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hoshinasblade · 5 months ago

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second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building. you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

#hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no.8 x reader #kaijuu 8 gou #kn8 x reader #hoshina soshiro fic #YEY ITS FINALLY HERE

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byechristopher · 24 days ago

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in for it | pt. 1

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: oh boy, I fucking love Chris. Nothing else to say. Just read. Didn't proofread! Don't copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: angst, DRUGS, Chris is a dealer, smoking, blah blah blah.

⠀

Chris was trouble; I knew it. From the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he moved. Even the way people around him spoke about him hinted at something dangerous, something off. I knew him for a long time, we'd been hooking up for a while now. And I knew there was something off about him. Something dangerous. But he was captivating, breathtaking even – especially as he stood tall next to me, a cigarette hanging between his soft pink lips, his eyes flicking toward me from the corner of his gaze.

“Aren’t you scared? What are your people gonna say when they find out you came with me?” His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. It felt like a warning, but the smug look on his face made it clear he enjoyed this far too much.

“I am scared,” I admitted, looking up at him. His presence felt both magnetic and suffocating. “But I want to know more… about you.”

“Hm.” His lips curled into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing look in his eyes. “You’re gonna regret that someday.”

Before I could respond, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe with a practiced carelessness. He didn’t even look at it as he did it. His fingers slid around my wrist, firm but not harsh, pulling me along without hesitation. “Come on.”

When the door of the club opened, the heavy bass hit me first. The place was packed, even from the outside I could see it. Bodies moved together, lights flashing in sync with the music, and the air was thick with heat and sweat. Chris exchanged a few words with the guy at the entrance – I couldn’t hear what was said, but I caught the nod, the way the man stepped aside and let us through without a second glance.

Inside, the atmosphere was electric. Chris weaved through the crowd like he owned the place, his grip on my wrist loosening, but he didn’t let go. Not yet. I could see people looking at him, some with recognition, some with something like fear, but nobody dared to approach him. Not directly.

We stopped at a corner where the lights were dimmer, the crowd thinner. Chris leaned against the wall casually, one foot propped up against it, eyes scanning the room. It was like he was waiting for something – or someone.

And then, it started. People approached him quietly, almost discreetly, but I could see the quick exchanges. Pills slipped from his hand to theirs, small plastic bags tucked into pockets. He barely spoke, only offering a few words here and there, but it was enough to make them move. He made it look effortless, like this was just another part of his routine, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

I watched, my stomach tightening. I had heard rumors, sure, but seeing it was different. I couldn’t help but wonder how far this went, how deep Chris was in.

He caught me staring and smirked again, that dangerous glint in his eyes. He pushed himself off the wall and moved toward me, his body close enough that I could smell the faint hint of smoke still lingering on his jacket.

“Still curious?” His voice was low, teasing, but I could tell he was testing me. Seeing if I’d back down.

I swallowed, heart racing, “what you're doing is wrong."

"Mhm. You came here to see what I do or to tell me what's wrong and right?" He chuckled and I felt my heart racing even more at his carelessness.

I decided to stay silent, lost in my own thoughts. Why was I here? Why didn't I want to leave? On the contrary, I wanted to be closer to him. To kiss him. To touch him.

He kept staring at me – he walked closer to me as my back hit the wall, "I like you like this." He said and came even closer.

"Like what?" I cleared my throat, looking at him.

"Curious. Willing. Scared as fuck but still staying for me." His nose was touching mine and I almost lost it.

"Chris.." I couldn't say much.

Chris's smirk widened as I spoke, his eyes darkening with something I couldn't quite place. There was a glint there, a challenge. He was always testing me, seeing how far I would go, how much I would bend for him.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, bright pill. It caught the low light of the club as he held it between his fingers, rolling it absentmindedly. He looked at it for a second, then back at me, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for my reaction.

"You ever try this before?" he asked, his voice almost drowned by the pounding bass.

I shook my head, unsure if I should admit it. "No."

His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he leaned closer. His face was inches from mine now, so close I could feel his breath. "You wanna try it with me?"

I hesitated. I'd heard the stories. Seen the fallout. But something about the way Chris looked at me made it hard to say no. Maybe it was the danger, the thrill of stepping into something unknown with him. Maybe it was just Chris – the way he seemed so untouchable, so sure of himself. It was like being around him made the world feel less predictable, more alive.

He held out the pill, watching me carefully, waiting for a decision.

Before I could think too much about it, I reached for it. My fingers brushed his palm as I took it, feeling the smooth surface of the pill resting in my hand.

Chris' eyes never left mine, like he was daring me to back down, daring me to run. But I couldn't.

"Go on, pretty," he said softly, almost too soft to hear, but it echoed in my mind like it was the only sound in the room.

I looked at him, heart pounding in my chest, then slipped the pill between my lips. Chris's eyes followed the motion, a glint of satisfaction in them. He didn't hesitate – pulled another pill from his pocket and popped it in his mouth like it was nothing, then leaned closer again, this time with a different kind of intent.

His lips found mine suddenly, catching me off guard. The pill was still dissolving on my tongue when I felt him press against me, his mouth warm and demanding.

My body reacted before my mind caught up, leaning into him, hands instinctively reaching for the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. The taste of the pill mixed with the faint bitterness of his cigarette lingered between us, intoxicating and overwhelming.

His kiss was different this time. Rougher, more intense, like he was staking some kind of claim. His hand slid up my arm, his fingers brushing the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I could feel my pulse quicken, matching the heavy beat of the music around us, the heat between us growing by the second.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes locked on mine, I felt light-headed, and it wasn't just from the kiss. My lips tingled, and I could feel the pill starting to kick in, warmth spreading through my body, making everything feel sharper, brighter.

Chris was watching me closely, his thumb brushing along my jawline, almost tenderly. "How does it feel?" he asked, his voice husky, almost too low to hear over the music.

I blinked, trying to focus, but everything around us seemed to blur at the edges. The lights pulsed brighter, the sound of the music seemed to sink into my skin. And Chris... Chris was the only thing that felt solid, real, his hand still on me, his gaze holding me in place.

""I don't know yet," I whispered, though a part of me knew that whatever was happening now, I was already in too deep.

“It’s something light, baby, I promise,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He smiled, pride shining in his eyes as he leaned in, kissing me softly. His hands tangled in my hair, and I melted into the warmth of his kiss, feeling alive in a way I hadn’t experienced before. “You’ll feel amazing in a minute. Just give it time.”

The kiss ignited something within me — a warmth spreading through my chest and tingling in my fingertips. I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my heart racing. His eyes were full of mischief and something deeper, something that made my stomach flutter. I wanted to lean in again, to bridge the space between us, but the uncertainty held me back.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice barely rising above the music. He took my hand and led me toward the dance floor, where the lights spun around us, creating a dizzying spectacle. As we moved together, the music pulsed in sync with my heartbeat, and I surrendered to the rhythm.

With every beat, the world around us faded away. I felt light, almost weightless, as if the ground beneath me had vanished. The pill was working its magic, heightening every sensation—the way his hand felt intertwined with mine, the heat of his body so close to mine, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

“See? You’re feeling it now,” Chris said, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear. His words sent shivers down my spine, amplifying the sensations swirling within me. I was lost in the moment, craving his closeness, wanting to feel him against me.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. My cheeks flushed at his compliment, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Chris.. I feel.. really good.” I said, and he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my forehead. I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his presence envelop me. I wanted this moment to last forever, to remember every detail — the way he looked at me, the sound of his laughter, the thrill of being so close.

“Promise you’ll stay close,” I murmured, gazing up at him, vulnerability creeping into my voice.

“Always,” he replied, and the sincerity in his tone made my heart swell with hope.

As the night unfolded, I surrendered to the moment, the high of the pill amplifying every touch, every glance, every breath we shared. It was intoxicating, beautiful, and I knew deep down that whatever happened next, I was ready to embrace it all.

The rest of the night felt like a blur.

I woke up in Chris’s room, disoriented and panicked, the sun slicing through the curtains. The remnants of the night flooded back — dancing, laughing, the pill. My heart sank as I realized how much I couldn’t remember.

“Chris?” I called out, my voice hoarse. He walked in, casual as always, but today his smile felt hollow.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concern masked by a casual tone.

“How do you think I feel?” I snapped, anger bubbling up inside me. “You gave me that pill without a second thought. How could you?” Realization hit me.

I saw his expression change. He looked like he wasn't expecting me to react this way, as if I had betrayed him. He crossed his arms, irritation creeping into his voice. “You wanted it.. as much as I did.”

“That’s not the point!” I shot back, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over me, “I trusted you. I..”

“I didn't force it on you. You took it. Hell, I took it with you.” he said, frustration seeping through.

"I wish I'd never taken it, though!" I almost screamed, and he looked at me, furious.

“How the fuck would I know that you'd regret it? We were having fun. I wanted to share it with you." He huffed.

“Fun? You thought drugging me would bring us closer?” I took a step back, the hurt sharp in my chest. “You’re just selling pills like they’re nothing.”

“Drugging you?" His eyes widened and he walked closer to me, "what the fuck are you saying? You make me sound like a fucking creep." He gritted his teeth, "we did drugs together. We kissed. We danced. Nothing more. We wanted this, you wanted this."

“But I just wanted to be with you..” I said, shaking my head. “And now I can’t fucking trust you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I interrupted. “We should stop seeing each other. I need to think, I can't.. think straight when I am with you.. and I feel like I can do much worse things in order to get closer to you.” I admitted, and it was only then that I noticed his expression softening.

His face fell, and for a moment, I saw the regret in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. “If that’s what you want,” he said quietly, almost defeated.

“Yeah,” I whispered, the weight of my decision heavy. I turned away, knowing this was the right choice, even if it hurt. I walked out, leaving the chaos of the night behind, determined to protect myself from the mess we had created together.

It wouldn't be that easy to get away from him, though. I knew that.

⠀

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epiicaricacy-arts · 11 months ago

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oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #artists of tumblr

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lyneira · 2 years ago

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♡ *doki doki* ♡

-> things that would make their heart beat a little bit faster

Seeing you smile

Itto, Diluc, Childe, Venti, Thoma

He absolutely loves seeing your face brighten up with a genuine smile. It has him subconsciously mirroring you, his face also turning aglow (even if it's in the most subtle way for someone like Diluc) And especially when you're smiling at him, that love grows tenfold and his own smile grows deeper. He can't help but be full of adoration for you upon seeing that lovely expression. More so when that beautiful smile forms into a laugh, oh his heart is soaring.

That's why he often makes it a point to make you smile whenever he sees you. Whether it's doing something kind for you, telling you a joke, or surprising you with a gift, he's going to find any possible way to make you smile. Your smile is just so precious to him as he knows how fleeting happy moments like these can be, despite how much he wishes they'd last forever.

So he will protect it with all his might, and God forbid someone ever makes that smile turn upside down.

Feeling your touch

Xiao, Tighnari, Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Gorou

Your touch soothes them, assures them, warms them. You needn't even give them a big hug. The moment they feel your skin on theirs, even if it's barely a ghost of a touch, they're folding. After all, I honestly don't these guys would be used to skinship even though it's what they'd secretly crave for the most.

He nearly holds his breath as he feels your fingertips gently caress his skin because if he were to let go, he'd be all over you. Each time you touched him, he'd desire more of that warmth. He wanted more of you. You, who would put his mind at rest and feeling your touch reassures them of that. You make him feel safe

Staring deeply into your eyes

Alhaitham, Zhongli, Kaeya, Cyno, Kaveh

There's an unspoken trust and connection when you two gaze into each other’s eyes that there is no need for words to let them know that you love them.

Your eyes say words that your lips cannot express to its full extent, and most of all, your eyes can never lie. That's why when you look into his eyes with so much love, he knows that it's true and it makes him feel warm. He's so happy that there's no denying you love him as much as he loves you.

Hearing your voice

Ayato, Heizou, Kazuha, Albedo, Baizhu

I feel like these people wouldn't like hearing a lot of noise, but on the contrary, I would think that they didn't mind listening to you.

Your voice is such a distinguishable part of you which makes it his favorite. There's no one else who has that same exact tone of voice, the same exact intonation you use, the same laugh that you have, and all of the other sounds you'd make. They love it so much because it could only belong to you. And when his name would come out of your mouth so sweetly? He'd swoon a bit each time.

Any sound from you meant it was a sound from his favorite person in all of Teyvat. So if he wasn't looking and didn't know you were coming to see him, the moment you call out his name, he'd immediately know it was you and he'd smile. His beloved was here.

a/n: this prompt is heavily inspired by one of the click and drag games I made a while ago on @deescade (hehe, shameless plug per usual). I haven't created a genshin one yet, but I currently have a twisted wonderland one and obey me one if y'all are interested!

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thisapplepielife · 14 days ago

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Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Front Page News

Prompt: Wrath | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Property Damage | POV: Goodie | Relationship(s): Steddie, Background Buckingham | Tags: Modern Setting, Famous Corroded Coffin, Pissed Off Eddie Munson, Lavender Marriage, Steve & Chrissy, Secret Relationships, The Goddamn Prying Paparazzi, Chosen Families: No Matter How Unconventional

Goodie scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. His phone screen is getting hot in his hand because he's been reading so long. Continuously scouring for more information. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. This can't be happening. Eddie's gonna lose his fucking mind. There are blind items, and a copy of Alex's birth certificate being posted for the world to see.

And the tweets.

Not to mention the fucking Reddit threads. Comment after comment.

Goodie wants to kill them all. Rain down a pox on them and theirs for doing this. For digging. For getting into things that are of no goddamn concern of theirs. They need to mind their own fucking business.

Eddie's gonna explode. The shower is still running, and Goodie's standing guard outside of the door. Staying between Eddie and his phone. Goodie'd reached in and swiped it off the vanity, just to be extra careful.

Jeff and Gareth better get their asses here, and soon. See if they can limit the fallout. Eddie's off social media, but this dam is gonna break and word is gonna trickle to him if they don't hurry up and get there first.

"Eddie," Gareth says, and they've corralled Eddie. Cornered him, and now all they can do is watch him rage. He's destroying his hotel room. But none of them are about to tell him to knock it the fuck off. Not today. Not over this.

He bounces off the wall and Goodie braces for impact. Catches and releases him in one fluid motion.

"Eddie, you can't do this," Jeff says, but Eddie's not listening.

But Eddie's got a temper, a short fuse, always has. But it's never manifested like this before.

"You're too old to act like this!" Gareth screams, and fuck if he isn't right.

But they've also never dealt with anything this personal before, either. And it spiraled into a major scandal in one afternoon. Their PR is working on a spin, but Goodie's not sure how they're gonna get Eddie out of this one. Enough of it's true, a straight denial is never gonna work. Eddie is on the birth certificate of a brand new baby. With a woman married to someone else. Living in the suburbs, with three other kids at home.

Those are just facts. There's no getting around 'em. Everything about this is bad optics.

It's just the context these fucking vultures don't know, and honestly, don't deserve to know.

Chrissy's been married to Steve for nearly twenty years, but he's been with Eddie longer. Chrissy, with Robin. Those kids? Shared in a way Goodie can't understand. It's a fucking mess, and not anything Goodie would want any part of, personally, but they did what they thought they needed to do back then. And until now it had worked.

Only this time, they used Eddie's sperm and his name on the birth certificate. Not realizing people would dig around, gleefully releasing that info.

A good marriage, as lavender as it may be, about to be blown to fucking smithereens.

Eddie, slandered, shamed.

Steve's not here. Steve's in the fucking Palisades, at home. Probably getting ready for a PTA meeting or practice. The perfect stay-at-home dad, with the perfect wife, who loves her job and works long hours.

Eddie screams at the top of his lungs, and they're gonna get complaints. Even in the middle of the day.

Gareth goes in, wrapping his arms around Eddie, trying to hold on, trying to calm him down. But Eddie shoves him off, and Goodie takes a fucking knee with a thud that fucking hurts, goddammit, but he makes it down in time to catch Gareth. The last thing they need is Gareth with two broken arms from catching himself on the floor under this thin carpet.

"Thanks," Gareth breathes, hands squeezing both of Goodie's shoulders, sprawled on top of him. It knocked the wind out of Goodie, but neither of them are hurt, and Jeff helps both of them right themselves. As much as they can, right now, anyway.

They might be done for a little while. This might not blow over. Eddie might get arrested if he can't pull his shit together. Quick.

Goodie supposes that depends on the route Steve and Eddie and Chrissy and Robin want to take. Come clean, or batten the hatches and take the onslaught until something more scandalous comes along in the news cycle.

"Sorry," Eddie says, reaching for Gareth, and Gareth reaches back, wrapping him in a hug. One that Eddie is ready for, this time. "I'm just so mad," he says, under his breath, but it's enough for them all to hear. "I know," Jeff says, "we'll find a way to fix it. We will. You'll see."

Goodie goes back to his own room and calls Steve.

"Oh, yeah, they're here," Steve says, and describes the paparazzi standing outside of the gated house.

"At least they aren't on the lawn?"

Steve laughs, and Steve's not worked up in the slightest, it seems.

"Eddie's having some sort of mental breakdown, and you're just, what, fine?" Goodie asks.

"I'm not fine, but there's no reason to get so fucking worked up. Can you put him on the phone?"

"He's not in here, but I'll get him to call you."

"Tell him it's fine. We're fine. Whatever happens, it's all fine. I'm fine. Chrissy's fine. The kids are fine. Robin's fine. Tell him we're all good over here."

"I will," Goodie says, and he's not sure Eddie will accept good as an answer today, but he'll try.

They are past the point that being queer is gonna tank Eddie's career. So, Goodie doesn't think it's the coming out that has Eddie in such a goddamn tizzy. Goodie's pretty sure it's the loss of normalcy for the kids, for Steve, Chrissy, and Robin that he's furious about, that he's mourning. Steve loves Eddie, but he wanted a family, a life and a home.

He didn't want to spend a lifetime on the road. So, a plan was hatched. A deal in place, and it's worked so damn well. For decades. Eddie had a homebase nobody knew about, Steve has his three kids and a pool-full of age-groupers to coach.

Maybe if they were coming of age now, they wouldn't have taken this route. Adoption for two queer men would have been an option. But, twenty years ago, this was the best idea they had.

And now here they are. Freaks. Front page news.

Goodie basically scruffs Eddie like an angry cat, even if he's not currently shredding the curtains, and marches him right to his phone.

"Call Steve. He's good. You'll feel better after you do."

"What if our phones are bugged?" Eddie asks.

"Jesus H. Christ, Ed, so what if they are? Fuck 'em. There's no tap dancing out of this one. Some sort of the truth is gonna have to be announced. Don't fuck things up with your family because you're mad things aren't exactly as you want them to be."

That's a problem Eddie has, and they all know it. It's his way, or the highway, always. And they've all stupidly catered to it maybe a little too much over the years.

But Goodie watches him dial, and waits until he's sure he's connected and calm.

"Hi," Eddie says, then adds, "Anything new going on?"

And Goodie can hear Steve laughing through the phone, and Goodie's blood pressure plummets back to normal. It's gonna be fine.

Steve's got it from here.

Back in the safety of his own room, Goodie crashes into the chair, and pulls out his own phone. It's finally cooled down, though the battery is depleting.

He calls home, too.

"You're famous," she says, and he laughs.

"Fucking Eddie. My knee hurts," he says, and then starts gossiping in the way you only can with your spouse. Telling her everything he knows.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest: seven deadly sins #prompt: wrath #corrodedcoffinfest #goodie stranger things #freak stranger things #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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siriusremusblack · 1 month ago

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Uh, welcome to my TED Talk I guess?

Imagine this. From a young age, ever since you can remember, your father was abusive and neglectful. Your mother also neglectful but is a bit more caring. At the age of nine you meet someone that is similar to you in one way or another and you become friends. That person is the only one that can bring you any semblance of love, appreciation, kindness and happiness- that you as a small child need. You know at age eleven you will finally be able to get away from your abusive household because of a wizarding school that is similar to a boarding school. You know of it from old books your mother owned, hearing about it from her and some others, and usually is a topic in your parents fights.. you think you will finally have some peace from the abuse, a safe space where you can just exist normally like any other person there.

But… then you meet the rich, popular, pureblood, well known kid and their friends. They immediately start hating on you for simply wanting to be in a specific house.. and the next thing you know. Your sanctuary you would’ve had for seven years has been turned into another hell for you.

The staff and other students don’t care for your situation. Even your best friend you’ve known since you were nine seems to be drifting closer to your tormentors and farther away from you. Then when you’re in a highly stressful situation (being SAed in front of everyone) you say a slur referring to your best friend (which also applies to yourself) you feel horrible, and you apologize. Yet, your friend asks you to leave them alone for good and you do. You have lost the only person that has ever cared about you.

So, you join a group that promises you affection, power, authority, care, etc. You feel accepted for once, like you belong. Then, that group puts your former best friend and her family in danger, so you ask the big boss to spare your friend as the target was her child so you couldn’t ask to spare the kid and the husband was your main tormentor.. so you only asked him to spare your ex best friend. But you’re worried he won’t keep his word because you’ve seen first hand how he is like.

So you go back to one person you’ve met, that you know likes them. Even though they’ve never shown you any concern or cared for what happened to you. You seek them out for help. You ask them to save your friend, then to save their family. Including your tormentor. You practically sell yourself to the man to have this done. Yet. Your friend still dies, only her child survived and you’re tasked with protecting him subtly when he goes to the school as a first year, much later and on top of that you’re to be a double agent, spy and a professor with many many tasks and responsibilities in the very same school you were traumatized and abused. With the very same people who ignored your needs, your trauma and your pain in favor of your abusers.

The kid you’re tasked to protect from year 1 to year 7 is almost an exact carbon copy of your tormentor look wise. Which is a huge trigger. Not only that but they have the eyes of your former best friend. Those eye they use to stare at you with contempt from day one because they automatically assume upon seeing you, that you’re bad and out to get them. When you’re not. Those eyes you see everyday on the carbon copy of your tormentor triggers you, it brings you unimaginable emotional pain you can’t express or explain to anyone. You still have no one.

Not only that, but you’re autistic. You’re misunderstood and have been for your entire life. You don’t know what genuine affection is and you base your actions on how those around you act because those are your role models. Your role models are witty, sassy and sarcastic. They have obvious bias and favoritism towards their own houses and students. They ignore what they want. You act like them. You copy them but yet, you’re still hated while they’re adored by everyone, because you’re favorites aren’t the same as theirs…

Everyone is upset that you’re too “bitter” and “petty” and too sarcastic and sharp tongued. When really you’re an autistic wizard who has been traumatized and vilified all your life with little to know support. You’re seen as petty because you couldn’t get over something that happened years ago, even though it was so traumatic it will always affect you and you have no support system to get the help you need. You’re seen as bitter for being prickly around others and careful about who you get close to, even though you’re surrounded by people who never cared for you constantly seeing triggers wherever you look.

How can you be nice when everyone around you doesn’t seem to be? How can you be nice when you never been on the receiving end of someone genuinely being nice? How can you be nice when you’re in constant stress over multiple taxing jobs? How can you be nice when you’re triggered everyday by constant reminders of your trauma? How are you expected to open up and be nice, caring, happy when you’re silently struggling with immense pain because the people around you never cared to help you? How can you be expected to act in a way when you were never taught or shown how to do so? When all your life you’ve been abused and neglected and unappreciated? You can’t be.

Those with support systems can improve if they want to. They can manage the symptoms of their trauma. But without a support system it is extremely difficult almost impossible to improve and heal. How can you expect someone to be a happy go lucky person when all their life they were beaten down and abused by everyone around them? Trauma affects people throughout their entire lives. Without the proper support and care a person cannot properly heal. It is the same for physical wounds, if you don’t get the proper treatment for it, it won’t properly heal. If it doesn’t properly heal it can and will hurt you more later on. You cant expect someone who was hit by a car and paralyzed to be a track star racer. The same applies to someone who has gone through so much abuse and hate and trauma, you can’t expect them to be this loving, happy, extroverted person.

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #pro severus #professor snape #severus snape angst #anti snaters #stop victim blaming

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rey-jake-therapist · 2 months ago

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Someone mentioned on Twitter today that Galadriel was the only one who had chosen to wear her ring on her LEFT HAND. Gil-Galad and Cirdan both wear theirs on the right hand...

How didn't I notice before? Did it escape me that it looked like a wedding ring? NO. But the left hand...!!

They don't even try to be subtle about it. In the movies she wears it on the right hand, so it's not even as if they were trying to copy it.

This show will be the end of me, I swear.

I must say I don't understand the complains... Season 2 is basically a long, excruciating long distance slow burn between two characters who can't be together at the same place, are supposed to hate each other but think obsessively of each other almost 24/7. This is delicious.

#the rings of power #trop #trop season 2 #a freaking rom-com in middle earth #“where's celeborn”#maybe he shouldn't come back after all #sauron #galadriel #saurondriel #haladriel

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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Every Road Leads Back To You.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n have always been life long friends. A friendship that fell apart with his fame, but came back with hers.

From the moment they knew what a friend was, it seemed that Harry and Y/n had been that. Two friends who spent each and every second together. Sharing crayons in pre-school. Harry’s red wax scribbled on a thin sheet of paper to Y/n’s deep blue. Together they made purple.

They always shared, without realizing they did. Always so giving to one another, so gentle. They held each other closely, never alone. Always one step to the side of the other.

In elementary school, Y/n shared the sweetest candies with Harry when his mother insisted on packing healthy foods to help him grow up strong. Always letting him pick off what he wanted first before taking her share of the sweets. A smile plastered on their faces and chocolate smeared across their cheeks.

By middle school Y/n was buying all her shirts a few sizes too large. A habit she picked up so Harry could borrow anything he wanted, just as she had done to him. Raiding his clothes each sleepover and keeping them until he all but took them back. Something he said he found slightly annoying, but the redness on his cheeks and the guilty pleasure of seeing her in his clothes was nice. Only dueling his little kid crush on her. Nothing they had was ever just theirs. It always connected right back to the other but neither of them minded. They completed each other in so much more than materialistic ways. While a shared shirt or a worn down crayon box was a nice reminder of their invisible tie on one another, their constant presence and kindness that was reflected special for one another really completed them. Each becoming the better half of the other in their eyes. Something that was rare and so pure.

High school was the first ending between them. Each day spent together, hours dedicated to hearing Y/n’s laugh and Harry’s horrible jokes that she adored for reasons nobody else could quite get like she did. Homework was copied, tests were failed and tears were shed all on his bedroom floor like they always had been. And they remained together. It was their graduating year that Y/n gave Harry his final gift, one that neither had thought to be the last. Y/n had signed Harry up for X-Factor. A competition Anne and her had always encouraged him to apply for as he had such a raw talent. Harry believed that they were only saying that because they loved him, but Y/n believed he was the best singer in the world.

He went on the show. The Styles family excited waiting backstage in the T-shirts Y/n had made. Showing support even when she wasn’t allowed to be there. A touch only the family would know existed until the end of time.

By the time Harry was placed into a boyband, inching closer and closer to the end of the competition, it seemed he was growing more and more into someone you’d only ever read about in the latest edition of Vogue. His boyish demeanor never changing and his kindness strong, but his time diminishing quicker than anyone could’ve bet on.

So Harry no longer had time to be with Y/n ever minute anymore. No longer dedicating hours on his floor, back aching almost as hard as his cheeks from his smile. No longer joking about everything under the sun with her, no longer taking her shirts and trading off his as a fair deal. It all ceased to exist. And Y/n faded away into obscurity. Falling far from her role as Harry Styles’ best friend and into only his origin story.

………………………………………………………………………………..

One Direction was over. Whether the world chose to accept it or not. The promised return after the break becoming more and more obvious as one that fell through as the years continued to roll on.

It was always hard for Harry, being on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he had grown to be self sufficient over the last decade. Learning how to do things on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, it was that he had never mastered liking being alone. Always longing for a companion. Someone he could share everything with. Someone he could count on to laugh at even his worst jokes. Not just to humor him, but because they believed he was the funniest person on the planet. Someone that could give as much as he did. Someone who didn’t mind sharing.

Someone like her.

Over the years, Harry always thought about her. The reminiscent sound of her laughter still new and familiar to his ears. Something that he vowed to never forget. She always loved his jokes. Eyes constantly crinkled and teeth showing.

She gave too. Gave everything she ever owned to him in a joint custody. An unwritten rule between them. That no object was nearly as important as they were to each other. No job, no paycheck, no ranking in education could ever mean more than they did to each other. Harry still had some of her shirts. Bowie, Mercury, Buckley, Nicks. All the greats spread across some of his favorite shirts.

Everything about her was his favorite. Even after all this time. He’d had four boys to call his best friends all these years. Everyday spent together, bunk beds under one another and socks mixing together in their laundry loads, but nothing ever shared in the same way he had with her. His love for them not the same as it was for her.

That sense of loneliness always lingering in the back of his mind. Maybe a tinge of regret. He always wished he hadn’t let himself get pulled away from her. Maybe then she would be there, laughing with her head in his lap, mouth muffled against the denim on his thighs as she rolled around, holding her stomach and warning him that she just might piss herself.

Maybe they could’ve become more. Her hand in his and his lips on hers. A daydream he used to think about in middle school. One that faded away as his crush had. But now he would never see her again. Never hear her laugh or know how her smile changed with her age. He bet that it was just as beautiful, if not more. Just as welcoming. Just as genuine. But he would never know, as Harry had no idea were she was, where she had gone. Her phone number belonging to someone else now and all social medias deactivated and unused. She had truly slipped from his life, only to remain a wonderful memory. Until recently.

Like some unworldly creature had been guiding him, watching him and helping him, Harry had found her. It wasn’t in person, by any means. Her physical presence still as empty as it had been these past years. The loneliness still lingering and the regret still as sharp. But he had seen her. And everything he had ever wondered about her had been true.

For there she was, her face looking out an older looking window, surrounded by some of the biggest names. Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Timothée Chalamet, Saoirse Ronan. There was his beautiful Y/n, the girl who always dreamed of Broadway and movies was on the movie poster for the new adaptation of Little Women.

Something about it felt so right. The way she aged like fine wine, looking just as youthful as she did in her later teen years now even in her mid twenties. The way she had made it into a large project, something she always dreamed of, and something Harry had always wanted for her as well. A accomplishment that she deserved more than anyone. That and the knowledge that her name, Y/n Y/l/n was scribbled under the quiet, yet kind character, Beth. Someone Harry believed fit her perfectly. As to him, Y/n was the best of anyone he’d ever loved. Even all these years later, Harry still believed she was something of an angel that was sent straight from heaven just for him. The better parts of him and the even better parts of her beside him for what should’ve been eternity, but were taken away without reason.

He tried not to be weird when he passed it. Trying with all his willpower to not stop and stare for an uncontrollably long amount of time. Yet, his feet grew heavier with each step by until he fell to a stop. Mouth opened slightly and eyes sparkling with joy and wonders. He looked like a young boy again, excited over something short of Christmas in his eyes. The best gift of all had been granted to him, the knowledge that his best friend was doing just fine.

Harry was quick with his fan girl natures over her. Sneaking a quick photo underneath his coat sleeve and turning his brightness down to such an aggressive dimness that only he could quite see what was on his screen. His fingers wandering away from the photos app and searching her name, trying to find anything out about her.

Y/n Y/l/n. A twenty five year old actress who had stared in a handful of critical acclaimed films now, and earned spots on a few well established television shows. How could Harry have not known? Had he really been so caught up in himself that he couldn’t see his old friend rising to a similar status as his? How could he have not known she was in so many different projects, many he had even planned to watch himself. How could he have been so blind to his Y/n, who had been just a few steps away from his reach, who had continued to stay by his side all while he thought she was somewhere far away?

It seemed almost absurd, the whole situation. Someone who was so involved in the media not knowing about a very popular actress, who just so happened to be his best friend. But it was true. Harry barely spent time on social media anymore, not enjoying it the same as he did in the band. And his feed was mainly just his new friends, any posts of other celebrities unseen. Deep down, Harry knew it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. How could he have? There was no way to ask her, no way to reach her. But even then, he felt that the drifting was his fault to begin with.

He wanted to blame it on his tour schedule and his long studio hours he spent locked away from the real world in order to create something he loved. But in reality, Harry could only feel selfish. Selfish that he couldn’t even be bothered to pay enough attention to the rest of the world to see what was always there.

He tried not to overthink it, letting it slip into the back of his mind as he geared up for promotions and lavish parties that tumbled his way, schedule too full to be worried about someone who had probably already forgotten those years and their secrets. Someone who had probably stopped caring long ago. And so even as the thought sat in the back of his mind, Harry did what he always had. Shoving himself into his work until the rest of the world and his worries melted into a nothingness.

………………………………………………………………………………….

It had been the night of a Gucci event. Something so prestigious to the outsider, but to Harry seemed more tame compared to the other events he was being dragged to. One that he could relax at knowing he had some familiar faces being in attendance.

He had worn his nicest suit. A simple white set with a ribbed tank top underneath. Pink sunglasses large on his face, but in a way he managed to make it look good. Hair tamed but free at the same time. To say he looked good was an understatement. Because Harry looked damn good, and he felt it too.

Not only had his appearance been a confidence booster, but the immediate finding of some of his friends helped to ease his mind from the pain of small talk. He had gone over lines he would say to new people, wanting to make friends and be kind, but felt more calm around those who already knew him.

It went smoothly, at first. His posture slightly slouched and drink held loosely in his hand. Eyes glued to the circle of people that had formed in the corner of the large room.

He felt comfortable, at ease with the whole night. It seemed that even in the beginning of the event he could see how it would end. With the professionalism fading away the deeper everyone grew into their drinks, and he would slip upstairs with a smaller group to do some questionable things, forget he did them in the morning and regret it while he was over the toilet by the afternoon.

A hot mess he would’ve taken any day over the hot mess Harry was about to become.

If he could’ve shattered his glass without facing consequences of it, he would’ve. Harry would’ve broken the glass and stared as hard as possible if it were acceptable. But it wasn’t, so when the all too familiar laughter, the same one that he could recognize anywhere as if it were one he still heard everyday just barely made it to his ears, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing and his eyes from widening.

Just beyond Alessandro, someone Harry had worked with in the past and was comfortable enough to call a friend with, was the one woman who haunted him innocently as a ghost.

At first he believed he was seeing things. His drink could’ve been spiked, for all he knew. He could’ve had one too many, even if he was only two drinks in and was nowhere near a lightweight after all his teen years conditioning to stomach the drink. But with the soft rub of his knuckle to his eyes and a few clear blinks, he could see it was true.

She glowed, standing out even in a room full of the most well known names. Her hair straightened until it was absolutely pin straight, the front pieces slicked back behind her ears into a sleek look. Her clothing similar to Harry’s, ironically. She wore a suit as well. The fabric the same shade of white and her face wearing glasses just as big. The inside the same shade of orangish-pink, the rims thick and black. A classic look that was perfect in her fact.. The only thing that seemed different was the fact that Harry had worn a tank top beneath his suit coat. She had a white vest underneath hers. One that acted as her shirt, and made her look that much better. She even had the same lazy grasp on her drink that Harry had on his.

She had been talking to someone Harry hadn’t recognized when he spotted her. Laughing at something the other woman had said genuinely before beginning her goodbyes. Her hands laying over the older woman’s gracefully and her head tilting down to excuse herself. How ironic that Harry would catch her slipping away, just as she had watched him do all those years ago.

Watching her walk away felt like his leaving all over again, and something snapped inside of Harry.

All these years of wondering, of regret and wishing that she was there had finally built up enough to make him forget that he was meant to stay and mingle. Make himself look good for future promotion of his upcoming album, Fine Line.

“Excuse me, sorry. I have to use the bathroom.” Harry hadn’t meant to be rude, but his eyes just couldn’t slip away from her fleeting frame, hands stuffed in her pocket and hair flying behind her.

His footsteps were rushed and quick, the warmness of the party turning into the darkness of the night the closer he got to the exit. Front door still wide open and the streets abandoned. Paparazzi not yet lined up on the sidewalks. He could see it now.

His broad shoulders had brushed another’s in his panicked state, soft sorry’s exchanged and his eyes becoming forced away from the only person in the room that seemed important in the moment.

The air was cold and with each heavy breath Harry could see a faint puff of his own breathe in front of him. He had lost sight of her quick, in his incident inside. His focus only lost for a beat, but long enough for the girl to slip away into the night like a ghost. It was only when he’d turned the corner, feet planted and chest heaving underneath a flickering lamppost that he saw her. The elegant woman smiling and thanking the driver whose car she’d began to get into.

He wanted to scream, to call out her name. Yell at her to stay, beg her to recognize him. But all that came from his lips was a heavy silence. Harry realized he hadn’t rehearsed what he should say to her. How do you speak to someone who knows you in and out after drifting so far apart and losing everything you once loved about each other? How do you reconnect? It was much too late to think about that, even in his jumbled mess of a head, he let his head speak.

“Y/n!” It came out staggered. Out of breath and winded from rushing out to get to her before she left. Feet heavy again on the pavement, goosebumps aggressive underneath his smooth suit. He was hell for leather in this moment, desperately trying to reach her.

His attempt was poorly timed, and just as they had all those years ago, the pair had slipped out from each others grip without realization of what was happening. Neither of them at fault, the only thing to blame was the lack of awareness that seemed to hurt them each and every time.

Y/n drove off in the opposite direction, oblivious to who had been shouting for her, who had been all but on his knees, begging for her to come back so they could see each other again. It looked pathetic, and he felt just as much. But Harry would much rather feel pathetic than regretful. A feeling it seemed the universe ordered him to continue feeling.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Y/n never knew what happened that night, and maybe she never would. It was ironic, and all together idiotic that the pair, who had always been so in sync with each other had fallen out of it.

If there was one thing for certain that they still had, and would always have, it was the known fact that no matter where they were pushed or pulled, they could never stay apart for too long.

With each new release of an episode from some corny, yet brilliant series or the premieres of a highly anticipated film, it only became more and more apparent that she would forever be a name cemented into Hollywood pop culture. The crowds of paparazzi and cheerful fans lining the exit to each shop she visited usually only furthering it. Her presence at lavish and exclusive events becoming something that was regular.

So it wasn’t out of the blue that Y/n would be spending her night at yet another gathering. Yelling and dancing with another well established name in Hollywood, and one of her good friends at some random celebrities party. The lights blinding her and the music way too loud. That was the one thing that had changed over the years, with her status in the world.

Y/n used to adore this kind of thing. The constant moving, the sweat and the coolness of a hard drink soothing the intense heat of a club. She loved being social, partying only to regret it in the morning.

It wasn’t that Y/n had become dull, no quite the opposite. Y/n was always the life of every party. The one starting the stupid drinking games and cracking way too many jokes, laughing hard at the ones being told. It was the fact that everything was just so fast paced. Waking up too early and going to bed too late, Y/n longed for those quiet nights alone more and more. Loving being able to curl up with a friend or two and just enjoy the night intimately. Something she’d always loved, but something that she had grown to love even more now.

Still, she let herself be persuaded into nights like tonight, three drinks in before midnight and makeup smudged in rockstar kind of way. She had glitter over her eyelids and a devilishly lustful smile painted across her face. The alcohol bringing out the flirt within her.

So she let herself grind up against the man she had come with. No one more than a friend to her, but someone she trusted enough to let loose with. Someone with the same mindset as her.

And with her head thrown back against his shoulder, hands running down his neck and his fingers pressing into her hip bones firm, it seemed like nothing else in the world would matter. Maybe the headlines would be crazy if someone caught them being so scandalous, being so free, or maybe no one would care. A risk that was all too fun, all too familiar.

The laugh she let out was one of pure joy, eyes snapping open and head leaning back up. She slowed, stepping away from her friend. His eyes opened too, missing the feeling of her body on his. She waved her hand, signaling she was okay, always one step ahead, already expecting his worried expression and questions.

“I just need to sit for a minute, sorry.” She downplayed it, acted like she was only getting tired when in reality, the whole room was spinning at a forty five degree angle. Her brain mush and lipstick wearing down from its crisp red to a smudged pinkish color.

She found a home in a well worn leather couch, tucked away in the back of the room. The music still loud but the lights not as intense. She could feel herself finding her grounding all while the leather stuck to her thighs and swallowed her into a comfortable slump.

Eyes heavy, she swore she could’ve fallen asleep. She would’ve let herself too, if it were not for the all too familiar voice that just passed her by.

Even with the music pounding and the distant ringing that was leaving her ears now, she could make out the faint conversation, catching the ending of, “-so maybe in December? I’ll be home by then and we can totally try!” It was all so enthusiastic and light. The accent not too strong but present. One that was similar to hers. She was sure she knew who it belonged to, and in her curiosity, everything he assumed was true.

There, only a few feet from where she sat, she caught a glimpse of those all too recognizable green eyes. Ones that seemed fake, like contacts but were deeper and less intense the closer you looked. A deep green. Emerald even. And his dimples just as deep.

She rubbed her eyes, glitter residue on her knuckles. Blinking hard and swallowing, she squinted. Was she dreaming?

No, she decided. He was there. In the middle of a sea of people, just as youthful and energetic as she remembered. It felt sort of bitter, seeing him now. How after all these years of nonstop thinking of him, there he was. Easily accessible and closer than she could’ve wished. Y/n practically drank up his appearance. He was just as beautiful as the day he left. It was emotional, weirdly enough. Everything rushing back. How now, they had spent more time apart than together probably. The distance killing her slowly all while he lived a good life. She wondered if he thought of her like she did of him. If he missed her like she missed him. She wanted to know.

So, pushing herself up by her knuckles, leaving a trail of glitter, Y/n weaves between the crowd. His name on the top of her tongue, eyes blinking rapidly to drown out the lights shining down. Flashing and moving too quick.

He was moving, fast. Walking with a friend of a friend, a taller man who looked about the same age but gave the vibe that mentally, he was more mature.

“Harry!” She shouted, her voice falling mute to the loud music and side conversations. A hand found her wrist, pulling her away from him, just as she almost broke away from the crowd. As she almost reached him.

“I thought I lost you, dude!” Tom had joked, his voice loud and light. Y/n turned her gaze away from where Harry stood for a moment, making sure it was really her friend that had her in his hold. And only after seeing his curly hair and half buttoned up shirt did she look back.

Her gaze was met with the emptiness of the space where her old friend once resided. Frantically, she searched from where she stood idly, but he had gone quicker than he had came. Almost like in her tipsiness, he was a figment of her imagination.

But she was sure he was real, she could feel it. She hoped it too. Y/n eventually managed to unstick her eyes from the blank space, finding her attention locked on Tom’s lopsided smile and his heaving chest. She allowed a smile to spread across her cheeks, letting go.

Even then, while playing pretend and seeming like everything was fine, in her head she couldn’t quite enjoy the night the same, mind clouded by what could’ve happened, what could’ve been. And in that moment it felt like the wound of missing him had torn again, cutting deep into her chest and causing a shut down in her heart.

The rest of the night would only be spent in the ways she had expected it to when it started. With her drunk, glitter everywhere and lips smudged. What she hadn’t expected was the regret of not trying harder to reach out to Harry and letting him get away again to be so strong in her mind.

The wishes that he was still there no longer just lingering thoughts. Selfishly, Y/n began to pretend that Tom was Harry, the drunker she got. His name almost slipping past her lips while they danced.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The air was crisp, the moon high. Even the softest breath could be seen, exposed in the cold December evening. The lampposts lights shining a translucent yellow that stretched across the pale pavement.

It was quiet, at this time of night. Late enough that the world was toeing a line between early morning and the latest parts of night. The clock inching closer to midnight with every passing second.

The world was asleep, the only sounds emitting into the once busy streets in the outskirts of London being the faint rustling from inside the twenty four hour pharmacy, the sharp crunch of hardening snow beneath his feet and the soft melodies that filled Harry’s earbuds, swallowing him into a world of his own. He had forgotten a few things at the market on his way home, and knew if he didn’t get them now, his future self would scold him for it in the early morning.

So there Harry was. He walked with his head down, one hand stuffed so tightly in his pocket, the warmth of the small enclosed space causing the palm to sweat a little, even in the cold. His other hand wrapped firmly around his phone, he searched his playlist for another song, wanting to find the perfect one to encapsulate this moment, cement the beauty of an untouched snowfall on the deserted streets of one of his favorite places.

“Umph!” It was muffled, when it fell against his ears. Music blasting still. Almost so quiet that he could have missed it, if not for the confirmation someone else was now with him with the very clear contact his body had made with another’s.

Harry let his hands tug at the wire leading to his ears, putting a pause to the noise that had swallowed him while for a moment. Ready to form some sort of short apology and be on his way, he took the chance to look up in search of the others eyes.

But what Harry found was something short of what could only be described as some sort of destiny.

Mirroring him, her hand stuffed into one pocket and the other pausing the music that had also seemingly taken her consciousness briefly, stood an old friend. One that haunted him every night, it seemed. Ever since his discovery of her.

“Y/n?” He meant to apologize, he really did. But in that moment he remembered having uttered her name too late all those nights ago, so it seemed that his heart was desperate to get it out in time now. Get her attention and never lose it again.

Her face was one that reflected his own. Eyes flickering up from her phone, mid-stuffing it into the empty pocket, headphones hanging down by her waist. And as hers met his, the whites surrounding the irises grew just as the slight parting of her mouth did. She looked equally as shocked as she did happy, in that moment. The circle of her mouth curling into a slight smile.

“Harry.” She breathed out, sounding breathless, he had taken it away. Seeing him that close, something Y/n had dreamed about for years, felt surreal. She could reach out and touch him, now. That’s how close they were. Like old times.

Harry took the time to inspect her before saying anything else, wanting to take her in a moment longer. Her shoes were just as well loved as all pairs of hers were. And her jeans were just as worn in as the deep blue puffer jacket that just about swallowed her whole in its size. One that had a slight tear in the left sleeve and ripped up fabric on the zipper. One Harry recognized to be his own.

Knowing Y/n had kept the jacket, after all these years, and even still wore it sent something through his body. An electric shock, his heart beating faster, body suddenly getting hot in all these layers. He felt good, seeing her still proudly showing off things that were his, but guilt soon took over.

What if she had only kept it because it was the only thing left to remind her of him? The only thing he had left for her? She wouldn’t have needed to keep it if he had been around. Had stayed by her side like they had dreamed about. His hand in hers.

“Is that my coat?” Harry felt stupid that, that was the question he thought of to break the silence. He could’ve asked her how she’d been, or what she was doing in London, but instead his mind stayed stuck on his jacket, a detail only he would ever realize was so intimate.

She blushed, at his question, looking down briefly as if she had no idea what she was wearing. Downplaying it in her own embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d want it back. I found it in my closet when I was packing my stuff.” Y/n flashed the warmest smile she could, one that hit directly at Harry’s heart.

“I can’t imagine it smelled too good.” He cracked a smile of his own now. It wasn’t the funniest joke, only one to help lift the heaviness of them meeting, but Y/n still laughed. It was quieter now that it was later and only for him to hear, but it felt just as good as it did all those years ago.

“No, it smelled good. Smelled like you.” Her eyes didn’t leave his when she said it, highlighting the unspoken fact that even after all this time apart, even after he had left her, she still thought of him fondly. She still loved him the same.

“Mm, teenage boy musk.” Harry joked again, feet starting to move, he let his hand find the small of her back, spinning Y/n so she was walking with him now. Something they’d both done half on purpose, but mostly subconsciously. Totally focused on just being beside each other again. Y/n let out a breathy laugh this time, swatting his arm playfully. Harry let out a fake groan, holding his arm even though it didn’t hurt in the slightest. And the sidewalk fell quiet, Y/n searching for what she wanted to say next.

“It smelled like vanilla. Like your old house and that bakery you used to work in. Like childhood.” She couldn’t have described it better. For every lingering scent that had stuck to the fabric in her old closet smelled like growing up. It grounded her. It reminded her that even when she got all big and well known, she always had a place back home. That she could always come back and hide away in her rocket ship bedsheets that Harry had permanently tinted blue after washing them with his.

He loved knowing that she thought of him still, he figured she would like the same.

“You know, I still have every single one of our old shirts.” Our. Not his, not hers. But our. Because that’s what they were, there’s. They shared them. Bought them with the other person in mind, shared them like they’d both bought it. Like they both owned it.

Going back to that, Harry began to realize just how right Y/n was in her description of the jacket. Even though Harry barely wore the shirts anymore, it wasn’t because he stopped loving them. No, they were just as special now as they were back then, but he hadn’t had her like he did then. He didn’t have her constantly around to stick to the shirts and remind him that they also belonged to another. Harry hadn’t worn them because they still smelled of her. Of cinnamon and strawberries. Of early morning breakfast and wet April rain. It smelled like all the places and things she’d done. It smelled like childhood. He worried that if he wore them now, he would lose that one last memory of how she smelled. Of who she was.

But now here he was, right beside Y/n, and she still smelled the same. Sweet and fresh, like she had never left. Harry was sure he smelled just the same now. His scent still vanilla and his love for baking still as strong. He hoped he smelled the same, wished he brought that same closeness to Y/n’s heart as she did to his now.

“They still smell like us.” He wanted to say they smelt of her, but he thought it might be too much. Y/n almost wished he had only said that it smelled of her, but she knew that Harry was always going to be less forward than her. Just a little bit shyer than her in his feelings.

The conversation carried away from their old relics of childhood memories and into more recent things. But the entire time, it flowed just as easy. They’d managed to catch up without really aiming to catch up. It just sort of happened throughout their conversation. Just like their friendship had started, they had shared themselves with one another, shared everything without realizing it. And in it, Harry realized he hadn’t gone to the pharmacy like he intended, but instead had walked past it. He knew that in the morning he would still need those things he’d forgotten, but he wouldn’t be mad. Because now he had something better. He had his Y/n back.

………………………………………………………………………………….

In the next few weeks, Harry and Y/n found themselves with their phones glued to their ears. The others voice filtering through the speakers. They talked everyday again. Hours on end like they used to. They hung out in every free minute they had. Like they were always meant to. In that, they found that they had done so much more than just miss the other. They had longed and desired one another. Always wondering, always thinking about the other.

In the new time spent together, their lives intertwining once more, Y/n realized she never wanted to miss Harry again. She never wanted to loose him like she had before. Her heart had grown too fond of him to let him go. And for Harry, he remembered why he had, had such an intense crush on her when he was just a boy. It was so cheesy, how he had fallen for her so quickly again. But you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. And they had, had a lot of distance to help that grow.

So the pair became more than friends, it seemed. The best friends enlightening everyone on their long, hard road to each other, all with their hands in one another and Y/n’s lipstick staining the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s fame had taken him away, but in some sort of luck, hers had brought them back together.

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