#anyway just went for a walk in the first snow of the year

[bluesidedown]

Hi I'm still surviving yay

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[blue-lights-to-dreams]

Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of. 

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant. 

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them. 

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty. 

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of. 

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped. 

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself. 

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing. 

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your - 

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered? 

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time. 

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick. 

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - - 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room… 

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

part 2!

[omgiamwish]

Snowmen and Such

@mp100secretspirit Here is my present for @smoarchok! I hope you enjoy it <3

About 1800 words of pure fluff. Read below, or on Ao3

Shigeo rests his arms on the wooden railing, leaning his weight against it and letting it hold him. Snowflakes fall in big clumps to join the expanse of white already carpeting the landscape. The sky is a soft gray, as far as he can see, and the light is dim despite only being late morning. Except for the soft static of snowflakes landing, the whole world is quiet.

“Hey!” Tome-san’s voice pierces the silence, but it’s not at all unwelcome. He turns to her as she joins him. “You forgot your earmuffs in the room.”

“Oh.” He takes them from her with a smile and puts them on. He hadn’t noticed how cold his ears had gotten. “Thank you, Tome-san.”

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to… to watch the snow, I guess.” He looks back to it, eyes catching on individual flakes in their descent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much at once. It’s really pretty.”

“Reigen-san said it snowed on the company trip you all went on last year…”

“Not this much. I’m glad I decided to come after all.”

Tome-san leans on the railing next to him. “Even though they didn’t even need you?”

Shigeo considers that. “Maybe even more because of that. And it was nice that Shishou asked if I wanted to come this time, instead of just… expecting I would.”

They watch the snow in silence for a long moment. Shigeo imagines laying down in it and letting the falling snow cover him. How long would it take? Until he was just another lump or indent in the frozen landscape? Although, as peaceful as it sounds, he probably wouldn’t like having that much snow on his face.

Tome-san thumps him on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I feel like building a snowman. Wanna help?”

“Oh. Yeah!”

They leave the sanctuary of the porch and wade out into the snow. It’s only a few seconds before Tome-san gives up making her own path and walks in Shigeo’s footsteps. He doesn’t blame her; the snow is knee deep, making every step effortful. By the time they get to the flat area of what might be a lawn in warmer weather, Shigeo is breathing heavily and verging on lightheadedness. He flops onto his back like he’d imagined doing only minutes earlier.

“Hey.” Tome-san kicks his shoe. “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

“No,” Shigeo wheezes, staring at the sky and blinking hard when a snowflake lands in his eye. “I’m just… resting.”

“You’re not slacking off in your club, are you?” She kicks his shoe a few more times. He moves to kick back and she steps out of range. “Letting Sagawa do all the work?”

“I placed twelfth in this year’s marathon, you know.”

“And then you slacked off so hard, you lost a year’s progress in like. Two months. I see, I see.”

“No,” Shigeo protests, laughing. He sits up and brushes snow off his face.

Tome kneels down and starts packing together a snowball. It takes her a few tries before it stops falling apart when she tries to roll it and she laughs in triumph when she finally gets something bigger than a baseball.

Shigeo watches her push the ball around, packing snow onto the sides to keep it a little more even. He picks up some snow and tries to pack a ball of his own. It takes him a lot longer to get it rolling than it took Tome-san, and by the time he has a ball as big as his head, she’s already got a second ball of about the same size.

“Hey Mob-kun!” she calls a bit later. “Come stack these for me! Oh, and bring that over, too. That can be the head!”

Shigeo picks up the ball he’d been working on and walks over to Tome-san, taking the path she’d made with her work.

The first ball she’d made comes all the way up their hips, and the second is maybe about half that size. Shigeo puts down his own comparatively meager sized snowball and tries to lift the smaller of Tome-san’s. It takes him a few tries to get a good grip and then for the next few moments, his entire focus is on Not Dropping It. He clutches it to his chest. Leans back to distribute the weight. Staggers the few steps to his goal. Heaves it into place and holds onto the whole thing for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall as soon as he lets go.

Then he collapses back into the snow.

Tome-san kicks his shoe.

“That was kind of impressive actually. I thought for sure you were going to use your powers. You should definitely use them for the next one, though.”

“Next… one?” Shigeo pants. Snowflakes tickle his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I want to see how big of a snowman we can make.” He hears Tome-san move around and the crunch of snow. “This one isn’t even as tall as me.”

Shigeo huffs a laugh. For awhile, he just listens to her pushing snow around. Then he sits up and looks at the snowman they’ve already made. Tome-san put the head on and packed snow into the places where the snowballs meet. It looks kind of lopsided and lumpy, stained with dirt and grass, not at all like the perfect white spheres you see in cartoons.

He kind of likes it.

Tome-san is making some weird noises, though, so he stands up and walks over to where she’s pushing ineffectually at a… very large snowball.

“Do you need help?”

“Come over and help me push!”

“With my powers?” Shigeo rests a hand on the ball. It’s about the same size as the bottom one of the complete snowman.

“No, that’s cheating.” She shifts around, digging her shoulder into it, shoes slipping on uncovered grass. “You have to- have to roll them naturally, or it doesn’t count.”

“But it’s okay to use psychic powers to stack them?”

Tome-san glares at him. “Are you going to help or not?”

He kneels beside her and braces himself against the packed snow. On three, they push together. It rolls over easily. The next few rolls are progressively less easy. They keep at it until, even with their combined efforts, they can’t get it to move.

Panting for air, they lean against the snowball, legs sprawled out before them. Shigeo is half sweaty, half freezing. Tome-san opens the top of her coat, so he expects she feels about the same.

“Do you… do you think… we can make the next one… just as big?”

Shigeo laughs, a stuttering, breathy thing.

They cannot, in fact, get the next one as big.

They get close, though, and Tome-san directs Shigeo to stack the two extremely large snowballs next to the first snowman. She rolls a third snowball for the head, no bigger than the head of the other. It sets Shigeo off to giggling.

“Wait, hold on. Look, look.” Tome-san pulls off a glove and digs her thumb into packed snow, drawing the shape of a tie on each snowman torso. “It’s-” She wheezes through laughter. “It’s Reigen-san and Serizawa-san.”

Shigeo makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. Shaking with renewed laughter, he packs together a snowball and places it at the feet of the snowmen. “D- Dimple,” he explains.

They both collapse into laughter, Tome-san howling with it.

“What’re you kids laughing at?”

Shishou approaches, walking in the trench of their foot prints that the still-falling snow had been working to cover and thus far only softened the edges of. Ritsu trails a few meters behind.

“Well, I guess those are some funny looking snowmen. Why is that one so much more shitty than the other though?”

“That one’s you, Shishou.”

Tome-san, who had almost regained composure, bursts into laughing again. Dimple pops into visibility to join her, and even Ritsu barks a laugh. Reigen-shishou gapes at him, baffled, or maybe betrayed, but Shigeo just grins, unrepentant.

“What the hell. Who’s the other one, then?”

“Serizawa-san, of course,” Tome-san answers, fighting giggles.

“And Dimple,” Shigeo adds, nudging said snowball with his foot.

“Hey,” Dimple complains, without heat.

“That’s kind of cute, actually,” Reigen-shishou decides.

“Nobody asked you,” Dimple mutters.

“But if you kids are getting up to this kind of stuff, you’re definitely in the mood for a snowball fight, yeah?”

Tome-san raises her eyebrows, then looks to Shigeo. He tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know Shishou, Tome-san and I are kind of tired.”

“Nonsense.” Reigen-shishou scoops some snow from the ground and starts packing it. “You kids need to lighten up. How often have you seen such great snowball weather?” He pulls back his arm, clearly aiming at Shigeo. “It’d be a shame to waste-”

A snowball hits Reigen-shishou in the head, disintegrating into a white halo. He stumbles forward with a shriek, almost face-planting in as-of-yet untouched snow.

“What’s wrong, Reigen-san,” Ritsu calls, gathering another handful of snow. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Reigen-shishou whips around and throws the snowball he’d intended for Shigeo at Ritsu. Ritsu doesn’t need to dodge the poorly aimed throw and doesn’t bother to. The next two snowballs hit Reigen-shishou in the chest, despite his attempts to dodge.

“Mob, Tome-chan, help me out here.”

Three snowballs hit Reigen-shishou at once.

Tome-san laughs. Her laugh cuts off into a shriek when a snowball hits her chest, right where her coat is still open.

“Mob, what the hell!”

She lunges toward him, scooping up snow to let loose over his head. He scrambles away, flinging loose snow behind him. He'd opened his own coat a bit, in the last efforts of making the snowmen, and she wastes no time in tackling him and shoving snow down his shirt.

They keep that up for awhile, shoving snow into each others faces and hair and clothes. Making to get up and run away, only to slip on the snowy ground or be tugged back down with the lightest pull. It’s Tome-san who finally calls a halt, breathing too heavily to laugh, but still smiling.

“That- that’s enough. It’s way too cold to keep doing this. Let’s go in.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t make any move to get up from where she’s sprawled in the snow. Shigeo doesn’t either, only rolling a bit to the side to get out of her personal space.

“Are you alright, Nii-san?” Ritsu calls.

“Mm.” Shigeo looks around. “Did Shishou go inside already?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu smirks. Then he steps closer holding out his hand. “We should, too. Your clothes are wet, and you’ll get sick if you stay in them too long.”

Shigeo takes Ritsu’s hand, accepting his help up. Tome-san stands by herself, brushing snow off her clothes. Dimple hovers around their heads, commenting on the fight. Together, they head inside to the warmth of the building, Serizawa-san’s questions, and Reigen-shishou’s complaining. Shigeo can’t stop smiling.

[runningfrom2am]

Hi, how’s your day been going? Hoping it was amazing. I just saw your post about needing inspo for Coriolanus fics! I’m not sure if you are taking requests but if you are Could you maybe do a touch-starved Coryo fic? Something fluffy/angsty where Coryo can finally fulfill those needs and be himself and vulnerable with the reader. Thanks!

as long as you need me - c.s

pairing: coryo x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, he just needs you and you just want to help.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: ahhh thank you for sending this in! it was so fun to write like stopppp i just want to give him a hug omg. also thought i'd post this to hold y'all off until i post the next part of LTPF. anyway, enjoy!

You had a very stable grasp of the limits of your relationship. What was appropriate, and what was not. You were quite shy, and Coryo always carried himself with a high level of decorum. You would eat together at lunch, and he would walk you home most days. The weekends, your study dates, were always your favourite. He was significantly more relaxed, but you could still tell he was just a little tightly wound. By now, you've just learned that's who he is. Not overly affectionate, but he cares for you and you care for him. 

"I can't stay late today, I'm sorry." You said, genuinely feeling bad for having to turn down the request. In your junior year, you started tutoring for younger grades at the academy and it is something you thoroughly enjoyed.

"I have a test tomorrow! Why can't you stay? Just for a few minutes- I just have a couple of questions." The first year, Aelia whined.

"My boyfriend is supposed to walk me home and he has a tight schedule, but I'll tell you what, I can meet you in the library in the morning before class. That way it will still be fresh in your mind, yeah?" You grinned, and she seemed satisfied as you agreed on a time, not knowing that a few of the girls in your grade were listening in.

"Y/N," Clemensia decided to approach you as Aelia walked off, Arachne and Livia following close behind. "Did I catch you telling someone that you have a boyfriend? Did I hear that right?"

"Oh, well, yes." You answered sheepishly, gathering your things to put in your bag before your next class.

"Really?" Livia chimed in, and you just nodded. "Okay, well, spill. Who is it? Do I know him?"

"Um..." You looked around, deciding what to say. You weren't necessarily keeping it a secret, but you just hadn't felt the need to tell anyone you went to school with. "It's Coriolanus. Snow." You cleared your throat, unsure why you even added his last name. It's not like the name Coriolanus was abundantly common.

"Shut up." Clemensia laughed slightly, eyes widening at you. "You're joking, right?"

"No... We've been together for almost seven months now."

"I just... wow. We had no idea. Seven months! I feel like I've never seen the two of you get closer than two feet apart." You weren't sure whether to interpret this response as teasing or genuine shock- so you just gave them an awkward smile and a small nod before walking away.

At the time, you had never considered how your lack of affection in public could be confusing to people- not that it mattered. Rumors had spread quickly after that, which was to be expected when Livia and Arachne were involved. However, PDA just wasn't your thing. General displays of affection weren't really your thing, either. Both of you always had a lot going on, and having been together for almost a year by now, you knew that you loved him and he loved you. You didn't have to prove it to each other or to anyone, there was no pressure for anything to change. On your end, anyway.

Coryo, on the other hand, was feeling something shift. Leading up to the reaping and more importantly, to the prize. You both were in the running, being in the top twenty-four of your class, and you had no doubt that Coryo was a shoo-in, but you didn't know how extremely anxious it was making him. The now constant thrumming of his heartbeat in his chest and his shaky hands were always less around you, and he can only dream of how much better it would be if he could just hold you.

These days, he'd wake up expecting you in his arms due to a particularly calming dream only to be disappointed. He respected you a great amount and wouldn't want to push your boundaries, however unspoken. Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go about his day-to-day without testing his theory that holding you could cure his fears, or at least let him forget about them for only a moment. He would happily take just a second of peace.

Coriolanus usually greeted you outside of your unshared classes, seeing that you tended to stay a few minutes late to ask questions or polish off your notes. He couldn't wait to see you, he needed to.

"Coryo." You smile, walking out of your lecture hall to see him waiting.

"Hi, Love. How was class?" Your boyfriend greets you, joining you on your walk towards the exit of the school.

"It was good. Though, I find the topic of the rebellion kind of redundant at this point." You say, books tucked against your chest under folded arms. "Is it not too soon to discuss it in a history class? I mean, I literally remember what it was like to live in a bomb shelter."

Your joke seemingly lands on deaf ears as he just hums, placing a hand on your lower back to guide you out of the building. This wasn't totally unusual, but with the way he was pushing you, albeit gently, was telling you that something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, looking up at the boy next to you as you reach the bottom of the academy's front steps.

"Fine." Coryo nods, attempting a reassuring smile that he isn't aware falls short.

"Okay, well... If you want to talk about anything, I'm here for you, you know. Always."

"I know. Thank you, Love." He drops his hand from your back to hold your free one, turning in the direction of your apartment.

The next afternoon, you're in the same class, one of the rare ones you don't share with Coryo, taking down notes from the lecture when there's a knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. You pay no mind, taking the opportunity to catch up on everything written on the board.

"May I borrow Y/N, please?" Your boyfriend's voice is scratchy and shakey in a way unfamiliar sounding to you, making your head snap up. You'd never seen him cry before. "Only for a moment."

Your teacher dismisses you, likely on account of your and Coriolanus's mutually spotless records and his red-rimmed eyes. Clearly, you were needed urgently. You leave your bag and your books, ignoring the whistles and heckling of some of your classmates as you rush to the door.

Coryo had reached his breaking point. He was writing his third paper of the week, unable to focus on that and get his mind off of how unlikely it was he would get the prize if the Dean had any say. Sitting in the library, the world had started turning around him. People were talking, laughing, even, and he couldn't take it anymore. The floodgates opened and he had rushed out of the room. He couldn't go home, his attendance would be affected and he'd be throwing away the prize most definitely. He had nowhere to go, except for to you.

You close the door behind yourself, thankful that the hallway is completely deserted during class time. "Hey, what's going on?" You ask, and before you can get a good look at him he's pulling you into a crushing hug, shaking around you.

You're shocked for a moment, pulling yourself out of your head to hug him back. Whatever is bothering him must be bad. He'd hugged you before, but never like this. "Hey, it's okay..." You whisper, rubbing his back. "Let's go outside for a second, yeah? Get some air?" You offer, gently prying yourself from his grasp to look at him.

Coryo can't speak, overtaken completely by the tears flowing down his cheeks and the anxiety flooding every inch of his body. He feels like he could be sick, all he knew that he needed was you. He just nods, trying to regain his composure, if only for the couple of minutes it takes to get outside.

"Okay. Let's go." You smile, trying not to show how worried you are as you wrap an arm around his back, still holding him close to you as if he has a broken ankle and you have to carry him. So far, his theory was proving to be correct. Just having you at his side was calming to him, and mentally he's cursing himself for not voicing his fears to you before they broke him.

As soon as the door of the rarely used back exit to the school is closed, he's essentially collapsing onto the ground, tucking his knees up to his chest and crying into his hands. You're quick to join him, draping an arm over his back and trying to grab one of his hands to hold. Your brow is knit with worry, rubbing his shoulder as he allows you to take one of his shaking hands. "Coryo..." You say softly, trying to get him to look at you but he won't. "What's happening? Talk to me, you can trust me. I just want to help."

He sniffles, looking up at you. "What is it?" You ask again, hoping to prompt any kind of information out of him. When he doesn't answer, you curve your approach to yes or no questions, hopefully, to make it easier on him. "Is someone hurt? Is it Grandma'am? Did something happen?"

He shakes his head slightly with every question, once again avoiding your eyes as he looks down at the ground, occasionally trying to cough out the knot in his throat.

"...Do you want to talk? Or do you just need a hug?" You realize, leaning in so he would look at you again.

He pulls you closer, wrapping both his arms around you awkwardly due to the way you are both sitting. "Just need you here." He mumbles, hardly audible as he buries his face in your shoulder and neck.

Relieved to hear his voice again, you place a hand on his hair and on his back, holding him tight. "I'm here, Coryo. As long as you need me."

taglist: @keziahcore, @soulessjourney, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @rororo06, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @slytherinholland, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @darlingisntit, @roosterschanelslut, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world, 

[burningembers91]

In the Bleak Midwinter - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Outside Looking In

Synopsis: Caught out in the cold, you offer Nam-Gyu a place to stay

It was freezing tonight, the coldest January on record in at least 5 years. There were several weather warnings in effect, and ice and snow covered the city streets. Nam-Gyu sat in his winter parker, the hood pulled round his face, his hand stuffed into the pockets for warmth. He’d hardly sold any tickets tonight, most people preferring to stay hunkered down in the warmth instead of battling the elements for some overpriced cocktails and loud music. Still, he battled on, approaching those crazy enough to be out in the cold. He was knocked back again and again, but he couldn’t give up. His parents had given him an ultimatum; find a “real” job or leave their house. Nam-Gyu had begged and pleaded with them to let him stay, even for just a few more days until the weather had died down. But his parents were tired of supporting their youngest son, of constantly having to bail him out of debts they couldn’t afford to pay. His siblings were both doctors, highly esteemed and well respected in their fields. Why couldn’t Nam-Gyu be like this brothers? His parents often wondered. Why did he insist on carrying out this childish fantasy of club promoting? He was approaching 30, and many of his old classmates and family acquaintances were settling down, so why couldn’t he?

You were the reason he couldn’t settle down, couldn’t move on from a job that was actually causing him to lose money. You were all he had left in the world, the one friend he could count on. You’d grown a little closer over the last few months, letting down your guard enough to allow Nam-Gyu to walk you home most nights. He was acting more like himself, forgoing the cocky persona he adopted when he was working. You liked the real him, had told him so several times, and for the first time in his life, Nam-Gyu felt like he didn’t need to be anyone else. You were still broken though, still dragging yourself through the monotony of life in order to pay the bills. Your rent had gone up, as had the heating bill, but your wages were still pitifully low. You found yourself wondering how you’d pay the bills, how you’d manage to feed yourself when you were barely covering basic expenses. Nam-Gyu kept you sane, making you laugh on the nights you thought you might wither and fade entirely.

He saw you standing outside the club, your winter coat pulled up by your ears, your bare legs covered in goosebumps. “I bought you a hot chocolate,” he smiled, handing you the paper cup he’d been using to warm his hands. “What are you doing here?” you gasped, taking the hot drink gratefully and taking a large sip. “It’s absolutely freezing out! You’ll catch your death. Please, go home. I’m ok tonight, there’s hardly anyone here.” Nam-Gyu didn’t like to leave you on your own, not when he knew the way the men who frequented your club behaved. He’d witnessed it more times that he’d cared to, had come to your aid on the occasions where drunken patrons had tried to take advantage of you. You were strong, and you could hold your own, but Nam-Gyu would never forgive himself if something happened to you. “I’m fine!” he lied, pulling his hood tighter around his face as the snow continued to bucket down. “Nam-Gyu,” you sighed, “it’s one snowflake away from a full-blown blizzard. You’ll freeze to death out here. I’m finishing early tonight anyway, so I won’t be walking home on my own too late.”

He knew you wouldn’t let off until he went home, but he no longer had a home to go to. He’d been crashing with one of his brother’s for a few days, but his parents found out and the backlash had been enough for his brother to renege on his invitation. “I uh… I can’t go home,” he admitted. “I had an argument with my parents.” He couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, didn’t want you to see the shame plastered to his face. “So, where are you staying?” He could hear the pity in your voice, and he hated it. “Around,” he shrugged, but you couldn’t fool him. you could read Nam-Gyu like a book; you’d gotten to know him quite well over the last few months, better than he’d realised. “Take my keys,” you told him.  “I get off work in an hour, and I’ll see you at my place. You can’t stay in the cold though.” Handing him a pink fuzzy keychain, you didn’t give him a chance to argue before you hurried back into the warmth of the club.

When he arrived at your apartment, the lights wouldn’t turn on. Nam-Gyu wondered if perhaps there was a fault with the fuse box, but he couldn’t find it in your apartment, so set about looking for candles instead. He lit as many as he could find and took a seat on your tiny sofa. He tried to avoid looking at the underwear you’d left hanging out to dry, the lacy garments almost taunting him as he looked wildly around the room for a distraction. You had photos covering your walls; pictures of you with friends and family, pictures of you on vacation. Your smile was so wide, your eyes so bright. He wondered what had happened to you that had dimmed your sparkle. He noticed that you like to read, stacks of books piled around your apartment by various different authors. When looking for the bathroom, he found your bedroom and couldn’t help but smile at the teddy bear perched atop your pillow. The fur was faded and completely gone in some places, but it still held pride of place in your room.

You arrived back home shortly after 11pm to find Nam-Gyu sitting in near darkness. “Why are all the lights off?” you asked him, dumping your coat and boots in the hall. His face was bathed in the dark orange glow of the candles, the light casting his shadow onto the wall behind him. “They wouldn’t turn on,” he said, “I couldn’t find the fuse box, so I just lit your candles.” You tried and failed to get the lights working, a constant sinking feeling in your stomach increasing with each passing second. “They turned my electric off,” you sighed, realising there was nothing faulty with the fuse box. “I… I’m a little behind on payments.” Slumping on the sofa next to Nam-Gyu, you leaned your head against the threadbare couch. Because your electric was off, it meant the heating wasn’t working, and your apartment was like an icebox. You could see your breath in the air when you exhaled, could feel a shiver run through you as you sat freezing in your dress. “What will you do?” Nam-Gyu asked, wishing he could offer you money so you could at least get your lights back on. But the truth was, he was fully in the red. His bank account was overdrawn, and he’d borrowed more money than he cared to think about. “I’ll be ok,” you shrugged. “No use worrying about it now though. I’ll call the company tomorrow. Will you be ok on the sofa?” Nam-Gyu nodded, wrapping himself in the pink fluffy blanket he’d found when he first arrived. “Goodnight,” he whispered, watching as you padded through to the bedroom, using a linen scented candle to guide your way.

You were freezing under your duvet, unable to warm up despite the pyjamas and blankets covering your body. You couldn’t imagine how Nam-Gy must feel, having only a small blanket for warmth. You couldn’t leave him out there like that, not when he’d always been so kind to you. “Do you want to come and sleep in the bed”? you called out, “it’s too cold to be in the living room.” You heard him get up, heard the sound of his feet on the hardwood as he wondered over to your door. “Are you sure?” he asked, “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” But his heart soared at the thought of lying next to you, of feeling your body against his. You pulled back the duvet, allowing him to slide in next to you. The sheets smelled like your perfume and Nam-Gyu took a deep, but quiet breath in as he inhaled your scent.

You were still freezing, and gently pushed yourself closer to his body, the warmth of his chest radiating against your back. Gingerly, Nam-Gyu curled his arm around you, pulling you in closer. You both lay there in the darkness of the room, watching as the snow continued to fall. Neither of you knew what tomorrow would bring. You were both at the lowest points of your lives, but now you had each other. “Goodnight,” he whispered to you, his lips brushing lightly against the tip of your ear. “Goodnight,” you whispered back, his gentle touch sending sparks through your body. You wanted him to kiss you, wanted him to make love to you under the sheets but you couldn’t bring yourself to make the move. As good a man as Nam-Gyu was, you couldn’t allow yourself to fully let your guard down.

But, as you waited for sleep to come, his soft snores oddly comforting in the cold silence of the night, you wondered if perhaps you should take a chance on him. Perhaps you should open yourself to the man who waited in the wind, rain, and snow for you, who never gave up on you.

Maybe it was time to your open yourself up to the possibility that you could be happy again, that a club promoter and a hostess could have a life filled with love and laughter, if only they could get up the courage to try.

[marsdql]

lovin’ me was never a sin — n.r﹙西村力﹚

snyopsis ៸ You are torn between falling in love with the enigmatic senior you were supposed to spy on and supporting your close friend from another school. ៸៸ -> masterlist

genre ៸ angst, romance┊ wordcount ៸ 3,5k content warning ៸ miscommunication, dishonesty, emotinal conflict, little toxic, immature┊ not proofread┊lowkey not happy with this one but wtv ៸ ៸

“You need to check him out for me, y/n!” screamed Giselle, your best friend— from the other line. “Okay, okay. So tell me more about this guy and I’ll see what I can do. But you better pay for tteokbokki next time!” you replied. “His name is Ni-ki, he’s only a year older than us, a hot senior.. anyway! I’ll send you a picture of him. He looks a little like you not gona’ lie…”

“Okay, I’ll update you when I see him. Unlike you, my class starts early so… I’ll see you later Giselle.” You hung up the line, placing your phone in your bag as you rushed to school.

You could barely walk in the snow, your shoes soaked because you refused to wear snow boots. ‘That’s it.. I accept my defeat, I’ll be late to my first class after winter break’ you thought to yourself, staring at the path ahead of you and letting out a dramatic sigh.

Before you could finish your dramatic act, you spot something that isn’t white like the snow that’s surrounding you—a tall slim guy struggling in the snow just like you. Though, there was something about him, He looked…. Familiar? That’s when you realized.

You quickly pulled your phone out of the side of your bag, putting your arms in an awkward position as you tried to open and close your bag. You reopened you and Giselle’s chats to check the photo she sent you of the guy she requested you to “keep an eye on”. Just as you figured, there he was, it was him, Nishimura Riki was right infront of you.

Lost in thought, your body shifted closer to him, making him side eye you weirdly. You kept getting closer and closer—until he finally said something. “Uh, do you need anything?” His voice low but deep—making you come back from lala land. “what? What! No.. hah no.. I was just approaching you because I noticed you’re also late to school! Why not walk together right?” You blocked your ears as you spoke, not wanting to let yourself even hear what nonsense came out of your own mouth.

“…Alright.” He said, both of you continuing your walk to school in silence—mostly because you didn’t known eachother but also because of how awkward your only conversation was.

“That’s it for class, make sure to study for the provincial math exam, you guys have 2 days to study everything we’ve learned this semester. Class dismissed” your teacher spoke before the bell rang for lunch.

You walked out of the classroom trying to hold your excitement—excited to see your friends since you couldn’t in the morning.

To your surprise, when you message them asking where they are, they reply saying that they already went to the bus station to go to the mall food court… cafeteria alone it is..

You knew school wasn’t going to be fun when you come back, but you didn’t think it’s be this boring. Just as you were saying that—Giselle messaged you.

Giselle: did you see him?!

You: Yaaah, we were both late to class so we walked to school together. We didn’t talk tho.

Giselle: omg(!(!;$$;!(!!!! How was it? Omg was he hotter close up??

You: it was so bad… I embarrassed myself that’s the reason we didn’t even talk. He’s alright I guess… he’s like emo?

Just as you said that, a guy sat next to you. You switched you gaze to him—Ni-ki? Again? Speaking of the devil… You were quick to speak, “hey, why’d you sit here?” You questioned him, a smirk across your face, thinking that he must want to become friends after what happend in the morning—oh but if only you knew how fast that smirk was going to be wiped off your face.

He removed his AirPods, looking back at you with one eyebrow raised and his lips slightly parted. “Were you talking to me?” Your eye lids quickly turning heavy at the embarrassment you just experienced.

“What? No! I mean, yes! Do you understand Uhm.. math?” You made up, “what kind of math?” he asked, to which you quickly answered. “All. Everything. 11th grade math.” “Do you need help?” “Yes, but I don’t know anyone who’s good in math and.. you look smart..?”

You dodged a bullet of more embarrassment. Ni-ki believed it and requested helping you with the math you couldn’t even understand when the teacher explained it. Surprisingly, he could explain pretty well and you understood a few things.

He offered to help you more before the huge exam—adding his number into your phone so that you could message him whenever you have a question you can’t complete.

It had been days since your first incounter with nishimura riki—he helped you pass your math exam which was unexpected since you both never talked. It’s like you guys were destined to become friends.

Everyday you guys became closer. It went from only studying—to walking eachother to class—to hanging out at each others house. Giselle was aware of everything aswell, getting herself excited so that she could use you as an excuse to talk to him.

But you couldn’t lie, feelings started to grow the more and more you both hung out. He was perfect in every way. Whenever you’d go to his apartment that he lived alone in—everything was organised, the Colors all matched. He always smelled good, his hair was never greasy either. He looked good in everything aswell.

When he’d help you with things, he never once made you feel stupid. Everyone knew him as the cold senior but he seemed so nice with you.

Dinnng!

giselle: Are you with ni-ki?

you: No, he just left. Why?

Giselle: oh. em. gee. He’s at the same store as me and this guy but I don’t want him to know I speak to boys…

You: LOL? Why??

Giselle: because when I’ll approach him, he’ll think I have a guy already!!!

You: you’re suchaaa boopppp 🙄🙄

Giselle: homie hopper til i Die 😫

A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door. You rush to open it—wondering who it is.

It was ni-ki, again. “Hey, I noticed how you’ve been stressing over all the exams coming up next week. So I figured after you left I’d go to the store and get snacks so we can chill and watch movies.” He said, looking down at you, his eyes softer than usual when speaking.

“Come in, ki! You’ll catch a cold.” You giggled as you pushed him inside then dragging him to your room. He was a tease but still had a soft spot inside of him. “Whatcha’ wanna watch? Let me guess, tru-“ “true beauty!” “I knew it.”

Everyday was something new,

- hey y/n, I got you lunch

- Wanna’ hang out tonight?

- Let’s go to the movies

- Did you hear the latest rumor about-

- Do you know how many teeth sharks have?

His excuses became worse than yours—he just wanted to hang out. As much as you wanted to aswell, you knew your feelings for him would just grow bigger. You couldn’t like him though, he was one of giselle’s target—you were just her messenger.

There was only one thing to do, ignore him, no matter what.

“Y/n, wait up.” You heard from across the hallway behind you. You knew that voice—nishimura’s. It was unforgettable—almost making you turn back, but you had to control yourself. You brought this apon yourself, you were only supposed to watch from far, not get close and fall inlove.

You saw him from a reflection, the stupid look on his face. He seemed like he felt dumb, chasing like a dog after you, and for what? You were the one avoiding him, why is he the one who feels bad about himself.

After a week of nishimura trying to get a hold of you, he eventually gave up. He blew up your phone many times knowing you’d never be able to explain your horrible behaviour in person. That’s when you decided to write him one and only message to try and get him to stop;

You: I don’t like you, please stop

It wasn’t normal for you to act this harsh, ever. You never behaved like this but you know deep down that him trying to get your attention just makes you think about him more. You made it seem in your message that you didn’t want him to text back, but really—you hoped he’d make an argument so that you could act clueless, just so you have an excuse to yourself, to message him a little more.

read yesterday

Fast forward, 2 weeks before the end of the school year.

It was soon to be exam week, but it was different this time—you didn’t have a miracle pop up to help you like last semester.

You were at the library, waiting for Giselle and your other friends from school—including some that go to giselle’s. As you were waiting, your eye kept shifting to the couch infront of you—where ni-ki was at.

You and ni-ki used to always study at this library, that’s mostly why you came here. He always kept to himself and stayed with the unpopular people—people you didn’t know, so you never had the chance to ask anyone about him. You knew nothing about him anymore. Your friendship with him ended as fast as it started—reminder, all. because. of. you.

A few minutes later, you spot Giselle and her friends walk in. “Omg! Y/n!!! Long time no seee! When was the last time we hung out? March break? It’s been sooo long.” Said one of the girls as she ran to hug you. “Hii ellie, yah it’s been a while heh..” you replied. Giselle watching in amusement and joining in “okay get off her, I wana’ sit next to my cutie y/nnieee”.

“Hey, Giselle. Psst, Giselle” Whispered Ellie. “What is it?” “Who’s that guy from across us? Don’t make it obvious, just pretend you’re looking at the painting behind him..” You realized she was talking about Ni-ki—and without thinking, you talked back—“that’s Ni-ki!” You said in excitement, as if you were waiting to get a chance to talk about him.

Giselle looked a little shocked at your tone of voice who seemed to be said with a little more enthusiasm than intended. “Yeah, that’s Nishimura Riki” she told Ellie. “Wait, wasn’t that one of the guys you wanted to try and hook up with?” Hanni questioned, another girl who was at the table.

Your ears went from big to huge the second she asked that question, wanting to know her thoughts about ni-ki now. “Oh yah, but he’s too.. I don’t know he’s too mysterious. Need’ me a frat boy like Lee Heeseung or Sim Jaeyun. Plus, he’s leaving soon.” What? He’s leaving? “Where is he leaving to?” you asked, to which she replied “Japan, his homecountry.”

You stared at him from across the room, analysing his every move, hoping he’d look back at you.

You waited until all your girl friends left—obviously, ni-ki still there—studying to make sure he gets well. Unlike you, he got all the hard subjects second semester—and being a senior Doesn’t help it.

You stood up, feeling a little weird. You were the one disrespecting him, yet you’re the one going back to him. You had your reason for what you did, but it was never a valid reason.

You walked towards him, his gaze still focused in his books. As you got closer, he instinctively looked at you, following a long eye roll from him.

You thought he was going to speak, maybe ask what you want from him, but he didn’t say anything— he just, stared at you.

“I-im sorry, ni-ki.” You mumbled. His eyebrows furrowed, “don’t you think you’re a little late?” He said, chuckling to himself, all the memories coming back to both your minds. “I-I know I was wrong, I swear I had a reason! It seemed important to me back then but—I realized now how stupid it was and I’m just sorry, okay? You don’t need to forgive me but—“

“Y/n” he interrupted you, taking your wrist and sitting you down next to him. He let you adjust in place before he leaned in, his lips slightly brushing your ear, “if you’re so sorry, then explain everything.”

“No.. I can’t say it, it’s just—personal.” You couldn’t tell him that your friend liked him, that’s like … betraying Giselle! “Fine then, whatever.” He spoke, his voice turning cold.

You and him sat there in silence. He went back to his work as you just sat there. He didn’t order you to leave, he didn’t leave, you didn’t excuse yourself either. You figured to just open your books and pretend study again—just so you could sit a little longer with him.

You started drawing random doodles on a paper to make it seem like you were working, it’s not like ni-ki would take a glance at your papers anyway, right? He didn’t care.

You started thinking to yourself, ‘how could you I ever tell ni-ki why I acted like that? I miss him so much. Why did Giselle ever have to lay her eyes on him?’ Not realising that you were actually writing down your every thought onto the paper until ni-ki shifted a bit in his seat, making you come back into reality and quickly scribbling on everything you wrote.

the day of flight xxx

It’s finally summer. But it feels as if a rock has just landed on your head. You won’t see Nishimura anymore in the hallways, you won’t see him for a while actually. Deep down, the thought made your heart ache. Matter of fact, you don’t even know when he’ll be leavi-

Notifications — INSTAGRAM -> Choi Soobin posted a photo: Goodluck in Japan, Dude!

Now? He’s leaving.. now?! Before your brain could process anything that was happening, you jumped from your bed, took your keys and sprinted to the car.

As you walked into the airport, you realized what you just did. You just drove to the airport for ni-ki—the guy YOU ghosted—the guy that gave you a chance to speak after doing him so wrong, yet you still chose not to. There’s no going back anymore.

You were able to track his flight on this app you had, so you know he still hasn’t boarded his plane yet. Though, one thing you couldn’t track was—his gate number.

Luckily, the world was on your side today—spotting Soobin just as you were thinking of plans on how to find Ni-ki in the huge airport. You sprinted towards him. “Soo-SOO-SOOBIN!” You panted, attempting to catch your breath after running. “NI-KI..! GATE? WHERE” You questioned, your hands gripping his shoulders aggressively—unable to form a full sentence.

To which he respond with, “woah, ‘wonder what you’re doin’ here.. calm down, Gate B3” “THANK U”

you ran all over the airport, you asked 3 different workers, just to find his gate. It’s too late to make effort now, but you couldn’t imagine riki leaving without you seeing him again and giving a proper goodbye.

After running around like a lost dog, you finally did it—you found him. He was sitting in the corner of lined seats at the gate in the back, near the window, his eyes glued to his phone.

You ran to him, the sound of your heels against the floor making everyone stare at you—including ni-ki who raised his eyes from his phone, surprised to see you.

“Ni-ki..” you muttered, your voice cracking a little. You didn’t expect yourself to get emotional so fast. “Ni-ki, I’m so sorry—Im sorry for everything. I know what I did was wrong. I’m sorry. Someone else liked you and I know I couldn’t like you aswell , I’m sorry” You continued, “I didn’t want to stay with you because I felt as if I was just playing a game since I knew we could never get together but now I don’t care anymore.. I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you spat out all at once. You didn’t even know if the words came out right from the amount of stuff you had in mind.

“Why are you saying sorry?” The black haired boy said as he chuckled, standing up and towering over you—slowly brushing off hair strands that sticked because of the tears that you ugly-sobbed out. You looked at him in confusion. “W-why—hic—why are you laughing?..”

he pulled you into a hug, his arms overlapping themselves on you. “Why are you apologising?” He pulled away slightly to look at you with a smile, “you can just say you like me.”

“By the way.. I saw what you wrote the other day in your notebook. You're so stupid..”

BONUS:

rikiwasntcatched: okay guys thanks she came to me and I think we’re inlove, it’s like some kdrama type shyt’

wonbinparkk: did it actually work?

partyneedssoobin: hell yah man. I’m telling you she was goin’ crazy when she saw me. She’s inlove with niki bro. Now all u gots to do is hide out for 2 days then say you’re comin back to Korea and boom problem solved

younghooney: hold up, kiki isn’t actually going to japan?

Rikiwasntcatched: she was so cute she was crying I was like gang chill I still love u or whateverrrrr I know I’m so handsome but no need to sob about it

partyneedssoobin: LOL we both won, I got Giselle and u got y/n from this incident.

wonbinparkk: who tf tells their bf about their old huzz? That’s like mad weird…

rikiwasntcatched: a win is a win what can I say. Movie night?

Younghooney: why am I being ignored

partyneedssoobin: chat my application to Harvard just got declined wtf

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[s4toruz]

chapter 1 - unexpected vacation

tags: megumi x reader, forced proximity, opposites attract

warnings: swearing probably

word count: 1K

masterlist

there was snow in your hair and a warm, thick scarf around your neck when you arrived to the small town gojo sent you to.

you arrived by a train, you had to walk a little bit from the station, but it was just enough to freeze every fiber of your body, making you shiver a little as the wind blew into your face. you closed your eyes for a moment, then tried keeping your face towards your shoes, watching as some water splashed with every step you took.

everywhere you looked, blinding whiteness looked back at you, from the sky, from the small forest next to the house you'll be staying in. the only black spot in sight was standing next to you with his arms crossed like a pouting child who got told no.

megumi was standing next to you, looking everywhere but your eyes. he was clearly unhappy – to say the least – with the fact that you two will need to spend a whole month here in the middle of nowhere.

he was holding his, and your stuff in his hands as he lead the way to the house. you fiddled with the cast on your right hand. you felt a slightly guilty that he had to hold your bags too, due to your arm being useless at the moment. not too guilty tho.

on a quite unfortunate mission you got badly injured, even breaking your arm. the doctors managed to help most of your wounds, but you still needed a few weeks to heal properly.

at the same time, megumi was no better than you; constantly getting his ass beaten overworking himself, coming back injured from every single mission he went on, then wanting to go on twice as many to 'improve', and – this one irritates you the most – he was still not getting along with you well.

you were well aware of the fact that he didn't like you since the beggining of the year but you never understood the reason why. you were trying to be kind to everyone you could – at least when giving first impressions – but he just kept being so frustratingly cold towards you.

sigh.

this whole living together thing probably won't help you two either. you could already imagine all the arguements that were about to happen during those long weeks. hell, you were sure that even today, he'll find something to hate about you.

glancing at his frame walking beside you again, you noticed the way the little white snowflakes were falling on his black hair, contrasting it as they slowly melted away. his hair looks kinda soft if you look at it from closer.. would he be mad if you touched it? probably.

"what are you staring at?"

he glared at you with his sharp blue eyes, pulling you out of your thoughts. did he really never smile?

"i wasn't staring!"

"then?"

you shrug (then regret it as you feel the stinging pain in your body, basically everywhere), playing it off nonchalantly with more or less success.

"just happened to look in your way."

you walk up the one or two stairs, then open the door with your good hand, letting him in before following.

you look around the house for the first time and...wow! just wow. it was a wooden building but the cold couldn't sneak in anyways. old looking paintings decorated the wall, and a soft rug spread on the – also wooden – floor. except for the front door, sliding doors were everywhere.

you take off your shoes and coat quickly and start exploring the house, megumi simply rolling his eyes at your overly excited nature.

"if you fall while running i will even laugh at you!"

he would say as he's putting down your bags in the bedroom.

"and i will be surprised that you're even capable of such thing!"

you say with your eyes narrowed challegingly at him before wandering off somewhere else. preferably where he isn't there.

he didn't bother to answer, just stayed in the bedroom, observing it as he had nothing better to do. it was designed to be one big room, but there was a sliding door in the middle if the room needed to be separated. and in his opinion, it needed to be.

your irritating giggling filled the whole house, making him groan. have you never been to a town, or what? have you never seen a house? what the hell are you so happy about.

you were the one with the broken arm, yet he was suffering so much more already! he put his hands in his pockets, standing infront of the huge window in the bedroom, staring at the way the snow is gently falling on the trees and ground outside, wind blowing away a few stray leaves.

"this whole place is so pretty isn't it??"

you barge into the room, disturbing his peace.

"would be prettier if it was quiet."

megumi mumbles, glancing at you over his shoulder, to which you just tilt your head with a small laugh.

"what do you mean, it's already so quiet! it needs a little more life!"

oh my gosh. he is holding back the insanely strong urge to facepalm right now. were you stupid, or just trying to annoy him? why did you always needed to be where he was?? it was already getting too irritating. all your stupid habits. all the unstoppable blabbering, the loud laughs at every dumb joke you ever heard, the cute little hand gestures all the time- wait what? nevermind.

"aren't you supposed to rest?"

"why are you sooo boring? i wanna look around the town!"

he shook his head, starting to unpack his stuff.

"no."

"please!"

"no."

"pleeeeease!"

the begging continued the whole afternoon, and when he said no for the 25th time, megumi knew, this is about to be a very, very long month.

and you knew that you won't make it any easier for him. you're already here anyways. he will like you; whether he wants it or not.

© s4toruz 2024 , do not copy , modify or translate my work

aaaand here's the first chapter!! wohoo!! i can't believe i'm starting my first series here. i wrote on wattpad a few years ago, but i never got so many support as i got here, and i'd like to thank y'all for that here! i don't know when the next chapter will come, i'm not good with keeping scedules but i'll try to bring it as fast as possible! also, this chapter was only proof-read once so sorry if there are any mistakes. this is so short omfg i'll try to write more in the future!!!

reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

taglist: @fushiguruuzzzz @q2uq2u @susiekern @theirlgarfield @bleedingwhiteroses222 @anotherwriternamedclara @dazailover4ever @kalulakunundrum @c4ttheart @ashyiiy @1l-ynn @saltypuffin1040 @gumims @beepbopzlorp @vorfreudevortex @starrysho @starlightanyaaa @fushigurosdivinedogs @moonchhu @vivienne-jo @obsessivestrawberrysimp

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[sirenpearldust]

Winter

Pair: Azriel x reader (platonic)

Word count: 997

Warnings: Angst, death, funeral

It snowed.

The streets were empty as the young man wandered aimlessly through the night, his breath visible in the frosty air. 

He had no destination, no purpose - just the need to escape, to lose himself in the stillness of the empty streets.

His nose was red and running, a casualty of the biting chill.

He pulled his jacket tighter against the cold that seeped into his bones.

Above, the city sky was void of stars, the only light coming from the faintly flickering street lamps, their glow weak and on the verge of dying. 

He remembered how she used to complain about them back in their school days, saying they were useless when she walked home. 

Years had passed, but the city still hadn’t changed their lightbulbs. He smiled sadly, memories of her still hurt him.

Maybe it was just meant to be.

Maybe Azriel was destined to endure nightmare after nightmare, trapped in a relentless cycle of darkness.

He had forgotten about her and now she was gone.

• •

He hadn’t checked on her in a while, too caught up in his own world.

She had always warned him, told him it was a possibility - but he never thought it would come to this.

The last time they shared a coffee, she had confessed it quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup. She was lonely, she said, and needed him, her closest friend.

Both had relied on each other, their friendship kept them alive through the chaos of school and home. 

But after graduation, their paths crossed less and less, month by month, until the phone stopped ringing altogether.

Until he got too busy, and she kept waiting, for a text, for a call, for something. 

But it never came.

The day they met up, she told him how sad it made her that he never reached out first.

She thanked him and they started reminiscing about old times, sharing how their lives had changed.

He told her about the girl he was interested in.

She listened, nodding, though her eyes seemed to drift somewhere far away.

She told him how living with her parents was draining, how their abusive they still were and how numb she felt. 

Nothing about her life had really changed. 

She felt guilty for burdening him with it, but the words slipped out anyway.

He talked about his own life, how everything was going so well for him.

She was happy for him and smiled brightly.

For a moment, Azriel forgot everything else around him, as he watched her face brighten up.

It made him feel like a young boy and all warm again.

She looked cute as she drank her tea.

But what he didn’t notice were her eyes, empty, lifeless - dead. 

The sparkle that used to draw people in, was gone.

• •

Two days went by, she waited.

The phone pinged, he remembered.

She smiled, he held his promise and everything felt fine again.

She called him and he answered.

They talked for three hours.

He missed talking to her, how easy everything felt.

She missed feeling so alive, how free she felt.

It was the last conversation they would share.

• •

She wrote and called him.

He didn’t answer.

She cried, lying broken in her bed, as the tears rolled down the side of her face. 

He had promised he would be there this time and help her.

Days turned into weeks and the distance between them stretched further.

• •

It snowed the day she called.

He picked up the phone, smiling softly as he watched the snowflakes fall.

It was her younger sister.

He checked his phone display.

The profile picture stared right back at him, it was her number.

He asked her confused why she was using her sister‘s phone.

Silence followed, until a sob broke through the quiet.

“She died,“ her sister whispered.

He chuckled, thinking it was a joke, asking her if they weren’t to old for pranks.

But her sobs wouldn’t stop, each one raw and desperate, as the reality for him slowly settled in for him.

She was gone.

His phone lit up with notifications, one after another.

Texts from friends, all sharing the same news.

He was one of the few that had gotten a call.

• •

The funeral was held two days later.

Her family insisted she be buried in her home country, her final wish.

She was buried in a cemetery near the mountains, where the snow laid like a blanket over the graves all winter. In the spring, however, life broke through, as the flowers grew beautifully around the graves.

One letter was left behind and read aloud at the funeral.

It was all too heavy for him, to hear how unloved and unneeded she felt.

She no longer wanted to be a burden. 

She apologised, asking for forgiveness from God and from those she had left behind.

• •

The way to the hotel afterwards felt endless, the weight of the day still pressing down on him.

Her family had returned to their home they had kept here, the place where she had spent every summer, the place she had once talked about bringing him.

He lay down on the bed, the room cold and silent, the snow falling outside.

He couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he saw her.

He would never see her again in this life.

He couldn’t help but feel at fault, he should have never broken his promise.

He read their texts over and over again, went through every conversation they had, replayed every moment together. He missed her more and more, with every second.

Loving her was easy. 

Why did he distance himself?

He should have listened better. She had told him years ago that death was inevitable, especially for her.

She had known she would die young, a truth she had accepted long before. 

Wether by her own hand or God’s grace and now he was left with the crushing reality.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies

[jhkfan123]

after last night | coriolanus snow

pairing: academy!snow x fem!academy!reader

in which: after a drunken night at the club, which resulted in you dancing with your distant classmate coriolanus in ways you probably shouldn't have, the two of you are assigned to a project together.

warnings: none

wc: 2.1k

you couldn't remember some of the previous night. it was definitely a poor choice, going out to the capitol clubs on a sunday night. you were fully aware you had school the next morning, but you were socially deprived. you and your girls hit up all the best places to party, but they had all left before you. which left you talking to coriolanus snow. it was one thing you definitely could remember. he was a fellow member of the academy you had never really spoken too.

until last night, at least. you remember what felt like hours of chatter at a high bar table. then you remember a short period of time on the dance floor. but a short period of time was all you needed. when you woke up you immediately felt some sort of regret for the way you danced with him. you barely knew him! the experience was exhilarating, being at the club by yourself. but you weren't by yourself the whole night.

coriolanus had fended off multiple strange men from you. you definitely remembered that. the one flaw of going to a club by yourself. being approached by men twice your age willing to by your a drink for a dance.

while nothing more had gone on besides the dancing, you couldn't help but get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when you thought of him this morning. you decided to push it down. you were too drunk last night to have had anything real with this isolated classmate.

you had noticed him throughout the years. he had stuck with a very select group of people during his time at the academy. and you weren't one of those people. arachne crane, clemensia dovecote, festus creed, people you couldn't care less to associate with. you had stuck with your group, and he had stuck with his. so when he approached you last night, it had taken you a second to pinpoint where you recognized his defined face from.

he had approached you and signaled you with your first name, which you were surprised to find out he actually remembered. he had approached you pretty cautiously, but became slightly more open as the night went on. clearly you had been the only person he recognized. you wondered if he was there alone, or had been there with others like you had. maybe they ditched him too.

you replayed last night, well, the bits you could remember of it anyway, in your head while getting ready for school. being drowned in assignments as you had been, you yearned for a social night. and you definitely got it. but you were now paying the price. a horrible hangover mixed with the requirement of attending the academy looked like the setup for a horrible day. you slipped on the final touches of your outfit and headed out the door.

it wasn't until you were in the driver's car and on the way to school that you realized today was the day you were to be assigned a major project, by your head professor. you audible groaned as the reminder entered your head.

your driver let out with only a few minutes to get to your first class. you rushed through the crowded hallways and just managed to take your seat as the bell rang. you had to remind yourself to take the day one class at a time, and soon enough, it would be over.

you had made it through your first class. one more class before lunch, you reminded yourself. you pushed through the hallway and made sure to get to class early to claim your unassigned assigned seat. recently a girl had been attempting to steal it. you managed to walk in just before her and sit in your favorite spot. you saw a look of defeat in her eyes. you couldn't help but break into a grin. this daily competition had added some sort of excitement into your school life.

the teacher walked in as the final students rushed to their seats. you searched through your book bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of homework that was due today. without saying a word, she began walking around to collect it. you handed it to her and she moved on. she returned back to her desk and cleared her throat.

"class, today is the start of a new project. it will be done with partners and it will be due in three days. you will have the opportunity to work on it in class as well as at home. for this project, you must present on the topic of: why we need the hunger games. as you all know, the tenth annual hunger games is approaching at a rapid rate. " you looked as a few girls looked at eachtogether, eager to be partners. the closest friend you had in that class, lysistrata vickers, glanced at you. you were excited to be partners with her.

"now, i'll read off the partner pairings." you heard a collective groan throughout the class. your teacher had no idea who was friends, and who wasn't. she wasn't much for noticing. so that meant you could be paired with literally anyone. you held your breath, hoping for someone you were familiar with.

your name still had not been called as she continued calling pairs. most of your friends had already been paired up. you were disappointed. the project would be unbearable with someone you didn't know.

"...and finally, y/n and coriolanus. please get into your pairs everybody, and discuss your plan. i'll be walking around to hear your ideas." you had zoned out, but when your name was called, paired with the man you had danced with last night, you definitely focused back in. really? out of all the possible options for partners you had to be paired with snow?

you weren't dissapointed because you hated him. quite the opposite actually. you had found him very charming last night, very nice. but even you recognized the tension between the two of you that had risen quickly last night. you barely knew him, but you felt like you needed to be with him. spend more time with him. so, in actuality, this was quite exciting. but you had no idea how he felt. so you would rather run away from this. not be partnered with him.

you looked around and searched for him. he was sat above you in the room, and diagonal. when you found him, you met his gaze. clearly he had already found where you were sitting. you nodded at him with a smile. you noticed as everyone shifted around the room to their partners. he signaled for you to come to him, so you grabbed what you needed and made your way up the small set of stairs between rows. the boy next to him had already gotten up, so there was a free seat waiting for you. you realized you were holding your breath as you approached him.

"hi, coriolanus," you took a seat besides him.

"coryo, please." he pleaded. you nodded. that name felt much more familiar. he had asked you to call him coryo last night too. you chose coriolanus today just in case.

"right. coryo," you noticed a shift in his body language when you said his name. "how do we even approach this?" you looked to him for an answer, but you only found him looking right back at you. when you gestured with your hand for an answer, he focused back in.

"right, um. let's just start with bullet points." he suggested. you nodded. he looked down to put his pen on his paper, then stopped. he tapped his pen a few times, blank with ideas. he finally put the pen down.

"this project is stupid." you whispered under your breath. you leaned in closer so he could hear you better, which clearly affected him.

"hunger games is coming up. i wouldn't expect anything less." he responded, nonchalantly. you felt the elephant in the room getting more and more prominent as the conversation went on. you had to talk about it or else it would get more and more uncomfortable.

"so, last night was fun." it was all you could think of. a simple statement but one that was clear to the point. he cleared his throat.

"it certainly was." he responded. you could have sworn you saw a smile creep up on one side of his mouth. you thought about all the times the two of you were closer to each other then you should have been while dancing. clearly he had been thinking about it too.

"i didn't know you could dance like that." you spoke. he truly was a great dancer. you picked up the pen he had put down and began to spin it.

"thanks. you danced well too." what he meant was you danced in ways you shouldn't. that you could be sure off.

"thanks. no but seriously. last night was so much fun. i really enjoyed..spending time with you." you couldn't handle this tension much longer. he had sort of hinted at the fact that he had also enjoyed last night, but barely.

you dropped the issue and attempted to work with him for the remainder of the class period. you had to admit it was difficult. you weren't sure wether to be happy or disappointed when you were dismissed by your professor. you began to pack up when he spoke again.

"hey, meet me in the library?" he asked. you froze for a moment. then you quickly accepted his invite. "see you in ten." he finished packing up and left. you quickly attempted to follow behind him but he was lost in the sea of people by the time you exited the class. you didn't feel like eating, so you headed straight for the library.

when you arrived, you noticed it was empty. typical. nobody spent their lunch time in the library. he had said ten minutes so you assumed he wouldn't be here for a while. you plopped your book bag down on the table you had claimed and began to look around.

a few minutes later you had made your way to the back of the library in the section that you thought would help you the most with your project. you scoured for anything useful in the shelves but there wasn't much. you were about to give up until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"find anything useful?" you heard. you turned around to face coriolanus. he had ditched his bag and had clearly tracked you down to this section.

"barely. doesn't look like any of these have been touched in several years." you pointed to the visible dust on the shelf. he laughed. it was a rare occasion, you had found.

"i'm sure they haven't. i bet they haven't assigned anything like this before." he pulled different books out but ended up putting each one back. you turned your back to the book in order to face him.

"why won't you talk about last night?" you were fed up at this point. the elephant in the room kept getting more visible and he was still ignoring it.

"do you want to talk about last night?" he responded, nonchalantly.

"it happened.." you said.

"believe me, i know." he once again responded with little feeling. you scoffed at his non-answer. he clearly noticed. "i'm not saying i didn't love every part of last night." he clarified. he pinned your hand to the shelf as he placed his hand atop yours. you had now backed as far up as you could without hitting the shelf.

"you did?" you began to panic slightly. he had trapped you in this position.

"i did. and i can already tell you did too." he affirmed. you looked down and thought. clearly he wanted the same thing you did.

"so then what are we doing?" you asked. but you didn't want words as his response, you wanted actions. and he delivered. a few seconds after you asked the question, his lips were on yours. he had started off soft but you pushed for more. he obliged and became more intense with each kiss. after a few moment you let go. you had become flustered. he took a breath before saying anything.

"i hope you know i'm never letting you dance the way you did with anyone else now." you smiled at him. he was everything you wanted and more.

maybe going out on a sunday night wasn't the worst idea.

"after last night (after last night) i think i'm in love with you"

"woke up and i can't get you out of my head"

tags: @qalijahbydior

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Letters to Christmas: The Letter

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: Defying the logic of mail to bring you this subpar fic.

Fic summary Hozier masterlist

Summary: when Y/n's letter to an old flame ends up in the wrong mail box, Andrew decides to respond to a stranger across the pond.

Warnings: angst

Hey,

I know its been a while and I know I have no right sending this after everything, but its hard to see trees go up and not think about you. You always picked the best ones. I caved last year and got one of those plastic ones, from that department store we always went to. Its tall with frosted tips, and fills up that little space between the window and the fireplace really nicely. And there aren’t any pine needles to get caught in the floorboards, so that’s great too, but it doesn’t smell the same, but I guess a lot of things aren’t the same now. I haven’t decorated it yet, not like it matters, there’s no one but me here to see it and it feels awfully silly to decorate a tree that no one else is gonna see.

How’s the job going? And country living? Hopefully its everything you thought it would be, if there's anyone on this fucked up planet that deserves every shread of happiness that comes their way, its you. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted. Its funny how I used to know exactly what that was and now…..now we’re practically strangers.

Milo’s gone. I can’t remember if we’ve spoken since it happened, but we should’ve, you were his favorite person. But anyway, he was a happy cat, and it was quiet and easy. He just went to sleep on your chair one night and never woke up, he missed you so much, until the very end.

But enough of that.

If you do reply, send me a picture of an Irish winter, hopefully its prettier than Seattle around this time. Though, it doesn’t take much to be prettier than gray skies and slush on the sidewalk. Tell me about what work’s like, and your life there. Say anything.

I don’t know why I’m writing this, I guess I’m lonely. Or maybe bored, like you said. Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you – maybe I'll never have it with anyone else.

Love always,

Y/n.

There’s something in-between the penultimate and last paragraphs, but its been scratched off with such vigor that it isn't legible in the slightest. The dark patch of ink almost resembles those redacted documents in movies about rouge spies and wayward government agents and it makes Andrew think that whatever the letter’s author had written there must be so personal that they have no choice but to keep it near and dear. Its a secret that can’t be shared with someone she loves so deeply, so why should she share it with him, a total stranger thousands of miles away from her?

Then it hits him – almost an hour after pouring over this obviously personal letter, scrawled in slanted penmanship that reminds him of his own – these words were never meant for his eyes. He’s a stranger looking in, dragging his thumb along a little bleed in the ink that resembles a tear stain like the intruder he is. Its almost as bad as looking into someone’s window, except this person, whose face he’s never seen and whose voice he may never hear, won’t ever know that he is doing something that borders unspeakable.

Or will she?

Andrew has had the overwhelming urge to pen a response since his first reading of the letter that accidently made its way into his postbox. An accident – it couldn’t have been anything but that. It was addressed to a house one block over; 124 Crescent Avenue – his house is 124 Crenshaw Avenue, so he understands the mistake. Though, when he’d bundled himself up and walked over to Crescent Avenue, the house that the letter should have been delivered to was vacant with a ‘for sale’ sign pitched in the damp grass.

He should have taken it back to the post office, but snow had fallen on his mailbox, and subsequently melted, skewing the name on the front of the envelope so much that he could only make out a couple letters. It would have probably just been stamped with the words 'return to sender’ anyway, so really, he’s doing this person a service by offering them the illusion of receipt.

But that’s just an excuse concocted by prying eyes and a curious mind – and it does not deal with the itch to reply.

There’s just something about the ache welling off the page that resonates with him. Coming off a break-up himself, Andrew understands the sense of hopelessness that gets tangled up in an end. The ‘what if’s and ‘what could I have done?’s. Far too often, he thinks about the things he did that caused the demise of his own relationship;

It had started off as blaming her for not trying hard enough to understand him, but eventually, he’d come to terms with his own, albeit larger, role in the matter. Perhaps he should have tried harder to be someone she could understand.

Most days, Andrew tells himself that he’d do everything in his power to be different if she ever gives him a second – or rather third – chance. Though, he has very little faith in his ability to change. But he does know he’ll do anything to have things go back to the way they were before.

Rereading the bit about Y/n’s store bought tree, Andrew contemplates the amount of time he expends lately, watching his own, undecorated tree and thinking about the woman that used to carefully hang tinsel off the branches and hopes that she’s missing him the way he misses her, if only it would mean that she would allow him some undeserved opportunity for redemption.

Sloane. He was so sure it was going to be her for the rest of his life. They'd been together for so long that he isn't really sure that he quite knows how to do life without her.

The way things were, clearly they weren’t very good so why is he so eager to relive them?

He wonders if the writer of the letter in his hand – Y/n – feels the same way about her nameless person. Does she think about all the things she’d change if she had a second chance? She seems as lonely as he does right now, so perhaps she would.

Andrew wonders what she did to warrant the idea that her letter wouldn’t be welcome. As he does, he runs his thumb over her name at the bottom of the page, and suddenly his imagination is running wild with all sorts of thoughts. He wonders what she’s like, how she sounds and if she’s the sort of person that writes letters often. Maybe it was something special between her and the person she’d been hoping to reach, or maybe its something she just does. Anyhow, he likes it. he’s always wanted someone to write to when he’s away. Most of the people in his life prefer texting, because its faster, and its no easy task to converse via pen and paper when you’re on the road, covering three states in a week.

The rest of the day goes by so listlessly that he can’t help but let his mind stray to the letter over and over. It feels almost comical that he's sparing all this time thinking about words on a page, written by someone he’s never met.

By the time he gets to bed at around one am that night, a good fifteen hours since he first read Y/n’s letter, Andrew is staring at it again. The edges have now been softened by the number of times he'd picked it up and the words "Love always, Y/n" are underlined in his mind like a quiet echo, lingering longer than he liked to admit. He keeps wondering what she’d sound like if he could hear her say it which only serves to make him feel even more like an intruder, a stranger peering into someone else’s heartbreak.

Yet, he can’t shake the pull. It isn’t just her words; its the way they mirror his own thoughts. The hollow ache of losing something—someone—without ever knowing if you could have done better. Her loneliness is so painfully familiar, matching his own.

"She deserves her privacy," he mutters to himself, running his fingers over the previously untouched notebook that he’d brought along to bed. He keeps telling himself he’d only picked up because he’s been meaning to flesh out a couple ideas that have been swirling around over the past week. But the only person he’s lying to is himself, and he’s not doing a very good job of it.

Leaning back against the headboard, he exhaled sharply. "But what if..."

The thought was absurd, but it stuck. What if replying made things better, even if just for her? What if this small act of acknowledgment meant she didn’t have to feel like her words had been sent into the void?

Wouldn’t he like it if someone did it for him? He isn’t quite sure.

Nonetheless, Andrew reaches forward, pulls the notebook onto his lap, and uncaps his pen. The words started slowly, stilted, but they came:

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter……..

Y/n feels awfully stupid about sending that letter, but what makes her feel even worse is checking her mailbox in the lobby everyday only to find it empty. Its been a week since she sent it off, and she’s almost certain that its reached its destination by now.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you, a small voice insists. Y/n doesn’t think she has any right to grieve over it, she’s the whole reason their relationship met its ugly demise. It was her selfishness, her stubbornness, her putting her own needs over his. So really, she had absolutely no right to the privilege of his time or attention, but that doesn’t mean she can’t miss him.

Shaking off the memory, she slaps the little, brass door closed, locks it and trudges towards the elevator, defeated. Maybe its time to accept that he is not going to write back – maybe its about time she starts accepting that its over between them. For good, its done; she ruined it. She stomped all over the best thing she’s ever had and there’s no use crying about it now – though, after a couple glasses of wine, she probably will.

For almost ten years, they used to be each other’s everything, doesn’t that mean anything to him anymore?

"Ten years, Y/n. Ten fucking years," he stresses, running worn fingers through his wind touseled hair, "you can write from anywhere in the world. Seattle.....Ireland. Doesn't this - us - mean enough to you for you to give it a try?"

As the dull, metallic doors slide closed, effectively shutting out all the activity in the lobby, Y/n presses the worn button that’ll take her to the seventh floor and just when the elevator starts going up, a familiar Christmas tune comes over the speakers. Pressing her back to the cool reflective wall, she finds herself humming along to it. Even if she isn't in the grandest mood, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice never fails to lighten the weight on her shoulders. For a minute, Y/n shuts her eyes and lets a little fantasy take her;

He’ll write back, say he misses her. In another follow-up letter, she will apologize and ask if there’s still any chance for them. He’ll say yes – in her mind, he always says yes because, sometimes, you can love someone enough to give them a second chance.

In her silly little unmade memory, it all works out somehow. They do the long distance thing for a while, until he’s ready to come home to her.

The ding of the elevator startles Y/n out of thought, and with a jump, she pushes off the wall and awkwardly tugs at her cashmere scarf. “So stupid,” she mutters, shoving the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder, clad in a heavy, gray long coat. Stepping out into the long hallway, she twists her frame awkwardly to reach into her handbag, rummaging around for her keys.

Y/n is within a few feet of her door, the last one down a hall that houses four other apartments, heeled boots wet with melting snow thumping softly on the long strip of burgundy and gold carpet. “Y/n!” The door right before hers swings open with the sort of enthusiasm that can only be mustered up by her eccentric, and frustratingly nosey, neighbor. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Gladis,” Y/n tries to hide her groan under a bubbly smile, “me? Why?” God, please let this be a quick conversation.

“Gosh, I swear, its like I never see you,” the older woman bulldozes right over her earlier question, “I'd never think you lived next door if it wasn’t for all those packages that get dropped off – a little shopping addiction, have we?”

Y/n chuckles wearily, quickly thinking up excuses that would validate an escape from the clutches of small talk with Gladis. “Ha, maybe,” she licks her lips and rubs her thumb along the side of her house key, “you know, i’d love to chat but I have a meeting in…..” pretending to check her watch, she summons a gasp that would make her highschool drama teacher proud, “thirty minutes, so I really should get going.”

“Oh, well, then,” Gladis frowns, “let me just give you this, I think your mail got mixed up in mine,” she explains, handing over a brown envelope littered with stamps on the front. “Coming all the way from Ireland, Peter’s out there, isn’t he?”

The envelope feels heavier than she’d expected. It wasn’t just the weight of the paper; it was the promise of something inside. A response. From Peter? Her heart twisted at the thought, but the handwriting on the front didn’t match his neat, precise script. This was different—messier, almost rushed.

Furrowing her brows, Y/n stares at the address that she’s certain isn’t Peter's. “Huh,” briefly, she glances back up at Gladis, “What? Oh, yeah, he is,” she rattles off, now even more eager to muster up a quick good-bye and be on her way. “Look um, I should go.”

“Oh, of course. Busy busy,” Gladis chuckles softly, then, as Y/n starts walking off, she adds in a tone of pesky judgment, “too busy to even decorate, I see.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Y/n slips her key into the lock. Of course, even she can admit how sad and plain her door, lacking a wreath like Gladis’ and her other neighbors, but Y/n just can’t seem to bring herself to decorate. Every time she looks at the boxes she’s pulled out of storage, it makes her a little sad – no Peter to insist on mistletoe in every doorway, or Milo to swat at twinkling lights with his tiny paw. “Yeah,” Y/n licks her lips, “something like that. Take care Gladis,” she manages soberly before slipping inside.

Upon shutting the door, Y/n presses her back to the cool, white-painted oak she gives the brown envelope another long look. She hesitates, her fingers trembling as they finally slide under the flap to tear it open. The crinkle of the paper fills the silence of her apartment as she unfolded the letter, joining the slight shake of her breathing.

Getting it out, the name at the bottom catches her eye first: Andy. Not Peter.

Y/n blinked. Confusion giving way to curiosity as she reads the opening lines.

“We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter...”

A stranger. A stranger had read her words. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she almost crumpled the paper on instinct, shame pooling in her chest. But something stops her. She can’t just do that, not when this stranger has given her time out of his day to offer whatever comfort he can muster up for someone oceans away.

So stumbles out of the foyer and into the living room, dropping herself unceremoniously onto the long sofa as she keeps reading.

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter but I hope you don’t mind me writing this. I know this is wrong—it wasn’t meant for me, and for that, I’m truly sorry. But I promise you, I tried to do the right thing and take it to its intended address, but the house is empty and up for sale, and the snow has all but ruined the envelope. So here I am, writing to a stranger, hoping I’m not overstepping by responding.

I’m Andy. Well, Andrew. You know, I’m not really sure how to do this.

But your words stayed with me. They remind me of something I’ve lost—or maybe, thrown away. I can’t explain it, but your letter didn’t feel like something I could just set aside. It was raw, honest and that kind of loneliness…….I think understand it. I know what it's like to feel like you’ve screwed everything up. To become a stranger to someone you used to know better than the back of your own hand. Its funny how that happens, how someone can become such a huge part of your life and know everything about you, and you think you know everything about them. And then one day they just…..leave, but you can’t really blame them because its all your fault.

I’m also sorry about your Milo, losing a pet is like losing a piece of your home. But for what its worth, I’m sure he appreciated you being there with him until the end. It's such a simple joy, having someone that stays until the end, not that I would know anything about it. I seem to have a knack for driving people away.

As for your tree, I have to admit that mine’s just as sad. It’s just sitting undecorated in the corner of my living room, looking a bit sorry for itself. I keep telling myself I’ll get around to putting up the lights and ornaments, but it feels strange doing it alone, I used to have someone to help me decorate too. But she’s gone now, and maybe this is my way of avoiding the reminder of what’s missing.

You asked about Irish winters. If I’m being honest, they’re usually pretty gray and the cold kind of seeps into your bones. Wicklow is never short on snow, or rain, so we’re no stranger to slush. And iced-over driveways. But so far, we’ve had a good one this year, no too much rain so the snow stays put – my driveways still frozen, though. Sometimes, at least where I’m from, it gets so quiet, almost like the world’s holding its breath. Its beautiful, its lonely.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. I don’t know what you were hoping to find when you sent your letter, but maybe this reply means that neither of us has wasted the effort. If you do write back, I’d like to hear more about your plastic tree—and maybe even see a picture. I’ll send one of mine in return. Let’s make it a contest. May the best tree win.

Take care, Y/n. And thank you for making me feel a little less lonely.

– Andy.

By the time she reaches the end, Y/n’s chest aches in a way that isn’t unpleasant. The tone isn’t mocking or dismissive. Its... kind. Empathetic. This Andy doesn’t know her, but somehow, he understands.

It takes her a handful of minutes to process everything that’s happened; her hope of reconnecting with Peter, this newfound affinity with a man she’s never met. Suddenly, and quite surprisingly, Y/n doesn’t feel the loss so greatly anymore.

Though, the longer Y/n stares at the letter, its neatly folded edges sharp when she drags her fingers along them, the more she starts feeling a tightness in her stomach. The kindness in his tone, the shared loneliness in his admissions, the unexpected warmth that radiated from every line—all of it made her chest ache in ways she couldn’t untangle.

But she can't shake the shame curling in her stomach.

Letting it go, she presses her fingertips to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. What was I thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, that's the truth. Sending that letter to Peter—an impulse born from desperation and the relentless tug of the holiday season—was foolish enough. But now, knowing a stranger has read her most private thoughts, her rawest emotions? Its borders unbearable.

Her cheeks burn at the memory of her own words, the confessions she’d stupidly spilled without thinking. “Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you.” How could she have written that? Would she even say that to Peter had they been on the phone, or in the same room? Probably not. And now, Andrew—a stranger—had seen it, read it, felt sorry for her.

She swallows hard, a lump forming in her throat and embarrassment suddenly gives way to anger that boils up and makes her skin hot. “He shouldn’t have opened it,” she mutters to the. “He had no right.” But the protest sounds hollow, even to her own ears. The house was vacant, and the envelope had been damaged by the snow. Andrew’s apology seemed sincere, and his intentions genuine.

But writing back to him feels... wrong. Like a betrayal of something she isn’t ready to let go of. She still loves Peter, these are thoughts meant for him, these feelings belong to him – she can’t just give her innermost thoughts to someone else like that.

Y/n spends so long wrapped up in turmoil that she almost forgets that there were other things besides Andrew’s letter in the envelope, until she goes to move it off her jean-cald lap and two photographs slip out. Drawing in a sharp breath, she collects them off the tweed cushion. The first one is of a backyard she’s never seen before, the pool is covered and there are patches of snow gathered near tall trees with white flecks peppered on the bare bones of ornamental bushes. The yard retreats into what she guesses is the forest, and she wonders what it must be like living so close to wildlife; she’s lived in the city all her life with only a couple vacations to the likes of Aspen and Maine – both with Peter – but seeing that much foliage in person is still foreign to her.

The second picture is of a sparse Christmas tree standing in front of a wide, floor to ceiling window. Its so tall, it almost reaches the high ceilings of what seems like a spacious living room. Her finger traces the outline of the tree, and she thinks back on what he said about not having someone to help him decorate. When Y/n turns it over, there note scrawled on the back and it reads: "Mine’s a little sad too."

Then, for the first time in days, Y/n smiles……and the anger wans.

[pelova4president]

Ice Ice baby

Vicky Lopez x WinterAthlete!Reader

summary~ You get swept off your feet by a cute girl on the slopes in Spain

!warning! not proof read

It was weird how Barcelona stargirl Vicky Lopez was here, watching you perform in the winter olympics. A few months ago you never would have thought she was here for you.

You had met the Spanish girl on a snowboarding trip to Andorra. It had been one of your training locations for years. It wasn’t exactly the time of the year for tourists so it surprised you to see a whole squad of amateur skiers and snowboarders on the slope.

Your trainer had planned a location for you to train but it was rudely disturbed by one of those amateur skiers. She went faster and faster and eventually couldn’t control her direction anymore. You saw the girl sliding towards you and before you knew it her ski helmet was hovering above yours.

“Oh my god, i’m so sorry. I swear i’m a lot better at skiing than this!” she apologised.

“It’s alright, snowboarding is better anyway.” you laughed dryly as you took your helmet off.

Vicky didn’t really move and was still on top of you, staring at your helmet-less face. She thought you were quite cute without on one.

“Uhm so.. i can’t really move to get up since you’re on top of me…” you started as it didn’t really look like she was planning on getting up anytime soon.

“Oh yeah, yeah sorry.” Vicky stammered as she finally got up she offered you her hand.

“I’m Vicky by the way, it’s my second time skiing but i’m sure you could tell.” the spaniard had taken her helmet off and you stared at her moving lips. It wasn’t often that you saw a girl as cute as her on a ski slope.

Your trainer called you as he traveled by.

“I’m y/n, you looked like a true professional, would’ve thought you had been skiing your whole life.” you laughed.

Vicky covered her face with her hands as her cheeks grew even redder from embarrassment. “Maybe skiing is just not for you, it wasn’t really for me anyway. Try snowboarding, next time i see you i’ll try to teach you.” you offered her, hoping to see her again.

Vicky liked the sound of that, seeing you again. Wintersport wasn’t really her thing.

Your relationship developed pretty fast. It was hard not to fall for a girl as beautiful as her.

One day you’re taken out by a cute girl and the next you’re sitting in the lobby of her hotel drinking hot chocolate milk. Fairly early into your relationship you learned she was a professional footballer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t watch other sports than snowboarding, you knew the clubs like Barcelona and Manchester City, you just didn’t really ever get further into football. But now the girl you had a little crush on had told you she played for Barcelona so you had to watch it.

Vicky found it pretty impressive you were a professional footballer, especially at your age. At only 18 years old you had already European Champion on your name.

You met her teammates not long after. It wasn’t really voluntarily though. You happened to be in Spain for a few days and on your day off you took your chance to go and see your ‘friend’ play. You texted Vicky and hour before kick-off and as she walked out you could see her searching for you.

When she finally found you she gave the longer girl with braids next to her a push and pointed towards your section. You could see them talking and it made you nervous.

After the game a sweaty Vicky and a few of her teammates walked towards you.

“Hi snow princess!” Vicky greeted you happily. She moved towards you and went in for a hug.

“Hi stargirl” you whispered back.

Vicky pulled out of the hug and started to introduce you to her teammates. “So this is Cata, she’s a bit crazy and a goalie as you can see. This is Bruna and this is Martina, they’re a bit weird but very funny. And here you have Salma” - Vicky leaned in to whisper in your ear - “She’s a bit scary at first but she’ll warm up to you” - The spanish girl stepped away again and introduced you to the very last one of her teammates she brought to meet you - “The last but very not least, La Reina, Alexia Putellas, the female Messi and our Captain.” Vicky ended.

You didn’t know how to react so you sheepishly waved at the girls in front of you. “And everyone, this is uh- my uh girlfriend, friend that’s a girl.” Vicky said as she looked between you and her teammates.

You don’t know how you got the courage to even talk infront of the most talented female footballers but you did. “I’m y/n, Vicky’s girl-friend as in girlfriend.” you smiled at her.

“Yep, y/n is my girlfriend.” the midfielder said, this time proudly.

With the Olympics coming up you didn’t get to spend much time with your girlfriend. She had a full agenda and so did you. It was hard since the both of you were travelling all the time. You were still 18, so the both of you had to really think about your upcoming careers.

When the Olympics finally arrived and you got to wear the flag of Finland with pride you made the most of it, even if it meant you still couldn’t see your girlfriend.

You tried to face time her every day but it was hard since the games where held in China and she was still in Spain. But even though it was hard to speak to one another she still left you voice notes telling you about her day. And you’d never tell anyone about it, afraid they’ll see you as anything other than an actual ice queen but you listen to those notes before every game. And apparently it brought good luck.

So when you saw Vicky Lopez and two other Barcelona girls sitting in the stands. You wondered how she got here just before the finale. She waved over at you and formed a heart with her hands. You took your helmet partly off and smiled at the tanned girl.

Your girlfriend had begged Alexia to let her watch one of your games. At first she wouldn’t let you, not in the middle of the season. But when she found out how much she missed you from Salma she couldn’t help but feel bad.

Salma and Cata had heard enough of Vicky complaining about how much she missed you and how bad she felt that she couldn’t be there to support you. It really got to them when they catched Vicky looking through her photo albums of you smiling at your pictures together like a lovedrunk idiot.

As you got ready to perform you took another look at Vicky. You had to atleast try to win it, you were no loser. You could do it, for her.

So you got ready for the slopestyle and did what you did best, snowboard. It went by like it never happened, it was like you blacked out, you didn’t remember what you did but you were done. You had completed the slopestyle.

And you had won. You had won gold.

It felt like the media was never ending, the camera’s and microphone kept coming. You just had to find your girlfriend.

Pushing through you finally found her. She had a think coat on, one she was probably forced to wear by her captain.

“My snow princess did it! Olen ylpeä sinusta (I’m proud of you) Vicky whispered into your neck.

You smiled into her and had to stiffle your laugh “You learned some Finnish for me, how romantic.”

“Hey! I thought you’d like it!” Vicky pulled away, she looked a bit offended.

“No no, me gusta.” you kissed her.

Alexia and Salma looked at the two of you from a distance. “Gross, they’re so in love it’s disgusting.” Salma grumbled under her breath.

“Let them be, they’re just teenagers… But if Vicky catches a cold i’ll kill her.” Alexia said.

vickyylopezz._

liked by aitanabonmati and 147.131 others

my olympic champion 🥇

y/n_y/l/n mi amor ❤️

A/N yet another not proof read fic, i’m just too lazy sorry

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝!𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝!𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // your parents were never kind and sweet type of people, but in your sixth year things got out of hand. To put a cherry on top, a certain platinum blond haired Slytherin Prince decided to be Sherlock Holmes and found out your secrets, ones nobody is supposed to know.

// Warnings // mentions of violence, both physical and verbal violence, abusive parents, bullying, hate towards reader, ignorance, name calling (shame, disgrace, disappointment, waste of time), reader has a backstory.

// Author's Note // please pay attention to warnings! This is enemies to lovers. Also, I have mentioned once that reader is 16, but for the sake of this plot, since every sixth year is 16. Also, I added a last name for the reader, but not the name, since it would be an OC in that case. I needed a pureblood last name. This is a part three, please read part one and two first! / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @talesfromthecrypts

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 in progress

It was a rainy morning. Every drop of rain felt like salty tears that would roll down one’s face until it would fall to the ground; every roar of thunder sounded like screams of a person who was in pain; every crack of lightning looked like horrible scars that eventually fade away, but always stay in your head.

Sun was nowhere in sight. Instead of warm, comforting and welcoming giant lit ball, clouds covered the sky, clouds that once were fluffy and white like snow, now cold, grey, empty, putting everyone in a grumpy mood. It was as if nature knew about the nearing dark times.

As much as you would love to stay in bed, stare at the ceiling and think about nothing, you had class to attend, and skipping classes wasn’t very smart choice. You rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Your roommates were still asleep, so you tiptoed around, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Walking into the bathroom, mirror was the first thing you saw, hanging above the sink. You looked at your reflection and sighed deeply. Memories of last night flooded your mind and suddenly you felt nauseous. You leaned on the sink for support, your hands gripping either side of it and your head hanging lowly. You wanted to forget everything, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t get them out of your head, as if someone put it on replay. You shut your eyes and just stood there for a few seconds. A single tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You didn’t bother wiping it away though. You watched in the mirror as it neared your chin and then fell on the floor. You sniffled quietly and turned on the cold water, splashing some on your face in order to clear your mind.

When you were finished there, you stepped out of the bathroom door and back inside your sleeping area. To your luck, your roommates were still asleep. You quickly changed into your robes and silently opened the door, praying it wouldn’t make a cracking noise. You sneaked down the stairs and headed out of Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty early in the morning, Great Hall was mostly empty, only very few students were sitting here and there.

Sighing, you walked towards your house table and sat down quietly. The breakfast was laying in front of you, its delicious smell making it impossible for you to not look at it, but you didn’t have an appetite. Your appetite depended on your mood and right now you were in a terrible mood. Not that it was unexpected, anyway. After all, what sane person would be in a good mood if what happened to you yesterday, happened to them?! You were scared. What if he would tell someone, let alone everyone?! No live being on Earth was supposed to know about your horrible secret.

Draco was not the best person. Not for you, at least. The guy decided to be your sworn enemy on the day you met and has successfully been one since then. He was always cold towards you, embarrassing you mercilessly in front of the whole school. He would always bring you down or make fun of you, insult you and even cast some unpleasant spells on you. He was always so loud and annoying, making his presence known every time he would enter the room. That’s why you were confused when you noticed major changes in the Slytherin Prince.

What confused you even more was that yesterday, when he was angry, you saw something else in his eyes, something you had never seen before. Was it fear? Did he fear that you would actually die? Not that he would lose you or anything. He couldn’t lose what he never had; or was it- no, it couldn’t be. He is Draco Lucius Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! He hates you, silly! You scolded yourself and shook yourself out of your stupid thoughts. But you were still curious. You wanted to know how he felt. What did he think of you, of your parents. What was he doing now?

As if on cue, the said platinum blond haired boy appeared in the hallway. Entering the Great Hall, he immediately looked at you, but you were already looking at your plate of food, picking on your now-cold egg with the silver fork, pretending to be eating. He sighed quietly, the sound coming out almost inaudible. Even when he was already sitting at the Slytherin table, you could feel his intense stare burning your face. And the fact that your front was facing him didn’t help at all, quite the opposite actually; you couldn’t look up, because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to avoid making eye contact with him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted you to look up, he wanted you to look at him. Why, he didn’t know either. Maybe he just wanted to see the look in your eyes, he wanted to know how you would look at him. Would it be disgust? Or hate? Maybe annoyance. Perhaps fatigue. But what if it was exhaustion, loneliness? What if you just needed help? He scoffed at himself; why would you ask help from him? Why would you even consider that he would help you?

He was so deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice when did Zabini and Goyle walk in, followed by the Golden trio shortly after. All of them were equally confused. Scene was confusing, indeed; the Slytherin Prince was staring at his rival Gryffindor, his eyes begging for you to look up, but you were avoiding him on purpose. The two Slytherins didn’t understand why was he staring at you, but the trio didn’t understand why was he staring at you.

When he realized that he was caught, he quickly looked away from you and down his breakfast. Taking fork in his hand, he cleared his throat and started eating. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione approached you. Hermione sat right next to you, Harry and Ron directly across from the two of you. Hermione smiled brightly at you, trying not to show how curious she was about you and Draco. “Good morning, Y/n! How are you?”

You also smiled at her, although with force, you hoped they wouldn’t notice, "I'm fine. What time is it?" You sneakily changed the subject, "I don’t want to be late for class."

Harry understood your intent but said nothing, “Don't worry, you won't be late. We have Potions too." Hermione tried to sneak in, “Well, Malfoy was looking at you a bit strangely. Did something happen?” Yes, something happened, very bad thing happened, you thought to yourself, but then you faked a scoff, “Not that I know of. I mean, he’s Malfoy.” His last name came out of your mouth sharply, as if it were a venomous thing, not someone’s last name.

Hermione nodded her head, seemingly buying it. One thing about you; you were an excellent actress. Standing up, you looked down at the three Gryffindors. As much as you didn’t want to be with anyone else right now, you couldn’t shrug them off now when you had the same class, “Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go to Potions.” They all nodded their heads and followed you.

On the way to the dungeons you were practically following behind the three like a lost puppy, but you didn’t seem to care, you didn’t even pay attention to their dialogues, you didn’t know what they were saying, maybe they were talking to you, maybe they weren’t, who knows.

You finally got to the classroom and sat down at one desk in the side of your house, Hermione sat next to you, as expected, with Harry and Ron sitting behind you. Snape was nowhere in sight. Of course, you scoffed to yourself, the bastard had to barge in for special effect and then start being a total bitch, not that he ever stopped anyway. And now he would start throwing random ass insults at every Gryffindor, which were not necessary at all. But, of course, he had to attack you first, because you were a filthy blood traitor. You rolled your eyes at the thought and looked down at your unopened book.

“Psst, Potter, Potter!” Malfoy. Of-fucking-course! Snape was not there, so he just had to seize the moment, “Saw you talking to that lunatic last night, like her or something?” Parkinson snorted at that, Zabini smirked and Goyle started laughing. Harry glared at him, rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Shut up Malfoy”.

Ron furrowed his brows and leaned towards him “Who did he mean by that?” Harry looked at his best friend and shook his head “Dumbledore sent me to Professor Trelawney yesterday evening, to tell her something”. Ron nodded his head and just as he was about to say something, the doors of Snape’s chambers bursted open and in walked the said man himself. You shook your head at his dramatic antics; barging in with his cloak floating, swinging his greasy hair back. You rolled your eyes, at this point, god knows how many times you have rolled your eyes that day.

“Students, we have a very important lesson today,” he started, with his monotonous voice, looked around the class, making the pause even more dramatic, and then “Dueling.”

There were groans from Gryffindors and excited noises from Slytherins. Pansy and Goyle had that sickening smiles across their faces, the kind of smile that makes you want to throw up.

Snape wasted no time and started naming people “Mister Weasley and Mister Zabini”.

Ron grunted silently, but stood up nonetheless. The two students climbed on the dueling podium, positioned and waited for professor to give them a sign to start. As soon as they got a nod of approval from Snape, Zabini shot a disarming spell towards Ron, which he blocked with 'Protego'. Then Ron threw a 'Locomotor Mortis' which glued Zabini’s legs together, but before he could fall, he shouted 'Rictusempra' which caused Ron to laugh uncontrollably.

“Enough.” Snape ended their duel and looked around the class. Ron and Zabini nodded at each other, by force of course, and sat back down at their desks.

“Miss Parkinson.” Snape announced next, “who wants to compete with Miss Parkinson?” But it was not a question for students to answer, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood up, a little nervous, and walked up to the girl. Snape nodded and they started dueling. Hermione shot 'Tarantalegra' towards Pansy, which made her start dancing. Pansy, shouted 'Expelliarmus' which successfully disarmed Hermione.

Suddenly, Snape raised his hand, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“Sit down.” He said with his cold voice. The two girls sat down and looked at Snape, "What you are doing is the bare minimum. You're not doing enough. I need the best you can do.” Snape made a little pause before speaking up again, "Now, do any of you want to come forward?”

Goyle’s hand immediately shot up. Snape glanced at him, "Okay,” he hummed to himself before announcing, "Mister Goyle."

Goyle stood up and walked in the middle of the classroom, climbing up the podium and facing the class.

"Who wants to compete with Mister Goyle?”

Silence.

Snape glanced at the Gryffindors sitting in front of him, and scoffed “Nobody?” he asked, rather amused than disappointed.

“Miss.. Armand.” You looked at him with a disgust stretched across your face. Pairing was very unfair.

Goyle was one of the very few dangerous, merciless students. He was very good at Dark Arts and dueling. He was large and muscular compared to you. It was even funny, seeing you and him fight against each other, since he was practically towering over you.

Snape gave the two of you a sign to start, but you didn't start immediately like others did. You observed each other for a few seconds.

Goyle shot non-verbal disarming spell towards you, but you blocked his spell with non-verbal shielding charm almost immediately. Goyle was always fighting sneaky fight, he would not say anything out loud. He would do anything and everything to appear more 'impressive'.

He shot 'Stupefy' towards you, but you easily blocked it with 'Ennervate'. You never attacked first. For the first few moments of dueling, you would only defend yourself and make it seem like you were not strong enough, and when your opponent would run out of spells or get even tiny bit tired, you would attack with your full force.

Goyle sent another 'Stupefy' towards you, but you did a backflip and successfully avoided the spell. You, then shot a non-verbal curse which momentarily blinded Goyle.

It was a curse that very few people knew of, almost a secret, that you found in one of the dark books your parents’ kept in their library. A curse that temporarily blinds the opponent and causes a white, blinding light to fill the victim's vision, rendering them sightless for a short period of time, causing confusion and disorientation in its targets.

You used his distraction for your advantage and moved behind him. When he was able to see again, you waited for him to turn around, and when he did, you shot a 'Flipendo' that knocked him backwards.

One more thing about you, you would never attack from behind.

When he gained his strength and stood back up, he shot a non-verbal 'Expelliarmus' which somehow disarmed you. The whole class gasped and Goyle smirked in victory, but little did he know that you let him disarm yourself on purpose. Gregory aimed his wand at you, but before he could even think of a spell, you sent a non-verbal, wandless 'Funnuculus' which made his skin boil. He dropped his wand in agony and you immediately summoned it by a simple 'Accio', holding it to his throat.

"Do you surrender?” You asked, digging his wand in his throat deeper.

Goyle gulped before squealing out a yes. You removed his wand from his throat and returned it to him.

The whole class was shocked. Even Snape. You looked at him, nodded to Goyle and went back to your seat.

“The lesson is over.” Snape announced suddenly. He looked as if lightning just struck him.

As soon as you heard his words, you stood up and marched to the exit.

Draco, on the other hand, was frozen, he couldn’t move. Never in the hundred years would he have imagined you were this strong. For some unknown reason, he wanted to run after you and ask if you were okay.

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but suddenly he cared for you. In reality, he actually liked you since the very beginning, but he didn’t know it himself. Not yet at least.

[hl-obsessed]

✨ FIC REC ✨ | 10-30k

•°•°•°•°•°•

Snowed In by @germericangirl

(E, 15k) Harry wants to fly back home to London after visiting his family for the holidays but a snow storm causes his flight to get cancelled. What happens if the hotel only has one room left for him and the beautiful blue eyed stranger?

✨ Running Home To You by sincewewereeighteen

(E, 18k) Harry can’t help but look at his iTunes library. What he did not expect was to see his name there: Harry Styles, and a half-played album. He has to ask.

“What’s that you were listening to?”

“Oh, it’s this guy, uh- Harry Styles?”

“Hm. Is he any good? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“He’s proper famous, isn’t he?” Louis smirks. “He’s good, believe it or not. Many people don’t give credit to teenage girls, but I don’t regret listening to him.”

“D’you have a favorite?”

“You’ve probably heard Sign of the Times, because everyone’s heard this song…” Louis checks his screen. “Don’t know. This is the best one musically speaking. But there’s something about this one,” he points at his screen, “From the Dining Table. It’s just so sad. Makes one wonder what this guy went through.”

“That tough?”

“Sad.” Louis replies. “Anyways. Don’t be prejudiced and give the pop star a listen. He’s really talented.”

OR: the one in which Harry and Louis take the same plane, and even though they're both sort of nomads, they end up finding a home in each other.

give you my fever by @thelovejandles

(E, 10k) x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first

If Tomorrow Never Comes (We Had Last Night) by @fallinglikethis @all-these-larrythings

(M, 15k) Louis accepts the call without bothering to look at the caller ID. Only Zayn would be a big enough asshole to call him at two in the morning. This fucking better be important.

“This fucking better be important,” Louis greets.

On the other end of the line comes a soft giggle. “Li, you don’t usually curse. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

 Yeah, that’s not Zayn. Louis sighs, his anger melting into resignation when he realizes that it’s some poor bastard probably drunk dialing his ex or something. “Sorry, mate. Think you’ve got the wrong number."

Based on this Tumblr prompt: "Accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au"

sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint

(E, 27k) Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-eight year old succesful actor living in New York. Harry Styles is a twenty year old up and coming model and coincidentally also the one who turns Louis’ world completely upside down.

or, Louis is Zachary Quinto and Harry is Miles McMillan. Falling in love was always in the cards for them.

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 12k) Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

✨ i'm a captain on a jealous sea by @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 15k) It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Nick. He is, if he’s being honest, kind of indifferent. Louis gets that Nick is just doing his job most of the time, being loud and prying, not having boundaries. But it’s just a little too much for Louis’ taste. Louis, who has learned over the years, when to be loud and when to know that coy is the game. But, it doesn’t matter really. He’s not required to like everyone, doesn’t have to make nice with them outside of having a camera shoved in his face. He can let Nick be Nick and it shouldn’t affect Louis at all.

Except.

What Louis actually has a problem with is the way Nick Grimshaw looks at Harry.

✨ some things fade (some never do) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 25k) Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

*

Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

In a sky full of stars, be my Northern lights by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 13k) It's one of those nights there's nothing on the telly that Louis absently scrolls through Tinder. After swiping left on a bunch of profiles he comes face to face with a picture that stops him in his tracks. The picture is..almost sweet. It’s a boy with brown curly hair, wearing a very low cut yellow blouse, paired with a black jacket. He’s got a smile on his face and his tongue sticking out, but it’s not in any way lewd or suggestive. He just looks like he’s having a good time, and something about the innocence of it has him swiping right rather than left.

He’s barely checked the other pictures on the boy's profile before Tinder confirms that he’s got a match. The shots are so different from the pictures Louis is used to on Tinder - half naked boys who are smoldering at the camera - that he can’t help but smile.

It quickly turns into a frown when he opens up the message he’s just received.

Harry: Hello!

Harry: Thank you for swiping right

Harry: I have a proposition for you

Treat You Like A Gentleman by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 12k) 5 times that Harry Styles was unsatisfied by his dates, and one time Louis Tomlinson helped him find what he had been missing.

Sweet as Honey by TeamLouis

(E, 21k) Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.

✨💎 To Have Touched the Sun by @ireallysawanangel

(E, 12k) Louis has been taking suppressants ever since he first presented as an omega, and because of that, he has his heats dwindled down to just once a year. When he suddenly goes into heat in the middle of a supermarket only two months after just having one, he immediately knows something is wrong. It takes the act of a very kind stranger in that supermarket to change Louis' life forever.

Losing Focus Every Time You Speak by @causticsunshine

(E, 19k) “Harry,” he starts, his tone cautious, “what’s this I’m seeing?”

A roll of Harry’s shoulder and the thing catches the light again. “Hm? I dunno what you’re talking about, Lou,” he replies, voice suddenly strained.

Oh. So that’s how it’s going to be.

“This,” Louis reiterates as clearly as he can—by abruptly spreading Harry’s cheeks as much as he can through the confines of his knickers, in turn causing Harry to grunt and Louis to reveal a, fuck, a small bubblegum-pink gem in the shape of a heart, rimmed by a sliver of silver, “you remember now?”

“Oh.” All faux innocence. Louis removes his hands as Harry slowly pulls himself back up, a little red-faced and with a chunky throw in hand. “That? It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Louis repeats, trying for gentle surprise.

Louis returns from an impromptu work trip and enjoys some long-awaited alone time with his favorite person. Lace knickers and a princess plug might have a role to play in things.

✨💎 Eyes on the Horizon by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 12k) Freshly dumped, recently fired, and about to turn 40, Harry's friends insist on taking him skydiving to cheer him up. His younger and extremely fit instructor Louis makes him even more nervous than the idea of jumping out of a plane, but both may be exactly what he needs to turn his life around.

Waste the Night by @wicked-archer

(E, 12k) Harry is excited to finally see his favourite band in concert and his favourite person, the guitarist of the band, Louis Tomlinson. Little does he know what the night has in store for him.

✨ Prelude to Forever by @always-aqua

(M, 13k) @StylinHarry: So I kinda fell for a boy yesterday at #ChiPride. Kissed & fireworks went off. Literally. He’s a drama teacher. Goes by “Louis” but I prefer Sunshine. Very pretty. The prettiest. Got separated & I’m a fucking idiot who forgot to get his number. Anyone know him? #helpfindsunshine

Or, Louis and Harry meet at Pride in Chicago and spend the day falling for each other before getting accidentally separated.

Be Mine? by @softfonds

(E, 11k) Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it. But a sign Zayn brings manages to turn his night around in more ways than he hoped for.

Blinded by the Colors by @fallinglikethis

(M, 20k) After a heated fight with Harry, a maudlin, inebriated Louis Tomlinson questions his presence in his boyfriend's life. In fact, maybe all of One Direction would be better off if Louis had never been put in the band to begin with.

He never expected to wake up in a world where that's exactly what happened.

Or an It's A Wonderful Life Au where Louis Tomlinson realizes just how important he really is.

✨ Keep Me Closer by @zanniscaramouche

(T, 18k) Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

Moonlight Minx by @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 15k) The one where an unexpected storm strands Harry on an island, Louis gets an unexpected house guest for the night, and love might just be the most unexpected thing of all.

Love On Air by @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 19k) The one where Louis doesn't have a type, no matter what Niall says, but if he did, it'd probably be the guy currently trapped in his radio studio and grinning back at him from across the desk.

✨ Every heart but mine by @rainblou

(E, 17k) In the years leading up to his presentation, Harry hoped that his soulmark would appear, that his soulmate would present first and Harry would have irrevocable proof that his other half was out there, waiting for him.

Years later, he's given up on waiting and with a heat coming up, his eyes are set on Louis Tomlinson to help him through it.

redamancy by @yu-taeil

(G, 10k) dystopian au.

Harry lives in a world where, at the age of 18, everyone gets paired up with a life mate, a perfectly compatible partner. When Harry gets Liam Payne as his soul mate, he thinks nothing of it. It must be true love, right?

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson, a 19 year old who is already partnered up. Harry starts to fall for Louis, and it is not unrequited, but it is against the law.

Harry had always known he’d end up breaking some rules, he just hadn’t quite imagined the magnitude of them.

Sooner or Later by orphan_account

(T, 12k) Louis suspected he might have a little crush. It was harmless enough. It wasn't as if he were any sort of threat to his sister's relationship with Harry, was it?

✨💎 I Just Wanna Give You Love by @lululawrence

(NR, 18k) Graham Norton appeared on the screen introducing his guests and out of nowhere, everything in Louis’ world was turned upside down.

Louis gasped as he intently took in the man on the screen, smiling and waving from his seat beside Sir Ian McKellen.

“Oh my God,” Louis said before it all sank in as to what it meant. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Louis William, you watch your mouth,” Jay said. “What has got into you?”

Feeling like a madman, his palms to his cheeks, Louis couldn’t help the tears of surprise, relief, and fear as he turned to his mum. “What colour are his eyes? What do you call that colour?”

“Louis, are you telling me that the man on the screen, Harry Styles, is your soulmate?”

Or the one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is...well...not.

Where Life Changed Us by ExiledQueenCatalog

(E, 22k) Omega Harry has a rare genetic disorder where he has no sense of smell. This has lots of odd effects such as him not being able to smell his own scent but most brutally, not being able to scent the way his inner omega desires. It also leaves him as a sort of odd-ball to the community, leaving him becoming touch starved as no one wants the omega who can’t scent. Until finally, he meets the right alpha.

Hint: I want to be yours by @greenblueish

(M, 11k) or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.

'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by @absoloutenonsense

(NR, 26k) When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

We Don't Need No Piece of Paper (From the City Clerk) by @2tiedships2

(M, 26k) Harry sat on his bed and stared at the pile of luggage by the door. This was really happening. He was being shipped off to America to get married.

In a matter of months, he would be bonded to an alpha his father had chosen for him. Someone that Harry knew nothing about. Not even his name.

Party Lines by @absoloutenonsense

(E, 25k) Louis works for a phone-sex operating company, collecting credit card information and transferring calls to different operators. On a particularly busy night, everyone is booked up, and one caller has been patiently waiting for more than a few minutes. In a split second decision –one he’s probably going to regret– Louis picks up the call himself.

*

Or Louis accidentally becomes a phone sex operator.

Losing That Reactive Spark by @crazyupsetter

(E, 11k) Prompt 73: ABO fic where Louis is cursed. He can’t touch anyone without a spark of electricity going through his body, causing him to blackout. He meets Harry, the only one the curse doesn’t work on for some reason.

(Gimme a Solution and) Watch Me Run With It by @lululawrence

(NR, 21k) This second, this minute, this hour, this day... hell, this week the trend was for Harry to feel overwhelmed. He was having a hard time not drowning in all of the responsibilities he had heaped upon himself and it had exhausted him. Beyond that, really. He had gotten to the point where he didn't even remember why he used to be so focused on getting back on stage every night.

Fine. Maybe this trend had been going on for even longer than a week. It might have even been months.

Harry is getting dangerously close to his breaking point, and that is when things start to change, starting with a favorite childhood sweet a member of the touring crew leaves for him in his dressing room.

Catching a Partner by berzerkshires

(M, 25k) This documentary follows the story of two people who fell in love in the last place you'd expect. Louis is a detective at the Boston Police Department investigating a trail of recent murders. Harry is the latest victim who survived an attempted murder and is sent to live at a safe house with Detective Tomlinson as the killer is still at large.

This is their story.

No Place I'd Rather Be by @iamasphodelknox

(E, 29k) Harry's had a crush on his stepfather's friend for six years. A small crush. A tiny crush.

Honestly, if you don't look at Harry's dozens of poems about Louis Tomlinson, the crush is practically infinitesimal. They haven't even had a conversation.

But then a car wreck prompts them to finally have a conversation.

Christmas works its magic, Harry pines, Louis fonds, and they just might make it.

baby shut your mouth and turn me inside out by ballsdeepinjesus

(E, 10k) Harry and Louis meet in a mcdonalds. louis is everything harry needs.

The Joke's Always On The Joker, Baby by @greenfeelings

(M, 16k) It’s all about an anonymous one-night stand that turns Harry and Louis’ lives into a rom-com cliché, provides Liam with the perfect opportunity to finally approach the man of his dreams, and confirms Niall that he’s always right.

Hold You With My Hands Tied by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 12k) "There’s a club in town called Habit, and they’re looking for a bartender to cover evenings and weekends. No previous experience required."

Harry furrows his brows. He’s never been to Habit, but he certainly knows what type of club it is. BDSM.

It’s not the ideal position for an Omega surely, but beggars can’t be choosers he supposes. He tilts his head to the side. “And they would be ok with an Omega filling that role?”

Janet scans her eyes over the job description before nodding. “Yes, actually it says here Omegas are preferred but not required.”

Harry sighs.

“When do I start?”

(Or the one where Omega Harry loses his bakery job and is forced to take a temporary position bartending at a local BDSM club. It turns out to be not so bad. Especially when he catches the eye of the owner Louis, who also happens to be a gorgeous Alpha).

if you show up there then you know I will too by @harrybirthdaytoya

(M, 11k) Everyone in Louis' life keeps getting married, but he's almost 30 and single. (He's also grumpy about it). Harry sings in a wedding band, and Louis may have a bit of a crush.

I've Always Liked the Fireworks by QuickedWeen

(T, 12k) When alphas and omegas reach the age of twenty-one they are required to attend a Proving Day ceremony. Omegas watch as alphas do their best to compete in events, show off their skills, and prove how good a mate they can really be.

The whole thing is a bit ridiculous, but Louis Tomlinson has always dreamed of finding his mate. He's got two unsuccessful Sheffield Proving Days under his belt and decides to go for the much more competitive one in Manchester. His goal is to play his best, leave it all out on the pitch, and hope that one of the omegas watching just happens to be his mate.

Hold My Heart by Awriterwrites, phdmama

(E, 14k) Or, the one where famous Louis Tomlinson offers his hand and a lot more to his seat mate on a transatlantic flight.

Torn On The Platform by conscious-ramblings

AU where harry and louis are strangers but they always get the same train to work in the morning and one day harry falls asleep on louis’ shoulder. louis wants to be annoyed because harry just broke a least seven rules of tube conduct but he looks so soft and peaceful that he just lets him sleep and wakes him ever so carefully when it’s his stop. it happens again and again until it becomes a regular thing where louis will let harry snooze and then gently nudge him awake, hand him the cup of coffee he took from him so it wouldn’t slip and spill everywhere and send him off with a “have fun at work, love” and after the tenth time harry isn’t even embarrassed anymore.

Cue changing work schedules, missing each other for the first time in weeks, panicking because “i don’t even know his name, why didn’t i ask for his name”, dramatic waiting on platforms and finally bumping into each other again when they least expect it

✨💎 Tell Me Your Secrets, Teach Me Your Ways by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 23k) The day after turning eighteen, Omega Prince Harry is expected to meet with eligible Alpha suitors. It's a day he's been looking forward to all his life, desperate for romance and yearning to find his mate.

What he doesn't expect to find, however, is that he's one half of a historic soul-tied union: a phenomenon last seen over a century ago. Luckily, his future mate is everything he ever dreamed of finding.

But... that's just the problem. Louis makes Harry feel things he's never felt before and has no way to describe. He knows that once they're married, he and Louis are meant to mate, but what that actually entails is a mystery…

Who better to ask about these feelings than his mate-to-be?

AKA: A regency-ish royalty AU featuring overeager soulmates who maybe give into temptation a little too much on their secret journey of sexual discovery.

The way you move for me baby (lights me up like nobody else) by @thechavier

(M, 12k) Those green eyes found him again and he struggled thinking of what to say.

"You look beautiful in that dress" It's what he landed on. (...) "You know I wrote a song back in the day called little black dress?"

He didn't imagine the little spark in his eyes, nor the pleased smirk on his lips, nor the tongue peeking out to wet them.

"Why do you think I chose it for tonight?"

or the rolling stones awards au

Talk Dirty To Me by BriaMaria

(E, 13k) Or the one where Harry is absolutely terrible at dirty talk so he asks his best friend to teach him. And the one where Louis knows it's a catastrophically bad idea but agrees anyway.

Because Sparrows Mate For Life by @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome

(E, 24k) Harry’s tattoo gets done all wrong, and he needs someone to fix it.

Bend Like a Hairpin by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 26k) Or the one where FBI agent Harry Styles screws up in a mission and he has one more chance to save his career. He’s going undercover as a stripper to investigate a strip club suspected of money laundering. There’s just 2 problems: 1) Harry can’t dance, and 2) he might be falling for the club’s owner Louis, who just happens to be the prime suspect.

Celebrity Discount by @loaded-gunn

(T, 27k) Louis fell for Prince Harry when he was ten and Harry was eight and peeked behind the Queen’s elegant gown for his first public appearance—a shy smile and a mess of curls. He fell for him when he caught Lottie putting up a magazine cover of Harry on her wall and all she had to say for herself was, “He’s such a good person, yeah?” and, yeah. He fell for him when Harry gracefully accepted his demotion. He fell for him when Harry came out and stayed out.

tonight's not over (come over and stay) by @adoredontour

(E, 17k) Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?”

Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password.

“No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?”

“Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis.

“Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?”

or, harry is a famous singer and louis is a student who just wants to write his novel

where sirens fear to tread by @stylinsoncity

(M, 28k) in the royal line, there are only a select few sirens with the ability to transform into humans once a month. harry is one of those sirens. he mostly sticks to the rules. when he's on land, he reads his books. he buys copious amounts of ice cream. he keeps to himself. that is until he meets a lifeguard named louis working at one of the luxury resorts on St Barts. and unfortunately, harry doesn't know the rules about falling in love at all.

✨💎 When The Stars Come Out by @briannamarguerite

(E, 30k) Louis was about to reassure Harry further when Gemma bounded back over to him, slipping a hand around Louis' waist. Harry’s eyes followed the movement. And then that lip gnaw again. Christ. How was he supposed to survive this weekend?

He turned his attention to Gemma as her palm came to rest right above his heart. Laying it on a bit thick, dear. Or at least that’s what he hoped he’d conveyed with the simple tilt of an eyebrow.

In response, she went up on tiptoes and laid a noisy kiss on the hollow beneath his cheekbone. Louis didn’t take his eyes off Harry, who watched the scene play out with a blank expression. Once Gemma dropped back to the ground, Harry shifted away from them, his gaze dropping to his feet.

[Or the one where Louis pretends to be Gemma's boyfriend for her horrid cousin's wedding but fate is a nasty jerk and throws Harry in his way.]

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part 1 (+50k) | part 2 (30-50k) | part 4 (<10k)