

With an eye roll and a defeated puff from her lips, she finally gave him the answer he was hoping for, “I’ll go with you.”

As much as he wanted to be delighted by her response, he wanted to confirm that she was positive she actually wanted to go. He didn’t want to force her into doing anything she was unsure of, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Y/N stood from the chair and stretched out to rid the aches in her joints from sitting in one position for too long. “Do you think we could watch a movie?”

Or

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before.

Disclaimer: There is only light editing and it is smutty in this part!

Word Count: 14k+

Part One

The Spring breeze brushed Y/N’s cheeks.

Sprawling out on a plaid picnic blanket with her and Niall’s favorite lunch items was her favorite way to spend Sundays, especially when the park was filled with laughter, butterflies, and blooming flowers. Sunshine covered the entirety of the park, seeping warmth that trickled deep into her skin and bones, and she was soaking up every ounce she could get. Sunshine made her feel happy, and optimistic even.

Niall sat there with a book in hand, reading something for pleasure, taking a pause from all the educational content he had consumed over the past few months. It was some book that he begged Y/N to read, telling her that she would absolutely fall in love with the characters, but Y/N was too preoccupied with the tension brewing in her own life, not leaving much room for her to brew over fictional characters.

With a few snaps and a couple grunts, Niall managed to pull her from her reverie looking disgruntled as his book lay askew in his lap. “Sheesh, what do I have to do to get your attention nowadays. Dye my hair brown and curl it?”

That familiar heat that normally crept up her skin, penetrating her cheeks and the top of her ears rose once more, and her sheepish smile remained as she swatted in his direction, not actually able to nudge at him because he was a little too far. Y/N and Niall hadn’t talked about the bar a few weeks ago. He didn’t know where she snuck off to after school or why she was coming home late at night. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell him, Niall just hadn’t asked. “Oh, stop that!”

A teasing smile played upon his lips, curling just slightly and his eyes gleaming enough to know that a snide remark was going to be hurled at her soon. “So what, you spend all your time with him now and he occupies your thoughts when I’m with ya?”

Pink lips curved up, matching the same teasing smile Niall had displayed across his face. A shimmer in her eye had him realizing he wasn’t that far off the mark with his assumption, though she wasn’t keen on confirming that with him. A floral-scented breeze blew through her hair as she inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with the clean Spring air, resetting her breath and her thoughts. “How would you know if I spent all my time with him?”

In a fraction of a second, Niall was sitting a little closer to her, the book he was once enthralled with falling off of his lap and closing on itself, losing the page he had carefully left it open on. His arm extended to nudge her slightly, pushing her in the direction of that floral-scented breeze she just couldn’t get enough of. Dandelions were growing in the grass, rose petals were falling from the bushes that paved the park sidewalks, and blue skies hung over them. It was an omen of goodness, she thought.

“You think I don’t realize how late you sneak through the door? I can hear ya!” He wasn’t speaking to her in an accusatory tone like she was sneaking behind his back because she wasn’t. He spoke to her in a tone that says I’m your best friend, I just wanna know what’s going on in your life, so she decided that she would give him a glimpse at how her afternoons are spent.

“He’s been tutoring me, that’s all. He found out I was failing abnormal psych and told me he can help me. It’s completely innocent, but he helps me after school…” She trailed off, leaving out the details that he drives her to his apartment where they lay her books out on the kitchen table and he goes through each concept with her, or that sometimes when they’re feeling a little tired, they lay her books out on the coffee table and sit together on the couch, elbows and knees brushing. She leaves out the fact that she stares at the way his mouth moves when he speaks, and sometimes he gives her a stern look, indicating that he knows where she’s looking and she needs to focus on the subject at hand. Besides the subtle and gentle brushes of bare skin, and the fact that she sometimes stares when she shouldn’t, it was a completely innocent thing.

“But you don’t want it to be innocent, is that it?” Niall asked, the judgment-free from his tone. Curiosity was interwoven between the syllables, but there was no indication that he was judging her for her…. Er… Feelings? 

Hummingbirds flew past them as she thought of an answer. A couple thoughts were swimming through her brain, but none that she wanted to share with him. No, she wanted to keep some of them private, just for her. She didn’t want to tell him about the kiss they shared, or the way her fingers would graze her lips the following week after their lips had touched ever-so-gently. She didn’t want to tell him that when she breathes in the citrus scents in the produce aisle at the grocery store she thinks of his minty citrus cologne, or how sometimes when he would lean in while she studied, her heart would thump a little harder and her skin would warm with a feeling she couldn’t quite place just yet. 

“I don’t think so,” was all she said, not giving any other information. That is all Niall wanted to hear, that she knew she was feeling something more than a bond between two colleagues. If he was being honest with himself, he was a little worried for her. A professor and TA isn’t the worst combination, eventually, when the semester ended, she would no longer be his TA, but she had never expressed a crush even throughout undergrad. Hell, Niall didn’t think she had very much experience with guys, but that would never be an appropriate question to ask her.

“As long as you’re being safe, I’m happy that you feel so happy,” the response was honest. He was happy, though a tad nervous like mentioned before, but happy to see her so consumed with the sunshine, the flowers, and the hummingbirds that swirled around them. He thinks maybe, just maybe, her sweetened mood might be the force that brought Spring on so suddenly.

“Thank you, Niall,” she said slowly, “I am happy.”

____

“Are you understanding this?” Harry pointed to words in bolded letters that read mood disorders. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip as he lowered himself from the couch to the floor, criss crossing his legs so that he was adjacent to the book Professor Smith required in his class (it happened to be the same one Harry required, so he knew the book like the back of his hand and it made the lessons with Y/N so much simpler). 

A puff blew from Y/N’s lips as she eyed him, the words he was speaking weren’t registering in her ears. It seemed that with each passing day, she became more flustered with the proximity of him and more restless each time their skin brushed or she watched his tongue wet his lips— something she had never quite experienced. To her own embarrassment, she had googled the symptoms and Google had told her she was experiencing a kind of attraction she had probably never experienced before. Y/N thought back to the few people she had a crush on years ago and realized that they just made something bubble in her tummy, but never made her feel the way she felt when she looked at Harry. She felt so jumpy and jittery around him, she was beginning to think something was wrong with her. Quickly, she clicked out the tab and then cleared her search history, although she knew that no one was going to be able to look through it beside her. She just didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that she had googled something that made her feel so virginal.

It was true, she had only ever kissed one person other than Harry. She didn’t have half the experience Harry had, and she probably couldn’t even convincingly say she had a quarter of his experience either. The boy was named Kitt, and she met him at a summer camp they both attended in high school. At the end of the camp, right before she was shipped back home, Kitt planted one on her. She didn’t feel for Harry the same way she felt for Kitt, her relationship with Kitt felt childish in comparison. She wanted to feel Harry, really truly feel his mouth against hers. Not the way he kissed her in the office to cheer her up, make her feel better, and soothe the horrid thoughts that were rifling through her brain. She wanted a kiss where she was attentive, where she could explore every inch of his mouth, and where she could—

“Are you even listening to me?” He asked her, pushing his face into his hands. At first, she thought maybe he was losing patience with her, but when he nudged her with his elbow and sent an angelic smile (the kind of smile that would make a person drop to their knees), she knew he was only teasing her.

Embarrassment flooded through her as she was caught, once again, not paying attention to the concepts he was trying to teach her and rather drifting off into daydreams about him. The sun was setting, the natural light in the living room slowly dimmed as they shifted from day to night, and she knew that their time together for the night would be coming to an end soon. She should have really been listening to him, taking in each sound of his voice, the way his deep voice wrapped around the consonants and vowels, but she just couldn’t help it. Ugh, she just couldn’t focus.

“I’m sorry,” she answered him genuinely. She was sorry for not listening. He was taking so much of his free time to help her learn and she repaid him by not listening. How could she tell him that the way his eyes locked with hers, sultry and tempting sent her spiraling into daydreams she didn’t want to pick herself out of? How could she tell him that when she watched his tongue flick over his lips, she thought of the way his lips felt against hers and how she wanted to feel that again? She wouldn’t tell him that, so she settled on the next best thing and put her face in her hands to hide from his concerned stare, “I’m just having trouble focusing.”

With caution, he shifted his body and brought himself back onto the couch so that he was sitting next to her once more. Harry had been noticing the way she was in and out of their conversations, sometimes completely immersed and other times floating away so high that he thought he would have to bring her back down with a butterfly net. Usually, he tried not to make her feel too bad about it, he didn’t want her to think that she was upsetting him, because she wasn’t. But, this was the second week of her floating to space as he talked. Sometimes he would catch her right before she slipped into the reveries it was hard to bring her out of, but today she was long gone and he was beginning to feel anxious over her lack of focus.

“I know you are,” he reached over and hooked his fingers on the inside of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face so that she would look at him. He didn’t want to treat her like a damsel in distress of any sort or like he was some hero trying to save her from her own thoughts— that’s not what was going on at all. He just wanted to understand her better, to figure out where her brain was running off to. “Won’t you tell me why?”

There it was again, that soft voice that makes her admit things she otherwise would have been so unwilling to do. Fingers caressed her cheek lightly; his fingers. Without much thought, she tilted her head into his fingers, begging for his touch without actually saying anything. It was dangerous, he knew it was. The last time he crossed a boundary with her, he told her it couldn’t happen again, and though she occupied most of his thoughts, it had been a month since the kiss, since he pushed her up against the wall of the bar and she licked his finger, and he wasn’t willing to cross that boundary again even though he wanted to. 

“‘Can’t stop thinking about you,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering close as his fingers brushed against her cheek in soft strokes. With so much delicacy, with so much precision, he gave her one last stroke of the cheek before tucking his hands in his lap. Y/N’s eyes which were peacefully shut as she soaked in the brief skin-on-skin contact abruptly opened at the lack of physical touch.

“I see,” his tone shifted to one that was more guarded, one that was less like the cheerful, sweet Harry she had gotten so used to over the past month. “You just really need to understand this stuff.”

Harry was trying to reason with her, he really was and she knew it too. She wanted to cross her arms, turn her lips down into a gruff point, and tell him that she wanted to talk to him outside of all the studying. Maybe it was wrong, but she wanted to get to know him for who he was outside of a college professor. There were so many things in his home that made her think that he was quite possibly the most interesting being to ever walk the planet. Vinyls crammed into a bookshelf that was absolutely not made for vinyl but must have run out of room for his records on the measly shelves you can buy at the record store. The furniture wasn’t your typical ikea branded nightstands and sofas. It was much more intricate like he had spent his days going to vintage furniture stores, trying to find the coziest couch that matched his bubbly spirit. Y/N had never been so interested in the ins and outs of someone’s life, how they formed their taste, or how they decided their career path. The closest thing she could think of was how she hammered Niall with twenty questions when they first met. It was purely platonic, never any mutual attraction between the two. Obviously, Y/N knew he was a little pretty, but she was much more interested in being his friend than anything else. 

“I know,” she huffed out, furrowing her brows in frustration. A feeling of smallness washed over her, realizing that she admitted she thinks about him. A lot. Too much. And he responded by telling her she needed to understand the course contents. Of course, she knew that. “I’m trying.”

His lips twitched and though he knew he shouldn’t indulge her further, he liked to see her bashful gaze and the way she sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth and furrowed her eyebrows, attempting to give him the most thoughtful answer she could possibly think of. Honestly, Y/N was the type of girl that people could say was put through a time machine. She chose her words carefully, she picked her actions cautiously, and she was too mindful for her own good. But when it came to Harry, she felt so out of control of herself. It was massively infuriating. 

Against his own better judgment he asked her the question he knew he shouldn’t have, “What do you think of when you think of me?”

She pondered momentarily, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, furrowing her eyebrows, and searching the crevices of her brain for a way to respond to him. She just spent the better half of the lesson with him, thinking about his lips and how they felt, but she didn’t let her thoughts go further than that. No, she barely tried to think about the way her tongue licked from the base of his finger and then swirled against the tip because she could barely handle where the thoughts might lead to. She didn’t want to admit it, not when he was so firm about the boundary they set in his office a month ago right after the kiss they shared. “I wonder what you’re like outside of school and tutoring. I look around your apartment and see all these intricate things and beautiful paintings, and it makes me wonder how you spend your free time.”

“That’s all?” He looked at her incredulously, wondering why she was so shy about daydreaming about how he spends his free time. Actually, he would have even gone as far as to say that he was disappointed. All she had to do was ask him, and he would cross that boundary with her once more.

“Yes,” she hummed out, slumping her shoulders forward and resting her elbows on her knees, “That’s it.”

“Well,” he responded, closing the textbook but not before dog-earring the book to mark their spot (one of Y/N’s biggest pet peeves was dog-earring a book instead of using a bookmark, but she guesses she doesn’t mind so much when it’s Harry who does it). “Can I make a deal with you?”

“That depends on the deal,” she quirked one of her eyebrows.

“If I tell you that we can spend some time together outside of studying, do you promise to try and pay attention a little more?” He asked, giving her the best deal she could have possibly thought of.

“Of course!” Excitement nearly burst from the pores of her skin, and she didn’t have it in herself to be mortified by the way she responded with such enthusiasm.

“It’s a deal, Darling,” he reached out his hand and grasped hers, shaking gently.

That’s how it began. That is how Y/N and Harry began spending so much time together, going on picnics, seeing movies, getting coffees at the shop on the corner of where his flat was located, visiting flower shops, feeding the ducks bread at the pond (though Y/N googled it and found out that oats are much better for ducks because if you throw the bread in the pond, it can rot and collect algae causing harm to the wildlife in the surrounding area). That is how Harry ended up keeping a 42-ounce container of oats in his car just in case she wanted to feed the ducks.

____

Bright lights shone in the sterile atmosphere, and Y/N knew she should have been paying attention after being called out by Professor Smith just last month, but it was only partner work with Mallory and Mallory didn’t mind that she was dazing off back into that far away land. Actually, Y/N noticed that Mallory was too, except when she peered over at Mallory, her eyes were narrowed, her fingers were gripping the desk tightly, and it was like she could physically see the color drain from her face. 

“Mallory?” Y/N questioned her friend, pulling Mallory from her thoughts. With care, Mallory set the pen on the table, then rubbed her eyes in a couple brisk moments. When she finally looked back at Y/N, she still didn’t have that signature warm look in her eyes. The kind of look that tells people “You’re safe with me.” It was gone, buried under deep gray clouds and Y/N could nearly see that the storm was brewing behind those eyes.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” she explained, her eyes still not meeting Y/N’s. The blank gaze was becoming alarming with each passing minute, and usually, Y/N didn’t like to push because she knew how it felt, and it was not a very good feeling, but she decided that she and Mallory had made good enough friends that it was slightly acceptable.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A question that was open, and couldn’t be classified as pushing because it was a close-ended yes or no type of question. If she said no, they would move on immediately and Mallory would never hear another peep out of Y/N regarding the subject. Prying just felt too invasive.

“I think Josh is cheating on me.” It turns out Mallory didn’t need any other pushing, because the words slipped from her lips so easily but with careful caution as she looked around the room, eager to see if anyone was eavesdropping on the pair (no one was, Y/N thinks Mallory just didn’t want the whole class to know her business, which was fair. She didn’t want anyone knowing her business either, but Professor Smith had other plans).

“Why do you think that?” The question Y/N asked was genuine, and filled with care. Y/N couldn’t imagine, what a horrible thing to think and how it must be weighing on Mallory heavily. Y/N thinks if she was kissing Harry all the time, and then found out he had been with other girls, it would feel like a knife right in her chest. But it was much different for Mallory. Mallory was in love with Josh, and from what Y/N gathered, Josh loved Mallory too. So how could he do something like that?

“I found underwear in the backseat of his car when I was looking for one of my earbuds that I dropped…” Mallory began gathering her thoughts, “they were tucked in between the seat and the floor, right next to where my earbud went.”

Y/N nodded in understanding, “I see, and you don’t understand why your underwear would be in the car.” 

“Well, no,” Mallory explained, trying to get Y/N on the same wavelength as her. “It wouldn’t matter if I found my underwear in the car. Sometimes we just need each other so bad. The issue is that it wasn’t my underwear. I have never owned a laced pair of red underwear with pink hearts embroidered. Never.” 

It suddenly clicked in Y/N’s brain. That wouldn’t make a lot of sense for Mallory to find a pair of underwear she has never owned in her life in Josh’s car. Y/N tried to think of ways it could be a misunderstanding, to reassure Mallory that maybe it wasn’t as it seemed. There was no way Y/N could spin it in her head that made Josh look less guilty than he actually was. He seemed very guilty. “Have you said anything to him yet?” 

Mallory shook her head and pressed her cheek against the coolness of the wooden desk, “Tonight I will. I think I just wanna be in my thoughts right now.”

Y/N whispered something small, telling her that she understood and did not fault Mallory for not wanting to talk about it anymore. Maybe Y/N was a little relieved at that because she didn’t know the first thing that would make someone feel better about that. She couldn’t tap into prior experience, she couldn’t pull from when she was cheated on because Y/N was never in a situation like that. Actually, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying that sentence Mallory had said that awakened a realization deep in the pit of her gut, it was fizzling like a volcano was ready to explode. Sometimes we just need each other so bad, was what Mallory had said. Those simple string of words laced together helped Y/N describe the way she had been feeling for Harry; restless, tense, and she felt like she just needed him so badly every time she saw him. It was a realization that what she was experiencing was an attraction like no other, but how was she supposed to tell him?

____

Harry hated it.

If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was miscommunication; plain and simple. Or in this case, lack of communication.

He couldn’t even tell you how many nights they sat down, side by side at his kitchen table going over the textbook (at this point he wanted to throw it through the window, he was so sick of it) and ignored the tension that was growing between them. With each longing glance, the tension was nourished. They were watering it, he thought. They were causing it to grow bigger and bigger until one day it couldn’t be confined to the four walls and they were just going to explode.

Sometimes the tension grew when they weren’t studying too. Actually, that’s where it seemed to get worse. When they were out and about, she would do subtle things that would work him up. Make him wanna grip her hips and pin her against the wall again, just like the bar. God, the bar. He pushed the thought down, but a similar thought began to rise.

“No, Harry,” she shook her head and tutted her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around his and encased his hand in hers. She was trying to show him the best way to feed the ducks. “This is how you do it.”

“So now you’re the professor?” He asked her, watching the bashful gaze flutter upon her features as she tucked her cheek against his shoulder. She began shaking his hand, letting the oats fall out from in between his fingers. He did understand it, though, the technique she was teaching him was a lot better than the technique he was using which clumped all the oats together. Now the ducks could pick the oats off the ground with space instead of cramming against one another.

“I think you can learn a few things from me,” She retorted, finally dropping his hand from hers. It was a strange feeling he had. The feeling that he didn’t want her to let go, he didn’t want her touch to fade.

“I think I can too,” he replied, tilting his head to the side, admiring her compassion and thoughtfulness. He thinks that if he weren’t there with her, Y/N would have the ducks eating from the palm of her hand.

But, finally, the lack of communication had reached its breaking point. He couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed to hear her thoughts. He just needed her to talk to him. So, he slammed the textbook shut a little too aggressively, causing her to jump and glare at him with frustration. 

“I was in the middle of reading that!” Y/N’s glare persisted, but now her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were flipped downward in a pout that told him she wasn’t happy with him shutting the book so abruptly and not giving a warning.

“Let’s talk,” he ignored the pout on her lips and the way her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. What he didn’t ignore was the way her fingernails nervously scratched at the table. Gently, he took her hands into his and shifted his body so they were facing each other. Her hands, still tucked tightly in his, were placed in his lap. It didn’t take long for him to note the way the pout wiped from her face as soon as she felt his skin against hers as if it was soothing for her hands to be in his.

“But you always scold me for talking when I’m trying to study!” She argued, trying to get to the bottom of why he wanted to talk. Y/N went through a mental checklist in her head of things he might want to talk about, but there was nothing so pressing that he needed to slam her book closed mid-sentence. She was finally passing Professor Smith’s class, she was keeping up with all her TA work in his class, and she wasn’t slipping into daydreams since her conversation with Mallory happened.

It took him a couple moments to respond. Instead, he admired her for just a second. She deserves admiration from time to time. Hell, she deserves admiration all the time. She was so cute he didn’t think it was humanly possible. If someone came knocking down his door and telling him that he was seduced by an alien and needed to report to NASA headquarters immediately, he wouldn’t have second-guessed it. He looked at her like she hung the moon, the sun, the galaxy, and everything in between.

“Will you quit staring,” she grumbled shyly.

“I just want to know how you feel, that’s all.” He was trying to be as straightforward as possible.

____

He wanted to know how she felt? Since her conversation with Mallory, she tried to find the words she would tell him. Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy to keep it bottled up and locked away. In fact, with each passing day, she felt like she was going to burst. Eventually, they were going to have this talk and she knew it was coming. No matter how much she thought about it, she didn’t think she would ever fully prepare for it. Obviously, after she and Harry shared the kiss, they talked about it and how it couldn’t ever happen again, but besides that, they both chose to ignore that it ever happened.

She popped her mouth open ready for the words to come out, but when they didn’t, she closed her mouth once more. Y/N did this a few more times, noting how patient Harry was with her. She thinks she might be the luckiest girl to be able to talk to someone so patient and kind.

“I was talking with Mallory,” Harry stiffened at the sound of Mallory’s name so she quickly revised the thoughts that poured from her brain and straight out the fountain that was her mouth, “Not about us! About her and her boyfriend. She thinks he’s cheating on her, but she hasn’t gotten to talk to him yet…” Y/N’s words faded out as she tried to figure out how to phrase this without sounding needy.

Y/N decided the best way was to start from the beginning, so she continued with her story, “Mallory said she dropped an earbud, so she was looking in the backseat of her boyfriend's car for it and found a pair of underwear that didn’t belong to her. Well, at first I thought it was because why would there be underwear in his car, but then she explained it wouldn’t have been that weird to find her underwear in his car because I guess sometimes they sleep together in the car. She told me they only did that when they felt like they needed each other badly,” she paused momentarily, once again trying to locate the words. “I think that’s how I feel about you. A strong desire.”

A strong desire? What was she thinking? She replayed the words, feeling so stupid for even saying them out loud. Y/N had admitted that she desired him but didn’t think he would return that same desire. How could he? The look on his face was unreadable, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the room around them. She could feel the lights penetrating through the top layer of skin warming her up, she could hear the sound of the fireplace under his television crackling, and she could see the way his eyes flickered between her mouth and then back to her pupils. She may have messed up something go—

As if he was plucking a delicate flower from the grass, he pulled her body closer to him. She was off the chair and back in his lap in mere seconds, the same way she was back in his office when they shared the first kiss. Completely straddling him on the dining room chair, she was all too aware of how exposed she was in his position. She was reminded of the feel of his thighs between her legs once more. This time the kiss wasn’t gentle and filled with tears, it was more longing and wet. He pinched the sides of her hips with a such delicate precision that her mouth dropped open, just slightly to let him in.

Her prior kisses played on a loop in her mind. They had never felt like this before. This was pure desire, no doubt about it. His tongue caressed the inside of her mouth, and he tasted like the juice he was drinking as they studied. A soft and subtle notion of cranberry filled her mouth, and when she took a deep breath through her nose, she smelled his minty citrus signature scent. 

Tongues colliding, she felt as if she could transcend from her body. And for a second, she thought she may have left her body and watched the two of them go at it from an outside perspective. It was sensual the way they moved together as if the two of them were one and the same. A piece of art carved from the same stone. 

When his tongue retreated back to his own mouth, allowing her to feel the inside of his, she let a small moan escape, the vibration snaking its way up her throat and into his mouth. He could have melted then and there. The sound embarrassed her just a little bit. The moan—or whimper, really— was filled with such desperation and corrupt desire she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of shame in the pit of her gut.

She pulled away, her face burying into his chest so that she couldn’t see the look on his face. “Sorry.”

He stroked his fingers up and down her sides, slipping beneath her shirt to feel her skin and she let out a small gasp at the feel of his fingers brushing against her sides. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“You said we couldn’t do it again, remember?” She tacked on the end of her sentence to jog his memory. As if he had forgotten what he told her in his office a month ago about how they needed to place a boundary. Clearly, it wasn’t going to work so why deny them the pleasure of each other’s company even further?

“Is this what you want?” He pulled her face from his chest, using one of his fingers to support the underside of her chin. At this moment, he wanted eye contact with her, he wanted to make sure she was telling him what she wanted. He didn’t want to guess or have to read between the lines; he had to know. Did she want him?

“I want this,” she puffed out a breath, sleepily fluttering her eyes. “Really, I want this.”

“I think,” he breathes slowly, bringing his finger to her lips and wiping off the residue of his mouth. He had half a mind to leave it there for him to admire under the dim kitchen light, “I want to do this with you too. We just have to be careful.”

“Right,” her sleepy eyes settled upon his brown curls. “No one can find out.”

“It’s not that,” he shook his head and grasped her hands once more, bringing their hands enclosed together to his chest. She could feel the thump of his heart against her chest, “I want to protect you here.” And she knew he meant her heart.

Stars circled around them, enclosing them in their own bubble against the word. It was at this moment she took the time to look at him, really truly see him for what he was. She had done it once before when she first met him, but she tried not to do it again to keep her heart from fluttering at an alarmingly fast rate. But now she felt like she could appreciate his beauty for what it was; she was comfortable with that. Harry’s jaw was sharp and clean-cut like he was cut from stone. The apples of his cheeks were kissed by angels, pink and rosy. His eyes were a clear green, the type of green that flourished in the forest and faeries hid in. He wasn’t just handsome. No, he was more than that. Truly, he was beautiful. A spark twitched in her chest, an appreciation that he wanted her the same way, too.

“Stop looking at me that way,” amusement flickered in his eyes, but longing swam in his bones as her gaze studied the intricacies of his facial features. 

Confusion appeared on her face, “What do you mean?”

“Stop lookin’ at me like I hung the moon and the stars, and make the earth spin on its axis.” He was only teasing her, and it was something she was still trying to get used to. Sometimes, Y/N was a very literal person, and couldn’t pick up on teasing or sarcasm on the first go. She had to dissect the conversation a little more before she could be certain teasing and sarcasm were at play.

“I think you did,” she hummed and his chest thumped faster against her hands. Y/N liked that she was making him do that.

Rose-colored blush presented on his cheeks, and with a successful feeling stirring inside her, she pressed a kiss to the tops of each cheek.

“Do you think I could tell Mallory?” If there was one person Y/N wanted to tell, it was Mallory. Well, Niall too, but she knew that she didn’t need to ask Harry about that. It’s not like Niall was one of his TAs too.

“Yes, Sweetheart. I think that would be fine,” without hesitation, his lips collided with hers once more, but the words he murmured when he pulled away caused a breath to catch in her throat, “You’re very pretty.”

____

Tomato sandwiches were currently Y/N’s hyper-fixation meal, and as Mallory talked and Y/N listened (no surprise there), she gnawed on the edge of her sandwich. 

The pair had been eating lunch together in the cafeteria. Mallory was fighting a rough breakup, and Josh would not stop texting her. At one point, Mallory handed Y/N her phone and told her to just scroll through. It was a series of apologies, ‘it will never happen again’, and ‘I need you.’ Y/N was proud that Mallory basically told him to swim in the stream of his own tears, then blocked him. After Josh realized Mallory blocked him from texting her, he moved to other forms of communication, but this time he was no longer texting her apologies and they were actually quite alarming messages.

“Do you wanna hear what I think?” Y/N asked before giving unsolicited advice. If Mallory didn’t want to hear what Y/N was thinking, she wouldn’t just spring that information onto her. Through the course of the past couple of weeks, Y/N began collecting her thoughts on the situation. She didn’t want to give advice or put in her two cents prematurely, but as the situation between Mallory and Josh got worse and worse, Y/N was sure her thoughts on him wouldn’t change.

“Of course I do. You’re my friend,” Mallory insisted, waiting for her to give some humbling advice. It wasn’t often Y/N asked Mallory if she could offer her thoughts on the situation. As time went on, Mallory noted that Y/N wasn’t the talkative type. While she always had great things to add to the conversation, if she didn’t want to speak then she wouldn’t. Sometimes Y/N only wanted to listen, and that was okay with Mallory. In truth, Mallory thinks they balanced each other well.

“I think you dodged a bullet,” Y/N said a little loudly over the sound of sports players rushing into the college cafeteria, heavy cleats clicking against the tile sounding louder as they passed by the pair trying to enjoy their lunch in peace. “And you’re my friend, too,” Y/N added at the end there.

“You’re right,” A sorrowful sigh escaped from Mallory’s lips, indicating to Y/N that even though she was right, Mallory was still sad about it. Y/N really, really didn’t want her to be too sad over a guy that was proven to be disgustingly manipulative. Maybe Y/N wasn’t the best judge of character, a little too trusting, but the red flags Josh was displaying toward Mallory were enough for Y/N to know that his intentions were not very good.

“What did you think of my friend Niall?” Y/N asked. After Y/N and Niall got home from their “double date” (she used that term very loosely), Niall wouldn’t stop talking about how funny Mallory was. He kept saying that she was better than the comedian they had all saw before the nightclub came to life, and that next time they should put her on the stage. He also kept saying that she was very pretty, and Y/N noticed the sheepish glances he threw in Mallory’s direction throughout the night.

“He was very fun to be around,” Hesitation was laced in Mallory’s tone, and if Mallory didn’t know any better, she thought Y/N and Niall were finally together. “Are you guys finally together?”

“No! Ugh!” Y/N threw her hands up in exasperation, dropping her tomato sandwich back on the paper napkin she packed in her lunch pale. “I want to set you guys up on a date. I don’t like Niall like that! Actually, I’m seeing someone. He’s not my boyfriend or anything, and he might not even really like me like that, but he likes to kiss me.”

Mallory paused for a moment, scrunching her nose and finally nodding her head in response to Y/N, “I would probably like to go on a date with Niall. If he’s chosen you as a best friend, I know he’s got good taste.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Well, then, good. Because I know Niall would like to go on a date with you.”

Mallory backtracked for a moment, the words Y/N spoke finally processing fully in her head, “Who are you seeing? And, I think the term you’re looking for is hooking up. If you guys don’t actually like each other like that and it's purely physical.”

Purely physical? Is that what she wanted? Y/N brought her voice to a whisper, glancing around to see if anyone was trying to listen in on their conversation (they weren’t) before murmuring, “Harry.”

Mallory’s face didn’t drop in shock, her face didn’t contort with disgust, but her eyes sparked with delight. “You might be the luckiest girl alive.”

____

“Now when you read this concept from the book—”

“Would you go out with me, Mallory, and Niall on Friday? We’re going to play putt-putt, and I’m trying to set them up,” Y/N interrupted him, surprisingly for the first time during their one-on-one lesson today. It wasn’t that she wasn’t paying attention, but about ten minutes ago, she realized her attempt to set Niall and Mallory up was going to turn into her being the third wheel. Now, there was nothing wrong with that, but she had a feeling once Niall and Mallory got their hands on each other, they wouldn’t take them off. If Harry agreed to come along at least she could use him to escape during the date, and it would be fun to see how he gets along with her friends. Obviously, Harry and Mallory get along well in a work-type setting, but she wanted to see how they could get along as simply friends.

With delicacy, he shut the book. If there was one thing Harry could pick up on, it was when Y/N’s brain was becoming overloaded with information. She couldn’t retain an information dump the way he could, so he adjusted to the way she learned best because all he wanted was for her to be as comfortable as possible. Sometimes he thought about the way, with teary eyes, told him she didn’t want him to think she was stupid. He never wanted her to feel that way again.

“Could we make another deal, Darling?” Harry’s fingers grazed the underside of her chin, pushing it up just a tad so he could get a full view of her face. Viewing her face in full was a must for him, he was constantly imagining that face when she wasn’t around.

“I am open to making a deal,” the words came out slowly, her head nodded with each syllable, and she tended to like the deals he made with her because there was always some sort of benefit for the both of them.

“If I come with you to see your friends, would you come with me to see mine on Saturday?” He didn’t want to pressure her into coming. In fact, he thought about asking her but decided against it because he didn’t want her to feel obligated. When she brought up the question about him tagging along with her, Mallory, and Niall, he thought maybe he was in the clear to ask her a similar question about meeting his friends, but then her face fell in what he thought was… Hesitation? 

“What’s the occasion?” The pressure was applied to his fingertips as she glanced down at her hands in her lap, and she began picking at the sides of her fingernails. She wanted to meet Harry’s friends, but she was nervous about being around large groups of new people. At least when she hung out in big groups with Niall, she had him around her at all times, and by now, she was so used to Niall’s friends, it wasn’t uncomfortable to strike up a conversation with his pals.

“It’s a wine night. My friend Mitch is hosting this time. It’s basically a small party. We wear nice clothes, drink wine, listen to music, and catch up. It’s proper fun,” Harry was trying to make the environment as calming and fun as possible, realizing the hesitation on her end was just nerves.

“Nice clothes?” She questioned and had to physically stop herself from picking at her nails by grasping at the edge of the table otherwise she would make her skin go raw.

“Not super nice, just not sweatpants and jumpers since it won’t only be our immediate friend group. Sometimes we do that when it’s purely game night, drinks, and a movie,” he explained, and he knew exactly what to say to get her to agree so he added at the end, “I’ll even wear that satin shirt you like. You know, the one that has my tattoos peeking out. The one you drool over.”

Her mouth gawked open at how casually he said it was like it was completely okay for her eyes to be ogling him like he was a piece of meat. Every single time he wore that shirt, she felt guilty for the ways her eyes could have burnt holes through his chest. Now, she was thinking he wore that shirt so often on purpose— to make her squirm. She tucked her face into the neck of her arm to hide from him.

“Stop hiding from me. Want to see your bashful face,” he pulled her face from the neck of her arm and placed his fingers below the underside of her chin once more so she wouldn’t pull away. “Y’know if you were one of the seven dwarfs, you would most definitely be Bashful.”

With an eye roll and a defeated puff from her lips, she finally gave him the answer he was hoping for, “I’ll go with you.”

As much as he wanted to be delighted by her response, he wanted to confirm that she was positive she actually wanted to go. He didn’t want to force her into doing anything she was unsure of, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Y/N stood from the chair and stretched out to rid the aches in her joints from sitting in one position for too long. “Do you think we could watch a movie?”

“Anything for you,” he spoke softly and honestly, the gentle tone ringing in her ear like music. His voice was a symphony made just for her, “You know that.”

____

The words that tumbled from Y/N’s lips in the middle of the movie really caught Harry off guard. It was her delivery, actually, that had him furrowing his eyebrows and asking her to repeat the statement one more time just in case he heard it wrong. It was unprompted, there was no sign indicating that’s how she was feeling (specifically at that exact moment), and the look on her face was of shock like she hadn’t meant to say it; it just kind of slipped out.

“I said,” She cleared her throat and he felt her cheeks heat beneath his fingertips as she spoke. The pair were uniquely sitting on the couch. Harry was sitting with his legs kicked up on the coffee table, and Y/N was sitting with her head in his lap and her legs taking up the rest of the unused couch space. As they were watching the movie, Harry would stroke her cheeks or run his fingers through her hair just to feel her, “I would like to do more than kiss.”

If Harry was trying to keep a composed face, free of shock or confusion, he was almost positive he was failing. His lips and eyes felt too numb to actually realize how he was looking at her. How could he lie and say he didn’t want to do more than kiss either, he just wasn’t sure how to initiate it given their circumstances— and why would he deny her what she wanted?

“What do you want to do, then?” He spoke the words clearly, that lustful tone leaking past his lips and soaking her with it, 

“I’m not,” she began, pausing for thought, “As experienced as you, I think.”

Harry nodded, encouraging Y/N to continue. He could tell there was something on the tip of her tongue, the words she was failing to formulate stuck in the back of her throat, begging to come out. 

“Well, I just think...” she picked her head off the warmth that was his lap, “You’re very good at teaching. Would you teach me? I want to be good for you.”

It turns out that Harry was going to make her work for it, he was going to make her say the words out loud. His ego was slightly inflated by her gentle words, calling him a good teacher and asking him to teach her. Harry didn’t like assuming, but from what he was understanding, she wanted to teach him how to feel good and make other people feel good. Though, Harry didn’t think she would need much teaching as half the time he has to go close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to will his stiff cock away.

“Teach you what, Darling?” His fingers were grazing the inside of her thighs, telling her he knew exactly what she wanted from him. He was just slightly devilish, wanting to hear the filthy words fall from her lips. 

Sighing, she moved her thigh into his touch. Begging, pleading, wanting... “Please don’t make me say it, Harry.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me? Hm?” Harry continued to work his fingers up her thigh until it rested just above the button of her pants where he was waiting to help her out of her pants. At this point, he was no longer assuming, he knew exactly what she wanted; she wanted to hit that sweet spot, she wanted him to get her there, to ride it out on him and hit that euphoric state right in front of him. 

With a shuddering breath, she responded, “Yes, yes... I’ll be good. Just please.” Her fingers reached for her button, gently touching Harry’s own fingers, and her pants were off in a matter of seconds. She thinks she heard something about him saying she was so good for begging him for it, but the words didn’t register as he gently pulled her across his lap so that each leg was on either side of her thigh. Her wet center was directly on his thighs, and if she knew any better, she could have come right on the spot. 

“Would you look at that?” His fingers strode up her slit covered by the fabric of her white panties, “I can see you straight through your panties, Darling. How long have you been this soaked?”

He prompted her to start rocking against his thigh, so she did as she was told and began moving up and down. The friction was enough to make her let out a noise she had never heard from herself before. As of now, she wasn’t embarrassed, just full of wanting, needing, and lusting. She would be embarrassed by her desire and the sounds she mewled atop his thigh later, but for right now, she just wanted to feel good. 

With one quick motion, he was stimulating her clit, making her feel so many things, so many emotions, she could barely handle it. She continued to rock against his thigh, and if she didn’t know any better, he may have shifted his leg upwards so that she was getting the best possible access to his leg. This was going to be her new obsession; she was going to stare at his thigh at school and wonder what it would feel like for him to take her right into his office, she was going to drool over it while they studied and beg him to let her feel good because she can’t focus until he lets her come. 

“Those are such pretty noises,” he commented when another moan slipped past her lips and her head threw back as he gripped her hips and brought her closer to his crotch. 

She looked down, taking in his cock through his sweatpants. God, he was so pretty. Hard against the fabric of his pants, and the tip was leaking just enough for her to notice through the gray cotton. 

He glanced down at what she was staring out, a smirk playing across his lips. She was simply everything. So good, so sweet, so attentive. “You’re gonna come just by looking at my cock through my pants?”

She didn’t have it in her to feel ashamed when she felt this good. All she could think about is how he would feel inside her, how his lips would feel around her neck. Even... how his hands would feel around her neck, claiming her as his own. In response to him, she just moaned and mumbled something— slightly incoherent, it took him a moment to decipher— “Want to feel your cock inside me.” 

____

Harry was over the moon with the phrase that tumbled off her lips in her pure, unadulterated need for him. As much as he wanted to give her what she asked for. She was such a good girl, she deserved the whole world. He wasn’t sure how well she would be able to take it now. Y/N was already overstimulated by his thigh and his fingers circling her clit when she let out an unrestrained moan, threw her head back, and her thighs tensed around his, he knew she was going to come. But, he wanted her to hold out, just for a little bit.

He couldn’t help it; she looked so pretty like this. She looked like she was made for him, like a puzzle piece that fit on his thigh so well, there was no possible way the pair weren’t made for each other. Longing glances and looks filled with need had been exchanged by Harry and Y/N for quite some time, sometimes in between classes he’d have to give his cock a proper tug, otherwise, he would have been walking around stiff— and aching— for the rest of the day. He wanted her so much, it was unbelievable. But, Harry wanted her to make the first move, he wanted her to be sure this is what she wanted, and when she finally looked at him with that needy gaze, he knew he had to give her what she asked for. 

“You’re not ready for my cock, baby. You’re so needy, hm?” It was slightly condescending, and what did it say about her that tightness in her belly coiled when he called her needy? He was right, she was needy. 

“Can I move against your cock the way I am now? With your pants still on? Need it. Really need it,” Her words were jumbled together, separated by moans filled with desire as she moved in up and down motions against his thigh. He knew if he gave her what she wanted, she would come right then and there, as soon as her core touched the hardness of his cock, and maybe he was a little selfish for it, but he wasn’t ready for her to get there. 

“That’s not how you ask, Angel. You know your manners. Use them.” The slight reprimand made her toes curl, and when he realized that she liked it; liked being reprimanded and it was definitely getting her off, he stopped her rocking motions by digging his fingers into her hips and giving her a pointed look; the same look he gives her when she’s not paying attention while she’s studying. It sent waves through her, and she felt like she was floating on a cloud. 

“How do you ask?” He prompted, encouraging the words he wanted to hear.

“Please, may I?” She tried to rock once more, but his fingers kept her in place. A sensual gaze lingered on her features, looking him up and down like she could swallow him whole, and how could he say no to that? 

“Good girl,” he brought her left leg over his other leg so that her pussy was in full contact with his clothed cock. Before she started rutting against him, moaning, and throwing her head back in pure carnal desire, he decided he would give her a little incentive. “If you hold out for me, give me ten more minutes of seeing you look so pretty as you rut this pussy against my cock,” one of his fingers moved from her hip where he was holding her in place to the slit of her pussy and worked it’s way over, slicking his finger with his wetness and popping it in his mouth to see how good she tasted, “I will let you watch while I run my hand over my cock and make myself feel good, hm?”

A jumbled yes came from the back of her throat, and he used his fingers that were against her hips to help her find her rhythm against his cock. He could have come right there at the sight of her, but he was good at holding off, good at edging himself. It was something he wanted to teach her how to do. How to get to that good place, then rip herself away from it. In the end, all of the frustration makes the orgasm worth it. 

She tried to last, she tried to make those ten minutes, but she just couldn’t. With a cry, she warned him, “Harry... I can’t. I can’t wait. Please.” 

“That’s okay, baby,” Harry comforted, letting her know that it was okay. He would teach her how to stave off soon enough, but right now he was more concerned with her feeling good and comfortable. 

That was all it took her to that nice place. As her orgasm filled her body, lingering in her bones and warming her skin, she came against him. Pulling away as her nerves were overstimulated and sensitive, sweat beading at the top of her forehead, and mewling noises coming out of her lips. He thought she looked beautiful.

Quickly, she took herself off of him, not able to handle the overstimulating she was feeling in her core and in her brain. She tried not to look at the wet spot she left on his thigh, and directly on his crotch. 

He could tell by the way her eyes averted, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that she was feeling embarrassed, but he didn’t think she should feel so ashamed for feeling good. She should never be ashamed of that. With a gentle finger, he lifted her chin from her downward stare into her lap and whispered softly, “Don’t ever feel embarrassed about that. Do you see how hard you’ve got me?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, warming her skin, and that coil she felt in her lower belly when she first started grinding against the muscles of his thigh stirred in her once more as she eyed his hard cock covered in her wetness. “I don’t get to watch you now because I didn’t wait?”

How could he deny her what she wanted when she was so, so good for him? Listening attentively, asking politely, and being so sweet to him? “I’ll let you watch. We can call it a consolation prize.” 

Heart fluttering, she shifted slightly so she could get a full view of this. His eyes darkened as he slid his sweatpants down just enough to pull his cock out of his boxers. It sprang out, the tip a blissful pink color, and she thinks that her mouth has never watered so badly. He was even bigger than she had been able to realize through his sweatpants, and it all made sense. He was sweet, but calculated and there was a rough edge of confidence laced in the way he speaks. The size of his cock matching the confidence of his personality wasn’t anything that should surprise her.

When Y/N let out a soft, sultry, sweet-coated moan at the sight of his right hand clutching the base of his cock and tugging upwards, Harry realized three things about her that he would dissect later. 

Y/N had an extreme praise kink, thinking back to how she sucked in sharp breaths when he told her what a good girl she was, and how she moaned at the sight of her reward.

Y/N got off on a slight reprimand from him, seeking guidance and his stern words fulfilling something deep in the pit of her gut. 

Y/N might have been crafted just for him, and he, just for her. 

Just the look on her face was enough to make him come on the sight, but she had done so well, he wanted to give her a little bit of a show. With each movement calculated, he lifted his shirt just enough for her to see his abdomen then grabbed the base of himself and stroked upwards, using the precum oozing from the tip as a lubricant for his hand. 

“Would you do me a favor, sweet girl?” He asked her, his eyes remaining fixed on her as he watched how her body reacted to his words and movements.

Eyebrows furrowed, she responded so sweetly and sincerely if his eyes were closed, he would have sworn there were droplets of honey dripping off her lips. “Yes,” she almost begged, “What can I do?”

Harry guided her head with his hand, gripping his fingers around the back of her head and lowering it so she was adjacent to the head of his cock. Eagerly, she thought he was going to let her wrap her lips around his so she moved her head a little closer, and when he realized what she thought he wanted from her. 

“No, baby, not yet. I just want you to spit on it for me, hm? Let me use your spit to work my cock?” He knew the words were filthy, and he knew it sent a shiver down her spine. She opened her mouth, just a little so closely to the tip of his cock that her top lip just swept over it as the wetness from her mouth dripped down him. 

“Fuck, baby,” Harry guided her head back so that she was sitting directly in front of him with a perfect view of how his hand brought him to his own tipping point. 

He leaned his head back against the couch, eyes fixated on hers as her gaze didn’t stutter from his hand. A little bit of drool leaked from her lip, but she quickly caught it, finally breaking her gaze from his hand and looking to see if he saw that. 

“Quite literally drooling over my cock, are you?” It fueled his ego, working his hand harder over himself as he realized what an effect he had on her. 

Finally, he was there, eyes locked on her and reaching his pinnacle. His own sweet spot washed over him, ripping a moan from his throat and filling the living room air. Silky whiteness spurted from the tip of his cock and onto his abdomen, and she had to stop herself from leaning down and tasting him. She just wanted to taste him, but how could she voice that? The combination of wanting to taste him, the way his face contorted with pleasure, and the sound of his deep-provocative moan that gathered in the back of his throat and then filled her ears worked her back into that sweet place with no stimulation from Harry or even herself. As he worked himself down from his own orgasm, guilt washed over her face and he couldn’t help but give her a lazy-half smile. “What?” He asked gently. 

“I think...” She shoved her face in her hands, the bashful person she was shining through what they had just done together, “I reached that spot again when you let that sound out. I just, I just felt so good.”

Eyes fluttering shut, he took in her words. “Baby, I’m so happy you felt so good. When was the last time you felt like that?”

Y/N just shakes her head, the words caught in her throat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like that with anyone else— even... even myself.”

He just smiled, glad that he was able to get her there, and then hooked his hand under the backside of her knee, pulling her close for a sweet and simple kiss compared to what they have just done. While his lips were still pressed against his, he spoke, “I think we should get cleaned up.” 

“I think so too,” Y/N smiled into the kiss, and Harry thought he would give up anything to stay like this with her forever. Talking with their lips pressed together, his hands all over her, and her hands all over him. 

“Would you mind taking a shower with me?” It sounded so intimate rolling off his tongue, but that’s what he wanted with her—intimacy.

“I would love that,” his heart leaped at the realization that she wanted the same things as him. 

____

“I’m a bit of a sore loser, baby, so please tell me you’re good at putt-putt,” Harry said as his hand grasped the steering wheel of the car. He was driving them to putt-putt golf with Mallory and Niall. Niall had decided he would take Mallory out to lunch before the other two joined them to get some one-on-one time together.

Y/N noticed a shift in their relationship after he had made her orgasm twice without doing much, and after she watched him tug away at his cock. She was more comfortable with him, more open to asking him questions, and Harry absolutely loved it. Just a few days ago, she asked him (without Harry having to work the question out of her) when she could taste him, and he told her, in the most gentle way possible, that he wanted to go slowly. He just wanted to make it special for her. 

At first, she was nervous to ask him when she could taste him, not quite sure how she could voice the question, but as a few days passed, she realized that there was never any judgment or harshness in Harry’s tone.

“Well, I’m not very good at putt-putt. And maybe I’d like to see you a little pouty,” she reasoned with him. She always felt like she was the pouty one, maybe it would be a nice change of pace to see him pouting for once. 

“Y/N, you know I could never be pouty around you. You make me too happy.” Harry explained, taking one hand off the steering wheel and linking their fingers together, and bringing her hand to his lap.

Y/N decided she was just going to enjoy the drive, and the simplicity that was her, Harry, Niall, and Mallory enjoying their afternoon together.

As it turns out, Y/N was really good at putt-putt, though she had never played before in her life. Niall and Harry got to talking about how they both liked playing real golf and made plans to go out some weekends together. It made Y/N’s heart turn, just a little to see her best friend getting along with Harry so well. They seemed like they were really hitting off (and not to Y/N’s surprise at all, she knew this would happen, Niall and Mallory were very much enjoying the company of one another). By the end of the night, they were sharing drinks and then spent the night tucked into Harry’s chest.

Y/N was happy. Very happy. 

____

Y/N was not happy.

Harry’s friends were not as nice as he had explained them to be. Well, maybe it was just one friend that left a sour taste in her mouth and made her stomach fizzle with anger; possibly even jealousy.

The evening started off great. She wore a simple, yet elegant, midnight green dress, and Harry (as promised) wore that cream-colored satin shirt with midnight green slacks to match her accordingly. He ogled over her the minute she stepped out of his room wearing that green dress, looking as lovely as ever. 

When Harry was done swooning and gawking over her, he led her out to his car and began driving in the direction of his friend’s house. Y/N noted the beautiful scenery on the way to the house, and when Y/N finally commented on the scenic drive, Harry explained that his friend lived in a winery.

“On a winery?” Y/N questioned, making simple conversation as they drove up a windy road with a narrow pathway, barely able to fit two cars. “Is your friend a vintner?”

Harry nodded in response, throwing over the occasional glance as he drove, though it made Y/N nervous for him to take his eyes off the road ahead of them. She trusted him though and didn’t make any comments about how the drive was making her feel. Part of her didn’t want to say anything because she wasn’t sure if the drive was making her feel a little queasy or if it was the fact that she was going to a party latched onto Harry’s arms. She was about to meet his closest friends, and even though he said they were nice, she knew she would be under a degree of scrutiny. She was coming as his date, of course, they were going to look at her with cautious-watchful eyes, so they could reconvene later in the night and ask one another, what do ya think of Harry’s new girl?

Before Y/N even knew it, they were parked in a round-a-bout driveway, and Harry was helping her out of the car. She must have paled on the drive up, because when he took her hand in his, and lead her up the stairs of the beautiful home, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, pressing his lips against the lobe, “Feeling okay?”

A nod came from her in response, and before she could even respond verbally, the person who was lingering on the other side of the door quickly threw it open. A chill ran down Y/N’s spine as she thought of Harry’s lips against her ear. They hadn’t done anything from when they sat on the couch and Y/N came on his clothed cock. She had brought up how she wanted to taste him, but they haven’t had the chance to yet, and Harry had told her that he wanted to take things a little slow. She understood. How could she argue with that?

“Oh, come on in before you two get cold out there,” the man standing on the opposite side of the door said to them as he noted the chill that racked through Y/N’s body. It wasn’t the cold wind, though the wind was colder than it had been these past couple of Spring days. It was the thought of Harry’s lips against her ear, and when she looked over at Harry and saw the way his lips curved upward in a devilish grin, she knew exactly what his plan was. He did that on purpose, he was trying to work her up.

Like Harry told her, the man lived in a winery and before she even had the chance to learn his name (it was Mitch she found out a few minutes later), he was thrusting a glass of red wine in between her fingers. She took a couple sips, mumbling something about how it was sweet, and without hesitation, Harry leaned and whispered something naughty in her ear, causing heat to flood her face and between her legs, “I bet you taste sweet, baby.”

They mingled, and Y/N who normally felt overwhelmed in situations like these was actually doing alright. It might have been the way the wine was starting to flow through her veins, or how genuinely kind Harry’s friends actually were (not that she doubted him very much, but you never know), but she was actually enjoying her time.

Well, she was enjoying her time until Harry ruined it by whispering the filthiest things she’s ever heard into her ears. In fact, she was beginning to feel flustered, because she wasn’t sure her panties could handle another bout of wetness before it started dripping down her leg. Her dress only hit below her knee, so if it began running down her leg, people were bound to notice and she didn’t think she could handle the shame. 

So, she stood there, with her legs crossed, wine glass in her hand, and pouted. He could tell he got her there; to the point of frustration that she would burst at any second. Her responses to him were becoming short and pointed, bratty even. If there was one thing Harry could teach her, it was how not to be a brat. It was how to ask for what you wanted because all she had to do was say the words and he’d take her right into the bathroom and let her have that release.

When they had finally broken free from the conversation they were having with Mitch and… Well, Y/N actually didn’t grab the other person’s name because of the frustration filling her from head to toe, Harry grabbed her upper arm gently and pulled her so close to him that her chest was pressed against his, “Won’t you tell me why you’re acting like a brat?”

Disappointment donned her features. Was she acting like a brat as he said? If so, she really didn’t mean to, she just couldn’t help it. The words fumbled from her mouth quickly as she straightened her back just a little bit so that her body language didn’t look so dejected, “Sorry. I don’t mean to act like a brat.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” he stated and the sternness in his voice made her core ache even more than it already was, “I asked for you to tell me why.”

She gave in to his request, hoping that if she told him why she was acting like a brat, he would tell her what a good girl she was for listening. “I’m so wet, Harry.”

His cock throbbed against his slacks, and he murmured softly against her neck, pressing a soft kiss just under her ear, “So instead of acting like a brat, what should you have done?”

“I should have told you what was bothering me,” she guessed, not quite sure what the actual answer was, but it seemed good enough for him because his response was exactly what she was begging for.

“Good girl,” he pulled away from her, resting his fingers just under her chin, and hummed out, “Now should I take care of you?”

She only nodded.

____

The bathroom of the house was big enough to fit them both in there and when Harry sat her on top of the bathroom counter and hiked her dress out, he grumbled out a “Fuck, Y/N.”

She wasn’t being dramatic when she said she was so wet. If he kept her out there for five more minutes, she would have dripped down her leg, and Harry doesn’t know what it says about him the fact that that turns him on so greatly. For his friends to see just how much of a reaction she has to him. How his words can get her mewling and thrashing and moaning.

Quickly, he tugged her panties off and shoved them into his pocket. She was still up on the counter, watching his movements with lust-filled eyes, and leaking onto his wrist that he had pressed against her center. His hand was gripping the counter, the inside of his wrist pressing against her and when he moved, even slightly, she would let out small, sharp gasps. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” she responded, and that was all he needed before he began working her to that special spot. His fingers, covered in rings, slipped inside her slowly, so slowly it was agonizing. He didn’t need her to lick his fingers, offering that extra lubricant because she was so wet that she was soaking the counter. He flicked his fingers upward, hitting that soft spot inside her, and when he finally found it, her eyes widened, as she had never been stimulated there before. It only took a few motions in and out of her, before her walls began squeezing around his fingers. Right before she was about to come, about to hit the peak of her orgasm, he pulled his fingers out of her.

Eyebrows furrowed, she questioned his actions, “Why did you do that?”

“I’m not ready for you to orgasm just yet,” he said softly, his green eyes glimmering with want and need.

“Please?” She asked, “I-I need it!” 

Normally, she would feel embarrassed by her begging, but right now she didn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed. The only thing she had in her was that she wanted that orgasm to encompass her, sending her body to that place she went when she was rutting against her thigh.

She was so beautiful and so lovely that he couldn’t deny her of that, and he knew it, so he slipped his fingers back into her with careful precision and stimulated that soft spot inside her once more. She let out soft moans filled with nothing but desire, and she squeezed around his fingers once more before letting her orgasm rip through her. He worked her down with his fingers, and when she looked up at him with a sleepy gaze, he knew she was feeling much better; the frustration completely obliterated from his body.

Although, when he brought his fingers, covered in her wetness to his lips, licked it off with his tongue, and said, “I was right. You do taste sweet,” she thinks she could have gone again.

Harry helped her get her panties back on, and hop off the counter of the bathroom, promising that when they got home he was going to help her shower the stickiness from in between her thighs and take good care of her. She knew she was safe with him, and it was possibly one of her favorite feelings in the entire world.

“Why don’t you go back out there, love? I’ll clean up here and be right out.” He bargained with her, and she followed his instructions because it probably wouldn’t look too good if the both of them slipped from the bathroom at the same time.

Harry’s plan was to clean up, but he had to relieve himself somehow too.

____

Y/N’s eyes searched the room, and she found the girl she was chatting with earlier— Colette was her name, she finally remembered and blamed the sexual frustration on her jumbled brain and her post-orgasmic state on her clarity over Colette’s name.

Across the room, Colette sat with a few other girls, and Y/N thought that the best thing to do while Harry was cleaning up in the bathroom was to make her way over there and hop in the conversation, so that is exactly what she did.

She sat directly next to Colette, and jumped into their conversation a few times, adding a few things here and there to keep herself present in the conversation. It wasn’t until Harry finally slipped from the bathroom, signaling that he was going to get them a drink that she felt a sense of relief.

One of the girls next to Colette’s eyes followed Y/N’s to Harry and when she saw what Y/N was looking at she interjected with a, “Don’t even bother with him. He’s a nice guy, but he’s not the relationship type. He only fucks, but nothing else. Trust me, I’ve tried. Also, the rumor is that he brought a girl with him this time around, and good luck to her, because she doesn’t know what she’s in for.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in pure shock, and Colette’s face whitened as she grasped Y/N’s hand, “Emma!” Colette said in a harsh whisper, “Why would you say that?”

Colette helped Y/N up, and Y/N couldn’t even feel mad at the girl— Emma, she guessed— because it was not like she knew that Y/N was the girl Harry brought along with him tonight. Her stomach dropped, feeling icky and displaced as she walked alongside Colette and toward the kitchen where Harry was striking up a conversation with someone, two cans of some liquid Y/N couldn’t quite pinpoint in the palm of one of his hands— his big, big hands.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s just cross because Harry only wanted to be friends with benefits with her. That is not how he is with every girl, I hope you know that,” Colette whispered, guiding her by the small of her back toward Harry.

Did Y/N know that? She didn’t think she did. 

What if that is what Harry wanted from her? What if he felt nothing for her at all? What if she was merely a conquest for him?

Y/N decided not to say anything about what Emma said to her as Y/N and Colette entered the conversation Harry was currently participating in. 

Harry rested one of the drinks on the counter and popped open the other with his fingers, handing it to her, then pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Was that a good sign?

For the first time since she began studying with Harry, Y/N felt stupid again.

____

Harry was completely oblivious to the internal turmoil Y/N was facing, but how could he have known when she slipped on a mask so well? 

After he had finished up in the bathroom, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Y/N was the only thing that occupied his mind. He filled her thoughts, her scent infiltrated his apartment, and her smile when she walked into his class was the thing that kept him going on days when he was more tired than he should have been.

He thought he made it so obvious how much he cared for her. There was no way she didn’t know how special she was to him.

Y/N, he thinks, was perfect for him. And he was perfect for her.

TAG LIST: @skysladylazarus @sunshinemoonsposts @shamelessfangirl-3 @lovelyharry @tenaciousperfectionunknown @winterrays @kiwilikesmeow @cherieshine @harryssky1 @allannahdaisy @cthwildflwr @grapejuicebluesrry @ppleasingg @ronanthesimp @awwshucks13 @libbyhermione @matildasatellite

(If you wanted to be added or taken off please let me know)

[neonovember]

i watching civil war earlier and idk why but i had a random thought, imagine you and steve are dating or have a situationship but during civil war you choose tonys side instead of his, and he gets mad and you both end up arguing and don’t see each other til infinity war, where you guys both apologize and forgive each other🤭

warnings; reader and steve are both teetering on morally grey, mentions of violence, the goddamn accords, swearing, mentions of death, regret

authors notes; this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and I finally just wrote a little snippet of how i would want to write this request. If you guys enjoy it I'd love to expand! I'm thinking each part is at different times (fight on the tarmac and then post civil war).

divider by @firefly-graphics

You had met Steve right before the Avengers had been scrapped together with uneasy fingers.

There was a level of trepidation about the plan Fury had to gather a bunch of people who had enough power and strength to take down countries then. And despise how different you and the blonde soldier were, him being Captain Fucking America, the golden boy of the world and you being the recently cleared weapon the blossoms of fellowship sprung forth like a dandelion bursting through cracks of concrete.

There was an understanding between you both that came with navigating a new world for the first time. The loss and loneliness Steve had felt those few months following his waking, was something akin to how you felt, living a life now of normalcy. You didn’t know how to stand in line for coffee after so many years living in yellow ceilinged motels and abandoned houses off of highways. Steve could never sleep on the King sized bed Stark had fitted, the uneasy feeling sinking so different to the sharp jagged surfaces he was used to. It bonded you both, hell it bonded you with Bucky even.

Friendship had been just that for years, until it had morphed into stolen glances and feather touches. Until you both could finally admit to the longing that stretched between the space and waiting silence that lived between you both. You wanted to say that nothing had changed, but oh had it. 

You loved him with the entirety of your being, you felt it jitter in its iridescent reverie beneath your fingers each time you grazed them against his skin. It wasn't easy though, you both were so fierce, so mighty, there were times where you hated him just as much, where his steel unrelenting gaze made you want to wring his neck.

Tony leans back, steeping his fingers as his eyes cut to the rest of the Avengers sitting on the office chairs. There is a silence, the team waiting for someone to speak up and Steve's disgruntled face twists into disapproval

“You’re insane if you think this could work, Tony”

“Steve, listen, I understand what you're saying but what are we going to do?” Tony quickly remarks, almost as if he has been waiting for the inevitable argument to seize

“I got a couple of ideas, but it all ends with throwing this” Steve cuts his eyes to the stack of papers centred in front of him, disgust fleeting through his features, as if he could cause the offending manila folder to combust with his blues. “Back into their goddamn faces”.

“Really?

“Yes, what are you thinking Tony? This is goddamn hearsay”

Sam and Bucky nod their agreement, and there is a slow ripple of sides that form, the team is split, and it's not long before a back and forth surges between steve and tony, both eager to assert their point of view, both feeling it is their righteous duty to promote or throw the accords out the window.

The incessant remarks that have begun to cause the office room to quickly turn heated leaves you shaking your head, falling into the palm of your hand as you sit back against the chair. All of these stupid arguments, it was simple in your head. 

You didn't like the feeling of being put on a leash by the government but the accords were not exactly as blasphemous as Steve was saying it was, and your silent agreement following Tony’s speech causes you to speak up without thinking.

“I mean, it’s not bad” The sound of your voice is even, devoid of indignation or anger the way steve and tony’s is, and a silence settles over the office as the avengers look towards you in shock. You didn't speak much, opting to sit and let the rest of them have their say, but with each inquisitive look you feel a new sense of purpose. This was right, this was good, this could help you.

Steve looks towards you quickly, cocking his head to the side as he regards you with new eyes.

Your name sounds foreign as it passes through his lips

“Steve”

The rest of the avengers watch on as you both stare at each other

“You don’t seriously think this is smart?” Steve breaks first, always. Relents.

“It’s good. It’s great actually. Tony’s is right. We don’t get to run off and jump into every goddamn crisis like kids on a playground.”

“Cmon, this will kill people!”

“WE'VE KILLED PEOPLE! I have. Me, Steve. Call me selfish, this is my retribution-”

“You know that wasn’t on you, how could you have known-“

“Enough. I’ve let it eat me away already alright? It’s the fucking goddamn truth Steve. And you know it.

Betrayal bleeds through Steve's features, it humanes him. softens out the jagged edges that came from this life and he looks decades younger. He looks at you like the sickly asthmatic child he once was, and you tear your eyes away from him.

Blink, and it was gone, his regality and cutting calculating air of pristine dominance overtaking every last bit of him, bleeding back into his cheekbones and the depth of his ocean blues.

“You're not stupid, you're the smartest person I know and you can’t see the liability we’d find ourselves in? What happens when they deport us into a goddamn war zone? Use us to fight their battles huh?”

“We destroyed a country Steve. Sokovia, New York, goddamn Wakanda! We’ve left our mark, we’ve saved a lot of people, but we’ve also displaced thousands, people have lost their entire lives, just wiped out with a fling of your shield, while we come back to this-“ You shift your gaze along the Tower walls

“This fucking concrete sanctuary, showering away blood and fucking alien guts-“

“Hey, I quite like this building, it’s got its charm-“ Tony chimes

And you tilt your face to meet his.

“Shut up Tony”

“What we do, we do because we know it’s right, I’m not saying we leave the fight without a care about the aftermath, but collateral is a given when you do the things we do”

“Right now, the power is in our hands, we all have the interest of the people in mind, these governments? They don’t care. They are going to make us fight their own battles, use us like goddamn military weapons for their own agendas. I don’t have to remind you of all people? What's it like to be used as the government's pawn?” Steve replied bluntly, the harsh words stinging you as you look up at him with furrowed brows. 

That was low, especially for him. The claws of his passion escaping into jabs at your past.

A newfound anger blossoms within you, and you try and steer it with a clench of your fists that wean the plush leather of your armchair.

“You wanna talk about being used as a test tube by the government? You wanna talk about a fight that gets the other side exactly what they want? Do you forget about what you left for Hydra?” You spit without thinking, wincing as Bucky turns to you in quickness, his eyes shifting as they look towards you.

“Fuck..this is getting out of hand” Murmurs Sam, Tony beginning to switch from being entertained to looking grim.

“You do this Y/N, and you sign a death-”

“You do this Steve? You fight this? I’ll put you in the goddamn raft myself" 

You cut him off with a blanch, the rest of the avengers stutter a breath, Tony looking towards you with raised eyes and you appraise them all with a disgruntled huff.

Steve looks taken back, the cool demeanour cracking as he remains dumbfounded. Did you truly mean it? Of course not, despite everything you had a level of trust bonding you to Steve in a way that just wasn’t with the other team.

“I didn't-”

“I know” Steve blinks, but you can still see the way he stares distantly

“This is surprising” Tony replies, leaning against the kitchen counter, the silence cut by his sarcastic remark.

You cut your eye to him, narrowing them as he puts his hand up in meek surrender

“No no it’s good, I’ve got two ex assassins on board, if you don’t agree they could probably just tie you all up and force you too” Tony chuckles, and you shake your head with a murmur.

“Don’t do this Steve, I get it, you don’t trust the government that was infiltrated by fucking Nazis, but- can’t you see there is truth to it? Between the fucking corporate lines and bullet points?

“You aren’t stupid, alright? This- this isn’t stupid. It’s the smartest thing I think we've done in years” Is your parting remark before skidding off of the too comfortable seat and walking out the office doors.

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 7

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! reader Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother. A/N : You admit your feelings for Regulus. Also some Regulus POV.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Littered acoss the expanse of the celestial sphere, the burning balls of the stars couldn't have shined as brightly as his eyes, merlin, it was because of Amelia, yes, it was her, not like you had noticed them before, you definitely didn't. Not at all. It sounded like a lie even in your head. You groaned, burying your face into your scarf.

"Are you okay?" you glared up at him, it was his fault, yes, how dare he be who he is. You scoffed retreating back into your scarf, not answering his question.

He pressed his fingers on your forehead, and your face naturally warmed up, "Do you have a fever".

"I'm feeling just a bit warm" your muffled sound barely reached him. He didn't retaliate, "You should visit madam pompfrey".

You lifted your head to meet his concerned eyes, "I'm fine Reg, it'll go away in a while". At least you hoped so. He nodded although not looking much convinced.

Despite the cold night, you could feel the warmth like little electrical waves seeping from him. You scooted closer until your arms were almost brushing, when he made no movement to pull away, staring into the book, you scooted closer.

Regulus stared daggers into the book, latching into the word, not being able to complete reading the sentence. He knew for a fact, that if he moved and you took it as his discomfort, you will move away. He also knew that he wouldn't be able to muster up the courage to ask you to move back.

It was easier in times when you two were with more people to focus elsewhere, to impersonate as was expected of him. But with no one else, just in your presence, the walls he had build are vanished. To say much, you hadn't let him build it since you met.

It would be deceptive to say he hadn't tried, to distance you, to keep you at arm's bay, to be the 'perfect' child he was expected to be. But you tore them as if they were made of dandelions and not the stone of his parent's expectations.

So Regulus didn't move, not until you scooted closer, then he leaned a bit on your shoulder. His eyes relaxed, darting between sentences, and between the mayhem of the entirety of the his world, it felt like a stretch of peace.

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked, looking down at his head. He lifted his head, his eyes gazing at yours, "Si seulement nous pouvions obtenir les réponses à toutes les questions que notre cœur désire".

You shuddered, it was startling whenever he spoke French at random times, "What does that mean?". He turned his head, his eyes directly meeting yours, "You can ask whatever you want."

You nodded, not trusting your voice. There were so many things you wanted to ask him, but now that he was looking at you so attentively, as if you're gonna recite the holy words of Merlin himself, you could only whisper, "Do you ever wonder, what is it like" you paused for a moment, taking a breath, "being in love?"

The thing about Regulus he never questioned your weird questions, he had answered them to the best of his knowledge and even embarked with you on a journey to find them. But this he thought was the most pondorous. He leaned back into your shoulder, what was it like being in love. And when he finally answered his voice was not an octave louder than a whisper.

"I would say it's like the feeling when after a storm, the tide finally resides. It's wandering around lost your whole life until you stop cause you have found what you were searching for, until you are no longer lost, until you're home."

Regulus pondered over his own words the next day, he had answered at what he beleived to be his form of it, but the only person he could ever picture coming close to that feeling would be you. You had revolved around in his mind since the first day he had seen you at King cross station waving away at your brother. Maybe he'll tell you one day, one day for sure.

For now, it was enough for him to have you by his side, even just at friends. You were enough, even if you were now chasing after a black cat so you could find his 'twin' as you said.

"And then he was like all screaming and stuff, just because his favourite panda was in the dirt, what a siss" you were loudly interrupted by the scream of the infamous James potter who entered in his dorm.

He pointed at you, "What are you doing here, munching away at my cookies, you monster?".

Sirius snickered behind him, patting his back. You rolled your eyes, going back to the story you were telling Remus and Peter. You may have used some foxy ways to enter here and later when Remus and Peter entered, you decided to distract them with an embarassig story of James.

However James didn't retiliate, he came screeching, snatching the cookie jar from you. You went right back to fighting him for it, grabbing at the jar, "Where's yours"

"It's finished."

"Doesn't mean you can take mine" he snatched it back, holding it close to his chest. "You sneaked into the Gryffindor's common room and then into the boy's dorm, somehow found ours, for cookies"

At your nod, Sirius grinned, "She's perfect to execute pranks". You had already been exempted from being pranked after once you had gotten water thrown on you and James had received an Howler, this time from your Dad.

James shook his head, "No, absolutely not, we don't want anymore trouble than we already have"

"I'm not trouble"

"Yes you are, you always hanging out with snakes"

"Not everyone in Slytherin are snakes" Sure some like Malfoy and Lestrange were but you avoided them like the plauges they were.

"Oh yes, they are" James grumbled finally snatching the jar from him.

"Not to mention you are always hanging out with my brother" Sirius said plopping down on his bed.

"So what?" you glared at him. Sirius stood for a moment, it was truly a lightbulb lighting in his head moment at him.

"You know I remembered something, wanna help me over there" Sirius pointed outside the door.

"Why not" you squinted your eyes following him.

"You like my brother, don't you"

"You have no evidence"

"You're not denying it"

"Don't test me Black, I know your deepest darkest secrets too"

"Oh really, Like what" Sirius snorted. Big mistake.

You smirked, "You're in love with Remus"

Sirius's eyes widened like saucers, "I - uh- Excuse you, I'm dating Marlene"

"Who's dating Dorcas actually, at first I thought she was just cheating on you but now I realise"

"How did you know"

"I have sources" You didn't, while searching for James's bed, you saw one cvered with scrolls of paper. Inbetween the scrolls laid on Sirius's bed you found Remus's name with a red heart drawn upon it.

"Fine" Sirius sighed, "I won't tell if you won't"

"I need something else too"

"What"

"Teach me how you do your eyeliner"

"Oh my God" Sirius whisper yelled.

"What"

"Prongs is gonna be my brother-in-law"

"What the fu-"

You crooned at the new black kitten, it was just impossibly tiny. However Regulus glared daggers at it, "What do you think we should name it?"

"Naming it means you'll get attached to it"

"So what"

"No"

"No what, it's so cute"? you said petting it.

"And i'm not?" Regulus blanched realising he said it out loud.

"You are pretty too, Reg, don't worry"

Regulus dscoffed, "I'm prettier"

You laughed, at Regulus's pout before he too broke into a smile. However, to your obliviousness darkness loomed overhead as a dark lord gained more and more power

French translation : If only we could get the answers to all the questions of our hearts desire.

Taglist : @shycreationdreamland @mp-littlebit @girlbooklover555 @godofstory @misacc08 @starchaser-lily @moonywastakenn @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @skepvids @venomsvl

[killuwumi]

Jealous Bard~ Venti/Zhongli x Fem!Reader

a/n: i just wrote this random blurb from a prompt on pinterest..lol..

warnings: possessiveness, fem reader, jealousy, not proof read, all lowercase (lazy writer alert). 

"He is a weapon. A killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick but that will not change it's nature."

the wind in mondstadt was whipping, it felt like it could blow you over as you sit under the windrise tree. venti was sitting next to you as those words fell from between his lips. it was unlike the sweet things he would sing about at the bar. it was crude and honest, yet still poetic.

you knew who he was referring to, you both knew as you sat and recovered. you had just gotten back from a trip to liyue to attend rex lapis's funeral. it was a long way home and you nestled under the windrise tree to regain your stamina and health. but venti was never far from his followers..never.

"i know venti, i know. you warned me about him before i even left to meet everyone in liyue. but look, i came back, i'm here aren't i?" venti scoffs at your words, a bitter and ugly jealous feeling in his chest that he isn't sure what to do with. he's tried countless times to stop you from meeting zhongli. that man is dangerous, venti knows this, of course he knows this. not only is his human form handsome and charming but he's got a lovely nation and connections.

now, venti would never want you to not find your sibling, but he knows more than he lets on about your sweet, dearest twin. venti knows he could help you move on! you wouldn't need to worry about anyone but him if you would just stay. put. but for god's sake you can't seem to stop traveling.

"i know, i know dandelion. i just worry! it is safe here, our conflict in mondstadt has been quelled..i just prefer you be safe." yes, he does prefer you to return to him, safe and sound. which is why he pulled a favor from an old friend. xiao. the adeptus that had been secretly trailing you for the entirety of your journey into the mountains of liyue. not that you would notice of course, you've never even laid eyes on xiao.

venti had offered to do a favor for xiao if he did this for him, he promised xiao it was all for your safety, and luckily venti steered you right along the path xiao usually watches when doing patrols. so conveniently there was never so much as a hilichural even in your way.

"i have to find my twin venti, i promise mondstadt will always be my home. and zhongli said he might be able to help!" a sweet laugh tumbles out of your mouth and right on to venti's listening ears. even if he is caught up in thought, your laugh is the only song he ever wants to hear. until the grating sound of another archon's name registers in venti's head. ah, he almost forgot that zhongli was still the topic of conversation. that lying bastard, that awful lord obsessed with contracts. venti could wager to guess zhongli knew just about as much as he did when it came to your sibling. and venti seems to somehow be rarely wrong.

he swears up and down that one day he is going to sweep the tips of those peaks in liyue right off and send them straight into the deep waters. then maybe it won't be so pretty. maybe he will crush the harbor while he's at it. but his thoughts are interrupted by your movements..where are you going?

"dandelion, where is it that you're going?" he puts a playful infliction on his tone to ease the jealous feelings he's having. he too gets up and dusts his outfit off.

"i'm going to stay with mona for a bit while i'm back, and see if she can help me at all with a few commissions zhongli gave me. i also need to return a few books to lisa that i got from people in liyue. i think she'll appreciate it." so, so sweet you are. always doing things with other people in mind. don't you ever want to be selfish? oh well, no matter if you do or not, venti is selfish enough for the both of you. and more.

"ah, well be safe my dandelion." venti made sure to put extra emphasis on the my. maybe the wind will carry this conversation to zhongli..maybe.

in the following days, venti was conveniently wherever you were, enjoying you being around. but when he began to see you packing your things in mona's house he knew where you were going, liyue. ugh it left such a bitter taste in his mouth. that harbor, those mountains, and specifically that man.

"ah! is it time for you to go yet again my dandelion? oh how i will miss you, may the wind lead." were the last words you spoke to venti before setting off to liyue, where you were going to meet zhongli with this new information.

liyue harbor was bustling yet again, as you arrived right before the sun set, and headed straight for the teahouse. you were a little late for your meeting with the former archon. a hot cup of tea still waiting for you with zhongli watching over you as you approach.

"hello dear, how was your journey here? safe i presume?" zhongli knew who was watching over you, he knew about the deal between venti and xiao, he was an informed man after all.

"it was good, venti made sure to see me off!" you smiled and the atmosphere feels light. watching zhongli pick up his tea cup and sigh as you sit down.

"he is..quite the doting archon, isn't he?" the tea tastes more bitter when he has to talk about venti, he can't get enough of this alone time with you. even if it is just to piss venti off, he can see your appeal and why the anemo archon is so obsessed. you're pretty, young, adventurous and smart.

"yeah, although he tends to say some strange things, that seems to be a trend with archons." you laugh, zhongli nodding knowingly. zhongli did in fact, know what that bard had said about him.

"you are correct. and maybe he isn't wrong in what he said to you, whatever it may be, but do be aware that not everyone is who they seem to be." zhongli states in a cool, unwavering tone. careful to plant a seed of doubt in your mind the same way venti had.

zhongli might seem like a simple man, and he is, but he does enjoy playing mind games with a rival. and you better believe that this has lit a fire under venti, both of them trying to outdo the other. maybe one of them will get you to solely reside in their nation, their care. but only time will tell.

[esshetic]

June Bloom

As I pen this down from my cozy hotel room, perched with a mesmerizing view of the vast Atlantic Ocean, in the heart of Agadir, Morocco, I am consumed by the undeniable energy that this June's astrological transits bring with them.

The energy and intuitive guidance that this month's celestial movements bring are far removed from the traditional psychic or paranoia-ridden predictions that old patterns might suggest. Instead, they are firmly rooted in the present, in the reality that is here and now. I encourage you to take a step back at the beginning of this week, take stock of your situation, and ask yourself some important questions - is there something missing in your life? Or is it all just a perception and there is nothing actually missing? Are you content and happy with the way things are? If not, why? If yes, can you come to terms with this status quo and permit it to change, if need be?

Welcome to June - a month that is teeming with activities, much to the delight of Gemini. This month, you might feel overwhelmed, as if you're juggling an unimaginable number of things all at once. Yes, it does seem like it’s nonstop for the majority of the Gemini season and you wouldn't be wrong in feeling so. The calm only descends after the summer solstice, when the sun transitions into Cancer. The Cancer season, by the way, carries with it a unique charm, but for now, let's stay centered on navigating the rest of the Gemini season in June.

The energy during this time is too dynamic and volatile to be confined to a single viewpoint or approach. I perceive the Gemini season as a fast-flowing stream that bubbles and rushes, making it nearly impossible to grasp what's happening in its entirety. There are countless narratives, perspectives, and situations unfolding simultaneously, making it arduous to pinpoint and capture them. It's more about being malleable and adaptable to what is, rather than trying to predict, and even more critically, control the future.

Embrace the spirit of the chameleon.

Remember that opinions are not set in stone and are bound to change. Gemini, often deemed wishy-washy, thrives in the gray area, effortlessly seeing both sides of the coin and camouflaging into one side depending on the situation at hand. It is about understanding every point of view in any given situation. Do not let the constant flux and changing faces drive you to the brink of madness.

The new moon in Gemini on the 6th of June brings with it a certain madness. Why does the energy building up to this new moon feel like a full moon culmination?

The humble dandelion is a symbol of hope. I have a tradition of selecting a photo that resonates with the season for me, and this time, I chose my tranquil view and an image of a dandelion, which rings true as a beacon of hope. Despite all the chaos and madness that currently engulfs the world, the dandelion stands as a reminder that there is always hope for a brighter, better future.

For the Sings

Gemini, June will be a significant time for you where your voice will matter, and your presence will not be overlooked. You will not only be seen but also heard.

Cancer, for you, June will be a month where worries are put aside, providing you with a chance to relax and enjoy the summer's warmth.

Leo, your June will be filled with strategic planning and preparation. This is a perfect time for you to get ready for future endeavors.

Virgo, June might be a bit of a worry for you, as you might find yourself dissatisfied with the outcomes. However, remember that not all results are final.

Libra, June will feel like a victory parade for you. The stress you've been carrying will lift off your shoulders, leaving you feeling lighter and happier.

Scorpio, brace yourself, as June might be a bit hectic for you. It might feel like you're fighting for your life, but remember that challenging times often bring the best out in people.

Sagittarius, for you, June will be a time to reflect and relax, offering a perfect balance between introspection and leisure.

Capricorn, June will open new doors for you, providing opportunities for you to move forward with big ideas and strategies. Be open to new ventures.

Aquarius, your June will be a mix of emotions - sometimes sad, sometimes mad, sometimes bad, but overall, you will find reasons to be glad.

Pisces, June might be a bit of a juggle for you, especially when it comes to managing your love life. Remember, you are in demand and loved by many.

Aries, June might seem hard and filled with grief spirals for you, but remember, when you hit rock bottom, the only way is up.

Taurus, June will feel like a victory parade for you, with rewards and recognition coming your way.

Remember, this is just a quick intuitive guidance. If it does not fully resonate with you, that's completely okay!

[memberment]

Guys I feel SICK over this. (Yes I am rereading the entirety of the end of Dandelion I couldn't stop thinking about it (I am allergic to happiness))

LIKE IDK IF IT'S THE MITSKI SOFTLY RINGING THROUGHOUT MY ROOM THAT IS MAKING THIS HURT SO MUCH BUT GOD I FEEL ILL OVER THIS RN

Also Craig's interactions with Cartman in these last few chapters before the end are genuinely so fucking funny to me like I am praying someone enjoys their friendship as much as I do

[silverskull]

Shades & Hues

Part 1: Shades of Sorrow

Tim and Lucy often have happy kisses, but sad hugs on-screen. What if we flipped that idea and wrote a two-shot? * She kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him.

(Full fic below the cut, or click here to read and bookmark on AO3)

Someone offers her a wet wipe, and she bats it away like a dandelion seed. It flaps in the corner of her vision, sweeping against her cheek and she sees florid stripes, the red lines harsh in the sunlight reflecting off the white gauze. They wave it at her again and she shrugs her way out from under their arm, irritated, and letting herself be led instead by the deathgrip her hands have on the front of his uniform.

No.

No - not death. Not. Death.

“Lucy, we have to get him on the stretcher.”

It’s Bailey, and she’s calm, steady, level. Everything Lucy suddenly is not.

Her breath is too hot; too tight in her throat. Breathing is too much to think about - how to get enough air - and she knows she’s doing something wrong, gasping the way she is, grinding her teeth so hard she can feel the entirety of her lower jaw all the way in the backs of her ears, but she’s fighting against something much bigger. A monster in her lungs, clawing at her windpipe and scraping its way towards her lips. A pain that’s constricting her muscles and fettering her to this one single point on the tarmac. A fear too big to name.

“Shit, I’m showing cardiac arrest.”

Arrest.

Arrest.

They’d only stopped to assist Nolan with an arrest. A simple thing. Standard procedure. Celina simply wasn’t strong enough to restrain the suspect, and Nolan needed more boots on the ground. Across the console, in the driver’s seat, she’d seen Tim tip his head, and he flipped the sirens at the exact same moment as she lifted the radio. Always in sync. They weren’t even on call, just close by. Convenient.

“Ma’am, I need you to let go!”

“John, just get her away from him!”

Strong hands surround her, pulling her inexorably backwards, and Celina’s dark bun bobs into her line of sight, her small fingers unlatching Lucy’s, one by one, from the clamp they have on the placket of his open shirt. She stumbles, tripping over her own knees, and the sun flashes at her through the palm trees, momentarily blinding her.

***

“You got this?” he asks, lazily, but with just enough arrogance that her first response is to scoff at him.

“I got this.” She throws Tim a withering look as she hops out of the passenger’s seat, keeping her ears open to the garbled declarations of Nolan’s suspect. The man is red-faced, sweaty. His hair hangs in greasy strings around his ears, and (though it wasn’t something she’d ever say aloud) he definitely has crazy eyes.

Juarez approaches her as she rounds the hood of the shop, limping almost imperceptibly, her right hand clenched, white-knuckled, around the butt of her gun. She nods once at Lucy, her chin low and her mouth wide open, quietly gulping down deep breaths.

“You good here?” Lucy asks, reaching a steadying arm towards Juarez’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am,” Celina says, nodding rigidly. “Officer Nolan got the situation in hand.” She shakes her head quickly, straightening her spine. “I should have taken Detective Harper up on those extra sparring sessions.”

“Well, lesson learned this time.” Lucy couldn’t fault the rookie for something she’d had to figure out the hard way herself. She looks away, raising a hand to her eyebrows and squinting across the dusty sidewalk at Nolan. “You want us to take this guy for you?”

“Nope, I got it!” 

Nolan is almost as sweaty as the angry man, wrestling the cuffs onto his lean, knotted arms. Lucy can see track marks amongst the veins; bruises and torn flesh score his skin all the way up into the grubby shirt wreathed above his elbows.

“You sure about that?” Tim is almost languid, resting his arm along the window ledge and watching them from the shade of the driver’s seat. “You’re looking a little… dewy.” 

A laugh bubbles up under Lucy’s tongue, and she turns to give Tim another look of wry reproach. She can already hear his fingers tapping lightly against the car door, see the small crease between his eye and his nose that let her know he’s mocking them, his eyes darting to her for acknowledgement. She knows him so well, she can picture his moves before he even makes them.

What she doesn’t see is the prisoner’s wife. 

Small, meth-skinny, with ragged, dull hair. She’s a blur through the collapsed screen door of the dilapidated house, a stain the same colour as the chipped beige clapboard sagging into the burnt lawn.

Juarez moves first, dropping to a squat and pulling out her holstered weapon.

Time slows. Congeals. The heat from the asphalt rises in waves before Lucy’s eyes, and her head feels too heavy to turn.

One black flash against the beige house.

One deafening bang, echoing clangorously around her.

She sees Tim, his lips parting - the start of a smile or a yell, she can’t be sure - and his eyes fix on her.

Blue, blue sky. Blue, blue eyes.

Feathered red.

Shattered red.

Blossoming red.

He lurches back into his seat, and, with all the violence of a smashed record, time catches back up to her.

Juarez is yelling at the woman, Nolan is yelling at the radio, the suspect is yelling at the ground, and Lucy is yelling at Tim.

She can’t see him - just red. Red where there should be blue. Red where there should be Tim. Nothing but red.

“Officer Chen!” Nolan’s voice cuts through her concentration like a blade, and she swings around, her arms on autopilot and reaching for her gun. Nolan is hauling the man off the ground, grunting with the effort, and he growls something else at her. There’s something she’s supposed to do. Somewhere she should be. She looks towards Celina, who is already grappling with the small woman, and with a swift kick, knocks her to the ground. The gun drops and glints black in the dry earth, feet away from where the woman falls. 

How do guns glint? How does black flash?

“Lucy!” Celina’s voice is high, and it pierces her rumination, drawing her back into the present. Juarez has the woman handcuffed beneath her, but her worried eyes are set on Lucy. “Lucy, I’ve got this. Go check on him.”

Him? Tim.

Tim… Tim!

She whirls around, her feet starting to run before her mind catches up with them, and she stumbles in the rough lawn before she moves forward. She’s aware of Nolan manhandling his prisoner into the back of his shop, aware of the shrill sound of distant sirens spiralling in an eerie vortex as they draw closer, but all she sees is red. Red on the windshield. Red on the white painted window frame. Red dripping relentlessly onto the road below their shop. She hears a scream as she crashes against the driver’s door, her hands reaching for his head and tipping it - easily, far too easily - towards her.

A bubble of blood bursts in the corner of his lips and his eyelids flicker. His shoulder is wet, and sticky below her hands. A dark bloom billowing across the navy of his uniform shirt.

His lips twitch and the screaming changes, and she suddenly recognises her own voice, pinched with horror, stretching his name into a thin wire of fear in the air between them. She gasps and swallows, grasping clumsily at the door handle and almost knocking herself out as she hauls it out of her way. He droops limply in his seat, only the belt and her hands keeping him upright, and she can hear herself calling him again, again, again, but he’s not answering.

***

She falls backwards into Nolan’s arms, the fight draining out of her like water through sand, and all she can do is watch helplessly as Bailey and her team cut away the last of Tim’s white vest and prep the AED. His skin is smeared with blood, and she finds herself looking at her own hands, finally recognising the need for a wipe - she’s covered in red. Her hands, her sleeves, the beds of her fingernails. Even, she realises, under the full glare of the sun, all across the arch of her cheekbones. Bright sparks of his blood flashing red beside the streaks of her own tears. She almost reaches to rub her eyes, but then Celina is there, calmly restraining her wrists and running a cool cloth over her stained fingers.

“Let me help you just clean these off. It won’t take a second.”

“Three, two, one… clear!”

Bailey’s command and Celina’s appeal mix and blend with the background noise in a discordant chorus of voices, and Lucy lets her hands be held and wiped, her shoulders still supported (or restrained) by Nolan. She sees Tim’s body buck starkly, spasming in a viciously sharp arc as the AED shocks him, and she gasps, reaching out as if to stop his pain.

“Still no rhythm. Run it again!”

“There now, this hand is done. Let’s have the other…”

Celina releases one of her hands, and it hovers in mid air, her own index finger blocking Tim’s arm from view. His head has rolled to the side, and his eyes are closed. He could be sleeping, turning his head towards her in his dreams, releasing a soft breath into her ear. 

Sometimes he murmurs. Rarely, and completely unintelligibly, but she can’t help herself from drawing closer, stroking his cheek and bumping his nose with hers, encouraging him to repeat himself to her. He doesn’t, and she still can’t tell what he’s said, but she holds those moments like a gift, precious and irreplaceable and just for her; something he only started doing a few months into their relationship; something he still gruffly denies in the broad light of day.

His body arcs again, and she sees his eyes spring open, crystal bright where they catch in a beam of sunlight, and his mouth expands in a silent scream.

Bailey’s team seems to exhale as one, shifting and reforming around one another with practised ease, changing positions and equipment in a confident dance of precision, like the gears of a well-tuned clock clicking seamlessly into place. Lucy rises out of Nolan’s grasp, and this time he lets her go, Celina hovering in her periphery like a concerned hummingbird. She crawls the few steps to Tim’s side, black pebbles from the asphalt sticking to her fingers, but she hardly notices. All she can see is his chest rising and falling; rising and falling fitfully, as if he’s struggling to make his lungs work the way they should. His hands are at his sides, trapped in the torn fabric of his shirt and tapping a spasmodic rhythm against his thighs.

She’s hooked her fingers into his before she even realises she’s reached him, and his head jerks unsteadily towards her. His eyes lock onto hers, and for a second he seems to catch his breath, inhaling slowly, fully, as his fingers wrap around hers.

“Lucy…”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay sweetheart, we’ve got you.”

She feels herself finally crashland back into her body, the cacophony around her instantly transforming into the familiar cadence of emergency calls and orders, the uniform colours and vehicle shapes once again making sense.

He’s been shot.

Tim. Her love. Her heart. Her world.

He’s been shot, and she can tell it’s not good.

There’s so much blood, still, all over him, and his clothes, and the ground; and his eyes are too wide and too scared. She can hear the words ‘pneumothorax’ and ‘pulmonary edema’ from the medical team, and she knows they have to get him to the hospital, right now, or … Her mind blanks it out and she shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought, of the tears that have squeezed themselves out onto her lower lashes.

“We’ve got you, love. It’s going to be okay.”

She runs a hand through his hair, ruining his carefully arranged ‘do, and stroking her fingers along the edge of his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter closed at the touch of her thumb, but his breath catches in his throat, and he coughs wetly and jerks back to wakefulness with a fright, his eyes searching restively for hers.

“Lucy, we have to go.” Bailey is opposite her, an oxygen mask in hand, already hissing with air and Lucy nods, once, and then again, more firmly. She squeezes his fingers tight and brushes her thumb across his lips.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And she kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him. He breathes against her, and she inhales him, stifling a sob and holding his face close, lingering against him for a long moment; savouring the beat of his heart pulsing warm and quick under her fingers at his jaw and temples.

And then Nolan is behind her again, drawing her away, and Bailey is covering Tim’s face with the oxygen mask. The EMTs load his stretcher onto a gurney and rush him towards the back of the ambulance. She watches, feeling as if she’s been completely hollowed out; as if anything stronger than a light gust of wind could blow her away.

“Lucy. Go on, we’ve got your shop.”

Instead of pulling her, this time Nolan shoves her gently, and she almost trips again, looking back at him and wondering why he looks so strange. He nods, and Lucy automatically imitates the gesture, and tears fall from her eyes, clearing her vision, and Nolan looks like himself again, tilting his head urgently towards the ambulance.

She takes a breath, turning from him, from their shops, from the dark blotch of blood on the ground where the stretcher lay, and she hurries after Bailey, hoisting herself up and inside the closing ambulance doors. AO3 link💖

On to Part 2!

[stargore]

i think people do intros i don’t know how the fuck tumblr dot com works but here’s like an intro??? i think? you guys would tell me if i was wrong right? …right?

HI i’m alastor, i’m a gay trans boy (he/it/star/that)!!!

i’m punk and super into punk-adjacent music and fashion!!

i’m also a musician :3 i sing and play the drums + ukulele. i am also a RAGING theatre kid. it’s bad guys. it’s really bad.

i also very likely have autism and bpd…no official diagnosis, but 3+ years of research, family history, and the opinion of multiple professionals says yes! this is almost definitely what is wrong with this child!! they impact pretty much everything i do ever, so please keep that in mind when interacting 💛

fun facts: my favorite color is dandelion yellow, i spin fire, i love painting and sewing and reading, i’m a baker, and a published writer/poet, i love my boyfriend, i do speech and debate, i can recite the entirety of hamilton from memory (yes, THAT kind of theatre kid.)

other like, msc interests/fandoms: homestuck, night in the woods, bone collecting, bojack horseman, undertale, geography + maps, homestuck again (ask me about classpects!!!!!!!!)

ALSO!!!!!!! if you’re racist, homophobic, transphobic, anti-semitic, right-wing, anti-palestine, or any of that bigoted sort of stuff, i will kick your fucking teeth in. do you want your molars added to my human teeth collection? do you know how hard it is to live without teeth?

i’ll find you. get off my blog.

okay!!! anyway!!!! on a different note!!!! uh. Homestuck in the year 2024 ok BYE

[via-the-cryptid]

So like. A thought that came to me about the Snow Queen AU and the events of Fionna and Cake.

So, while I'm not sure exactly of the logic, but. What if when Snow Betty's crown broke (after the whole being used as a battery thing) was when Fionnaworld lost it's magic? Because the Crown already got kind of busted by the magic drain, and SQ is connected to the crown and stuff. I'm not sure it makes sense, but like. If Betty still has magic even when the Crown isn't actively trying to super-impose another Wizard's madness onto her (and failing), Fionnaworld would still be magic and stuff, so the premise of the show (besides the "look for a different magic crown by traveling across the universe" part) wouldn't exactly apply...

Though, I guess you might have other plans? I just thought like. The Crown getting its phantom circuits fucked up by the magic drain would be an interesting reason for why magic is gone in Fionnaworld, that's all.

I may have a different idea as to how the events of the actual Fionna and Cake show would go, but I think the damage to the crown would at least result in some really weird shit happening in Fionnaworld. like in the episode Broke His Crown, the circuits were rearranging things and everything kept ending up backwards, upside down, and inside out? that basically happens to Fionnaworld for a little while until the crown gets fixed through a combined effort of built-in debugging, Magic Simon, and PB’s VR equipment.

for the actual Fionna and Cake series arc, however, I’ve decided that their world doesn’t actually lose its magic — not in its entirety, at least. It becomes a little more mundane and a little closer to an actual city, like one from before the Mushroom War, but it’s honestly closer to Wizard City or the floating human city than like… New York or Seattle or something. so yes, they’re no longer a genderbent copy of Ooo, but they’re not completely magicless, either.

Fionna and Cake get brought out into Ooo kind of by accident. Magic Simon and Snow Betty were fucking around with interdimensional stuff (not necessarily trying to summon Golb this time, more like trying to world-hop because they were bored) but it went a little sideways and Fionnaworld started having these glowing blue portals appear (because technically, that is what the spell was trying to do, give them a door to the closest alternate reality, they just didn’t expect it to be in Snow Betty’s head). Fionna and Cake decide to go on an expedition to find out what the portals are and where they lead, and… they pop right out of Snow Betty’s head. in the middle of the attempted spell.

and that’s about when the Scarab shows up!

see, he was already alerted by Simon and Betty’s world-hopping attempt, but now they’ve actually succeeded, and that puts them on the level of Scarab’s targets — the ‘gods’ he audits, like Prismo and Cosmic Owl. Magic Simon was already kind of a grey area due to some of the other weird stuff he got into, but now both he and Snow Betty are firmly in the section of Interdimensional Criminal in Scarab’s eyes.

instead of running throughout the multiverse in an attempt to restore the magic to Fionnaworld, their primary goal is simply to get away from the Scarab and specifically to keep Fionna and Cake away. while running, however… Scarab manages to steal Snow Betty’s crown, and that is where they enter the plot of the canon Fionna and Cake. they’re running from the Scarab and looking for a replacement crown, but this time it’s so Betty doesn’t die of 1000-years-old disease.

they do end up getting her original crown back from Scarab and the show ends much the same, but it’s Prismo who separates Fionnaworld with the permission of The Boss instead of it being a Golb-induced dandelion fever trip. the final episode of F&C obviously goes differently as well, but we’ll get into that later bc this is getting a liiiiittle longer than I’d intended.

[misericordel]

it was through knolls assistance that louis made it back, dishevelled, beaming, happy. instances of blood lined busted lips & his skin is cool from miasmas touch - casted none other than the mage himself. louis was seemingly purposefully not leaning the entirety of his weight against him, however. there were fears he may just be . . . well, crushed, smaller as knoll was in contrast to him.

at that, he disbands from the librarian, before sitting beside veyle. "well done !" is the first thing louis says, allowing himself to relax where he sat. they had lost, of course they have, but they still triumphed in matters of bonds. "i have to say, that was exhilarating to fight by your side. without you, i do think i'd have been sorely taken out long ago. thank you, veyle."

hand extends itself and forms into a fist, and louis nods. "let us celebrate our silent victories in each others company," and wordlessly does he hold it there - surely, she knew a fistbump. "as i took to the ground, i fell onto quite a few dandelions. weeds, i'm aware, but i find their persistent living in spite of everything to be admirable."

patting down his pocket with his free hand, he handed some to veyle, carefully preserved the best one could. "they bring about healthy grassland, and are quite medicinal. i would like for you to enjoy them as a trophy of your efforts. we may not take home any medallions, but we were as relentless of our beautiful yellow friend here."

“louis!” veyle outright gasps. there was no worry of death here when this was no more than a massive spar, but she still did not like to see humans hurt. especially when that human was close and important to her. if he hadn’t approached her and sat down right next to her, she would have ran right up to him and told him to go see a healer! that he is able to close the distance between them so quickly with seemingly little effort allows her to relax.

“well, i think i could say the same about you. hehe.” she giggles— the smile that follows so clearly sheepish. she knows he is not just being nice but it is hard to imagine that she really did that much for him in that fight. “i feel like i just helped you clear the way with my magic, so i guess that means that we both were strong because of each other, huh?” 

looking at his hand formed into a fist, it takes her a moment to realize what he asks for. “oh!” she makes a noise of realization, forms a fist of her own and simply touches it against his than pulls it away slowly. it lacked the normal energy a fist bump would have, but it was definitely still a fist bump. she takes the weeds in both hands afterwards, unsure what to do with them when she wasn’t really hurting. maybe she could offer them to someone else who was injured..? for now, she stuffs them into her pocket.

yes, she just has a pocket full of weeds now.

“you should go see prince dimitri when you can, louis.” the fell dragon comments, looking back up at him. “he’s been really nice and visiting all the people fighting for the blue lions…. i think he deserves the same treatment, don’t you?”

[jayren404]

(It’s Time for Air Themed Questions with Julie!) What’s the best cloud shape you’ve seen? Do dandelion wishes come true? Do you like flying/If you’ve never flown, do you want to? What is your favorite weather? 

It’s time for air themed answers with nick

Best cloud shape: the entirety of Scotland or maybe a dragon

I dont think Ive ever wished on a dandelion! It was always just counting how many blows it takes to get rid of all the seeds and that equals the time? I think I’m remembering that right

But yes if I did wish on a dandelion I’d hope it would come true :)

I dont mind flying but I HATE airports they’re so stressful and overstimulating, especially when I don’t speak much of the language of the country I’m going to

I would like to go to a lot more countries in the future (taking a gap year next year to work/ hopefully travel some more) but that will probably involve trains + boats more than anything

I usually say autumn weather but now it’s freezing cold here and we’re dealing with storms im gonna say my favourite weather is sunny/ warm

England and wales have sm beautiful countryside and it really just fills me w sm happiness seeing it in the sun, plus I’m cold and I’d like the weather to improve a little

[alternamarian]

For the record I only have watched the movies, and not quite the entirety of all, so my comments are limited to them. (I also admit that this is not my favorite series / adaptation.) But maybe I can note that the marketing of the movies have done quite a lot of harm to the series in general. The movie industry just couldn't promote the films without relying on competition, and whipping up the audience into partisans over which boy the blushing teenage girl is more infatuated with. Marketing imitates literature, etcetcetc.

I do agree though that conflicts over romantic / erotic interests can be more than just About That™. Choosing which person to be with means choosing what sort of life to live, what beliefs and principles to follow and uphold. And I agree that a primary focus of the story is Katniss Everdeen deciding what life to live, as she travels the road of self-discovery. Choosing 'which boy' to spend the rest of her days with is definitely not a THG version of Team vs Team.

I guess my difference is that I don't think the setup requires all the tension to be romantic / erotic. I certainly don't think she could have Had It All™ if one or the other boy was 'just a friend'. (I know what that phrase means in this context, but still ...) Anyway though this is a decades-old movie series, I will continue with spoilery details below the cut.

Gale Hawthorne is such a pragmatic character, I think he would most likely have killed Primrose Everdeen, directly or not. And anyone remotely involved in her sister's death is someone Katniss just won't be close to, whatever the relationship. Even if she and Gale remained 'just friends' throughout the story, that friendship will be quite strained afterwards, if it survives at all. At that point, the choice is clear. But she has to work that out for herself.

When she returns to District 12, she does seem to insist on going back to her pre-Game life — which of course includes Gale, whom she considers as a kindred spirit, regardless of hormonal tingles. But there is no going back, as Haymitch Abernathy says:

There is no end to this trip.

Then the revolution happens. And yes, she begins to realize just how different they are. She yearns for peace, he hungers(!!) for war and bloodshed. And whether by a conflict in principle or by sheer exhaustion, I don't think Katniss can live a life so closely associated with someone like him, whether or not they get married and have children. And the death of her sister finally makes that clear to her.

As for Peeta Mellark, I admit I don't quite see how she begins to love him. I don't quite see her gratitude for the food, for instance, or how that interaction causes her to see him as more than just another boy from the district. Even in the midst of the Games, they seem to me more like colleagues who happen to kiss occasionally(?!!) But by the end of the series, she does choose to marry him, and start a family; and I don't think the choice is uncharacteristic of her, or because of bad writing from Suzanne Collins. What Katniss needs is the dandelion in the spring.

And that's also why I don't quite agree with the complaints about teenage romance. Again, I blame the marketing for using the love-triangle hype strategy. But as for the actual films, there is more than just romantic / erotic love that drives the story.

I know that people use 'platonic' as a catch-all for non-sexual love. But what sets the plot in motion is not some Tough Girl™ struggling with hormones. Katniss Everdeen volunteers herself as tribute in order to save the life of her sister. She takes her place in the arena, knowing she will have to kill other children if she is to go home alive, just to prevent Primrose from killing and dying in the Games.

There will be no series, in whatever form, without Primrose Everdeen. There will be no story without these two girls fighting, in different ways, for the sisterly love they shared. And when at last death parted them, the so-called 'love triangle' simply ceased to exist.

So no, THG is not about some girl who just can't decide which boy she likes, or that their entanglements are a distraction. Marketing or not, the audience ought to see past that false image, if they are to be serious about opposing The Capitol.

I like your post about the Hunger Games and agree with most of it, but I still think the love triangle was unnecessary and people are right to criticize it. Collins could have very easily written Gale as the best friend and Peeta as her main love (based on endgame choices) or vice versa I don't even care since I'm not a big shipper of either. But she did introduce the unnecessary drama that overall did not add much to the plot, and it only took away focus. So I think I understand that crit.

Once upon a time, I might have agreed with you. These are good books, important books, and we don’t need to defile this war epic by shoving in teenage-hormone love-triangle dramatics. Then I reread the series, and I was astonished at how, for the most part, the love story is inextricably intertwined with the action-adventure elements. You can’t take out the love-triangle elements without creating a very different book with a very different message. That love-triangle, far from defiling the war story, elevates it into something better.

It starts almost immediately in the first book. We see how Katniss has a deep friendship with Gale, something that could turn into romance, except that she doesn’t dare to go down that path. There’s no place for marriage, and definitely not for new children, in their broken world. She only has energy for day-to-day survival. And once Katniss goes into the Hunger Games, romance is definitely off the table. She needs to harden her heart and make no human connections with the people around her if she wants to have even the slimmest chance of making it back home to her family. In a lesser book, she’d be right–there’d be no goopy romance to distract us from the hard-bitten survival epic that the Hunger Games is supposed to be.

But then Peeta declares his love for her. Suddenly, she’s part of an epic romance on national television. She wants nothing to do with this strategy–love makes you look weak. (And doesn’t that sound a lot like people who criticize the YA love triangle?) But Haymitch counters that it makes her desirable to the audience, and suddenly the thing that had seemed so burdensome becomes necessary to her survival. She needs to play the game–and once they’re in the arena, she needs to figure out if it is a game to Peeta. Peeta has already shown himself capable of manipulating the emotions of all of Panem–is it possible that he’s manipulating her?

This is the real brilliance of the first book’s romance. It doesn’t distract from the main conflict–it is the main conflict. Like so many other teenage girls, Katniss asks herself, “Does this teenage boy like me?”, but in this case the answer is literally a matter of life and death. If he loves her, she can trust him to help her survive. If he doesn’t, he could kill her at any time.

By the time she finds out that his love is real, she has to fake romantic feelings toward him to draw in sponsors. Now she’s manipulating his emotions to survive, and she can’t hope to untangle what’s real and what’s fake in this manufactured mess of a reality show. But Peeta’s influence has shown her that love isn’t pointless in the Hunger Games–it’s the only way for them to truly fight back. She chooses love for Peeta–whether romantic or not–over her own life, and that’s the only reason that, for the first time in history, two victors manage to beat the Capitol at their own game. Katniss won not by being the best warrior, but by showing love. The love story wasn’t a distraction–it was the solution.

It’s only in Catching Fire that she has to deal with the consequences of that. She was willing to die for Peeta, but she’s not sure she wants to live with him, especially since their relationship started under such unreal circumstances. She’d much rather leave the Games–and Peeta–behind and return to the life she knew before. That life included Gale, and Katniss is, for the first time, willing to consider him as a romantic partner. If her romance with Peeta was fake, is it possible that she could have real romance with her best friend?

This is the point where the love triangle comes into full swing, and I’ll admit this is the book where it’s integrated most clumsily. It seems like Katniss is taking some unnecessary risks in pursuing a relationship with Gale, and the plot sometimes comes to a screeching halt so Katniss can think about her emotions. But even if the plot integration isn’t as smooth as it was in the first book, the thematic relevance of the love triangle is still spot-on. Katniss has to think about what she wants–cling to her old life or dive into this new post-Hunger Games world? Does love have a place in this world at war? And when we think about the question in that way, the sloppy integration of the love story into the main action plot is kind of the point. Katniss may be instigating a war, but she’s still a teenage girl. She still has emotions, but she’s being forced to hide or fake so many of them that she doesn’t know who she is, what she wants, or who she wants to be. How can she discover her identity, hold onto her humanity, in the middle of a war?  

Mockingjay is where we get the answer to those questions. With Peeta imprisoned in the Capitol and the war underway, Katniss is saved from having to make an immediate decision about her romance. She echoes every romance-hating fan’s thoughts when she says:

The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning.

There’s a war going on! There’s no time for love triangles! But it’s only when she’s not being forced to pursue romance with Peeta that she can really evaluate her relationship with Gale–and she’s finding that it’s not as strong as she thought. When she needs advice, she gets it from Prim, not Gale. When she needs someone who understands the trauma of killing, she goes to Finnick or Johanna. Now that Katniss and Gale don’t have the shared bond of having to care for their families–who are kept safe and fed by District 13–they’re finding that they don’t have much else in common. Katniss is mistrustful of Coin, while Gale is part of her inner circle. Katniss kills only when she has to during the war, while Gale treats weapon design as a fun challenge. This exploration of their relationship isn’t a distraction from the main plot. They’re what make the main plot mean something. This is the lens through which Katniss considers her views on violence, on war, on life, on what the point of their fight is. She and Gale literally have arguments about utilitarian principles! It’s only by exploring and then severing this leg of the love triangle that Katniss finds out who she is and what she really believes.

Collins couldn’t explore these issues in the same way if either Gale or Peeta wasn’t presented as a romantic interest. The nature of eros is desire, and the whole point of the Peeta vs. Gale question is Katniss figuring out what she wants out of life. She needs to be drawn to both of them, in the same kind of relationship, if the question and answer are to mean anything. Does Katniss want her old life, with Gale as the most important person, with his anger driving her to fight for survival by any means necessary? Or does she want a new life with Peeta, where they live for something beyond mere survival? Which man, which philosophy, does she want to devote her life to? If Peeta was the love interest and Gale was only the best friend, she could have both in her life. But you can’t resolve the trilogy’s central question by having Katniss compromise. Choosing one side means she can’t choose the other–and the only relationship that requires such an exclusive choice is a love triangle. Far from distracting from the main plot, the love triangle is what elevates it, takes it beyond a war story where the only question is how the characters will survive, and makes it into a story that tells us how the characters are going to live.

[tuwam]

@urianius

meixi is bouncing on her toes. she's practically got magic spilling over from he fingertips. but she doesn't. because she knows better and her uncle would kill her if he found yet another instance of her not being able to control her powers. she's fine! she's nervous yes. but she's fine!

soonyi and yichen are glancing from her, to the object of her nerves. it's a big bowl, a crockpot to be exact. her uncle had given her the same look when she'd asked to borrow it - and his kitchen - and his vegetables from his garden. she's his ward! she's entitled to those things at the very least. he'd expressed a bit of concern and enjoyment at her interest in cooking and though he insisted he be part of the process, meixi assured him she could handle it. it was a gift! she had to be able to handle it.

so she'd pulled up at the recipes, all the cookbooks and all the ingredients and got to work. her uncle still hadn't taught her healing spells ( the old fart ) and she'd decided she should be careful not to cut her hand cutting the squash. but it was fall! it was the time of her people - according to the humans. fall and witchy season went hand in hand and for her - harvest moons and such were on the horizon. she was excited and she was ushering it in with her friends, her first real friends who knew who and what she was without judgement.

it was important to her to celebrate it. and what better than the soup she'd seen advertised on so many autumn and fall recipe sites. she didn't know much about what fall entailed for humans, but she saw pumpkins and squash and lots of earthy inspired things. she'd gone out of her way to pick things from the woods to decorate on her own.

it was important! it had to be perfect! people that you entered the harvest moon with were people you treasured and boy does meixi treasure these two. boy does she.

so she'd spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon decorating and this morning cooking, cooking and trials and errors and taste testing to get it right. she wasn't sure exactly how it should taste but she just wanted it to be good, to be memorable and be enjoyed. she was so nervous, she's sure little white dandelions are peeking their way out her hair and she's blowing them away so they don't fall on the table and by the food. she'd fastened some pumpkins, cored out and labeled the soup into them. the table decorated with multicolored leaves and pinecones, probably a little too fresh and some with the soil of the earth still dusting off them.

but that's the point! right?

she'd begged her uncle for his tablecloth but now she's glad he didn't give it to her, ladling the soup properly had caused a bit of a mess. but it looks good, homey and steam is still coming from the two pumpkin bowls.

"dig in!"

soonyi and iychen both look back and forth from each other, to the bowls on the table. apprehension is to be expected - the only thing meixi had ever cooked for them were things frozen to be put in the oven. cooking had been her uncle's job so she could focus on her studies. they all knew that, in fact, when it came to cooking yichen was the one the two girls turned to. he always had a new dish that he'd learned from his childhood - ready to whip up for them. she wanted to return the favor.

'meixi...' "it tastes good i promise!" 'we believe you!'

yichen is always the first to try and placate her, knowing the young witch is prone to tears at any moment.

"please try it? i wanted to share the beginning of fall with you both. i promise i didn't use any magic to make it! look - i even have the bandaids from times i knicked my finger with the knife!"

she's showing her fingers as a form of conviction but the two are quick to rise from their seats and be at her side. yichen is inspecting her hands and soonyi is searching for a first aid kit.

"guys i'm fine!!!! please just eat!"

both friends stop. the dandelions in her hair definitely start to blossom now, even popping off her in bunches and falling on the table. yichen coughs a bit and soonyi starts laughing and dusts them from the table and meixi's apron.

'okay okay, don't sprout an entire tree silly.'

meixi's signature chipmunk face has taken hold as she watches her friends return to their seats. it doesn't move until they take hold of the ladles and after a quick look to one another - take their first bites. meixi thinks she'll die from anticipation, she's leaning so close over the table, the dandelion flecks also make their way into the bigger pots she'd made.

"well? well?!"

'it's...' 'delicious.'

the admission from both of them at the same time had her beaming and this time in the place of the white dandelion wisps, is the actual yellow flower, bursting across the crown of her head.

"really?!"

she doesn't get a response though because the two are effectively digging into the soup. meixi's heart swells.

"you really liked it?"

even after they'd devoured their bowl, asked for seconds, and stolen a loaf out her uncle's pantry to toast and eat another helping of soup with - she's still nervous.

'it was great.' 'yichne would lie to help your feelings but i wouldn't.' 'i wouldn't lie!' 'to make her happy you would.' 'so would you!!!!'

the two begin bickering and meixi can't help the laughter that spills, and the flowers that begin to fill the room, vines crawling under the floorboards to sprout more and more buds. yichen is laughing as his hand comes to tousle what he can from her hair, an affectionate rub against her head and soonyi is effectively blowing the petals away before they cause a storm. she does take quite a few in her hand to place on the table, by the nearly empty pot.

'happy harvest?' she starts. "happy harvest!" meixi adds. 'happy harvest!' yichen finishes.

happy harvest indeed.

[1-million-interests]

the skeleton

(TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT, GORE)

Do you think you’re a bad person?

…I don’t know the skeleton replies. Its therapist does not seem satisfied with this answer. She taps her pen against her clipboard impatiently, her gaze boring into the skeleton’s hollow skull. Truth be told, the skeleton does not know what kind of person it is. It doesn’t even know if it is still a person, if it possesses any shred of humanity within its bone marrow. Was I once a bad person? A good person? The skeleton asks itself, trying to remember. Certainly, once upon a time it would have had muscles and flesh and a circulatory system covering its entirety. A liver beneath ribs. A brain in its skull. But no matter how hard it tries it can’t remember. When was the last time it felt warm? A memory is speared and dragged along the base of the skeleton’s mind straight to the hippocampus. A suffocating warmth. The prodding of bony hips. A small, sharp cock. It recalls a vague shape; a faun. A skinny, hairy creature with soft pale skin, a twisted spine and brown hair as fluffy as dandelions.

Well, what do you think a bad person is?

Him? Maybe? Now that the skeleton thought about it, it could swear it remembered little horns growing out of that fluffy hard head, a devilish-looking tail reaching out underneath the bar seat, his bright red face. A complexion the skeleton first associated with intoxication. Could it have been evil lurking just beneath his skin?

What a silly question. As if the skeleton can even begin to fathom what a person is. What did it mean to be a person? It certainly knows what it means to be a skeleton. To be a skeleton is to be light and cold and hollow. It is to walk permanently naked and exposed, yet without the embarrassment of vulnerability within the exposure. It is to be unidentifiable. On first glance how could you know its sex? Its age? Its weight? Its name?

Do you blame yourself?

…Yes? No…

How could the skeleton have known? He was kind. He said it was beautiful, back when it had skin and a shape. He took it home and hugged it until the sun came up in a boiling, bony embrace. He rose before it did and greeted it in bed with a coffee and a toastie and an air of hospitality that whispered, don’t go (not just yet). Stay. Eat. He smiled at its naked body. What had he been thinking? Had he looked at its flesh with adoration, or had he looked at it hungrily. My oh my, the skeleton can imagine him now, licking his lips, long sharp teeth stretching out of his mouth, how tasty your meat will be. But he would never gnaw at the bone, goodness no, he would rip it all off, like a glove exposing a hand, and he would devour it alone, leaving the skeleton cold and naked but fortunately without a heart to break. Wasn’t taking of its clothes enough?

You talk about wanting to be a skeleton. Tell me, when did that start?

The skeleton wanted to be what it was and thus it became just that. A few bones stacked one on top of the other. It thinks, therefore it is. The skeleton suddenly feels cold at the question, a stabbing, aching chill that forces its way between its ribs and swirls down the vertebrae of its spine. Somehow, it feels like it is sweating. It remembers the taste of martinis and tobacco, his sweaty hands in its, the smell of his scalp.

Then there’s a gap. A moment where time stopped or started or reversed or sped up. The skeleton is unsure. There’s the memory of being in aa car, blinking slowly and heavily like its lashes were webbed with glue. It closes its eyes.

A gap.

Being in a bed, that same boy on top of it, not touching its skin. Not exciting it, but thrusting into the space between its legs. The skeleton does not remember feeling anything. It closes its eyes again.

A gap.

It is awoken by a pressing heat. An iron pressed hard against its back, searing of the skin. It sits up, the bony boy’s bony fingers slipping of its waist. It remembers the thrusting. There are wet patches on the bedspread. It knows it naked, but it feels lighter than usual. It stands up, searching the floor for a condom wrapper. It checks the bin in the bathroom. Finally, it finds the Durex wrapper under the bed, surrounded by the scraps of flesh that litter the floor.

It remembers looking back at the bed spread. At the sleeping boy laying next to the piles of intestines, meat and flesh twitching on its sheets. Even with blood splattered on his hands and hair wrapped around his torso and teeth scattered in his hair and the vertebrae of his crooked spine protruding down his back, he is beautiful. He is smiling in his sleep, turning over and sighing, cuddling the pile of meat in its arms, staining his chest red.

The skeleton does not miss who or what it was before. It does not even remember. It is so content with the lightness of its bones, the way air circles around its eye sockets and hums between its ribs. What is there to miss about flesh and muscle clinging to its bones? What is there to miss about hair, smells, blood, sagging skin, and fat?

There is another memory that shoots up from the empty space that was home to the skeletons gut. Gentle and tender kisses on the back of its neck. Smooth circles being rubbed between its shoulder blades. Its forehead being lightly stroked when its head feels swollen and damp and too heavy to move. Love.

Is…Is this what I was? Is this what I had? The skeleton thinks to itself.

Something wet slides its way down its cheekbones.

Am I crying right now?