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blueskrugs · 2 years ago

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sleeping with someone | Nick Blankenburg

I used parts of this fic to cope with the fact that I graduate in a few days. pay no mind to the existential crisis. I think I also listened to too much of stick season while writing this

this one got away from me a teeny, tiny bit. i promise all 14,000 words are worth it.

length: 14.2k words

Nick Blankenburg breaks up with Mikayla Williams three weeks after he gets back to Michigan after Worlds. She doesn’t see it coming until Nick’s standing in front of her and saying, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Mikayla blinks at him. Nick looks determined, the same stubborn look that she’s grown to love on his face.

“Sorry, what?”

“I don’t think long-distance is going to work anymore, Mikkie.”

They’d barely had a chance to do long-distance at all. It had only been a few weeks between Michigan crashing out of the Frozen Four, then Nick signing a contract with Columbus and finishing out the season there, before being whisked off to Worlds. She thought it had been going fine—they texted often and Nick called when their schedules lined up enough to allow for it. Nick clearly didn’t think the same thing. He’s still looking at Mikayla with that stubborn set to his mouth, waiting for her to respond. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say next.

“You’re really breaking up with me? Just like that?” They’d been together almost three years. They’d started to talk about their plans for the future.

Nick shrugs. “I’m going to be getting a new contract this summer, probably, and I really want to be able to experience the NHL fully, y’know?”

So that’s how it is. Mikayla lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re saying that you want to sleep around without the guilt of a girlfriend back home.” Nick blushes, but refuses to back down. “Have a good life, Blankenburg.”

She pushes past him, unlocks her apartment door at last. She’s glad Nick at least waited to dump her until after they’d finished brunch, after he had walked her back home. Nick’s still standing by her door with his hands in his pockets when the door slams behind Mikayla.

Mikayla wishes she could say she moves on easily after that. She’s too angry to feel broken-hearted over it, at first. She collects all of Nick’s clothes that she’s pilfered over the years: sweatshirts and T-shirts and one extremely comfortable pair of sweatpants she’s actually pretty sad to give up. She shoves it all in a box and leaves it by her front door for another week.

She makes a detour to Washington on her way back home to Saginaw for the summer, drops the box off on the Blankenburgs’ porch after she knows Nick’s just had knee surgery and can’t come out and talk to her.

After that, she tries not to think about it.

This is the first summer Mikayla has been single since she started college, and she’ll be damned if she lets moping about Nick ruin it. There will be time for that later.

So Mikayla drives up to the Bay and tans on the beach with her friends, she spends time on Haithco Lake, and she goes out to the same bars as everyone else in her age in Saginaw. She deflects questions that her friends from high school ask about Nick—“We’re taking a break,” she says, drunk in the back of the bar, getting sunburned in a kayak on Haithco. “I’m fine,” she tells her mom, getting home late, stumbling over the sandals she’s just kicked off by the front door.

It’s her best friend who sees through her first, only a few weeks into the summer.

“What?” Mikayla asks flatly, popping another grape into her mouth as she watches Jake watch her, a serious look on his face that she can’t read.

“You’re really okay with Nick dumping you like that?” he asks. “Everyone thought you two would get married in a few more years.”

Mikayla forces herself to shrug. She’d been one of those people who thought she and Nick were going to get married, too. “We just grew out of each other I guess. Nick wanted to move on.”

Move on in life, move on from her.

Mikayla surveys Jake back. They’d been inseparable themselves since middle school. A lot of people had thought they’d be the ones to fall in love and get married, until Mikayla stayed in Michigan for college and Jake had fucked off to Mississippi State to play baseball. All they had these days was the summer.

“Things change, shit happens,” she adds.

Jake doesn’t look impressed by her flippancy. “What really happened?” he asks.

Mikayla’s first single summer is also the first summer she’s turned up without Nick in tow in years. People noticed faster than she would have liked. She’d been trying her hardest to run away from the truth, but she’s always known it would catch up to her eventually.

She forces another shrug. Jake’s still looking at her, too-serious for the sunny summer day, so she doesn’t think she’s coming off as casual as she wants to be.

“Told me he wanted to ‘experience the NHL fully,’ whatever the fuck that means,” she says after she lets the silence drag on too long. She bites down on another grape, the satisfying crunch of it soothing her flaring temper. She barrels on, “He decided he wanted to be able to fuck other girls, that I wasn’t enough anymore, I don’t know. I guess it’s better than just cheating on me.”

Jake stares at her. “That’s shitty,” he says. He shoves his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You know what you have to do, right?” he asks eagerly.

“Spend the summer getting drunk and then focus on graduating?” Mikayla asks. She doesn’t like the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes.

Jake scoffs. “You’re so boring. No, if Nick’s going to fuck around, what’s stopping you? Hot girl summer it up, baby! There’s nothing holding you back!”

Mikayla bursts out laughing. “Please never say hot girl summer around me again.” She throws a grape at Jake, considering his words; he flails, trying desperately to catch it in his mouth and narrowly avoiding toppling out of his chair. “Who exactly am I supposed to fuck around with?” she asks. Jake straightens up and shoots her a maniacal grin. She holds up a hand. “Not that I’m considering it, just—“

Saginaw isn’t a small town, but it functions enough like one. Everyone they went to high school with still runs in the same circles, the same friend groups coming together at parties when everyone flocks home for the summer. They’re not close enough to the Bay to garner a real tourist presence. If Mikayla were to sleep with anyone in Saginaw, everyone and their mother would know within a week. Sleeping around is way, way out of the picture.

Jake falls silent. Mikayla thinks he’s going to drop it, until he says, “I’m single.”

“No, what? I’m not sleeping with my best friend,” Mikayla protests. Jake knows her well enough to tell that the protest is half-hearted, judging by the raised eyebrows he points at her.

Jake doesn’t push. He’s smirking, though, waiting Mikayla out.

Jake had been Mikayla’s first kiss, tucked away in a hidden corner at one of Jake’s baseball tournaments their sophomore year of high school. They’d never really entertained the idea of going any further than that, no matter what everyone else thought they would do.

Jake’s still the only guy Mikayla’s ever kissed, other than Nick. Maybe he’s onto something with the hot girl summer idea.

“I don’t want another relationship,” Mikayla warns.

Jake holds his hands up in surrender. “Strictly friends with bennies,” Jake promises. “No catching feelings allowed.” He reaches to tug at Mikayla. She doesn’t move much, sweaty skin sticking to her lounger. “God, come over here already.”

Mikayla doesn’t even protest Jake’s weird vocabulary as she unsticks herself and clambers onto his lap. They’re on the back deck of her parents’ house, in the middle of the day. Anyone can see Mikayla in a bikini and Jake in just shorts. She should probably care, but she can’t muster up the energy for it as she settles her hands on Jake’s shoulders.

It’s different than it ever was with Nick. Where Nick’s short and broad, Jake’s tall and lanky. She can still feel the muscles in his shoulders bunch as he shifts beneath her, hands carefully resting on the outside of her thighs.

“Kay, you think too much,” Jake comments, watching her face.

Kay. Nick never called her that. Only her family and Jake have ever called her Kay. “Shut up,” Mikayla says, refusing to dwell on that.

“Make me,” Jake taunts. This close, Mikayla can see his eyes underneath his sunglasses, lit up with amusement.

Mikayla leans forward and kisses him. Jake makes a surprised noise into her mouth. It’s not like it was when they were 16, awkward and fumbling and so unsure of themselves. They’re both older now, more experienced—even if Mikayla doesn’t want to think about just how many girls Jake has slept with now that they’re not attached at the hip anymore.

She lets herself get lost in it, until Jake slides his hands up her thighs to her hips and pushes her away. He’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Mikayla doesn’t think it’s sunburn.

“Not that I didn’t like that,” he pants, grip tight on Mikayla to keep her from squirming. “But we are still outside.”

Mikayla thinks they should change that, so she climbs out of Jake’s lap and gets to her feet. She offers a hand to Jake, who blinks up at her for a moment, before lacing their fingers together and letting himself be pulled to his feet.

Mikayla spends most of the summer tumbling into bed with Jake. They’re probably not as subtle about it as they could be, but Mikayla thinks she’s overdue for a summer fling. She ignores the knowing smiles and raised eyebrows their other friends send their way when they’re pressed close in the dark of the bar, when they leave a party together.

It takes her weeks to stop comparing Jake to Nick, the way he touches her, the way his lips feel against her skin. Until she no longer has to choke back Nick’s name. She wakes up one morning to Jake still in her bed, his arm draped around her waist. Mikayla has to blink a few times when she rolls over and realizes that it’s Jake next to her, not Nick.

Mikayla dreams of Nick, dreams of that first summer together, when she got to bring him home for the first time. The first time she realized she was falling in love.

Nick fidgets the entire hour and a half drive from his house to Saginaw. He reaches to change the song that’s just started, but Mikayla slaps his hand away.

“No complaining about my playlist,” she says.

“I’m not complaining,” Nick complains. “I just didn’t want to listen to that song.”

‘That song’ in question is a Taylor Swift song. Mikayla turns the volume up. Nick sighs, but Mikayla can see him smiling at her from the corner of her eye.

Nick had insisted that he could make the drive up to Saginaw by himself. Mikayla didn’t need to be driving three hours round-trip just to pick him up, he’d argued, but Mikayla had barely left her house since Michigan had sent all of the students home in March. Driving three hours round-trip was as close to an adventure as she was going to get this summer. Besides, it gives them a little bit of time to themselves after not seeing each other for months before being under constant supervision by Mikayla’s parents.

Nick’s back to fidgeting the passenger seat.

“Would you quit that?” Mikayla says. Nick stops picking at his fingernails. “Everyone is going to love you.” Nick’s cute and charming and polite, a good Michigan boy through and through. Mikayla’s pretty sure there’s a good chance her family ends up liking Nick more than they like her, actually.

When Mikayla pulls into the driveway, her dog is the first one out the front door, closely followed by her mom. She wraps Mikayla in a hug as soon as she’s out of her car.

“Geez, I was barely gone for three hours,” Mikayla says, but hugs her mom back just as tightly.

Her mom moves on to Nick after releasing Mikayla. He meets Mikayla’s eyes over her mom’s shoulder, looking a little startled. Mikayla just laughs.

“Oh, Kay, Grandma and Grandpa are coming over for dinner tomorrow,” her mom says. “They want to be able to meet Nick, too.”

Mikayla’s grandma had decided she loved Nick the moment she found out they shared a birthday. Mikayla’s not too worried about what they’re going to think of him once they finally meet him.

Nick’s casting a confused look around as he follows Mikayla into the house.

“I hope the pullout is comfortable enough for you, Nick,” her mom is saying. The spare sheets and blanket are all folded on the arm of the couch. “But it was either the pullout or a blow-up mattress in the office upstairs.”

Mikayla has slept on that blow-up mattress before. It tends to deflate in the middle of the night. “You’re better off on the pullout,” Mikayla whispers to him.

“Kay, will you bring in some extra drinks from the garage fridge? Dinner will be ready soon.”

Mikayla does as she’s told, grabbing a few sodas and beers. She cracks open a can of hard seltzer she’d grabbed for herself and offers one to Nick. He raises an eyebrow at Mikayla’s drink choice—she’s not quite 20 yet, but she’s been drinking since high school—and takes a soda for himself. He’s making a face Mikayla can’t read as he listens to her mom go on and on about how much they’ve been looking forward to having Nick visit.

“Kay’s done nothing but talk about you since the fall,” she’s saying. Mikayla blushes as Nick shoots her an amused look.

“Why does everyone call you Kay?” Nick asks the next night, after her grandparents have left. It’s getting late, and Nick’s voice is pitched low, out on the deck as fireflies flicker around them.

“Hm? Oh, everyone in my family has always called me that.”

“But everyone at school calls you Mikayla or Mikkie,” Nick says. Except for Nolan Moyle, who decided that “Nick and Mik” was hilarious when they first started dating.

Mikayla shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess Kay is just supposed to be a family thing.” It’s hard to see in the dark, but Mikayla can tell Nick’s eyebrows are creased. “I’m named after my Grandma. Her name is Katherine, but everyone has always called her Kay. My mom is her only daughter and wanted me to keep the name without actually naming me Katherine. She kinda took the nickname Kay and worked backwards until she settled on Mikayla.”

Mikayla still remembers when she started school and never responded to her full name because she had only ever been called Kay. It had worried her teachers for months.

“So if I started calling you Kay…” Nick says thoughtfully.

“Nope, family only,” Mikayla says firmly. Plus her best friend, but they’ve been friends so long he’s practically a part of the family anyway. It’s too early to be thinking things like that with Nick.

“Guess I’ll just have to become a part of the family,” Nick jokes.

Jake kisses Mikayla awake before Nick can kiss her in her dream. She stretches and rolls over in Jake’s bed, warm in the late afternoon sunlight slanting through his blinds.

“Your mom texted,” Jake says. “She wants you home for dinner.”

Mikayla will need a shower before she can go home, wash off the sunscreen, the feeling of Jake’s hands on her skin. She rolls back over and burrows into one of Jake’s pillows. “Five more minutes.”

It’s not moving on, but it helps. The summer passes in a haze of sunshine and sex. Mikayla blinks and it’s August, and they’re heading their separate ways again: Jake off to Mississippi, Mikayla packing her car for Ann Arbor.

Jake kisses her goodbye the night before he leaves. Mikayla has to stop herself from clinging to him as he pulls away, beg him not to go. It feels like they’re 18 and leaving each other for the first time, unsure how to live without being by each other’s sides. No catching feelings, Jake had told her.

“Don’t forget to have some fun this semester, okay?” Jake says now.

Mikayla has a feeling he’s talking about more than her tendency to care more about hiding from the world in her apartment than hanging out with friends. Though, now that she thinks about it, most of her friends were on the hockey team, a by-product of dating Nick for so long. She’s not sure she’ll be spending much time around them these days.

“I’ll try,” Mikayla says.

It’s easy enough to settle back into life in Ann Arbor. Mikayla goes to her classes and meets up with her non-hockey friends. They mercifully don’t ask any questions about the breakup. She doesn’t hear from any of the boys from the hockey team, and she tries to convince herself it doesn’t hurt. They were always Nick’s friends first. She was just the captain’s girlfriend.

The team announces Nolan Moyle as the new captain a few weeks after summer ends. Mikayla stares at the picture on Instagram—Jacob, Luke and Keaton with their shiny new letters and, in the middle of it all, Nolan. She’s known Nolan since she was a freshman, and he was just Nick’s obnoxious best friend. She usually spends the summer idly Snapchatting Moyle photos of her mixed drinks and sunburns, but she hasn’t spoken to him in months.

She can’t believe she actually misses his loud mouth.

She hesitates before pulling up their text thread, but sends off a quick “congrats on the C!” message before she can think better of it.

Nolan texts back almost immediately, a string of all the blue and yellow emojis, followed by a more genuine thanks.

Mikayla expects that to be the end of it—there’s no reason for the conversation to continue, and no reason to believe Nolan is missing her friendship as much as she’s missing his.

Except Moyle FaceTimes Mikayla later that afternoon, while she’s doing homework. She answers it to a terrible angle of Nolan’s face, mostly nose and that awful mustache he insists on. It looks like he’s walking out of Yost after practice.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Nolan asks without preamble.

“Uh, no?” Mikayla checks the time in the corner of her screen. She should probably start cooking soon, though.

“I’m bringing pizza over,” Nolan announces.

Mikayla hears someone yelling to Nolan off-camera, and he turns to talk to whoever it is. While he’s distracted, the phone jostles until Mikayla is looking directly at the ceiling. The phone shifts again, except this time it’s someone stealing Moyle’s phone and appearing in frame. It’s Truss, and Mikayla finds herself smiling.

“Hi, Mikkie,” Jacob says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nolan wraps him in a headlock before he can get anything out.

The chaos of it relaxes Mikayla. She’d gotten used to the noise and antics of the hockey team after dating Nick for three years. Her life has been too quiet without them.

“Hey, you’re still coming to games this season, right?” Nolan asks, still grappling with Truss for his phone.

Mikayla had actually planned on avoiding Yost at all costs this year.

“Probably not?” It would feel weird, Mikayla thinks, to be cheering on all of her other friends at Yost without Nick being there, too. To know so many people out on the ice but not be able to talk to them without feeling like something—someone—is missing.

Jacob and Nolan stop fighting long enough to gape at Mikayla. Their matching expressions of disbelief are enough to make her laugh.

“Why not?” Truss asks, at the same time Nolan says, “What, do you not like us anymore?”

Mikayla giggles again, a little more comfortable this time, and shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I just wasn’t sure I’d want to after Nick dumped me.”

“That’s stupid, you have to come,” Nolan says. Mikayla knows him well enough to know that he will do everything he can to make sure Mikayla is at every game. “What do you want on your pizza?” Nolan asks, switching topics so fast it nearly gives Mikayla whiplash.

She was almost hoping Nolan had forgotten he’d talked about pizza.

“Pepperoni,” she says.

Nolan makes a face. “You always want pepperoni,” he complains. “Whatever, I’ll be over in like, half an hour.”

He hangs up abruptly. Mikayla blinks at her phone for a moment, bewildered, before going back to her homework.

Someone’s banging on Mikayla’s door. She doesn’t have to check the peephole to know that it’s Nolan. She throws the door open to Moyle’s grinning face.

“Sup, Mikkie,” he says, shouldering his way past Mikayla and into her apartment. He throws the pizza box down and pulls out the second chair at Mikayla’s little kitchen table.

“Making yourself right at home, huh?” Mikayla asks. She hands Nolan a plate and settles into the chair across from him. Nolan has a habit of taking up too much space in every room he is in, loud and brash and comfortable. Mikayla had hated that about him when she had first met him, but she has been missing it more than she’d care to admit.

Nolan grins at her. “Like I never left, baby.”

Mikayla snags another slice of pizza and watches Nolan across the table. It’s not too different from casual dinners shared with Nick last year, after she’d moved into her first apartment. Not too different from another September night after Nick had been named captain last season.

It’s not a surprise, exactly, when Nick calls Mikayla to tell her that the team has offered him the C for his senior season. He’d known for a while, had walked away from a deal with Colorado in part because of the chance to be captain. Mikayla still screams into the phone with excitement, covering Nick’s chuckle on the other end.

Nick appears at Mikayla’s door later that evening with takeout for dinner. He has a few seconds to grin at Mikayla before she’s launching herself at him.

“Whoa, hang on,” Nick says, struggling to catch Mikayla and not drop their food.

Mikayla keeps her arms looped around Nick’s neck as they shuffle awkwardly into her apartment. Nick carefully sets the bag of food down on Mikayla’s kitchen table. She does her best to jump up into Nick’s arms, and he helps, sliding his hands to the backs of her thighs, hitching her up higher.

“Hi there,” Nick says, grinning so widely his eyes crinkle.

Mikayla kisses him fiercely, cupping his face in her hands. She pulls away just enough to say, “I’m so proud of you, Nick.”

And she really is. Nick’s come so far in his years at Michigan, from walk-on to captain, and Mikayla’s been lucky enough to be by his side for a lot of it.

Nick kisses her again. They end up having to re-heat their dinner.

Nolan nudges Mikayla with his foot, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Mikayla says quickly. It seems pitiful to say that she’s thinking about Nick. Nolan looks skeptical. “Just wondering who exactly thought it was a good idea to make you captain, actually.”

“Hey!” Nolan protests.

Moyle re-inserts himself into Mikayla’s life after that. He drags her out to the senior house to meet all the new freshmen—she spends a week and a half mixing up the Fantilli brothers— and he drags her out to Skeeps for more than one Thirsty Thursday in the early weeks of the semester before the hockey season starts properly.

He laughs so hard when Mikayla tells him about her semi-failed Hot Girl Summer that she’s pretty sure he’s going to snort beer out his nose. Mikayla frowns into her own drink, a Blue Hawaiian that Nolan had mocked, even though he kept stealing sips in between bites of fries. Mikayla kicks him as hard as she can underneath the table.

When Nolan has finished laughing, he says, “You planning a Hot Girl Fall?” He sweeps an arm out for dramatic effect. “Lot more options here in Ann Arbor.”

Mikayla shrugs. “I might.” Nolan already knows that Nick is the only guy she’s ever dated. “See what it’s all about, y’know?” See what was so appealing about the idea of casual hook-ups to Nick that he broke up with her to chase them.

Nolan’s smirk grows. “Wanna start tonight?” He casts a look over the crowded bar floor. “I’m sure I can find someone acceptable for you.”

“Acceptable by whose standards?” Mikayla asks, but she is ignored. She kicks Nolan under the table again to get his attention. He swears under his breath and kicks her back, but at least he’s looking at her. “Nolan, I don’t know how to flirt or any of that shit.”

Nolan grins at Mikayla. She recognizes that grin—it usually means Nolan’s up to no good.

“Trust me, baby, you’re pretty and smart. You won’t have any problems.”

Nolan scans Skeeps for another minute or two before he points to a guy around their age, standing at the bar and bobbing his head to the music the DJ is playing. Mikayla feels like she’s seen him around campus before.

“Bet you can get him to buy you a shot,” Nolan says.

Mikayla rolls her eyes, but drains the last of her drink and stands up. She makes her way over to the bar and slides in next to the guy Nolan had pointed out for her. He turns and smiles at Mikayla.

“Want to do a shot with me?” Mikayla blurts before she can think better of it.

The guy shrugs. “Why not?” He flags a bartender down and orders for them. It’s too loud to hear what he orders, but it goes down easy. “Wanna dance?” he asks next.

Mikayla never does catch his name, but they spend a while on the crowded dance floor. She doesn’t go home with him, either, but he buys her another drink before she has to hunt down Moyle again.

“Did you have fun?” Nolan asks with a smirk when she collapses back into her seat across the table from him.

“Shut up.”

That night starts a spiral for Mikayla—a semester full of hook-ups and one night stands. She feels like she’s hunting whatever it is about mindless, loveless sex that was so enticing to Nick. She wonders if she missed out on something when she was with Nick for most of her college years. Is it better? Is it more fun? She doesn’t know the answer, but it doesn’t stop her from sleeping with a new guy every week.

There’s the frat boy who was enthusiastic but left beard burn in rather unsavory places.

Another frat guy who locks the door to a bathroom and pulls up her skirt at a party Mikayla isn’t even sure she belongs at, or how she even got through the door.

The lacrosse player who reminds Mikayla a little too much of Nick, when he’s handing her water before the sweat on her body has even cooled.

The guy from one of her classes who she manages to do more with than just fuck—three whole dates—before he says he isn’t looking for anything serious.

The boy from the bar who buys her a drink and makes out with her in the hallway, but doesn’t take her home. There’s a hickey on her collarbone she spends a week hiding, after that one.

One who approaches her in the library on a rainy day and drives her home. He’s the first one Mikayla invites up to her apartment, and she’s not sure she ever really gets his name. (“He’s pretty brave for getting past the RBF,” Truss comments later, after Mikayla ditched him in the library. She throws her computer mouse at him.)

The boys—their names, their faces—start to blur together between late nights studying and early morning classes. Mikayla feels nothing, feels like she could scream. She puts her head down and does her homework. Focuses on getting good grades, focuses on the next time she’s getting laid.

Nolan Moyle is by her side through it all, buying her drinks, playing wingman. He makes sure Mikayla starts coming to hockey games at Yost again, and he drags her out with the team after wins, until Mikayla slots back into friendships with the rest of the team, too. It’s kind of nice to have Nolan watching her back when they’re out at Skeeps, once Mikayla gets over the weirdness of her ex-boyfriend’s best friend helping her go out and hook-up.

There’s a party at the senior house after finals end in December. It’s lowkey, as far as team parties go, just the guys and their girlfriends. Mikayla slips in late after spending far too long agonizing over what to wear, before realizing she was being ridiculous and throwing on jeans and a Michigan sweatshirt. There’s yelling coming from the living room, so Mikayla sneaks into the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Stooping to our level?” Luke asks, suddenly appearing over her shoulder. Mikayla swears, nearly dropping her freshly opened can. He takes a sip of his own beer, smirking. Mikayla wonders how she always ends up with the bitchiest freshman as her favorites.

“I spend too much time around Nolan,” Mikayla says, taking a drink with a grimace. Beer never has been her favorite, though she’s unfortunately gotten a bit more used to it. She swats at the brim of Luke’s Yankees hat. “You’re not even twenty yet, who gave you a beer in the first place?”

Luke steps back, out of Mikayla’s reach. “Can’t play beer pong without beer,” he says, resettling his hat. That explains the yelling then. “Nolan wants you as his second, by the way,” Luke calls over his shoulder as he makes his way back out of the kitchen.

Mikayla heaves a sigh, takes another fortifying drink of her still-sorta-disgusting beer, and follows Luke. Nolan whoops when Mikayla steps into the living room and makes his way over to throw his arm around Mikayla's shoulders.

She lets herself be pulled into Nolan’s side as he yells, “Me and Mik are in next game!”

Playing as Nolan’s second is familiar after months and months of it. They’ve actually turned into quite the force to be reckoned with. The evening passes quickly with Nolan by her side, plying her with more drinks as they beat more and more of his teammates at beer pong. A cheer goes up when they beat Holtzy and his girlfriend. Nolan wraps Mikayla in a hug so strong it lifts her off her feet.

Mikayla turns to celebrate with Nick, too—except Nick’s not there. Of course Nick isn’t there; he moved on to bigger and better things.

It’s getting late when Mikayla slips upstairs to find the bathroom and get some air. It’s hot downstairs, despite the December chill outside. There’s a window at the end of the hallway, and Mikayla throws it open, gasping in the cold air. Someone has knocked the screen out at some point, allowing Mikayla to lean halfway out the window. The street is quiet, but she can still hear the party downstairs. A tear slips down her cheek, and she lets it.

That’s where Nolan finds her a few minutes later. “Hey, there you are,” he says lowly. “Been looking for you, Mik.”

Mikayla tries to dry her face with her sweatshirt sleeve. She hopes it doesn’t fuck up her makeup. She turns to face Nolan. “Just needed a little time to cool off.”

Nolan’s looking at her with concern. He doesn’t even look tipsy, despite the fact that he’s had a drink in his hand all night. Mikayla, on the other hand, has probably had too much to drink, so much she’s dizzy with it.

“Everything okay?” Nolan asks.

“Yeah, I just—“ Mikayla cuts herself off. She can’t finish that thought, can’t admit that she misses Nick.

Later, Mikayla will blame the alcohol for what happens next. Blame the sleep deprivation and stress of finals week. Blame the heartbreak, finally catching up to her.

Nolan stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder when she tries to lean in. “Mikkie, what are you doing, babe?” he asks softly. They’re still in the upstairs hallway of the senior house. Any one of Nolan’s teammates could come upstairs and see them, see Mikayla pressed up against the captain in the dark.

She tries to pull away, but Nolan slides his hand from her shoulder down to her wrist. His fingers wrap easily around her wrist, grip gentle but firm enough Mikayla can’t escape. “I— I don’t know, I shouldn’t— I’m sorry.” She tries to pull away again, but Nolan tightens his hold.

“Hey, c’mon,” he says. There’s a note of teasing in his voice, one that’s familiar. Mikayla has known Nolan Moyle for four years. Teasing she can handle. She dares to look up at him and his stupid mustache. He’s grinning at her. “You know we shouldn’t.” Mikayla nods. “That’s not fair to Nick, I couldn’t do that to him.”

That makes Mikayla bristle. She finally manages to yank her hand free and crosses her arms at Nolan. “I don’t give a fuck about Nick,” she insists. Honestly, she really hadn’t even been thinking about Nick—if only for a moment.

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Nolan says gently. Mikayla’s eyes burn suddenly; God, she must be more drunk than she thought. Nolan wraps her in a hug. “I think it’s time to get you to bed, huh, Mik?”

Mikayla sleeps in Nolan’s bed that night, wakes up hungover in one of his T-shirts. Moyle’s not in bed next to her like he was when they fell asleep, too close in Nolan’s too small bed. Mikayla rolls over and winces at the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. She really shouldn’t have had so much to drink at the party; she’s supposed to be driving back home for break later today.

Mikayla’s debating whether she can get up and sneak out before Nolan returns from wherever he’s disappeared to when the bedroom door creaks open. Nolan pokes his head in, as if this isn’t literally his bedroom.

He grins when he sees that Mikayla’s awake and kicks the door open the rest of the way. He’s holding a coffee in each hand, one for himself and one for Mikayla. He throws himself onto the bed near Mikayla’s legs.

“So,” Nolan starts. Mikayla pulls her legs to her chest and glares at Nolan. “We’re talking about last night.”

In all the years Mikayla has known Nolan Moyle, he’s been chronically allergic to being serious, but he’s looking at her now without a trace of a smile on his face. “We don’t have to,” Mikayla says, but she takes the iced coffee Nolan is still holding out to her.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff in the winter,” he comments blithely before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you, Miks, but you’re Nick’s girl.”

“Not Nick’s girl anymore,” Mikayla snaps. “He made that pretty clear.” Her eyes are burning with unshed tears again, and she gulps her coffee to cover it.

Nolan’s undeterred. “He asks about you, you know.”

“Fuck off, no way he does.” For all that Nolan’s probably one of Mikayla’s best friends in Ann Arbor these days, he was Nick’s best friend first. The reminder stings a little. She’s not sure how she feels about the fact that they’ve apparently been talking about her, or that Nolan is just now telling her this.

Nolan digs out his phone. “Has too.” He scrolls for a moment before starting to read out texts from Nick. They’re all about her: how she’s doing, if she’s still coming to games at Yost, and, horrifyingly, if she’s seeing anyone. Mikayla kicks at Nolan until he stops reading. He locks his phone and makes a face at Mikayla. “You’re lucky I haven’t told him that you’ve been sleeping your way through three different frats.”

Mikayla makes a face back. “That’s none of your fucking business,” she tells him. Nor is it exactly true, though she has maybe fucked more than one guy from more than one fraternity this semester.

“Our Nick’s pining, babe,” Nolan insists.

“Someone needs to remind Nick that he broke up with me so he could fuck other girls without strings attached.”

Nolan scoffs. “We both know Nick’s not that kind of guy,” he says.

Mikayla sighs. Nolan is right about that part. It’s part of the reason Mikayla had been so caught off guard by Nick ending things. Nick was the type of guy to settle down, not fuck around.

“Have you been possessed by Truss or something?” Mikayla asks instead of unpacking everything Nolan’s revealed. “Since when can you hold a serious conversation for this long?” It’s almost unsettling.

“I’m worried about you,” Nolan says, once again undeterred by Mikayla trying to deflect. “Both of you actually.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mikayla says. She picks at a loose thread on Nolan’s sheets to avoid meeting his eyes.

“This isn’t like you, either, Mik,” Nolan says.

Mikayla finally decides she’s done with this conversation. She throws off the blankets and clambers out of Nolan’s bed. She momentarily forgets that she’s wearing nothing but one of Nolan’s shirts until she sees him looking at her bare legs. He looks back up at her face, leering. Heartfelt conversation officially over.

Mikayla doesn’t have anything to throw at his head. “Get out,” she says, trying not to laugh.

“This is my room,” Nolan points out. He’s holding back laughter, too. “Hey, are you going to the Wings game in January, like right after break ends?”

Mikayla blinks at him, thrown off by the sudden topic change. “Uh, no?” It’s been a while since she drove into Detroit to catch a game. It used to be a monthly date with Nick.

“We should go,” Nolan says. There’s something falsely confident about his tone of voice.

Mikayla squints at him, suspicious. “Why, who are they playing?”

Nolan’s bravado falters for a moment, and that’s enough answer for Mikayla.

“No, no way.”

“I think you two need to talk,” Nolan counters.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about.” She finds the jeans she was wearing last night and pulls them on.

“KJ will want to see you,” Nolan says. There’s a smirk on his face now.

“That’s not fair.” Everyone knew that KJ had been one of her favorite freshmen.

“Just…think about it, okay?” Nolan asks.

Mikayla heaves a sigh. “Fine, whatever.”

Nolan grins and smacks a kiss to Mikayla’s temple. “Text me when you get home to Saginaw.”

Mikayla’s only a little later leaving her apartment than she’d originally told her mom she’d leave, after rushing home from the senior house and frantically finishing packing for winter break.

She thinks while she drives. It’s finally starting to hit her, just how much she’s been missing Nick. She’d been telling herself she was fine, hiding the heartbreak with hook-ups. If Nick can do it, so can I, she’d thought vindictively more than once. She had never slept with anybody before Nick; now she’s not sure she could count all the guys she’s slept with since summer.

She thinks of all the times she went home with Nick over the holidays before they drove up to Saginaw to spend time with her family. Both of their moms had been absolutely thrilled when they’d started dating, so excited that they’d each found another Michigander to fall in love with. She thinks of the first time she’d come home with Nick, Christmas of her sophomore year, so nervous she’d felt like she was going to throw up in the passenger seat of Nick’s car.

“You’re going to be fine,” Nick says, reaching across the console to take Mikayla’s hand. She sends him an exasperated look. “Mikkie, seriously, everyone will love you.” Nick brings Mikayla’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting.”

“That’s the problem,” Mikayla grumbles, but she lets Nick let go of her hand and shoves open her car door.

Nick insists on carrying both of their bags, which means Mikayla is left to push open the front door. She’s met with a wall of noise and warmth. It’s immediately comforting in a way she didn’t expect, reminds her of home and her own family.

Nick drops Mikayla’s duffel bag on the floor next to her just as Nick’s mom rounds the corner. She rushes to Nick for a hug before turning on Mikayla and wrapping her in one too.

“Everyone’s so excited to meet you, Mikayla,” Nick’s mom says. She turns to Nick. “Take those bags upstairs. Mikayla can have Katrina’s old room, shoo,” she says with a smile, flapping her hands at both of them.

Mikayla trails after Nick as he dumps his own bag in his bedroom before stepping down the hall and dropping Mikayla’s bag at the foot of the bed in what must be Katrina’s room. He turns to Mikayla with a grin.

“I told you it was going to be fine,” he says.

Mikayla doesn’t point out that they’ve only encountered Nick’s mom so far, which hardly even counts because she’s talked to Karin on phone calls with Nick countless times, just lets herself be reeled in for a quick kiss. They’re probably pushing their luck just being alone up here. Nick takes Mikayla’s hand in his and leads the way back downstairs.

It’s annoying when Nick’s right about things, which is unfortunately often. The days at the Blankenburgs’ house do turn out to be fine. More than fine, actually. Everyone’s nice, if a bit overwhelming. Mikayla holds so many babies—young cousins and nieces and nephews—that she loses track of which baby belongs to whom. She wins several overly aggressive games of Spoons on Christmas Eve, much to Nick’s chagrin. Nick even sneaks into her room and squeezes next to her under the covers in the early blue dawn on Christmas morning, kissing her awake before pulling her close to doze back off.

They’re definitely pushing their luck with that one, but Mikayla can’t bring herself to care, cozy and safe from the frosty world beyond the curtains.

Mikayla blinks away the memory and pulls into her parents’ driveway. Her dog is waiting for her on the front lawn, holding her favorite toy and wiggling all over. Mikayla throws her door open and throws herself on the ground next to her dog, heedless of the frozen grass. They lay there, staring at the sky, until Mikayla’s fingers go numb and her mom is calling for her to come inside, while Mikayla thinks and thinks.

Jake’s home for the holidays, too, and he appears to drag Mikayla out of bed a few days after she’d gotten home.

“How’d you even get in here,” Mikayla complains into her pillow as Jake flops onto the bed next to her, half on top of her. The dog, who’d been sleeping on the floor next to Mikayla, decides she has to be included too and launches herself onto the bed.

“Your mom loves me,” Jake says. “C’mon, I’m bored, we should do something.”

There’s not much to do in Saginaw on any day, especially in the winter, but Mikayla elbows Jake until he rolls off her and she can get out of bed. They end up in Jake’s car, just driving around town with the music up loud. Jake only raises his eyebrows a little bit at the amount of Noah Kahan mixed in with Christmas songs on Mikayla’s playlist.

It’s always easy to fall back into old habits with Jake, and they complain about professors and classes for a while, trading stories, even though they’ve been having weekly hours-long phone calls since they were freshmen. Jake had kept quiet about Mikayla’s dating life—or hook-up life—throughout the semester, but he doesn’t hesitate to be nosy now.

“Seeing anyone?” he asks at a stoplight, looking sidelong at Mikayla.

Mikayla makes a face. “You know I’m not,” she says. She’d stopped sleeping around so much as the end of the semester approached, tired of the effort required for mostly mediocre lays. Tired as she started missing Nick more and more.

“Really?” Jake asks. He almost actually sounds surprised. “No romance in one night stands?”

They’re moving again, and Mikayla is briefly safe from Jake’s gaze. He knows how to read her face better than anyone, and Mikayla’s afraid of what might be showing now as she says, “Didn’t really have the heart for it.”

Jake’s quiet for a moment. Mikayla watches in slow motion as he comes to a stop at another red light before turning towards her again. He leans in before Mikayla can stop him, but she pulls away. There’s no hurt on Jake’s face, just confusion. No catching feelings, Mikayla thinks again.

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” Jake asks.

“Moyle says Nick’s still in love with me,” Mikayla says quietly.

Jake laughs. “And why shouldn’t he be? I always thought he was an idiot for breaking up with you in the first place.” Mikayla takes a shaky breath, but Jake continues. “Any guy would be stupid to let you go, Kay.”

“Including you?” Mikayla whispers. Jake laughs. “Especially me. I should have locked that shit down in high school.” Mikayla can’t help but laugh, too. “I probably would have let you back then.”

They’d talked about it a few times, on their backs in the backyard grass, staring up at the summer stars. Mikayla had never been serious about it, not really, but now she has to wonder if Jake had been serious. The talk about going to college together, moving to Detroit together. They’d been attached at the hip— “You can’t spell Jake without Kay,” Mikayla’s grandmother had joked more than once.

“And now?” Jake asks. They’re still idling in front of Mikayla’s house. At some point, Jake shifted to holding Mikayla’s hand over the gearshift, gripping it tightly in his own.

“What happened to ‘no catching feelings’?” Mikayla teases, and Jake cracks a grin. Mikayla heaves a sigh. “I think you know the answer here, Jakey.”

“I don’t want Nick to break your heart a second time,” Jake says fiercely.

“The Blue Jackets are coming to Detroit in January,” Mikayla says. “Nolan thinks I should at least talk to Nick.”

“Since when do you listen to Moyle’s ideas?” Jake snorts.

“Since he got the C and grew up a little, God, I don’t know.” Jake does have a point. Agreeing with Nolan Moyle is dangerous, even if he has turned out to be a pretty good leader. Mikayla shakes their joined hands a little. “Hey, if Nick does break my heart again, you’re the first person I’ll run to.”

“Promise?” Jake asks. He’s grinning, easy with it. “That’s what best friends are for, right? Swearing to kill your ex and then helping you get drunk to forget about him?”

Mikayla can’t help but laugh. “Something like that.” And before she can think better of it, she asks, “Can I do something stupid?”

Jake has barely said, “Of course,” when Mikayla leans across the console to kiss him one last time, her hands on either side of his face. Jake kisses back hard, leaving Mikayla breathless when she pulls away. “Hell of a goodbye, Kay,” Jake says.

“I’ll see you later, Jakey,” Mikayla says, kicking open the passenger door and climbing out of Jake’s car.

Mikayla cries on Christmas Eve. She’d had too much wine to drink with dinner, and she collapses into her bed as snowflakes drift past the window. It’s the first time she’s really let herself cry since Nick dumped that June day. She’d alternated between resolutely not thinking about him and going through life powered by a need for—revenge? vindication? She’s not sure she can put a word to it.

It didn’t matter, anyway; Nick wasn’t around for Mikayla to hurt with her actions the same way Nick had hurt her.

Mikayla wakes up with a headache and Nick’s contact open on her phone.

Mikayla calls Nolan as soon as she’s back in Ann Arbor.

“You lied to me,” she says without preamble.

“What?” Nolan says. There’s commotion on his end of the line, which means he’s probably at Yost.

“Columbus is here this weekend, and you’re playing Ohio State.” There’s a text from KJ on Mikayla’s phone, asking if she’ll be at Yost on Friday night. It had come in while she was driving back to her apartment. She hasn’t answered it. “You said you’d go to the Wings game with me when they were in town.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? In my defense, I didn’t realize they were coming in on a weekend.”

“KJ texted me,” she says.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, someone said something about KJ and Nick coming out for their rings on Friday.”

Mikayla suddenly has a headache. Nick was never supposed to come back to Ann Arbor. Mikayla had been so proud of him when he first signed with Columbus, but he had deliberately left her and Ann Arbor in the rear view. Ann Arbor was hers now.

Nolan’s still talking. “—talk, you should still come to the game on Friday.”

Mikayla can’t think of much worse than having to see Nick at Yost. “I’m not going to fucking talk to Nick about our breakup at a hockey game.” She’d rather not have a breakdown in front of the entire hockey team, thanks.

“Okay, so I bring him over to your apartment after the game.”

“Absolutely not,” Mikayla says.

“Mik.”

“Nolan.”

“You said you’d talk to him,” Nolan says.

“I said I would think about talking to him,” Mikayla counters. She hears Nolan sigh loudly through the phone. “What the fuck am I even supposed to say? ‘Sorry to hear that wheeling girls isn’t satisfying like you’d hoped’? Or, ‘I’ve slept with so many guys this semester I’ve lost track, but I haven’t found one that makes me feel the way being with you did’?” Mikayla snaps her mouth shut. She’s said too much.

“Oh, Mik,” Nolan says. He’s not teasing, which would be preferable to the pity in his voice.

“Moyle, shut the fuck up,” Mikayla snaps.

“Mik, you need to talk to Nick,” Nolan says, ignoring her. “I don’t need to do anything,” Mikayla says.

Nolan sighs again. “Fine, I can’t make you do anything, I guess.” With that, he hangs up.

Surprised, Mikayla stares at her phone. She’s not sure she has ever actually made Nolan mad like that before.

Mikayla spends the week leading up to Friday thinking. Nolan hasn’t spoken to her since he hung up the phone, and Mikayla doesn’t dare seek him out. KJ texts Mikayla three more times, with increasing levels of urgency and annoyance as they all go unanswered. Mikayla’s not sure what there is to say. She can’t promise anything.

She’s half-sure she’s going to skip the game right up until she walks through the doors of Yost on Friday afternoon. It’s loud and as crowded as ever, but there’s an extra kind of excited energy in the air. Mikayla isn’t sure if it’s just the Ohio State rivalry, but she wonders if some of the buzz she feels is because everyone else is just as excited about Nick and KJ returning as she’s supposed to be.

Mikayla doesn’t see either of them as she settles into her seat in the student section. She slides her phone out of her pocket, finds all of her unread messages from KJ. don’t leave without saying hi to me after the game, she sends. She puts her phone back away without waiting to see if KJ reads it.

The game itself isn’t pretty. Michigan gets outplayed, even though it’s tied after the first, but it’s 6-2 Ohio by the time they’re introducing KJ and Nick as the Score-O participants at second intermission.

Nick looks good, unfortunately. He seems happy to be back on the ice at Yost, even briefly. Even KJ manages a smile as the crowd cheers for them. Mikayla thought she’d heard something about Nick breaking his ankle earlier in the season, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all as he scores and runs across the ice to throw his stick into the crowd. Mikayla rolls her eyes.

She’s standing in the concourse after the game when someone throws themselves at Mikayla from behind. She stumbles, but he wraps his arms around her shoulders before they both fall. KJ. Of course. She leans back into his chest, lets him rest his chin on top of her head.

“Moyle said you weren’t coming,” KJ says. He doesn’t move his chin from Mikayla’s head as he talks, and Mikayla elbows him until he lets her go.

“Yeah, well, you should never listen to Moyle,” Mikayla says. She tries to sound breezy, but she probably doesn’t succeed.

Kent gives her a flat look. Mikayla finally spots Nick, approaching from behind KJ. If Mikayla still had any intentions of ignoring him, it’s too late now. Nick sends her a tight smile as he steps up beside KJ. Kent looks back and forth between the two of them for a moment then sighs loudly.

“Figure your shit out, I’m tired of dealing with Nick,” he says to both of them. Mikayla crosses her arms and tries to glare at KJ. “I’m going outside, you two have ten minutes to talk.” He points at Mikayla. “We’re getting ice cream before we have to go back to Detroit.”

Kent stalks off before Nick or Mikayla can get a word in, which leaves Mikayla alone in a hallway with her ex. She swears at KJ under her breath. She’s not sure, but she thinks she hears Nick let out a quiet laugh.

“Hi,” Mikayla says. She wishes desperately for anyone to come save her, but no one comes.

Nick drags the toe of his sneaker across the floor. “Hey, Mikkie,” he says softly. “I’ve been wanting to talk—”

“Good job at Score-O tonight,” Mikayla blurts, cutting him off. She winces.

“Mikkie, c’mon,” Nick says, exasperated. “We need to talk.” “Do we, though?” Mikayla says. “I didn’t think there was any ambiguity left when you dumped me, so you could go off and fuck other girls.”

Nick winces. It doesn’t make Mikayla feel any better. “It was—“

Mikayla cuts him off again. “Don’t you dare say ‘it was complicated,’” Mikayla warns. “I don’t think there’s anything complicated about you deciding I wasn’t enough after you made it to the show. There’s nothing left to talk about, Nick.”

Mikayla had spent months pretending that she hadn’t been hurt by Nick, but she was exhausted by it. The idea that the boy you fell in love with, who you thought you were going to marry, no longer wants you and will go out to find someone else, whether or not you’re still together, isn’t an easy one to accept. She’d covered up that hurt with alcohol and sex and schoolwork. It’s a lot more raw and real with Nick standing in front of her with the same resolute stare he’d had when he was breaking up with her.

“I miss you, Mikkie,” Nick says. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his hair curling out from underneath his beanie.

Mikayla almost believes him. She runs her hands through her hair. “Stop calling me that,” she says. “And don’t lie to me.”

“What, Mikkie? I’ve always called you that.”

“That was when we were dating.”

“And why do you think I’m lying?”

They’re talking over each other, voices rising in the small space. Yost is empty around them.

“Why would you break up with me if you were just going to come crawling back a few months later?” Mikayla asks. She thinks of Nolan telling her that Nick spent the fall asking about her. “Why have you been asking Nolan about me?”

Nick sighs. “I just told you. I miss you. I knew you wouldn’t want to hear from me, so instead I got to listen to Nolan tell me stories of you moving on.”

Mikayla will have to kill Nolan for that later. “I wasn’t moving on, not really,” Mikayla admits. She pushes her hair away from her face again. “I was just doing everything I could to not think about you.”

“I was trying to protect you,” Nick says. “I was going to be so far away, and traveling all the time, and you were supposed to go on to grad school next fall. I didn’t want to hold you back, and I didn’t want to make a mistake and hurt you.” Nick laughs, but it isn’t a happy sound. “I think I just made both of us miserable.”

“I spent so much time thinking that I had to prove something, that if you could handle being stupid and sleeping around, so could I,” Mikayla says.

At some point Nick has cautiously stepped closer to Mikayla. She leans back against the wall behind her, sagging with the sudden exhaustion of this conversation. She doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing here, how long KJ has been waiting outside without a coat for them to “figure their shit out.”

“Ask KJ, I was pretty bad at the whole casual hook-up thing,” Nick says.

Mikayla presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. She’d rather die than ask Kent for details of all of Nick’s hook-ups.

“I tried to kiss Moyle before Christmas,” Mikayla blurts out.

Nick is quiet. Mikayla hesitantly moves her hands from her eyes to look at him.

He’s looking at her, bewildered. Apparently that’s one thing about Mikayla’s Hot Girl Fall that Nolan didn’t tell Nick.

Mikayla continues. “He stopped me, I was drunk and confused, and he’s my best friend, but he was your best friend first, then he told me that he couldn’t because I’m your girl, even though I’m definitely fucking not, and—“ Mikayla gasps for air. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Nick steps even closer. He slowly, hesitantly, reaches for Mikayla. She lets herself be pulled in for a hug as she starts to cry. Nick rubs one of his hands in slow circles on Mikayla’s back underneath her sweatshirt, the way he used to when Mikayla was upset.

“Hey, slow down, it’s okay,” he says. “Mikkie, it’s okay.” Nick holds Mikayla until her crying subsides and her breathing evens back out. He takes a step back, but doesn’t let go of Mikayla’s arms. “What happens now?” he asks. He hesitates, but says, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

Mikayla blinks at him. She was kissing her best friend just a few weeks ago. She was trying to sleep with Moyle just a week before that. Nick’s confession doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, but it doesn’t simplify anything.

“Nick, I don’t know,” she says. “I might still love you, too, but—” Nick’s face brightens— “I think I need some time.” Nick’s face falls again.

“Why?” Nick argues. “We’ve had time, we both want this, I don’t get—” “What if I don’t want this?” Mikayla cuts in. “I don’t know what I want.” She doesn’t think she’s ever been so confused in her life.

Nick frowns at Mikayla. “But you just said—”

“I know what I just said, just—” Mikayla switches arguments. “When was the last time you slept with another girl?”

Nick looks taken aback. “I don’t know, around New Year’s?”

Not even two weeks ago.

“How am I supposed to believe you when you say you miss me while you’re still running around fucking other girls? That you’re serious? Maybe you just think you miss me because you just haven’t found the right girl?”

Nick doesn’t argue this time, face turning red.

“What am I supposed to do if we get back together and you turn around and cheat on me? When you realize you were right in the first place, that the distance is too hard and that I might not actually be the one you want?”

“When was the last time you slept with another guy?” Nick finally says. Mikayla feels like it should sting, but it’s a fair question. “What am I supposed to do here?”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since before finals,” Mikayla says. There was the failed move on Moyle, then one last kiss with Jake back in Saginaw. Those hardly count. Nick blinks at Mikayla. “I don’t know what to do, Nick, honestly. We could both stop sleeping with other people, for one thing.”

“Done,” Nick says quickly.

Mikayla narrows her eyes at Nick, suspicious. “That’s it?” she asks. “All that drama to break up with me to sleep around, and you agree to stop, just like that?”

Nick looks sheepish for the first time. “I’m telling you, I was terrible at doing casual. I kept asking them all to stay the night and shit.” There’s a pause before Nick bursts out, “What are you so afraid of?”

“You, Nick!” Mikayla almost wants to laugh, but she also feels like she might cry again. “I think…” she says slowly, “that we both need to know that this is what we want. I don’t think I want to let this go so easy, but I don’t want to get hurt again, either.”

Nick looks sad when Mikayla meets his eyes again. “Okay, yeah, yeah,” he says.

“I just want to be able to focus on my last semester, y’know?” Mikayla says.

Nick forces a smile. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll, uh, see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah, Nick, I’d like that.” It doesn’t feel like a lie when Mikayla says it.

Mikayla doesn’t know where Nick goes, but he doesn’t follow her outside, where she needs to find KJ. He’s leaning against the front doors of Yost, looking pissy and cold, even though it was his idea to go stand outside and wait for Mikayla without a coat.

He slings an arm around her shoulders and falls into step beside her when he spots her.

“You know, you could have made your point without standing out in the cold,” Mikayla points out. KJ is a cold line pressed against her left side. “You’re making me cold, now,” she complains.

“I still want ice cream,” KJ says, instead of admitting he was wrong about something. Mikayla rolls her eyes.

They end up at Blank Slate, another place she and Nick used to frequent on dates when the weather was warmer. She tries not to think about it as she follows KJ into the shop.

KJ wastes no time ordering their brown butter cookie dough ice cream, but Mikayla spends so long debating that she’s half-worried KJ is going to order plain vanilla for her out of spite. Finally, Mikayla brings her scoop of vanilla caramel blondie over to where Kent claimed a table in the empty shop. He makes a face at her, but she’s immune to KJ’s bitchiness at this point.

“Nick’s been a mess,” KJ says without preamble.

Mikayla sighs. “Not you, too, KJ,” she says. “Please, I’ve heard enough from Nolan and Nick already.”

KJ points his plastic spoon at Mikayla. It’s probably supposed to be threatening. “No, I don’t think you have, actually. You didn’t have to watch him break his ankle, be miserable about it, then force himself to go out and pick up and be more miserable about it. Do you know how pathetic he was with that fucking scooter?”

Mikayla snorts into her ice cream. “It can’t have been that bad,” Mikayla protests. Though, if Nick was half as miserable as she had been and was pretending not to be, he was probably pretty miserable.

KJ takes another bite of ice cream, says through it: “Oh, it was.” He swallows and leans across the table. “And then I text Moyle to tell him we need to fix it, only he tells me you’re out doing the same dumb shit as Nick.”

He’s close enough that Mikayla can flick him between his judgmental eyebrows. He leans back again and takes a petulant bite of ice cream.

“You and Moyle need to mind your own damn business,” Mikayla tells him. “We were both fine.”

Kent doesn’t even dignify that with a response, just raises one eyebrow. Mikayla wishes he were close enough to smack that disbelieving look off his face.

“We were fine!” Mikayla insists. It doesn’t sound any better the second time.

“So did you fix your shit?” KJ asks.

Mikayla huffs. “What does that even mean?” She ignores Kent’s eye roll. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“Wait,” KJ says slowly. “Moyle and I Parent Trapped you two for nothing? You didn’t even get back together?”

“No, we didn’t, and—have you ever even seen The Parent Trap?”

“That’s not the point,” KJ says, “I don’t get it. If you’re both miserable, why not get back together?”

“Because what if it makes us more miserable? What if it’s not actually what we want? What if we just break up again?”

“Whoa,” Kent says. “Slow down.”

Mikayla’s almost out of ice cream. She looks sadly down at her empty cup. Kent holds his half-eaten ice cream out without a word, and she takes some with her spoon.

“And what if you end up happy?” Kent asks.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Mikayla doesn’t know the last time she was really happy. Before Nick broke up with her, probably.

They finish their ice cream in silence. Kent hugs Mikayla tightly outside Blank Slate. There’s a car idling for him nearby, Nick and whatever members of the Blue Jackets media corps had to make the trip out to Ann Arbor waiting for KJ.

“Fix your shit,” KJ says again, stepping away at last.

Mikayla rolls her eyes. “Which one of us is the freshman here?”

KJ doesn’t bother pointing out that he’s not a freshman anymore, or even a student at all, just climbs into the backseat of the car at the curb. Mikayla watches as they pull away, stays standing there long after the taillights have disappeared.

Nick, to his credit—and a little bit to Mikayla’s dismay—doesn’t reach out. Mikayla finds herself half-dreading, half-hoping for a text that never comes. As the days after seeing Nick again stretch into weeks, Mikayla stops expecting to hear from him, tries to squash down the disappointment she feels.

She throws herself into focusing for her final semester of college. She keeps her promise to Nick—no more sleeping around. She has no idea if he’s actually doing the same. There’s no time for it anyway, with a full class schedule and an internship and all the hockey games Moyle is still insisting she come to.

Mikayla feels like she blinks, and suddenly it’s April. The hockey team is heading off to the Frozen Four, and Mikayla’s in her final weeks of college. It’s all a little surreal, and more than a little dizzying.

“You’ll stay in touch, though, right?” she asks Nolan.

Nolan laughs at her on a fuzzy FaceTime call from his hotel room in Tampa. “Mikkie, baby, you should know by now that you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

That is true. “I couldn’t even get rid of you after I stopped dating your best friend.” She has to laugh, too. “Do you know what you’re gonna do after the year is over?” Mikayla asks.

She vaguely sees Nolan shrug. “Nah, I’ll figure it out.” The conversation feels loaded now, despite Nolan’s light tone. “What about you? Ready for bigger and better things?”

Mikayla had big plans, once. She had picked out the graduate school program she wanted as a freshman, had spent the last four years working towards it. She had other plans, too; ones that included a white dress and a church wedding and Nick waiting at the end of the aisle.

Grad school is still waiting for her. Mikayla has no idea if Nick is, too.

“I guess so,” Mikayla says at last. She doesn’t feel ready to be taking on the real world outside of school. Maybe it’s just delaying the inevitable, but she’s still glad to be able to push adulthood back a little further.

“Hey, Mikkie,” Nolan says, still serious. Mikayla looks away from her computer to look properly at him. “Everything’s going to work out, you know.”

Nolan always has had a knack for reading Mikayla’s anxieties. “Promise?” she asks. It comes out watery.

“Promise.”

Michigan loses in the semis again. Mikayla watches as her friends pack up and leave, onto their own futures: Luke goes to Jersey, Portillo heads out to California, Mackie ends up in Charlotte. The end of hockey season is always a whirlwind. She remembers last year, when scouts coming to games turned into Nick signing with Columbus, missing graduation and living his dream in the NHL.

Mikayla’s own cap and gown hang off the back of her closet door. The end is coming for them all, whether or not Mikayla is ready for it.

The end, when it comes, passes quietly. Mikayla passes her finals, walks in graduation. She packs up her apartment, all of the little bits of her life over the last four years, into boxes and shoves them all into the back of her car. Mikayla leaves Ann Arbor in the rearview mirror as she drives north to Saginaw for the summer.

Mikayla’s only been back in Saginaw a few weeks when she hears from Nick at last. The dog barks at the door once, before she switches to whole body wiggles—Mikayla knows who she’s going to see before she even heads to open the front door.

Nick is standing awkwardly on the front porch, hands in his pockets, when Mikayla swings the door open. The dog squeezes past Mikayla to say hi to Nick, sitting squarely on one of his feet.

“Traitor,” Mikayla says. To Nick, she says, “Hey.”

Nick looks up from rubbing behind the dog’s ears to grin sheepishly at Mikayla. “Hey, uh—“

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been home?” Mikayla asks, teasing.

Nick flushes. “I, uh, didn’t think that far ahead,” he admits. “But you’re here, so it doesn’t matter,” he points out.

Mikayla laughs. “You got in your car, drove an hour and a half, but didn’t think about what would happen when you got here?”

Nick makes a face. “I did have a plan, I just—“ he breaks off without finishing. “Can we talk?”

It would be mean to tell him no after he drove all the way to Mikayla’s parents’ house to see her. Besides, she’s been waiting anxiously for this moment since she last saw Nick in January.

“Of course,” she says. She looks down at her dog, still sitting happily on Nick’s foot.

“Walk with me?” Nick asks. They both watch as the dog’s ears go up excitedly.

Mikayla rolls her eyes but reaches back inside to grab her leash off the hook by the door. “Now why would you say the w-word?” she complains. She tosses the leash at Nick, lets him hook it onto her dog’s collar with practiced ease—despite the continued wiggles. Mikayla pulls the front door shut behind her and steps out onto the porch beside Nick.

She almost wishes Nick had asked if he could come inside. This conversation might be easier without the eyes of the neighborhood on them, in the safety of Mikayla’s home. But she’s also grateful to not be confined to the living room. The early summer breeze lifts Mikayla’s hair off the back of her neck, cools the anxious sweat there.

They start off down the sidewalk together—Nick’s still holding the leash. Mikayla wonders if he’s thought about getting a dog since moving to Columbus. That was another thing they’d talked about for the future together—getting a puppy as soon as they’d both graduated.

Nick stops suddenly as they approach his car, parked on the street in front of the house. He quickly hands Mikayla the leash, fishing in his pockets for something.

“Hang on, I have to—“ He opens the passenger door and grabs a battered notebook off the floor of the footwell. “Okay, we can—“ He starts walking down the street without finishing his sentence.

Mikayla half-jogs to keep up with him. “Nick? I don’t think you’ve said a full sentence since you got here,” she says.

Nick runs a hand over his still-regretfully buzzed hair. Mikayla needs to remember to make fun of him for it later. “Sorry, just—I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous for something,” he says.

Mikayla scoffs, nudges Nick in the ribs with her elbow. He leans into it instead of letting her bully him off the curb. “Whatever, you literally play in the NHL.”

“No hockey game is as important as you,” Nick says seriously.

Mikayla has to force her feet to keep moving so she doesn’t stop and gape at Nick in the middle of the sidewalk.

He’s running his finger nervously along the bent metal spiral holding together the notebook in his hands. Mikayla stares at it, the way his thumb turns white as he presses hard into the sharp end of the spiral. The notebook feels familiar, blue cardboard cover worn and covered in Nick’s handwriting. She wants to tear it out of his hands, but she waits.

Nick continues talking. “Do you remember when we met?”

Mikayla has to blink at him for a moment, trying to get past the dissonance of his last two statements. “Well, yeah,” she says. “Of course.”

They’d been in the same elective course together. It was Mikayla’s freshman year, Nick’s sophomore year. Mikayla had never noticed Nick in class before, but she slid into the seat next to him at a study group session organized by one of their classmates, a few weeks into the semester.

They’d talked for over an hour, about the class, about Michigan. When they were finally forced to pack up and leave the library study room, Nick had stood up and Mikayla had blurted: “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nick had echoed. Mikayla was standing, too, face to face with Nick for the first time. Close enough to clearly see the narrow scar in his eyebrow, watch it move as he raises his eyebrows at her, clearly amused.

“You’re not as tall as I thought you were,” Mikayla had admitted. It doesn’t make much sense when she says it out loud like that.

Nick had bumped into her playfully as they made their way outside. “And how tall did you think I was?” he had teased.

Mikayla huffed at him. “I don’t know, forget I said anything.” But Nick fell into step beside her as she headed back to her dorm, and she dared to ask a stupid question. “How tall are you, anyway?”

“5’8” and some change,” Nick had told her. He burst into laughter when Mikayla had pursed her lips, trying hard not to say anything else out of pocket. “What?” he asked.

“Not very much change, though,” she had said, which just made Nick laugh harder.

He had asked her out after class two weeks after that day.

“Your NHL stats lie about your height,” Mikayla points out. Not that she looked, or anything.

It makes Nick laugh, the same way teasing him about his height always did. Mikayla had always been the only person he would tolerate the jokes from.

“I’m almost 5’9”!” Nick protests.

“Almost is not the same thing, Nicholas!”

“You know, I think I started to fall in love with you from that very first time we met,” Nick says.

Mikayla’s left dumbfounded once again. “Be serious.”

Nick chuckles wryly. “Why do you always think I’m lying to you lately?”

“I just don’t know what to believe anymore,” Mikayla sighs. “You keep talking about missing me and how long you’ve loved me, but that doesn’t make any sense with the way you broke up with me. You can’t love someone like that and then dump them just so you don’t end up cheating on them.”

Nick’s quiet for a moment. Their hands brush as they walk side by side on the narrow sidewalk. Nick’s still holding that battered blue notebook; Mikayla has no idea why. “Okay, that was a shitty way to end things, and it was shitty of me in general, but I’ve regretted it every moment since then, I need you to believe me on that.”

“And if I do? What then?” Mikayla asks.

Nick starts fidgeting with that notebook again. He runs a finger along the edge of the pages now, fanning them a little. Mikayla watches him, lets him collect his thoughts.

“Long distance goes both ways, you know?” Nick says.

“I—what?”

Nick continues as if Mikayla hadn’t said anything. “I think I thought I was protecting you, I guess? Like, it wouldn’t be fair to you to be stuck with a boyfriend 300 miles away. I didn’t want you to miss out on things because you were still with a guy you only saw a couple of times a year.”

“That’s stupid,” Mikayla announces. It catches Nick off-guard, and he laughs a little. “When did I ever complain about being long-distance?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “And I definitely missed out on so much in the years we were together, like the awkwardness of going to class three times a week with a guy you hooked up with a couple of times, or seeing someone you fucked at a party around campus and realizing you don’t even know their name.

“Nick, I never cared about the distance. I was so proud of you, and I loved you so much. I didn’t realize that wasn’t enough.”

“It should have been. I already told you, it was shitty, and it was stupid, Mikkie. I’m trying to fix it now, though.”

“What is that?” Mikayla asks, curiosity finally getting the better of her. She points to the notebook.

Nick looks down at the notebook in his hands like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Oh, uh. It’s a notebook,” he says dumbly. Mikayla wants to smack him. “When we were together, I used to write about you.”

That’s why the notebook seemed so familiar. Mikayla had seen it before: amongst the clutter of Nick’s desk, mixed in with his other books in his backpack, on the floor of her own bedroom when Nick stayed over. She’d never once stopped to wonder what was inside of it.

Nick’s still talking. “It’s not, like, poetry, or anything, but sometimes when I was thinking about you, or when you’d done something that had made me laugh or really realize that I loved you, I’d write it down.”

“And you kept it?” Mikayla asks.

“I had to dig it out of some box in my old bedroom after I saw you in Ann Arbor in January, but yeah. I, um…” Nick trails off. “I started writing in it again, after that. Just whenever I missed you or something, I’d write it down. I didn’t think I was going to show it to you, though, until I got here.”

They’ve been walking for a while now. They should probably head back, but the sun is warm on Mikayla’s face, and she’s starting to feel something like hope in her chest for the first time in months.

“You haven’t shown me anything,” Mikayla points out, gentle. It’s meant to be teasing, and she thinks Nick gets it. He sighs, long and dramatic. Mikayla thinks he’s only half-serious, but she still says, “Nick, you don’t have to, I believe you.”

And she does. When she thinks about it, she’s seen Nick writing in that notebook over the years. He always closed it when she approached, but Nick had always liked to give Mikayla his full attention. She’d never spared a second thought to the notebook’s contents.

Nick takes the leash from Mikayla at the same time he passes her the notebook. Their fingers brush as Mikayla takes it carefully from him. In her hands, the notebook looks even worse for wear, dangerously close to falling apart, years and years of use showing in its bent edges.

Mikayla begins to leaf through it slowly. There’s a chunk of pages clumsily torn out of the beginning of the notebook—probably old class notes. The first page left only has a couple of lines, scrawled in Nick’s messy handwriting: met a great girl today gonna ask her out. Then, a few pages later, in the margins of another page of class notes: think I could spend forever with Mikayla.

Mikayla continues flipping pages. The older pages are more faded, stained with coffee or water rings. Occasionally a page will be dated, but the pages about her are mostly random, a few sentences here, a paragraph there. She can tell when she gets to the newer entries, and not just by the crisp pages. Nick started writing the date at the top of each page, and Mikayla skims through January, into February, March, April. The pages stop abruptly in the end of April, right around the end of hockey season and Mikayla graduating.

That reminds Mikayla: “Sucks that you missed the end of the season with your ankle,” she says.

If Nick thinks it’s a non-sequitur, he doesn’t show it, just responds, “Eh, it’s whatever. Not like I was playing groundbreaking hockey to begin with.”

Mikayla stops short. “Hang on, no.” Nick stops a few steps ahead of her. He looks over his shoulder, confused. “You didn’t get promoted to top d-pair for playing shitty hockey, Nick.”

Nick grins. “You were paying attention?”

Shit. “Uh,” Mikayla says. It’s way too late to lie. “Maybe a little.” She doesn’t know why she never unfollowed the Blue Jackets on social media, but she’d only stopped scrolling past all of their posts after seeing Nick in January. “Maybe I was just keeping up with KJ.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Nick says. He’s still grinning when he reaches out a hand to Mikayla. “C’mon.”

Mikayla carefully places her hand in Nick’s. He doesn’t let go, even once she’s caught up and they’ve fallen into step together again.

“It also means I can see your fucking terrible hair decisions as soon as you make them,” Mikayla says. She’d dropped her phone on her face the first time the Blue Jackets posted the buzz cut.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Nick complains. He lets go of Mikayla’s hand to run a hand over the shorn strands again. Mikayla snatches at his hand when he lets it rest back at his side.

Mikayla huffs. “Everything!” Nick shoots her an amused look. It only makes Mikayla bolder, like nothing has ever changed between them. “Your hair looked so good, and then you fucking buzzed it! And not even well!” Nick’s laughing openly at Mikayla now. She’s not finished. “It’s prickly, and uneven, and you look like a damn hedgehog.” Nick has to stop walking so he can double over in laughter. “Nick,” Mikayla whines.

“I guess you’d prefer the mullet, then?” he asks when he finally stops laughing.

“Yes.” Mikayla actually kind of enjoyed the playoff mullet each year. “I always liked the mullets.”

They’ve somehow managed to make it back to Mikayla’s street. She stops at the foot of the driveway, not ready for this conversation to be over. She’s still clutching Nick’s notebook, and she pulls it close to her chest.

“I know you did,” Nick says, suddenly serious. He’s still holding onto Mikayla’s hand, and he uses it to tug her close. He presses a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ve really missed you, Mikkie,” Nick whispers into her hair.

Mikayla closes her eyes, counts to three. She knows what’s coming. She might finally know the right answer to what Nick’s going to ask.

“I miss you, Nick,” she says.

It’s been building, the certainty that she still loves Nick enough to give it all a second chance, but this moment, a walk in the sunshine, teasing each other, is what really cemented how much she missed Nick in her life.

Nick looks hopeful when Mikayla opens her eyes again.

“Yeah?” he says softly. He steps closer, slides a hand around Mikayla’s hip. She lets him, likes the way his hand fits there, warm against her skin. “Do you wanna do this? For real?”

Mikayla nods, no hesitation. She watches as the grin spreads across Nick’s face.

“I’ve missed that smile,” Mikayla says, and then Nick’s kissing her so hard he nearly knocks her off balance. Mikayla drops the notebook and Nick drops the leash—the dog has laid down in protest of her walk ending, anyway—so she can wrap her arms around Nick’s neck and pull him closer.

Nick pulls away for breath first, but he doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Mikayla’s.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mikayla asks.

There’s time to talk about what this means, to talk about the future. That can wait. What’s important right now is Nick, here in Mikayla’s arms.

“I’d love to,” Nick says.

#cait writes things #nick blankenburg fic #nick blankenburg imagine #columbus blue jackets fic #columbus blue jackets imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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yakuzacanons · 2 years ago

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Karaoke And Music Headcanons - Yakuza 1-4 Protagonists Edition

Karaoke is one of my favorite parts of Yakuza and they are genuinely bangers tbh, plus the VAs do a great job so here are some of my thoughts on how our protags are when they go out to karaoke and what they like to listen to.

Kazuma Kiryu

Mostly listens to classic rock. Has a small vinyl collection at Morning Glory tucked away into a corner of his room. However, he rarely listens to music loudly as he does not want to disturb the kids.

Will not dance to music but will bob his head to the beat. Sadly his dancing days are behind him, along with the bubble era. He didn’t mind cutting loose on the dance floor when he was in his early 20′s though.

On the other hand, he loves karaoke. He will usually go by himself and just belt out his favorite songs. It’s honestly a form of stress relief for him. Sometimes he’ll take the kids with him and they all have a blast.

Since he does enjoy singing, he is extremely proud of Haruka for pursuing an idol career. He will never brag about Haruka to others to avoid ruining her chances at success but secretly he is THE proudest dad. Will memorize all the words to anything she sings.

Majima Goro

Mostly listens to pop music. Prefers 80′s and 90′s pop but anything on the radio suits his taste. If it’s catchy, he likes it.

Is very bad at memorizing lyrics so he hums all the time instead. He often gets caught at work humming some jingle to himself. Only knows all the words to his company construction song.

Despite this, he loves writing his own silly songs in his head. Usually they’re rather silly. He loves to annoy Saejima with whatever random tune he’s come up with.

At karaoke, he is good at singing if it’s a song he is somewhat familiar with. If he has never heard it before, he will just improv his way through most of it, cackling to himself. He prefers dancing to singing karaoke.

Saejima Taiga

Like Kiryu, he’s more of a rock guy. Also fond of blues. More of an old school music fan. He’s not up to date on new singers or bands.

He’s very self conscious so he will not play music on speakers or sing out loud. He prefers to wear headphones while listening to music. You might catch him humming VERY quietly to himself, which sounds like a low rumbling almost.

Rarely seen at karaoke but Majima drags him there anyways. Even if neither of them know the words or are good at singing, Majima wants to make up for lost time with his sworn brother.

Very shy when he sings but once he gets going, he has a smooth bassy voice. Prefers to do backup. Great at keeping a beat with a tambourine.

Akiyama Shun

Up to date on all the music trends. Part of the territory with running a hostess club, honestly. He picks up a lot of new music from the girls there.

As an extension of his work, sometimes he takes his hostesses to karaoke as part of their training for after hours dates. They’re all a little intimidated when he does this as he tends to sing better than all of them.

Loves going to karaoke, especially with Hana as she is the only one who can keep up with his energy. They sing a lot of duets.

He’s big on love songs. Akiyama is a romantic and daydreamer at heart so his music taste reflects that. Loves a sappy ballad. Also really into jazz music but he doesn’t talk about it much and prefers to listen to it in the comfort of his home when he’s trying to unwind.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Being able to speak so many languages has given way to Tanimura exploring a lot of world music. He’s really into k-pop lately but will not admit it, even if you ask him. The other cops tease him for it but he and Mei Hua bond over it. He is also fond of rap music.

He’s very shy about singing and will try to avoid karaoke as much as possible. However, if he does get roped into it, he’s a pretty decent singer, albeit he does tend to sing rather softly.

Surprisingly fond of dancing and is kind of good at it. He tries to learn choreography from k-pop or j-pop routines in his spare time as he finds it both entertaining and good exercise. Helps him stay light on his feet.

Usually listens to music with a pair of earbuds and a music app on his phone. Since he’s always on the go, he doesn’t really have any form of music system at his apartment.

Bonus Round! Haruka Sawamura

Despite being an idol, she’s pretty neutral on most pop music. She is partial to girl groups and other girl idols as she looks up to them but she mostly ever listens to them as a means to better understand the industry rather than out of enjoyment.

Actually a metal fan but keeps it under wraps. Listens to music using earbuds and will quietly mouth the lyrics to herself under her breath.

At karaoke though, Haruka will always belt it out. She’s a lot like Kiryu in that way. They have the best jam sessions at karaoke.

She is not shy about singing at all, given her career. However, she is not the showboating type and will never brag or boast about her abilities. She’s very humble and to this day compliments on her singing make her blush.

#yakuza #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #akiyama shun #yakuza 4 #ryu ga gotoku imagines #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #kiryu kazuma #goro majima #saejima taiga #masayoshi tanimura #haruka sawamura

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 2 years ago

Note

Oliver and Ivy (naturally) for the Shipping Headcanon ask! :D

Every even number on the SFW side.

Every odd number on the NSFW side.

. . . enjoy! lol

SFW

2. Who’s the messiest? The cleanest?

Ivy is very particular and that includes being very clean and organized, while Oliver is a lot more likely to leave a mess to come back to after some crisis or another (but he always comes back to clean up eventually, knowing that it bothers Ivy when he forgets)

4. Living space has a leak! Who fixes it?

Oliver for sure, or at least he'll try before caving and calling a plumber, depending on the issue!

6. Going out to eat: Who pays? Who orders the most food? And who has dessert?

Ivy can absolutely afford it but Oliver insists on paying! He also orders more food, the perils of being a vigilante, and they usually split a desert

8. Who knows how to swim? Who doesn’t?

Both of them know how!

10. Any pets? Or plants?

No pets, a few plants that they struggle to keep alive! They might get a dog when they're a bit older, when they have kids and their lives have settled down a lot more

12. Can they stand silence? Who talks the most? Who talks the least?

They're actually both really comfortable in silence together, if they're doing their own work then sometimes they can sit in the same room for hours without actually saying anything — they do talk a pretty equal amount in general, but Oliver is often the one breaking their silences when Ivy is too focused on work and forgets that the world exists, while Ivy often talks more when Oliver is particularly brooding or battling trauma to comfort him and remind him that he's at home with her and not wherever his head is taking him

14. Who is the highest maintenance? Does the other mind?

Personality wise, Ivy is absolutely higher maintenance and Oliver doesn't mind, he's always thought it's part of her charm (Oliver likes when she's a little bratty, tbh), but also dating/marrying a vigilante is it's own type of high maintenance, and while Ivy understands why Oliver does what he does, she's more likely to get frustrated by it

NSFW

1. How often do they have sex, if at all?

Not every night (partially because it's not actually that they're both going to bed at the same time) but very frequently! Unless one of them is out of town, they never go three full days without sex

3. Any kinks they clash on?

They tend to be pretty compatible tbh! They're both very into when Ivy takes control, and while they both like Oliver taking control too, he tends to be more concerned about hurting her while Ivy just wants him to do what he wants to her

Also, although Ivy is into it when Oliver talks about the possibility of someone catching them, she's generally a lot more cautious about where they have sex and not actually wanting to get caught, while Oliver is far less concerned

5. Favourite positions?

Anything that involves Oliver picking her up or manhandling her in some way is a win in Ivy's book, but they are both very into her being on top in various ways, they both prefer being able to see each other

7. Genital headcanons?

I don’t have any yet, very open to ideas!

9. Quickest turn ons? Immediate turn offs?

Turn ons: they’re both just very very into each other so tbh it’s pretty easy for them to get turned on but Oliver has a thing for Ivy being a bitch — when she’s smiling politely while ruining someone’s life or insulting someone in such a charming tone that they don’t realize it, he just wants to get his head under her skirt

Ivy’s quickest turn ons are Oliver’s strength and being domestic — seeing him in an apron cooking dinner gets her going as fast as him picking her up and carrying her to bed

They are also both very into it when the other gets possessive

Turn Offs: except for very special occasions, Ivy will not go farther than kissing Oliver if he’s injuried or bloody from his vigilante activities; the thought of him being hurt is too distressing for her to enjoy it

(Oliver is the opposite, on the occasions that Ivy has gotten injured by the latest villain or in connection to his vigilantism, all he wants is to lay her in bed and take her apart for hours and make her feel good)

A big turn off for Oliver is other people — he might be very into talking about the possibility of someone walking in on them or seeing them, but he doesn’t want to share any part of Ivy, ever

Anything degrading is also a no for both of them. Dirty talking is very okay, but anything degrading or demeaning is a hard limit and huge turn off

11. Favourite romantic gestures during sex/orgasm?

Oliver always likes to kiss Ivy during/after orgasms (either of their orgasms), and Ivy once told Oliver that if he makes her cum and doesn't tell her he loves her, she's filing for divorce

13. Who’s loud? Who’s quiet? Does one try to make the other louder/quieter? How?

Most of the time Oliver talks more (Ivy enjoys shutting him up in various ways, whether that's a gag or just fucking him speechless), but Ivy makes more noises and Oliver always tries to get her to be lourder

15. Open or closed relationship? Do they sometimes share?

Entirely closed!

Shipping headcanons

#ask #answered #darknightfrombeyond #ivy knight #about ivy #ivy x oliver #olivy #ship: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

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bludhavents · 4 years ago

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things that each greaser struggles with:

these are mostly headcanons i came up with. also, this gets pretty angsty.

content warning: alcoholism, addiction, anxiety.

darry:

- maturity. he thinks everybody looks at him like the “dad” of the group instead of just another friend, and he loathes it. he misses whenever he was able to skip work to catch a movie at the drive-in or take ponyboy and sodapop up to the dingo for lunch.

- accidental intimidation. his build is very large and strong, which is good for his job and for when he’s actually trying to, well, intimidate people, but other than that it just makes him feel guilty for being so unapproachable.

- relationships. specifically, darry is very insecure in his relationship with pony. he especially hates it whenever pony dogs on him for forgetting things or accusing him of not caring.

- emotional intelligence. he knows he comes across as cold. and he hates it. he has lots of emotions and he doesn’t air them out in a healthy way, so he tries his best to cut all the emotions off altogether in hopes that the negativity will stop, but it just makes him feel even more insecure.

- social skills. in high school, it was all much easier for him, but now that he’s working full-time and running the household, he’s fallen majorly behind in the social scene. he never goes out to the drive-in or to the dingo, and at first it was because he was too busy, but now, even if he doesn’t have a shift, he’ll make up some excuse because he’s too nervous to go and have to talk to people again since he feels like he’s gonna mess up.

- identity. darry was just starting to feel comfortable in himself and in his role in the world right before his parents died, and when they did, he stopped trying to figure out what made him happy. it has made him insecure of the emotional stint that is centered around his ego and sense of self.

sodapop:

- smarts. it’s canon that he’s insecure about this.

- growing up. while everybody else moves on to new things and grows up, he feels like he’s stuck in the same place watching everybody else progress while he stays behind. this was especially true after sandy left, because marrying her was going to be this huge exciting step in his life and when she left, he didn’t have that fulfillment anymore.

- reassurance. he feels a constant need for approval, and he will take it wherever he can get it. there’s a sort of pride he gets whenever he sees a girl checking him out, but there’s a deeper feeling telling him that she’s gonna run away once she finds out about how ‘stupid’ he is.

- authority. soda has a really hard time talking to people who are in a position of power. he gets all nervous and his hands get sweaty and his face goes sheet white in panic. his charm and social skill is enough to satisfy a conversation with a person his age, but he feels silly trying to be confident in front of an adult. he feels like they look down on him and will laugh.

- fatherhood. he’s very insecure about having a family in the future. he feels like he never appreciated his dad’s skilled parenting while he could, and since then darry has been a sort of fatherly figure in the house, but it’s hard for soda to see it that way. he grew up for 16 years with darry as a big brother and for him to suddenly be forced into a father role is troubling for soda. because of this complicated dynamic between soda and fatherhood, he feels like he won’t be able to be the best father possible for his children.

- legs. he hates his legs. you will never see soda in a pair of shorts, not even when he’s swimming. he doesn’t like the way they’re shaped and thinks that they make the rest of his body look odd, so he wears loose jeans to hide them. he’s also embarrassed of being embarrassed about them, so nobody knows, not even steve.

dallas:

- emotional intelligence. his lack of emotional intelligence is something he battles with a lot. he understands what people are feeling, but he has a hard time understanding why they feel that way. he says it’s because he’s too tuff to deal with emotions, but deep down he knows it’s because he was thrust into a traumatic childhood so early on that he never had time to build emotional bonds with people that would strengthen his empathy and understanding.

- his past, another canon take. he hates talking about it, even the good stuff, because when he thinks about new york all he can picture is 10 year old dallas watching a man being covered in a white sheet by the paramedics on the side of the road. he thinks about his friends from there and knows they’re all either locked up or dead, and it ruins any enjoyment he gets from reminiscing on the good times.

- health. he definitely has crohn’s or IBS or something else that makes his stomach hurt whenever he eats, and it embarrasses him to no end. he’s always anxious that his stomach is going to start hurting when he’s with the gang and is going to have to find some excuse to leave. he smokes so much while he’s out with them to keep from getting hungry until he gets back to buck’s place.

- his friendships. the shepherd gang is close-knit. then, the curtis’ are brothers, steve has known them forever, and two-bit is outgoing enough to make himself fit in to the group. johnny is the closest person dallas relates to, and it’s the friendship hes the most secure in.

- his smile. he knows smoking ruins his teeth, and he knows they’re crooked all over, and he knows that when he smiles his lips crack and stretch out.

johnny:

- his appearance, canon insecurity. he looks young for his age, and when the gang found him in the lot after he was beaten by Socs, they all started treating him like he was young too. he didn’t think the scar on his face was tuff, it just reminded him of being attacked.

- his voice. this is less about how it sounds and more about him not being able to speak over the shouting at home. he hates yelling, and he won’t stand in to speak up for him cause he’s too afraid of being told to “stop yelling”.

- being average. johnny feels painfully average in everything he does. he’s tried to find a skill that he truly loves and wants to take time to be good at, but he always gets frustrated and quits before he can improve.

- romance. almost every aspect of it terrifies johnny. he doesn’t know what a healthy marriage looks like, what he does know was from Mr and Mrs Curtis, but seeing them die together warped his sense of love. he doesn’t understand why you would want to love somebody so much if you didn’t have to. he doesn’t like the “til death do us part” aspect of marriage, because it makes him feel trapped. he’s not afraid of commitment, he’s afraid that he will end up in a marriage like his parents’ and not be able to leave.

two-bit:

- alcoholism. he’s an alcoholic and he knows it, but he’s been stuck in the vicious cycle of addiction for such a long time that the only way he knows how to cope with the emotional baggage of addiction is to drink more.

- social awareness. as of now, he’s very self-aware and extremely skilled in reading a room, but he didn’t used to be. he used to crack jokes at the wrong time and get scolded for it, and it made him feel horrible. like he wasn’t able to experience all the same sad feelings as everybody else because they reacted differently to the sadness than he did. they wanted to process the sadness while he wanted to ignore it.

- being absent at home. he knows he spends the majority of time at the curtis house, and he also knows that his mother spends the majority of her time at work, which leaves his little sister at home alone. he has a good relationship with her, but he doesn’t like for her to see him drunk, and as his alcoholism progresses, that gets to be more and more often. he knows this, and it’s one of the main reasons he’s so insecure about his addiction, because she’s the one who let him know that it wasn’t a one-way street. his problem affected him and her.

- commitment. two-bit is young, but he feels old enough to know how relationships work. he saw his dad walk out on them, and he was never able to process how you could go from marrying someone to leaving and never looking back. at first, he thought that his dad was just a selfish jerk, but when he met johnny and saw that his parents were also married and simultaneously abusive, he convinced himself that all marriages were bound to end up that way. he believes that if the curtis’ lived longer, they would have eventually gotten bitter and tired of each other, because in his mind, that’s just what couples do.

ponyboy:

- confidence. he has a lot of insecurities, and they’re shared pretty evenly between physical and non physical. he doesn’t like his body or his eyes. he doesn’t like how impulsive and dramatic he is.

- security. not in himself, but in life. he’s permanently on edge, feeling anxious about who’s going to be around the corner and what would happen if he got jumped and how many Socs he’d be able to fight off in case anything happened. his parents’ sudden deaths did not help this. he feels like life is constantly tossing him around, and he never feels completely safe.

- emotional outbursts. this isn’t exclusive to ponyboy, but he struggles with it the most. he hates getting upset with people, and he hates hurting other people’s feelings. when he’s feeling too many things, he starts to speak without a filter and gets mad at the littlest things, and he knows that it makes everybody around him feel bad.

- fitting in. in contrast to johnny’s insecurity, ponyboy wants nothing more than to fit in. he’s tired of being the only greaser in his classes, he’s tired of his isolated taste in movies and theatre, he’s tired of being a track star, and he’s tired of all the pressure put on him since he isn’t average.

steve

- masculinity. his dad always enforces an unrealistic standard of being strong, independent, and logical. steve is inherently all of these things, but the pressure he feels to keep it up weighs him down.

- comparing himself to others. it started in middle school when he noticed all of the people liked sodapop more. from then on he couldn’t help but feel like soda was more attractive and charming, darry was stronger and smarter, two-bit was funnier and cooler, dallas was tougher and unbothered, johnny was more likeable and down-to-earth, and ponyboy was more creative and well spoken.

- addiction. there was a time in steve’s life where he was getting high every day. at first it was fun, but then he had to quit track because he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be. it ruined his health and motivation. he started working on cars more to keep himself busy, and it helped a lot, even got him a job.

- hyperindependence. steve’s biggest character flaw is that he can’t ask for help. whether it’s asking for help in school or asking for soda to hand him a tool in the garage, steve can’t bring himself to do ask. it makes him feel like he’s not good enough to do it on his own.

#the outsiders #steve randle #the outsiders headcanons #dallas winston #dally winston #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy x reader #steve randle x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit mathews #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop curtis #darry curtis

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valenreina · 2 years ago

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>>Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Oc - Cupid<<

It's Time to introduce my Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Oc properly❤️

I finally had the energy to finish it..🫠.

Cupid is a woman who was in her lifetime involved in piracy and was in fact a pirate.

She fell at some point in love with a guy .However this guy had lied to her and was in fact married and had a own family . (Which Cupid didn't knew about.)

As the wife confronted them the man framed Cupid like she was at fault for everything.

Paralyzed by the betray and suddenly feeling heavy heart, the woman took Cupid's gun and shot her in the head.

Cupid arrived in hell still processing the betray.

With a broken heart she began to drink and sleep her worrys away. (Cupid becomes pretty...uh flirty if she is drunk-)

At some point someone called her Cupid and she took that name to make her symbolically forget about her old life.

Far later after she overcame everything ,she met a demon who owned a gasstation place.This rather old demon was apparently from the 17th century and was a old sailor in his past.They became friends and Cupid was took in by the old man. Sadly as a Extermination happened the guy was victim of the exorcists .

Leaving his gasstation with all his belongings to Cupid.

Cupid tried to run this place well for years and a time it functioned well.However as the years past the customer got fewer and fewer.

Which leaded to Cupid getting slowly into serious money problems.She wanted not to give up the place.Cupid has build a close connection with the place .

Later she met Verosika Mayday.She knew she was a real popstar in hell but she didn't mind it at all.

She seemed heartbroken and bitter by something.

Cupid offered her comfort and shelter in her rather runned down place and they slowly warmed up to each other. After that they met frequently which led at one point to them starting dating .

Cupid loved Verosika over everything even if it was hard for her at first to open up to the affections.

She loves to hear her music and trys to chat with her all the time.

The money issues became more pressured on Cupid.

Which she kept hidden away from Verosika.

Of course Cupid trusted her but she didn't wanted to bother her with her own problems.

Also a lingering feeling of self doubt swell in Cupid's chest.

( A popstar and a owner of a ruin of a gasstation?How did that even work-)

Not being able to cope with that normally ,Cupid started to go more often to a bar she really loved to visit.

At some point she unfortunally catched the attention of a demon ,everyone should stay away from .A Overlord.

Valentino.

In her drunken state she didn't regognized him at all.

She couldn't think clear.

Valentino offered her ,after they started a conversation ,that he knew a way how she could possibly get the money in she needed to keep her home alive.Those words seemed to good to be true and at that moment she should have just ignored and leave him.However the money problem situation caused Cupid to put trust into Valentino's promises.

,,Event's'' happened which leaded to her sign a contract with him .

As Cupid was sober and fully realized what happened she tried to get out of the deal.She didn't wanted to work for him.However Valentino didn't cared for that at all , threatening her he would make sure that she will regret it if she doesn't obey to what he says.That she already past the point of no return.

So without any choice left she now worked for him .Hating every minute of it.

However the friendship she formed with Angel maked it soon more bearable for her.

Aaand thats her story so far-

I hope you will like her💕

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin hotel valentino #helluva boss oc #helluva boss original character #helluva boss verosika #hazbin hotel vivziepop #helluva boss vivziepop #oc #femaleoc #canon and oc #canon x oc #verosika mayday #valentino #digitalart #Karma #karmaempress

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giantchasm · 2 years ago

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“I have this recurring dream in which my father breaks the neck of every pigeon in the park. I help: a good daughter. I snatch them from the air and tear out the feathers. Bloody. [...] All I do is think about stories. About history, or his story, or my story. They’re all the same story, really. Someone always ends up holding something mangled.”

Been thinkin’ about Susie a lot lately. I feel like her father and her would kind of be hypocrites if they didn’t have any robotic upgrades themselves. They talk up the power of cybernetics so much. They’ve gotta be at least half cyborg by now.

And that led me to the train of thought that was ‘Imagine how scary that must be. Imagine finally coming home after being stranded for so long, only to realize your father and his company have been warped into something you don’t even recognize-- something that you’re expected to participate in: change yourself for. Do you follow him?’

...Of course you do. It’s not even a question. He’s your father, and you love him. You’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth. Try to ignore the seeds of resentment sewn.

You’re a good daughter. You’ve always preferred things orderly, anyways.

Some bonus doodles of what I think she might look like before and after, as well as some thoughts on what gizmos she has under the cut

I thought it’d be cute to give her the same glasses she has as a part of her Weekend Outfit mask in Merry Magoland. She doesn’t need them any more, but she’s still a fashionista at heart.

She’s got a lot of upgrades! Probably also has a chip in her brain to Google things on a whim as well as control her Business Suit remotely.

Nowadays, she’s pretty comfortable with all of her tech. Whereas at first she was unnerved, now it’s just a part of life. She even sees herself as superior to people made solely of flesh and blood. She was regularly using Star Dream up until its demise.

When Star Dream died, a lot of her tech probably started shutting down. Using her smarts, though, she was able to maintain it herself, and she regularly repairs herself to keep everything working. A lot of other Haltmann Works Company employees with similar upgrades but not as much brainpower weren’t nearly as lucky as her, though.

She still upgrades, updates, and mechanizes herself pretty often. Even if it’s sort of horrific, it’s just kind of a part of her now. She has a codependent relationship with and can’t separate herself from the tech that ruined her family. Not that she seems to want to.

In that way, she’s every bit as much the Mother Computer’s metaphorical daughter as she is her father’s literal one. Oof.

#kirby #susie kirby #susanna patrya haltmann #max profitt haltmann #haltmann kirby

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regalfairytaleacademy · 2 years ago

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Headcanons for Kanako Nanjo

Kanako is the daughter of the most popular slash Sk8 ship, Matchablossom (Kojiro "Joe" Nanjo x Kaoru "Cherry Blossom" Sakurayashiki). She is blessed of only child in her family, no siblings nor cousins.

Bloom is Kanako's "S" name.

Her birthday, April 29th is Cherry Blossom Day in Japan.

Kanako is the only student who lived in another world and traveled to Twisted Wonderland while studying at the magic school. She has no experience about magic.

If she didn't attend RFA or another school after high school, she would prefer to work as an employee at her father's Italian restaurant, Sia la luce, or do chores at home. In addition, she has free time to practice skateboarding, or learn calligraphy.

She and Kimiko are watched as skateboard rivals, not friends. Like her daddy, Kanako wants to beef with Kimiko in "S" one day after they graduated from the college, NRC and RFA.

As the daughter of Matchablossom, Kanako has her own AI assistant, but it emits blue light and is named Carlos. Its voice is male version. In practice, she uses a normal skateboard instead of Carlos.

She have a deep bond with Carlos which makes some people (especially Ace and Ruggie) call her out on her weird behavior when it comes to this artificial intelligence.

She was bonded with a Sakura Pixie named Cherise. They have a common in calligraphy and skateboarding. They also have using AI assistant.

Kanako's aesthetics in room is traditionally Eastern style. On the portion of her study table and wardobe are designated of Italian style.

Kanako is a cool intellectual, with polite behaviors to customers and strangers, but oftens to have a slightly prickly toward people she pretty closely interacting to, especially the boys. She has a competitive side, during the races in school or at "S", as much she would beefs against her rival, Kimiko.

Despite this prickly exterior, however, she does truly trust and care for those who she considers her friends.

With a non-distinctive personality, Kanako doesn't like being alone. She also doesn't like seeing her family fight, even if they divorce suddenly.

Despite of this, she would argue endlessly with her father, Kaoru, and soon she would be crying emotionally, feeling there's a shadow over her core. To comforted her, Kaoru oftens ended up apologizing and giving her a plushie she had been used for sleep a hug, but the most is Kojiro help her to solve problems.

Kanako doesn't like the idea of merging her "S" self with her outer self, since her half-Japanese friend Shira calls her "Bloom" outside of the "S". It shows in her with a touch of professionalism and concern for the reputation of her students, and doesn't like to publicly admit to any party that she is the other side of the "S" member.

Though of that, Kanako has a mother mentality and appears as a sister figure, to students and children of the young age. She is pretty open-minded and kind towards those who have a problems trying to help them and giving an advice whatever she able to. She is also strongly care of her parents and loyal to them.

Kanako has a mischievous mode and teasing aspect of her entity, as she enjoys to tease and scare people, by telling scary stories.

As Kaoru's beauty inherited to her, Kanako was considered for the fairest lady in the Fairyland. Although she is just a mortal.

For her talents of cooking, Kanako likes to make bento and share for students as the way making friends. But those envious people throw as a waste and make others misunderstanding Kanako is try to poison them. Those bullies even once ruining her bento where they walk across nearby.

Kanako has been bully by them after she enrolling in RFA for no long. Luckily she occasionally was protected by Charisse, Viridian and people who support her away from them. Also helped by the professors and Headmistress Annabelle. If she is alone, Kanako would calming her mind and directly prickly to them.

Due to studied in RFA for 2 months, she try to make her own Magicam, known as "Delicacy Treats". This is a blog with all the recipes and pictures of her final creations.

#twst #twisted wonderland #regal fairytale academy #rfa #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #kanako nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #twst x sk8 #nymfevilla #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #matchablossom

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Waiting for you - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

i wrote it over like a month ago, but kept it for today, i hope yall will like it! it’s a cute bestfriends to lovers fic, so yeah... happy holidays, hope you are having an amazing time!

word count: 13k

masterlist

Harry Styles has been a household name around your home, but not for the reason many would think. While for the rest of the world he was the famous singer, former member of One Direction and recent solo artist, the guy who performs at the biggest arenas, wins awards and sings his heart out through the radio, for you and your mom he was the goofy, curly haired boy who lived across the street with his mum, sister and stepdad.

You still remember all too clear the first time you met him. You and your mum just moved into your new home after the nasty divorce of your parents, ready to start a new life. You’ve barely turned twelve, it was quite the awkward stage of your teenage years, you were still trying to find yourself on the rocky road of growing up. Moving to a whole new town and switching schools were terrifying and you had quite a few nightmares about possible outcomes of being the new girl in the neighborhood.

You and your mum just finished unpacking the dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She rushed to answer it and you wandered behind her, curiously peeking at the guests under her arm as she held the door open.

“Hi! We saw the trucks and thought we would say hi! I’m Anne and this is my son, Harry,” the nice woman greeted your mum and stepping aside she gestured towards the teenage boy standing next to her.

His green eyes fell to you almost immediately and you forgot to breathe for a moment. You were not the kind to crush that easily on guys, well, not until you laid your eyes on Harry. He smirked at you, nodding in your way in such an easy-going manner and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

Anne and your mum quickly became good friends. She was the rock your mum definitely needed after such a bad year behind her and you were glad she found support in such a wonderful woman as Anne. Their newly funded friendship got stronger day by day until the two families just… simply felt one.

Growing up the Styles siblings and Anne came and go in your home as if they lived there too. On many occasions you came home from school only to find Anne in the kitchen while your mother wasn’t even home. Anne always knew when your mum was working the night shift at the hospital where she was a nurse and always made sure you had a warm dinner on those evenings, often inviting you over to just stay at theirs while your mum was away working. Birthdays, graduations, Easters and Christmases, they were all spent at either yours or at the Styles home, strengthening the bond between the two families.

You have always had a strong friendship with Gemma, but maybe because you were closer in age or for something else, but you became the closest with Harry. Two peas in a pod, as your mums liked to call the two of you. You weren’t just neighbors or good friends, it was clear to anyone and to both of you as well that you were the best of friends. You were there for each other at the best and worst of times, before and after Harry’s launch to stardom. You were there with him all along, sometimes physically, sometimes just through text messages and reassuring calls when he just needed a piece of his home away from home. Late night calls and talks were your usual when he was on the road and he made sure to only talk about his life after you’ve told him everything about yours, even if the most interesting thing was that you were able to buy three socks for the price of two. Harry listened and cared for everything that happened to you, not letting you think even for a moment that he would forget about his best friend when he is on the other side of the planet.

The two of you grew up together and while his life consisted of concerts, screaming fans, telly appearances and award shows, your mundane everydays went on the same was as any normal young girl’s: you graduated from high school, went to uni and then started a career for yourself. As time was moving it became a little more and more complicated to stay as close as you used to, though, both of you terribly busy with your own personal lives, so the calls, texts and meetings became less frequent, but you were always able to pick up from where you left, it was as easy with him as it could be.

Maybe that’s why you grew to love him in a more than friendly way through the years. Slowly, but surely you started to realize what an amazing man he really was –is. It was impossible not to fall for him, however you valued your close friendship more than to just ruin it with dropping a bomb on Harry. You always thought he doesn’t feel the same way, so you were sadly left with your daydreams and fantasies about him only your bedroom walls heard.

This year it’s gonna be the tenth Christmas you get to celebrate together, quite the anniversary. There were only two years when you didn’t see each other during the holidays, the first one because you and your mum spent it in Canada with some relatives that live there, and the second one was because Harry couldn’t come home a few years ago, having a too tight schedule. But this year, everyone made sure to make it back home in time. Harry called you three month before Christmas to check in if you are still gonna coming home.

“Would be an idiot not to. Can’t wait to stuff my head with cookies!” you chuckled.

“Have you found your sweater yet?” Harry questioned, the muffled noise of the traffic around him broke through the line as he was on his way home when he called.

“Not yet. But I’ve been looking. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win this year,” you smirked in victory.

“Oh, not so fast with the assumptions, little girl!” he warned you making you laugh.

The two of you had a kind of tradition. Every year, you go on mission to find the ugliest Christmas sweaters one could find, and then perform a chosen song at the karaoke machine after dinner, entertaining the rest of the family. Those performances are the best memories you nurse. Your absolute favorite one was just a couple of years ago when Harry’s sweater was filled with weird looking reindeers in quite inappropriate poses, he even added a glittery pair of sunnies and he sang I Want To Break Free from the Queen. Everyone was on the floor laughing as he took the living room by storm as if it was the Maddison Square Garden filled with thousands of screaming fans, while it was just the five of you.

He won that year, Hell, even you voted on him, giving him the cleanest win of all times, but you swore to live up to that performance and you really feel like this year is gonna be your chance to live up to that promise. You have quite some tricks up your sleeves.

These past couple of years you were anxiously waiting for the holidays to roll around, because you knew you would get to spend so much time with Harry and through the year, even with several occasions of the two of you meeting, you missed him dearly. Sometimes you selfishly wished he would have just stayed the boy across the street so your lives could take tracks that run at least close to each other, but you always reminded yourself that his work was his life and you would have never taken away his true passion and happiness. Besides, you love watching him perform from time to time, that was just one of your favorite sides of him, see his eyes shine so bright as he sang to his fans. You used to envy the fangirls, it always seemed like he had a special connection with them, but you realized that you were one of them. You felt the same excitement when he stepped on the stage, you bought all his albums, even though he made sure you’d be one of the first people to get your hands on it. You had a second copy of them, because buying it gave you the extra jolt of happiness and the feeling that you were a tiny part of his success too. You watched all his music videos, knew the lyrics to his songs and cheered on him whenever he won another award. Difference was that at the end of the day you could call him and tell him how proud you were of him and he stared back at you with that beautiful grin, his dimples digging deep in his cheeks, telling you that he wouldn’t be here without you. You always knew he just said it to make you feel special, but he insisted it was the truth.

“I’m telling you. It you weren’t with me I would have gone crazy already, pulling a Justin Bieber or summat. Don’t think you are any less than what you are, that’s just daft.”

Every time he said something along those lines those damned butterflies in your stomach went crazy and you tried your best to ignore them. You didn’t always succeed, but the effort was there.

Now it’s two days before Christmas and you are already standing in your old room after coming home from London, leaving your small but cozy little apartment empty until the next year. The walls are still the same lilac color you chose when you were fourteen, a twin bed is pushed against the wall under your window, the wardrobe’s door is littered with old pictures from high school and ones you cut out from magazines. You just never got around to take them down and after a while it brought you a comforting sense every time you came home. A warm nostalgia took over you when you saw them, so they eventually stayed.

Your suitcase is lying on the floor as you unpack some stuff you’ll be using often during your stay, but you don’t get far in the packing when you hear an all too familiar voice coming from downstairs. Leaving your stuff as it is you rush down and throw your arms around Anne from behind, who is standing in the kitchen with your mum.

“My sweet angel! How are you?!” she cheers turning around in your hold to hug you back, giving you a tight squeeze before she pushes you away so she can have a good look on you. “Swear you get prettier every time I see you!”

“Stop it, my head’s gonna get big,” you chuckle feeling yourself blushing a little.

“Never gonna stop praising my daughter,” she smiles and gifts you with a cheeky wink.

Anne was never shy to let you know that she thought of you as a second daughter and you still remember how it felt when she called you that for the first time. It felt nice to know that you could count on her no matter what.

The three of you chat in the kitchen, Anne asks you about your job and how things have been going, she hasn’t seen you in a while. You missed the times when you could just go across the street and have a talk with her whenever you wanted, but since you’ve moved to London, Harry wasn’t the only one you didn’t get to see as often as you would have wanted. Your job and life overall got you so busy sometimes, you barely had time to call your own mum.

“Harry is arriving this evening. Wanna come with us to fetch him up at the airport?” she asks you and of course you say yes. You wouldn’t miss the chance to greet him with a bone crushing hug just after he lands.

However, as the time nears when you’d have to leave to the airport, Anne calls you up and asks if you could go on your own.

“I didn’t finish cooking and Gems is in an online meeting. Would you mind if you went alone?” she asks and though it sounds a little made up, you don’t question her.

On your way to the airport you are nervously drumming on the wheel, the thought of seeing Harry excites and worries you a little. It’s been months since you last seen him in the flesh and though you’ve talked plenty of times on the phone and in video calls, it’s just not the same. You find yourself wondering if he still smells the same, if you’ll fit the same way into his embrace as before. When you were younger you often liked to think about the two of you as two pieces of legos when you hugged. Your frame just fitted so perfectly against his body, he was your absolutely favorite person to hug.

Standing in a corner at the terminal, you keep checking the board until his flight’s status changes to landed. Then your eyes are glued to the sliding glass doors, knowing well it’s gonna take him some time to get his bags and walk out, but you are just way too excited to finally see him again.

People start walking through the doors and your head perks up every time you see a slightly tall frame, only to realize it’s still not him. Until it is.

You can’t bite your growing smile back when you spot him, a beanie and the hood of his hoodie covering his mop of hair, sunnies hiding his eyes, but you��d recognize him even from just the tiniest detail. You push yourself away from the wall as you see him look around, probably searching for his mum and sister, because he was already on his way when Anne decided it’s gonna be you who fetches him up, so he doesn’t know about the change.

“Excuse me, can I get a picture?” you ask teasingly walking up to him and for a moment you can tell he believes it’s a fan who recognized him, but his face quickly changes once his eyes land on you.

“Fo’ fuck’s sake, you had me for a second,” he breathes out, his arms already reaching out to pull you against him and you gladly envelop yourself into his hold. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles tightening his arms around you, and you don’t mind it. As you face is pressed into his shoulder you smile when you realize that he still smells the same. Like home.

“Your mum asked me to come and get you because she didn’t finish cooking. But if you ask me she just wanted to surprise you with me. You happy to see me?” you smirk up at him letting your head fall back so you could look into his eyes.

“Always,” he grins before placing a soft kiss to your temple and letting go of you.

The two of you leave the terminal before anyone could recognize him and packing his stuff up into the car you head back home.

You hand your phone over to him once you hit the road so he can be in charge of the music and it’s no surprise when he starts playing Christmas music straight away. Grinning to yourself you glance over at him and see him scrolling through your camera roll like the nosy little gremlin that he is.

“Hey! I did not give you permission to snoop around my phone!” you warn him, but don’t try to snatch it away from him, there’s really nothing he shouldn’t see, besides, half of those pics have been sent to him through messages.

“Just tryna catch up w’ you,” he mumbles under his breath, continuously opening up photos he is interested in. “New couch, eh?” he asks showing you the screen for a second.

“Yeah, bought it a few weeks ago. You like it?”

“Looks comfy. I should try it out sometime.”

“You never sleep on my couch, what are you talking about?”

“Right, you always drag me t’ your bed,” he snorts and you gasp at him, smacking his chest gently.

“That’s so not true! You always just arbitrarily make yourself comfortable in my bed and I don’t have the heart to kick you out,” you correct him.

There hasn’t been many times when Harry crashed at your place, but when he did, he always slept in your bed with you, and the two of you have shared a bed a few other times prior too. It’s nothing new, though it does have a deeper meaning for you than for him, you think. Waking up with Harry snoring lightly next to you, admiring how peaceful and beautiful he is in this intimate state, you just wish you could see him like this all the time.

Harry smirks at you cheekily, scrunching his nose as he chuckles.

“’Cause I wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere else, Love,” he says before turning his attention back to your phone while you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the nickname.

It’s quite late by the time you get home, you’ve run into some traffic, but it just meant more time with Harry. You gladly listened to his stories and you are happy you got some alone time with him. Parking up to your driveway you help him unload his bags before locking the car.

“Wanna go to the Christmas market in the morning? Promised Gemma I’d go with her and Michal,” he asks, slowly walking down the driveway towards his home.

“Uh, sure,” you nod smiling. Not that you had any other plans, the holidays are reserved for family and the Styles’ are family.

“Great, I’ll be here at ten. And thanks for the ride,” he smirks waving goodbye and you watch him cross the street before he disappears in his home and you do the same.

“Y/N? Is that you?” your mum calls out when you walk in.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” you ask, hanging your coat before you join her in the living room.

“Not,” she smiles giddily. “Was everything alright at the airport?”

You throw your legs over her lap and she squeezes your ankles playfully.

“Yeah, everything fine.”

“How is Harry?”

“Cheeky and smug, as always,” you huff smirking.

“Can’t wait to see him. I feel like I haven’t seen ‘im in ages.”

“When are they coming over tomorrow?”

“Anne said she’ll come around four to help me cook, the rest I don’t know. Dinner will be done around seven though.”

“I’m pretty sure Gemma and Harry will be here along with Anne,” you snort, knowing well they wouldn’t miss a chance to come over, especially Harry. He has been talking nonstop how he’ll be glued to your hip once he is back home, making up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

“They surely will,” your mum chuckles before you both turn your attention at the telly.

You go to bed way after midnight and finish up the packing you left abruptly when you left to get Harry. Shuffling around in your room you glance out the window and see that the light in Harry’s room is on too. Peeking out you lean against the window’s frame, thinking about the times when the two of you sat in the window, talking on the phone after curfew, keeping your voice down so your parents didn’t wake up, sharing secrets and your silliest thoughts. With Harry, you never felt like you had to keep anything back, he would have never judged you for anything, you could be your true self around him and vice versa.

A tall figure appears at the window and as Harry glances out his window he is quick to see you sitting on the window sill, your head resting against the frame. The two houses are not far away from each other and you see him grinning as he sits at the window as well, pulling out his phone, a moment later yours starts buzzing on the nightstand. You quickly grab it, and go back to the window.

“Creeping on me, eh?” he hums into the phone and you roll your eyes at him.

“Was just admiring the street lights, don’t flatter yourself, your head is getting too big,” you huff, but you can’t push your smirk down.

“Admit it, you were hoping to see me roam around naked, weren’t you?”

“As if I haven’t seen you like that before,” you snort making him laugh too. It’s true, Harry has never been shy to get rid of his clothes and he also doesn’t bother to draw the blinds whenever he is changing. You once saw him butt naked when he was nineteen, and when you told him to close the blinds next time he is changing, he just shrugged with a smug smile.

“’M not ashamed of anything, Love,” he told you and you had to turn away because you were blushing for sure.

“Right, you’re a fan of putting yourself on full display when you’re naked, almost forgot,” you chuckle shaking your head. “Millions of girls have the picture of you, lying naked on their walls.”

“You one of them?” he cheekily asks.

“Nah, doesn’t go well with the vibe of my apartment.”

“Shame. Though I think it would definitely look amazin’ above your bed, Love.”

“Now would it? I don’t know about that.”

“I’ll get you a copy framed,” he smirks and you can see it clear even from the distance. “Y’ know what? I’ll make you an exclusive one. One that nobody else has, how does that sound?”

“I can’t believe you, Styles,” you chuckle shaking your head. “I’m not gonna answer this, just gonna head to bed. You should too.”

“So we’re not sharing any secrets like we used to? Thought you’d have something fo’ me.”

“You know everything, Harry,” you sigh with a soft smile, though your heart skips a beat. He does know everything, except one big, fat, heavy secret you’ve been carrying around for way too long, that will probably stay with you forever.

“Right. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Night, Harry.”

“Good night, Love,” he murmurs and you know he is smiling, thought he steps away from the window as he says goodbye and you do the same before ending the call.

***

“Hey! That’s mine!” you protest as Harry steals another roasted chestnut from your little paper bag, but you can’t stay mad at him when he is smiling at you so sweetly.

“Sorry, tastes better when it’s someone else’s.”

“Sure,” you snort and just let him get as many as he wants. You wouldn’t have eaten it all anyway.

It’s quite cold out in the town, but at least there’s no rain or storm, so the weather didn’t try to ruin your little trip to the Christmas market.

Gemma calls out for Harry to show him something and you just keep wandering between the booths, enjoying the atmosphere quite a lot, you have no idea when was the last time you got to come to the market, though you always loved coming when you were younger.

Finishing up your chestnuts you throw the paper bag into a trash can and turn around to find the rest of your little group, spotting Harry and Gemma deep in discussion next to a booth that offers handmade ceramic mugs. As you walk closer it almost seems like as if they were having a fight, which is just odd, they rarely do that.

“Just get your head out of your arse!” you catch Gemma telling her brother who only groans in frustration before he spots you, a smile plastering across his face.

“Hey, there you are!” he beams.

“Everything alright?” you ask looking at them.

“Sure, just Gemma is being a little nosy, is all,” Harry waves in dismiss. You glance over to Gems, but she is already back in discussion with Michal so you decide to drop it. “You ate all the chestnuts?” Harry asks offended, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Well, it was mine, so of course I ate them!”

“Selfish,” he narrows his eyes at you, but you both know it’s just a joke.

You walk further down in the aisle, occasionally stopping at some of the booth when you spot a place that offers hot chocolate in cute little mugs that you can take home with you if you’d like, or just take it back and get your money back.

“Oh look!” you gasp excitedly and head towards the hot chocolate booth. The old lady smiles brightly at the two of you as you take a look at all the choices. “Oh my god, they have caramel flavored!” you cheer, basically already drooling at the thought of a good, caramel flavored hot chocolate.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?” the lady smiles warmly at the two of you and you freeze at her assumption.

“Oh we—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.

“A caramel flavored and a plain one, please,” he orders, without even batting an eye about how the lady just called you a couple. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the thought, but you try to calm yourself. He probably just didn’t want to get into explaining that you two are not an item and let her think what she wanted.

The nice lady hands you your mug and you take Harry’s as well as he pays for both of them. You would try to argue with him and pay yours, but you are already used to how stubborn he is and he never lets you split anything, it’s always on him.

“Thank you, have a nice day!” Harry calls out to the lady before the two of you leave. You peek at him handing him his mug, looking for any clue that would give away if this little scene got him just as bothered as it did you, but he looks perfectly fine and relaxed, so you decide not to bring it up. You’re sure he didn’t think much of it.

Your little stroll stretches into the afternoon, the four of you decide to have lunch out there too, then you just opt for a walk in town as Gemma wants to do a quick last minute Christmas shopping, so by the time you get home Anne is already over at yours helping your mum with dinner. Tonight you are all eating at yours, then tomorrow it’s the Styles’ turn to host, this is how you agreed this year.

“Woah, it smells amazing!” you call out walking into the house. The delicious smells fill up the whole place and you hear the two women giggling in the kitchen.

“Hi Honey, how was the market?” your mum greets you, a glass of red wine in her hand and the same goes for Anne.

“Great, we have a new mug,” you say holding up the emptied out hot chocolate mug. Stepping to the sink you wash it quickly and drying off you put it away in one of the cabinets.

You stick around in the kitchen and not so much later Harry comes over, the two of you leave your mums alone and get comfortable in front of the telly.

All channels are filled with holiday movies and you don’t mind, really, you like them all even if you’ve seen them a million times, you still find them funny and cute. Harry feels the same way, so when you settle on Love Actually he doesn’t say a word.

What startles you is that he grabs your ankles and pulls your legs over his lap, a small shriek escaping your mouth since you weren’t expecting him to do that. You’re sitting sideways, your legs are bent at the knee and Harry is kind of hugging them as his eyes are glued to the screen.

You find it rather hard to focus on the movie when Harry’s fingers keep fidgeting on your legs, they keep running up and down, sometimes he lays his hands flat on your knees, there’s no spot he hasn’t touched since you started watching the movie.

About an hour into the film he turns to you and you look at him in question.

“’M in the mood to cuddle,” he announces and starts moving around, not even letting you protest as he basically crawls to your lap, resting his head on your stomach as the two of you lay on the couch.

“Am I now your personal pillow?” you ask chuckling, but you wouldn’t want him to move for anything. Feeling him weigh down on you just feels so warm and simple but amazing.

“The best one,” he mumbles, bringing a hand to your side as you let your fingers comb through his curls.

You keep massaging his scalp and he lets out soft moans when you go over a soft spot, you can’t help but chuckle as he melts under your hands. His fingers start drawing circles on your side and the movie is long forgotten by you, all you can focus on is how great it is to have Harry so close to you. He is known to be a physical person, you are used to hugs and touches, but it seems like he is a little needier now than the usual.

You don’t mind it though, you just try to enjoy the moment, because it can end anytime.

Gemma and Michal come over a little before seven, and while your mums finish up the cooking the four of you set the table. You grab the crystal glasses and start placing them to the table, Harry lending you a hand. Once the table is all set you shuffle into the kitchen to see if there’s anything you can help with, Harry following you behind, placing a hand to the small of your back.

As you stand and wait for you mum to finish up the meals so you can help carry them to the table you feel Harry’s hand wander over to your hip, giving it a squeeze as he stands closer, so his chest is pressed against your back.

“Harry?” you ask a little out of breath.

“Hm?” he innocently hums.

“What’s with you today?” Turning your head to the side your eyes lock with his, but he just shrugs smiling.

“Guess I just missed yeh a lot.”

“You’re weird,” you chuckle shaking your head, but don’t make an effort to push him away. His touch feels way too good to put an end to it and you just want to be selfish a little longer.

His hands leave you when the two of you help to bring the food to the table, and you almost wish they would just return, but you gotta swallow the thought.

The food is amazing, as always. You all sip on some wine, just having a genuinely good time, enjoying that all of you are back at one place, something that rarely happens now that all three of you kids are all grown up.

At one point Harry rests his arm on the back of your chair, no one seems to notice but you. All these little things have been driving you crazy all day and your mind seems to be playing a nasty game with you. There’s no way Harry thinks of these details more than what they are, a friendly gesture towards an old friend of his.

When Gemma is telling a story about some weird guy she met at work Harry reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear, his finger lingering over your neck a little longer than you would have expected. Turning to face him you give him a questioning look, not sure what to think about his needy and touchy self all of a sudden.

“What?” you mouth him, but he just smiles at you absentmindedly, curling a strand of hair around his finger, playing with it for a moment before letting go of it and going for another lock. You reach up and pull his hand away, feeling yourself heating up from his touch, but when you are about to let go of his hand he grabs yours, lacing your fingers together with yours as he rests them on his thigh.

“Harry…” you breathe out, glancing at the others, relieved to see that they are not paying much attention to the two of you.

“What? Am I not allowed to touch you?” he asks with a smug smirk and you roll your eyes at him.

“As I said, you’re weird,” you mumble under your breath looking down at your now empty plate. Harry gives your hand a squeeze.

“But like, the good kind of weird, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you chuckle shaking your head at him.

You try to tell yourself he is just needy because it’s been so long since you last saw each other. It can’t be more, you push even the smallest thought to the back of your mind, though it surely lingers there throughout the evening.

He helps you with washing the dishes, you stand arm to arm at the sink as you scrub the plates and hand over to him for drying. He gently hums to himself all along, swaying his hips, bumping against yours. At first you resist it, but then you catch the rhythm and start moving along, so your hips meet in the middle before swinging to the opposite side.

“What’s the song?” you ask finishing up the last plate.

“Just something random,” he shrugs smirking over at you. You hand him the last plate, he is still singing, making up gibberish lyrics to his song and once he puts the plate down he throws the kitchen cloth to the counter and easily grabs your waist pulling you against him as he starts swaying with you to his impromptu song. You let out a small shriek at the sudden movement, but eventually melt into his hold. The humming slowly turns into an all too familiar melody as Harry starts singing Sweet Creature into your ear, slow dancing in the kitchen while you hear your mums and Gemma laugh outside somewhere.

Your hands run up his arms and stop behind his neck as you lock your fingers and let him hold you close, his palms are pressed to your waist, fingers gently stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You take a deep breath and his cologne fills your nose, one of your favorite scents, sometimes you just wish you could spray it on your pillow so it would always smell like him.

“Sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home…” he softly sings, leaning back just enough for your eyes to meet. It feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest, it’s not the first time you feel so intimidated by him, like you could pass out any moment, but this is a little different. As if his eyes were telling you another story, but you can’t completely make up the words.

“Sweet creature, when I run out of road, you bring me home, you’ll bring me home.” He finishes the song, hums the closing melody and you watch him in complete awe. Your lips part when you catch his gaze move down to them and you swear you see him leaning closer, as if he is about to kiss you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he is so close, just a few more inches and you’d taste those perfect lips of his, the ones you’ve been dreaming about for way too long.

It almost happens, it seems, but just when that last push is about to set in Gemma waltz into the kitchen and you step back faster than light, pushing him away even though the sudden lack of his touch is more painful than you were expecting.

“You guys—Oh, what’s up?” she asks stopping at the door and you feel yourself getting redder with each passing moment, the heat crawling up your neck, ears cheeks, right to the top of your head. What were you thinking? You let yourself believe Harry would ever kiss you, this whole scene was nothing more than just a friendly moment the two of you were sharing.

“I’m—sorry,” you breathe out making your way out of the kitchen, right up to your room to have some well needed space.

“Way to ruin everything,” Harry snickers at his sister.

“You joking? You wanted to kiss her in her mum’s kitchen?” Gemma snaps at him in disbelief.

“We were having a moment,” he mumbles rubbing his face with his hands. “Up until you stomped in with your big mouth.”

“Well, if you were havin’ a moment, just make it happen again.”

“As if it’s that easy, Gemma!” he scoffs throwing his hands in the air.

“Man up and tell her how you feel, don’t have to complicate it too much,” she shrugs before walking out and leaving her brother alone. Harry growls in frustration, the gears in his head turning wildly as he is trying to figure out how to come clear to you about his feelings.

Meanwhile, up in your room you get out your laptop and busy yourself with checking up on messages and emails you’ve been ignoring, hoping that the uneasy feeling in your chest will ease very soon. Your hands were shaking when you locked yourself up in your room, but as you get focused on other tasks you slowly gain your balance back.

You kind of even forget that the Styles’ were over, you only realize that you abruptly pulled yourself out of the evening when there’s a soft knock on your door.

“Come on in!” you call out and a moment later Harry’s head pops in, eyes softly falling on your sitting figure on the bed. “Hey,” you smile at him faintly.

“Hey. Thought you were sleepin’s or summat.” Coming inside he closes the door behind him then sits on your plush rug in the middle of the room.

“Just… sorted some work related things out,” you sigh.

“Working during the holidays? Tha’s not healthy.”

“I know, I’m done,” you smile shutting the laptop down and putting it aside. “Sorry I disappeared, I just—“

“No worries,” Harry shakes his head. “Mum and Gems went home, they thought you were sleeping too, tha’s why they didn’t say goodbye.”

“Oh, alright.”

“But I thought we could have a sleepover,” he peeks at you with a boyish smile.

“What, like we did in middle school?” you chuckle.

“Yea, thought it would be fun.”

“Well, I don’t think my bed would fit us comfortably and we don’t have the mattress anymore that you used to sleep on,” you tell him looking around.

“Nonsense, I’m not tha’ big,” he insists hopping to his feet and throwing himself on the bed, ignoring that you’re already there. His body takes up more than half on the bed , limbs wrapping around you as he brings you down to the mattress next to him, you can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips.

“You’re like a gigantic baby, Harry!” you laugh as he keeps you down on the bed with his arm.

“It’s perfectly fine for two people,” he mumbles with a smirk, closing his eyes as his head sinks into your pillow.

“Do you ever get no as an answer?” you ask looking at him in awe. You can never get used to seeing him so up close, like not many get to.

“No,” he huffs in satisfaction, his arm bringing you closer to him and you just giggle at him.

“I’m not sleeping just yet, gotta have a shower first.”

“Do what you want, I’ll be here,” he mumbles but you snort at him.

“You’re not sleeping in my bed without having a shower,” you tell him before you grab your pajamas and head to the bathroom.

You have a quick shower and get done with all your evening business. Returning to your room you find Harry sitting on the floor, his back against the side of the bed as he is scrolling through his phone.

“Does mum know you’re staying over?” you ask him as you throw your used clothes into the hamper, moving around the room while feeling his eyes on you.

“Yeah. ‘S all good.”

“You need a towel?”

“Yes please,” he says pushing himself up from the floor.

“Clothes?” you ask with an arched brow. He just grins at you and it’s enough of an answer. “Here,” you give him the shirt and sweats he has left at yours quite some time ago, along with a clean towel.

“Thanks,” he smirks before leaving to occupy the bathroom.

He doesn’t take long in there, you’re lying in bed already when he returns, smelling like your shower gel, strawberry and melon.

He throws his clothes to the chair in the corner and then lies beside you on the bed. You scoot over to the wall to give him space, but he is quick to bring you closer to him once he has made himself comfortable. You lay your head on his shoulder as you are both scrolling through your phones.

When you had enough, you throw yours to the nightstand, and stay cuddled up to his side.

“Do you remember the last time I slept here?” he asks tossing his phone to the nightstand and bringing his arms around you.

“Mm, was it at my twentieth birthday?”

“Yeah. You were so wasted,” he chuckles and you smirk to yourself

“But you took good care of me.”

“I did. You were so cute, rambling about how much you love me when I took you home from the pub.”

You bite into your bottom lip. You still remember that night vividly. Your birthday party had gone a little wild and you had gotten drunker than you intended to. Luckily, he was there to bring your home and he stayed in the bathroom with you as you threw up everything you ate and drank that evening. Then he made you take a shower, got you fresh clothes out and helped you get into bed. He slept next to you that night, holding you in his arms, gently caressing your back and upper arm as you fell into your drunken slumber. In the morning you told yourself he just did what any other friend would do, helping you out when you were clearly knocked out, but he made you breakfast in the morning since your mum was working all night and morning and he stayed over later the afternoon to make sure you were alright.

What you told him in your drunken state about loving him, it wasn’t just your friendly side, it was your drunken self coming clear to him, telling him that you are in love with him, but he didn’t take it seriously and you were too ashamed and awkward to even bring it up to him after that, so it was all forgotten very soon.

Following that you planned on telling him how you feel, several times. You even wrote a little speech you planned to give him when the time comes, but you couldn’t do it. The fear of losing him if he doesn’t feel the same was stronger than you expected and every time you had the chance to come clear, you chickened out. The thought of losing him as a friend is way worse than having to push your feelings down... forever. You just can’t imagine your life without Harry in it and you can’t risk losing him.

The two of you talk for quite a while, laughing about the good old times, until you both fall asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up and feel Harry wrapped around you, his head lying on your chest as he is snoring softly. He truly is like a big baby, an arm thrown over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours. Good Lord, how amazing it feels to have him so close to you!

Reaching up you tangle your fingers through his hair gently so he doesn’t wake up, his soft curls glide between your fingers easily and lifting your head you kiss the top of his head before letting yourself drift back to sleep.

When you open your eyes the next time the situation is the opposite, you are the one cuddled up to Harry’s side who is scrolling through his phone with one hand, keeping the other one on your arm.

“Mornin’, sleepy head,” he chuckles softly when he sees you awake.

“Mmm, what time is it?” you ask letting your head rest on his chest a little longer.

��Quarter to nine. You can sleep a little more if you want, it’s not that late.”

“No, I promised mum I’d help her wrap gifts,” you sigh rolling over to your stomach as you push yourself up to your elbows to look at him. “Love the double chin you got going there,” you tease him sleepily and he just smirks.

“Yea? Quite cute, right? Worked a lot on it,” he jokes running his finger over it before letting out a chuckle. “Ready for our battle today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You are going down this year, Styles,” you tell him pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Harry only pushes himself further on the bed enough to rest his head against the headboard.

“Oh really? I wouldn’t be that sure about tha’,” he warns you, but you are feeling pretty confident about your performance this year. There’s no way he can top it.

“We’ll see. Alright, I need a coffee. Want something for breakfast?” you ask him crawling out of the bed.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

Your mum is already in the kitchen, sipping on her morning coffee while reading the paper. She doesn’t find it even a bit weird that Harry spent the night at yours, it’s been quite the usual for you. Harry helps you make eggs and bacon and the three of you eat together, having a lovely time and you genuinely feel like it’s just like in the good old times when you were still living home and Harry wasn’t Harry Styles, but the boy from across the street.

He goes home after breakfast to help his own mum with the cooking for tonight’s dinner and you don’t do much for the rest of the day, just spend time with your mum, watch movies and relax. It’s nice to unwind after such a busy year behind you.

Not long before five you go to take a shower and get ready to head over to the Styles’ and you pack everything you’ll need for the evening: gifts, ugly sweater, accessories. Harry is going down this year for sure.

It’s a little past six when you and your mum walk across the street, Anne’s Christmas lights are putting the little town house into the spirit for sure. You don’t even ring the bell, just walk straight in, like you always do. The Christmas tree stands tall in their living room and the table is already nicely set. Gemma and Michal are snuggled up on the couch while Harry is helping Anne in the kitchen with the finishing touches.

“I’m rooting for you this year,” Gemma winks at you when you set down your bag in the corner that has everything you’ll need for your performance.

“He’s gonna lose this round,” you smirk proudly, very sure in yourself.

Harry greets you with a bright smile and a tight hug when he walks into the living room, as if you didn’t just see each other a few hours earlier.

When the food is ready you all sit down to eat, and though you’re trying your best to focus on the conversation, you’re getting excited about tonight’s karaoke battle.

“Anxious much?” Harry asks you quietly.

“Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t answer, just places a hand to your thigh stopping it from shaking, making you realize you’ve been probably bouncing it all along. He smirks at you as you just roll your eyes at him.

“’S okay, you can handle one more year of losing,” he teases you and you give him an arched eyebrow.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Harry,” you warn him, but he just squeezes your thigh again before bringing his hands back up to the table, leaving you a little breathless with his touch.

You all help clean up the table after dinner and when it’s done, you gather in the living room to open gifts.

When Harry’s career launched, the first few years you felt anxious about gifting him, because you felt like you couldn’t give him enough. He had all the money and bought everything he needed for himself, there wasn’t much you could give him. But when one time, you admitted to him this struggle of yours he assured you that it doesn’t matter what you give him, it’ll always be precious to him.

“You thought about me, you took the time to buy something for me, and that’s more than enough, Y/N,” he told you and though it took you time, but you got used to it. Especially when you saw the same excitement in his eyes every time you gifted something to him, you slowly but surely realized he wasn’t expecting a Gucci suit, but a thoughtful gesture.

Gathering in the living room you open the presents one by one and just as always, everyone was quite creative with the gifts. You can’t help but still feel a little anxious when Harry grabs his gift from you. Giving you an excited look he unties the little bow on the top and tears the wrapping paper off.

“Y/N!” he breathes out, eyes softening as he pulls the knitted cardigan out of the box.

“I always saw you wearing all sorts of cardigans and so I finally had a reason to learn how to knit, so I thought I would make one for you,” you ramble as he holds up the baby blue cardigan that has little daisies all over the front. It took you an entire week to just make the daisies, you worked on the whole cardigan for more than two months, usually in the middle of the night, staying up until unholy hours to finish in time.

But Harry’s smile is worth it all, he is beaming, clearly so in love with what you made him, so you breathe out relieved. He then puts it aside and wraps his arms around you pulling you into the tightest hug.

“Thank you, I love it so much,” he mumbles and kisses your temple and you breathe in his sweet scent, burying yourself in his embrace, hugging his waist.

When you part, Harry reaches for a box from under the tree and hands it to you, a nervous smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he wrapped the gift himself, the silver wrapping paper is a little uneven, but the huge rainbow colored bow on the top is the perfect touch that makes it like a piece of him.

You carefully tear the paper off, peeking inside you just see a plain box that doesn’t give much away. Glancing up at Harry you see how he is anxiously biting his bottom lip, even though you’d be happy with a gift as small as a candle. It’s the thought that counts.

“I-I wasn’t sure if this was the one you mentioned to me, so I hope it’s gonna be alright,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on your hands as they open the box, while you try to think back what you have told him about that caught his attention, but you just can’t recall what you wanted to get so badly you told Harry about it.

As you open the box you don’t process what it is immediately, the plastic wrapper making it hard to figure it out, but when you carefully pull out the object, you gasp in surprise.

“Harry!” you breathe out as you pull off the plastic of the old, vintage polaroid camera. It’s not one of these new types you can buy in stores easily, this is a classic, must have quite a history behind it.

Now you vaguely remember talking about longing for an oldschool, vintage camera, but it was months ago and you’ve forgotten about the whole thing since these devices cost a fortune because there aren’t many left from them. But now there’s one in your hands, because Harry not only listened to you, but he remembered and went out of his way to find you one in amazing condition.

“This must have cost a fortune!” you huff, your heart pounding in your chest, though you already know it doesn’t matter to him.

“This face is worth every penny,” he smiles at you softly before you throw yourself at him for another round of hugging. This man surely knows how to have you wrapped around his fingers.

The two of you sit on the floor as you figure out how to make the camera work, Harry bought everything needed, so you have a few packs of films as well. When it’s all done you bring it up to your face and aim it at Harry. It takes him a moment to realize that you’re about to snap your first photo and he tries to snatch the camera away, but it’s too late, the flash goes off and the device pushes out the undeveloped picture.

“You wasted your first snap on me?” he protests rubbing his eyes after the flash blinded him for a little.

“It’s not a waste,” you tell him as you patiently wait for the picture to finally appear.

Slowly, the colors start to show and in a couple of minutes Harry’s face appears, his hand reaching in the direction of the camera, looking out of focus, only his face appearing clearly. He looks so delicate, his eyes dazzling as a soft smile plays on his lips. This moment now will live forever not just in your mind, but on this photo.

Harry goes out with his karaoke performance this year for sure and you’d be actually anxious about him winning if only you didn’t have the absolutely best performance right in your pocket.

His sweater this year features some really ugly looking penguins and a horroristic reindeer on the back, it’s really ugly and you can’t even imagine who thought it would be fine to make it and then sell it. His choice of music is also excellent, he has a great eye for songs you’d never imagine him perform and then shock everyone with it. This year, he chose Rude Boy by none other than Rihanna, and it’s fantastic, no one can make it through the song without crying. Harry makes sure to put on his best show, even dancing and twerking unapologetically, trying everything to win the battle and you are amazed by his effort. Above all the fun and jokes, he nails the song, that’s undeniable. It always baffles you how he can just slay any and all genres, even the ones that stand a million miles away from his style.

When the song is over, you all cheer for him, because he truly deserves it. He grins down at you in victory, but you just give him a challenging smirk.

“You can just give up now, if you want,” he teases you as you stand up from the couch and the two of you trade places.

“Oh, I think you should be the one to worry about losing,” you warn him grabbing your bag. Stepping to Gemma you whisper into her ear, instructing her to put on your song when you call out from the bathroom, since you are planning on do a grandiose entrance. When she hears what song you’ll be singing she gasps.

“Oh my fucking God, no way!” he looks at your with wide eyes.

“What? What is it?” Harry asks, dying to know what you just told his sister, but you shake your head at him.

“Patience,” you tell him before locking yourself up in the bathroom.

This year, you didn’t find the sweater, the sweater found you. On one of your thrift tours, you were digging up a huge pile of clothes when you came right across it and you knew what you needed to do.

Putting on the sweater you fix up your hair quickly before putting on your party glasses, the one that lights up if you switch it on. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror and smirk at your reflection knowing well you’ll have everyone dead when you walk out.

“Gemma! You can start it!” you call out with your hand on the doorknob, waiting to hear the music. Gemma quickly starts in and you haven’t even stepped out, you can hear a round of gasps.

Best Song Ever blasts through the speakers and you walk out trying your best to imitate a younger version of Harry, wearing the absolute ugliest Christmas sweater ever, that has the faces of One Direction all over it, filling up every inch of the fabric, and all of them have poorly photoshopped Santa hats on, it’s just literal trash and ridiculously perfect for the battle.

You grab the mic and start singing as everyone screams in the room. You jump, sing and even do the dance moves the boys do in the original music video, and when you look at Harry you see him staring at you in disbelief and total defeat. Everyone knows you won, nothing can top this performance ever and you could burst from the sweet feeling of victory.

By the end of the song everyone is up on their feet dancing and singing with you, a mini party forming in the middle of the living room and you all scream the last lines as the song comes to its end.

“I think we don’t even need to vote this time,” you say when the music stops, everyone screaming in agreement while Harry stares down at you, trying to hide his growing smirk.

“Where did you even find this?” he asks chuckling as he takes a better look at the sweater.

“At a thrift store, it called out my name, knew it’d be perfect.”

“It really is ugly, if I’m being honest,” he sighs, his eyes meeting yours again. “And the song… I accept defeat, you earned this victory, Y/N,” he tells you bowing and admitting your victory.

Later that night everyone is so keen on watching Holiday, you agree to stay even though you feel your eyelids heavily weighing down, threatening to close with each passing moment. You let your head rest on Harry’s shoulder and he presses his cheek against the crown of your head.

It’s not a surprise you fall asleep halfway into the movie, but what you weren’t expecting is to wake up and find yourself not on the couch anymore, but in Harry’s bed. It’s dark, only the moon is shining through his windows and as you turn to the right you see that he is sleeping peacefully next to you on his back, one arm spread next to him, hand hanging from the edge, the other one resting on his stomach, rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Squinting your eyes you look at the digital clock on his dresser, it reads 3:23 am so you’ve been asleep for quite a few hours now. You don’t even remember him bringing you up here, but you’re definitely not mad that he didn’t bring you home, just up to his room.

Rolling to your side you give yourself a moment to adorn his beauty without fearing he would catch your wandering eyes. Everything seems so perfect about him, the line of his nose, his cupid’s bow that delicately rolls into her lips. The crease between his eyebrows, his soft skin on his cheeks, down his neck that runs into his broad shoulders and inked, strong arms. You truly think there’s no man that could compare to him and you are lucky enough to live your life so close to him, be able to touch him, hear his voice whenever you miss him, see his smile and share a connection with him.

It’s so silly, but you think of him as your personal ray of sunshine in your life. Just the smallest things about him can brighten your worst day, he’ll always have a special place in your heart, no matter where life takes the two of you.

Watching him sleeping you allow yourself to break free from your doubts and fears and scooting closer you shyly curl up to his side, your head resting on his shoulder, but you can’t even make yourself comfortable before you feel him moving under you.

Sucking on your breath you think he’ll push you away, not wanting you so close, but instead, he pulls his arm from under you, curling around your frame as he pulls you tight to him, almost making you lie on top of him. Your whole body is pressed against him and you mingle a leg between his long ones under the soft sheets. You let out a long huff at the warm touch of his body against your skin, completely lost in him.

“You alright?” he mumbles in his sleep laced voice, his eyes remain closed.

“Yeah. Is this okay?” you nervously ask as you lay your hand flat on his stomach. He brings his hand that was hanging from the bed on his other side and covers yours, as he squeezes you tight to his side.

“’M all yours,” he breathes out, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You’re sure he didn’t mean it like that, but it warmed your heart to hear it from him and you let your mind play with the thought that there was more behind his words than a friendly manner.

Nuzzling your head into his chest you close your eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat you let yourself fall back asleep.

Your morning is filled with coffee, pancakes, laughter and great company. Harry doesn’t let you leave without having breakfast with them, so you sit with the Styles family and laugh about the craziest stories from your teenage years.

“Remember when we tried to run away?” Harry grins at you, his red mug that had white polka dots all over it in his hands as he eyes you.

“Oh, how could I forget that?” you huff and Gemma turns to you with surprise in her eyes.

“Wait, I didn’t know about that!”

“Because we didn’t get too far,” Harry laughs. “We were, what, like fifteen?”

“Yeah, it was a few weeks after my fifteenth birthday,” you nod smiling.

“I had a fight with mum about God knows what, then stormed over to Y/N’s and talked her into running away. So we packed our backpacks and left.”

“Where did you go?” Michal asks with an amused grin as he listens to the story.

“We didn’t want to go into town, running into anyone we know, so we thought we would just go straight out to the meadow that’s there,” Harry says gesturing towards the window. The edge of the town is not so war, and a huge meadow lies there, a little stream running across it. “We walked for quite long, but then it started to get dark and we had nowhere to go, so we just ended up coming back home. No one even noticed we were gone, they thought we just went out to bike or something,” he finishes laughing.

“You knew about this?” Gemma asks Anne.

“Yeah, he came clear the next day, thinking he would piss me off with it, but I didn’t care, he came back for dinner, so it was alright,” Anne explains laughing.

It’s been so long since it happened, but I still remember it vividly, only that it was a more dramatic memory back then, now I can only laugh at it.

“We should go for a walk today,” Harry prompts to you.

“Wanna run away again?” you tease him.

“Always,” he chuckles.

You help cleaning up and agree with Harry to meet outside in an hour to take a walk to the meadow. Going home you take a shower and wash the dishes your mum left in the sink when she left for her morning shift. You put on a pair of boyfriend jeans, a warm sweater and your jacket with your trusty boots and you walk out the house right when Harry steps out as well. He grins in your way as the two of you meet in the middle of the street. He holds his arm out for you.

“M’ lady?” he smirks as you link your arm with his and the two of you head out for your little walk. It’s a gloomy day, might rain later as well, but it’s dry so far, so you’re just hoping to get home before it starts raining. Your runaway attempt wasn’t the only time the two of you came out here, it was kind of your place when you felt like having a break from everyone else. You biked out here, brought your favorite snacks and just ran around, enjoying the stillness.

However it also holds a bitter memory as well.

A little further down among the trees happened Harry’s first kiss and you witnessed it, feeling your heart break to a million pieces when you saw him lock lips with someone who wasn’t you.

Debby Hamilton was a friend of yours in sixth grade, you’d say, your only friend beside Harry and the three of you often hung out together around that time. Debby was a delight, you always desired to be more like her, boys liked her and she knew it damn well, but it didn’t make her cocky and egoistic. You always thought Harry had a crush on her, why would have he? They kind of looked cute together.

It was a Friday afternoon and Harry asked if you wanted to come out and listen to his new cassette he got for his old Walkman he refused to get rid of as technology was evolving. You figured he’d want Debby there as well so you invited her along, but didn’t tell Harry. He never made a move on Debby and you thought he was just looking for the right time.

That afternoon, you were supposed to meet them out there at five, but you didn’t leave until half past five and it takes about twenty minutes to get out there. Though you gave them the alone time technically, it still startled you when you found them under one of the oak trees, Debby leaning her back against the tree as Harry stood in front of her. She was smiling up at him sweetly, saying something to him and you were just about to call out for them and apologize for being late when Harry ducked his head and kissed Debby right in front of your eyes.

That was your first and probably worst heartbreak and you were only twelve. You felt betrayed, hopeless and naïve to think Harry would ever have a thing for you when there were girls like Debby. You left without letting them know you were there. When Harry asked you later why you didn’t come you told him you felt sick to your stomach, which wasn’t a total lie, you had quite the nausea after seeing Harry with Debby, but he didn’t have to know all the details.

He later told you about kissing Debby and you pretended like you didn’t know about it. However they never dated and not long after their kiss Debby drifted away from the two of you. Not that you minded, you had a bitter feeling every time you had to look at her after that, jealousy raging in your chest knowing that she got Harry’s first kiss.

He didn’t bring it up after and you weren’t keen on talking about it, but you still know which tree they were standing under and now as you near the area you see that it still stands tall near the tiny stream.

Peeking up at Harry you see that his eyes are focused on the same tree, but then he catches you looking.

“Memories?” you innocently ask, feeling your chest tightening. You don’t even know why you asked. It’s been over a decade since that kiss, you are both adults, but you still can’t help the sadness that washes over you at just the thought, why would you want to get him talk about it now?

“’S just… that’s the tree I kissed Debby when I was twelve,” he mumbles with a shrug. Biting into your bottom lip you look at the old oak tree nodding your head and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.

“I know.”

“What? How would you? I never told you,” Harry asks stopping, a puzzled look pulling on his face.

“Well I… It doesn’t matter,” you sigh, regretting ever opening your mouth.

“It does. Tell me!” he pleads standing in front of you.

“I know it, because… I was here.”

“You what?”

“I came, I was just very late. And when I arrived you two were standing there and I saw you kiss. I thought I shouldn’t interrupt whatever was happening so I went home and let you two be,” you explain, changing it up a little bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why is it important that I saw it? It doesn’t change anything, right?” you ask with a smile that you intended to look innocent, but deep down it’s filled with pain.

Harry opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then remains silent and you are done talking about it, so you just quietly keep walking, Harry catching up with you a few moments later.

It’s awfully quiet after your revelation, it seems like Harry is deep in his thoughts and though you’re dying to know what’s occupying his bright thoughts, you’re kind of afraid you’d hear something you didn’t want to.

The two of you soon head back home and slowly, but you forget about the whole Debby thing. Harry starts talking again, but he looks a little keyed up still when you reach your street.

“Wanna come over later?” you ask standing on the pavement in front of your house, it’s just an innocent question. Harry nods his head.

“Sure. Is your mum working?” he asks glancing at the house, though he knows she is, the car is not on the driveway.

“Yeah. She’ll be home around six.”

He nods again and you want to ask if he is alright, but you decide not to. You share a quick hug before he heads over to his home and you do the same. The house waits for you in silence and when the door clicks behind you, it weighs down on you heavier than you were expecting. You hang your jacket, kick your boots off and throw yourself to the couch, covering your eyes with your arm as you huff out in frustration. You feel silly for getting upset about such a small thing even after so much time, but you just can’t help it.

You barely realize the sound of the front door opening, taking your arm off your eyes you see Harry walk in, eyebrows furrowed, a worried look on his handsome face.

“Harry—“ “I was waiting for you that day,” he simply says as you sit up with wide eyes, confused about what he is really talking about.

“What?”

“That day, we agreed to meet out there to listen to my new Stevie Wonder cassette, but you didn’t show up, Debby did even though I didn’t invite her out there.”

“Well, I did, thought you wanted her there too,” you explain, startled by the situation.

“I would have invited her if I wanted her to be there, but I wanted to be with you. Only you.”

“I-I’m sorry?” you breathe out, not seeing where he is going with it.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he huffs and he is right. You don’t. “I wanted to meet you, but you never came, or at least I thought. Then Debby showed up, I was frustrated that you weren’t there and she was being all nice, telling me how cute I looked when I was worried and it all just happened so fast and… I didn’t even want to kiss her.” He looks properly upset telling you the story and he takes a deep breath before his eyes meet yours with a hard stare. “I wanted to be with you,” he repeats.

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

He shakes his hair, not even letting you finish, because he knows what you wanted to say and that you still don’t understand the meaning behind his words.

“Y/N, I wanted to kiss you,” he then finally says and you suck on your breath as he continues. “Well, not right then and there, but I’ve been meaning to kiss you, I just didn’t know when. I thought that if we have a moment that afternoon I’d do it, but you never came and I was mad and disappointed. I hated myself for kissing Debby, because I didn’t really want to, it just… happened. I wanted to tell you, and I intended to do it when I told you we kissed, but you acted so happy, I figured you didn’t feel the same way about me as I did for you. So I didn’t tell you the rest, but…” He sighs in defeat, looking for words, but he ran out.

“Why are you telling this to me now?” you ask a little out of breath, your head feeling heavy at the new information you just heard.

“Why didn’t you tell me you saw us and why did you go home without a word?” he asks ignoring your question.

“I… don’t—“

“Don’t try to lie.”

Gulping hard you lick your dried lips as you stare back at him.

“Because I was… jealous.” Your voice comes out only as a whisper. Harry’s lips part as he takes two steps closer to you.

“You had feelings for me?” he asks and you just nod your head, not trusting yourself with your voice. “Do you still have feelings for me?”

“I do,” you whisper your answer and Harry lets out a sharp breath as he leaps across the room in your way. You jump to your feet, thinking that he’ll lash out on your for keeping it a secret and you open your mouth to explain yourself, but you never get to speak up because as Harry reaches you, one hand snaps to the back of your neck, the other one to your waist, yanking you against him as his lips crash to yours.

You gasp in surprise, but it doesn’t take long to kiss him back, your numb mind blindly reacting to his sudden action. Your hands snake up to the back of his neck as you pull him closer, returning his hungry kisses. His soft lips feel so smooth and warm against yours and when his tongue runs along your bottom lip you whimper letting your tongues meet in the middle.

He is intoxicating and it doesn’t help that your adrenaline level is up in the sky, you’ve fantasized about it way too many times, and now that it’s happening your body is burning in flames. He kisses you all over and over again, his body pressing against yours hard and when he even leans in making you lean back, you lose balance and the two of you fall to the couch, both of you gasping as you are forced to part your lips.

“Fuck,” you chuckle as Harry is basically lying on you, holding himself up on his arms, but you feel him everywhere.

“’M sorry, I got a little carried away, but I’ve been dying to do this since forever,” he admits chuckling as he lifts his head and looks down at you with those bright green eyes of his.

“Really?” you breathe out, only slowly processing what’s really just happened.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you hiding behind your mum.”

“Idiot, you were just a kid, you weren’t in love,” you chuckle, running up your hands to the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the soft curls. He smirks and nuzzles his nose against yours.

“Oh, I was, I just didn’t know it yet.” Leaning down he pecks your lips softly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. Though I was growing impatient these last few years.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“You can’t imagine,” he huffs shaking his head. I almost kissed you the other day in the kitchen, but Gemma completely ruined the moment.”

“I’m sorry I ran away, I was just—“ “No need to apologize. I guess it all played out well after all, right?” he smirks and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I guess,” you breathe out and the smile slowly fades from your lips. “And now what?” you ask quietly, staring up at him.

“Now… We’ll try to make things work. Test the waters. I’m very serious about this, Y/N,” he tells you. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life so I’m not gonna let go of you now.”

“You have no idea how happy this is making me,” you choke out feeling the tears forming in your eyes.

“Oh Love, please don’t cry,” he begs and leaning down he kisses your tears away. “I’m right here, with you. Sorry it took me so long you get here, but I’m here now.”

“I know,” you huff blinking away the tears as you pull him down and press your lips to his. “I love you, Harry,” you whisper against his perfect lips. You feel him exhale sharply as he keeps kissing you before he lifts his head so your eyes meet again.

“I’ve always loved you.”

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles xyou #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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minor-solemnity · 4 years ago

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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ribbononline · 4 years ago

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team hcs lets go! lets go!

maxie;

Numel/Camerupt (Sandstone) ; Caught when having temporarily ran away from home as a child, the pokemon he's had the longest. She's very chill and just vibing most of the time- she loves to cuddle and she’s well behaved, Due to having been with Maxie all his childhood, she’s seen a lot of the… less then pleasant stuff, and will still fly into a panic if she ever sees anyone attempting to harm him physically. She’s very protective.

Poochyena/Mightyena (Granite) ; His parents owned a Houndoom and a Mightyena, who had two Poochyena pups together. When Maxie ran off in highschool he took them both with him. Granite's very lively, and out of the whole team has the most trouble fighting against Archie's team. She just doesn't get what happened between them. She listens well however, she just…. doesn’t get why she can’t hang out with her sister anymore.

Poochyena/Mightyena (Obsidian) ; The other Poochyena pup Maxie took from home, though she ended up as a part of Archie's team somewhere in highschool.

Zubat/Golbat/Crobat (Mercury) ; Obtained in Rocket, one of the Pokémon issued to almost all members. Mercury was a recent catch of the team, so while he was a little freaked out and untrusting, Maxie ended up winning him over fairly easily with some treats. He loves to sit on Maxie's head and/or wrap his wings around him. It doesn't make seeing easier but Maxie has never managed to get him to stop.

Weezing (Chalcantite) ; Obtained in college, from an old teacher Maxie got along with well enough. She was retiring, and wanted her Pokémon to be able to travel a while longer. So, Maxie took the Weezing over! Originally he'd never gotten a nickname- and even though Maxie technically gave him one, it's kind of a 50/50 chance if he remembers that thats his name and responds to it. His original owner died somewhere in the Rocket years. Chalcantite is fairly slow, but very enthusiastic. He's doing his best. Post-ORAS Maxie let's him retire to a Pokémon daycare since he's already getting old- but he still gets very excited whenever Maxie visits. He's living out his last days being spoiled by the employees of the daycare.

Gligar (Novaculite) ; Obtained post-ORAS. Once Maxie and Archie moved in together, they kept finding items around the house missing, and someone kept going trough their trash nightly. Eventually Maxie (literally) caught the culprit. He originally meant to release it, but Archie convinced him to try training it- Gligars don't normally live in Hoenn, so it probably got here by accident somehow and didn't know how to adapt to the environment, leading to the thefts. Training it would help it! Also it's a ground type come on Maxie you know you want another cute ground type let it join, It worked. A spoiled little thing that loves to constantly be held and cuddled and will demand attention if it's not given. Novaculite- or Nova, as literally everyone including Maxie as this point calls him- rarely joins battles, it doesn’t really enjoy them- but it likes to just hang around and watch, eating whatever treats it can get.

Trapinch/Vibrava/Flygon (Mica) ; Obtained post-ORAS, about a year after Nova. Originally found as a trapinch when Maxie was trying to research in the desert of route 111, apparently in the area this Trapinch called his territory. After days of fighting with the thing, eventually it just... didn't show up one day when Maxie got into the space it normally protected. Kind of curious (and slightly concerned) Maxie ended up looking around for it, finding it stuck under some collapsed desert ruin fragments it couldn't get out from again. Taking pity on the Trapinch he helped it out, and after that it started following him around. After a week or two when research was done, Maxie ended up taking it home, and that was that. Very brash and competitive, Mica loves to fight- and also loves to be praised afterwards for it. Having only recently evolved into it's final form, it's still not used to it's larger body and keeps accidentally breaking furniture.

Volcarona (Tephra) ; Obtained post-ORAS, the most recent addition to the team. Caught when on a vacation in Unova with Archie- Maxie kind of fell in love with the look of the Pokémon, and decided to take her home. Archie nearly got a heart attack when he saw Maxie with it. Tephra is very regal, very large, and (like most of Maxie's pokemon) very spoiled and pampered. She does not tolerate a no for an answer- though she never causes a fuss. If she disagrees with you she will just burn her path to whatever she wanted- very calmly, and very regally. She only listens to Maxie.

She's the one Pokémon on Maxie's team Archie can not figure out how to win over. She just... hovers there. Will she burn you? Will she just let you pass? You won't know until you walk past her. For your sake, have some treats on hand to bribe her.

archie;

Carvanha/Sharpedo (Dusk) ; Caught as a child with the help of his mom and one of his older siblings. They found it without the rest of it's school, and Archie was adamant he wanted it as his Pokémon, so they helped him catch it. Stubborn and kind of aggressive, it took forever to tame him- As a child Archie was just constantly covered in bites from it. He never gave up or was even discouraged though- this was his Pokémon!! He loved it!! Over time the Pokémon finally started feeling safe around him, and they got closer until it evolved. As a Sharpedo he honestly mellowed out a lot. It's very easygoing, and great with kids. It loves to be pet and cuddled- which Archie always indulges, despite the fact that Dusk very much has the rough skin ability.

Grimer/Muk (Pizza) ; Found as a child in a nearby trash dump- the Grimer was actually sitting in an empty pizza box. Being like 10 and thinking he was so smart it thus got named Pizza. Pizza's also pretty chill, and loves to eat and sleep. That said, when it is awake, it's very good at sneaking up on people. Maxie doesn't get how a literal goop of toxic waste can do that but Pizza is a toxic waste goop of many talents.

Poochyena/Mightyena (Granite) ; Obtained from Maxie in high school. Like her sister, she's very energetic and lively. Granite loves to run, and is pretty much always doing something. She listens very well though, and she’s mostly just a good girl. She’s a bit smaller then her sister. Much like her sister, she has the hardest time fighting Maxie's team in battle. She just doesn't get why they must fight <:[

Zubat/Golbat/Crobat (Fangs) ; Obtained in Rocket, one of the Pokémon issued to almost all members. The zubat had been caught a while ago, and had been passed from grunt to grunt- with some... not great owners inbetween. When Archie got him, the thing was incredibly skittish and aggressive with massive trust issues for humans. It took Archie forever to even get it to stop trying to bite him whenever it was out of it's pokeball, but he never gave up on the tiny Pokémon. Eventually managing to win it's trust, Fangs still has a lot of trust issues towards other humans. It tolerates Maxie, Shelly and Matt, but prefers not to be touched by anyone but Archie. Still, it loves him very much- and it's loved a lot in return. Fangs has the best life he can now, Archie always does his best to make him feel comfortable no matter the situation they're in. He also turned out to be a very strong fighter, despite being fairly weak (mainly due to mistreatment) as a zubat.

Mantyke/Mantine (Tidal) ; Caught just before somewhere in Rocket years. He met her on one of his walks along the beach- thinking over his life’s mistakes-with one of her fin being caught up in net. After helping her out she turned out very playful and he definitely could use something nice- besides, because of her injury she seemed to have lost her school and needed the company. So he ended up catching her! Once she evolved (somewhere in Aqua) she got trained to help rescue people- mainly in case a grunt ever got stuck in a rip current or something. As such , while still playful, she knows to be careful gentle and caring when it comes down to it! She's a good girl. While Maxie knew of her in Rocket he never saw her much, and she had the hardest time warming up to him after the teams reunited again. She doesn’t battle often. Archie takes her along sometimes when battling for fun or if he truly thinks he needs her- but usually he lets her do her thing. As such, she was not present in the deep sea cavern fight.

Castform (Missy) ; Obtained post-ORAS. A little pest who wants to get her way. The reunited team tried catching her to help study and watch out for lingering weather effects Kyogre and Groudon might've caused, but failed each time. Instead she got very good at ruining the equipment near the base or that was brought out on field missions. Eventually Archie literally made a deal with her to Stop Doing That in exchange for pokepuffs. It worked! She stuck around, and became a part of the team. She's no good at fighting and never battles, but she's very good at demanding attention. Plus, she ended up helping the team out with the research on lingering weather effects after all, so she deserves some extra treats for her hard work, she thinks. Archie has no idea how to deal with her, but she’s happy and helping out, so… he supposes he can deal with it.

Archie also has a bunch of Pokémon that are by no means actually his- they’re wild Pokémon that he’s helped along the way, and remember and recognise him. A lot will hang out with him, some follow him around, and a select few will happily temporarily join his team if he asks. The most notable ones are;

A Quagsire named Mr. Goop. She was found sickly from having been caught in an oil spill. After having been rescued and cared for by Aqua, she was mistaken for male for the longest time due to her large backfin. Once Archie found out she just had a larger fin then normal for females of the species but what still very much a girl, she’d already gotten used to the name of Mr. Goop, so Mr. Goop she stayed.

A Sealeo named Tundra. Found as a spheal without a group and living in waters to warm for it, Archie helped it migrate to a better environment. However, the thing never seemed to want to join another spheal pack, and as such just ended up traveling around with Archie for a long time. It was always however very interested in battling, and evolved soon enough- ending up strong enough to survive on it’s own fine. Tundra joins Archie’s team most often whenever he needs an extra fighter- Tundra loves the battles, and it loves the treats. Still, it appreciates being able to return to the wild seas again in the end.

A Lanturn named Siren. Found with her lightstem damaged, Aqua helped repair parts of it with prosthetics. Once she could hunt on her own again, she was released back to the seas, but still visits the base every few months and hangs around there for a couple of weeks.

#hc post long time no see…. finally had some writing energy again #magma leader maxie #aqua leader archie #team magma maxie #team aqua archie #hoenn #oras #FOR SOME REASON IVE HAD THEIR ADMIN AU TEAMS FIGURED OUT FOR AGES #BUT I NEVER FINALIZED THEIR MAINLINE TEAMS?#anyways. here . its done now.

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

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black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Legally Yours - Ch. 06

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: The dinner is coming up and there’s a little flangst. Also, they are still two stubborn idiots.

WC: 3779

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

It feels like she’s been sitting down for ages and she’s worried about Bobby and Liv. Sure enough, Sam sensed her worries and texted her that they are both being taken care of. So at least there’s that.

Pamela made her slip into the sequin dress after her shower and the woman put some makeup on her face.

“Not too much, okay?” Y/N says, just making sure because she still wants to be herself after all.

The brown haired woman chuckles, “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll just turn up the volume a little, you’re fine the way you are. You have a cute face, don’t want to hide that below too much make up anyway,”

With careful strokes, Pamela shows her how she can apply it herself for her next outings and yeah, Y/N can’t say that she doesn’t like that. Because it seems hideous to always have a stylist at hand, no? She didn’t sign up for this crap.

When Pamela is done, she leaves with a contented smile on her face and Y/N walks over to the floor lengths mirror that’s attached to her closet to catch her own reflection. She wears heels, has to still get used to it because they are way higher than the ones she wears for work. Apparently being fake engaged to Dean Winchester comes with a sacrifice of her feet.

Her eyes trail up her body from her shoes to her face and it’s weird because she thought that she’d probably not be able to recognize the women who will be staring back at her, but she does. Pamela was true to her word, she just really turned up the volume to Y/N’s boring self.

Okay, now is the time to present herself, she guesses. Sam had said that they’re waiting in the study. She’s yet to find out where it is, though.

Sticking her tongue out at her own reflection, she starts to chuckle. She’s living the life she never thought she’d get to experience and god, she hopes she won’t lose herself in it.

With a last look around her new room, she makes her way to Dean’s study.

Dean makes his way into his study after having rushed home after the meeting to take a shower. He had been sweating bullets since this morning and it was refreshing to say the least. It would have been better if his dick wasn’t half hard when he thought about Y/N. He didn’t rub himself off, didn’t let himself go there and jerk off to the image of a girl he paid to pretend to be his fake fiancée. He was afraid that it would uncover things he didn’t need in his life right now.

So, when he pushes the door to his study open, his dick is still semi but Dean thinks it’ll go away soon. Especially when he thinks about the dinner with his dad because that meeting is what nightmares are made of.

Sam’s already waiting on the couch, nursing a drink. He probably had a rough day as well and Dean can’t blame him. He walks over to his mini bar, pours himself two fingers of whisky and sits down with a grunt across from Sam.

“Go on,” Dean says, “I know you have a lot to say,”

The other man just chuckles, “She’s cute and pretty, you didn’t mention that,”

“Is she?” Dean cocks an eyebrow and takes a sip from his drink, “You’re right, I didn’t.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Sam,” Dean snorts out the man’s name, “I don’t even know her. She was in the right place at the right time,”

“You were never a good liar. I could always see through you.”

Dean frowns, “What do you mean?”

The other man chuckles as he takes a sip and lets the liquid travel down his throat, “You could have chosen anyone for that. The execs in your meetings, the ones working just below you, yet, you picked her.”

“Are you trying to go anywhere with this?” Dean asks with clear irritation in his voice.

“Wait for it,” Sam says before he takes another gulp of the brown liquid in his glass and Dean rolls his eyes. Sam grins before he goes on, “All our lives, you have never picked a girl, Dean. Mostly they offer themselves to you, even back at school, do you remember?”

Oh, yeah, he does remember. Sam’s not wrong, but still.

“They offer and present themselves to you or your father picks them for you to bring along to social events and most of the time, you’re a one date kinda guy. You never ever picked one on your own.”

“You say it like women are something you find in a field,”

“Am I wrong?” Sam raises an eyebrow to match Dean’s, “Fact is, you picked out Y/N, even though you could have waited. You could have talked things through with me, wait until Carmen gets back and we could have come up with a plan. You know that she isn’t in for you either, she’s signed a contract and was willing to sign that prenup.”

“I didn’t want to wait for Carmen to come back to me,” Dean’s voice is stern. He really didn’t, he didn’t want people to think he let it slide when she’s been cheating on him. How will it make him look? He’s not a fucking idiot.

“I’m just saying that you’re being hot headed doesn’t help us at all. And the fact is still there that you’ve picked her and that means something in my book,”

“What stupid books are you reading?”

Sam chuckles and ignores Dean’s remark, “Carmen boarded the next plane back, by the way,”

Dean takes a sip from his drink, thinks about Sam’s words, “You can tell her that she doesn’t need to show up. I’m not taking her back when I have Y/N,”

The other man’s grinning from ear to ear and Dean rolls his eyes a second time, “And no, I don’t really like her. I barely know her. I just find her interesting, is all. She’s different to all the women I’ve ever met.”

There’s a laugh coming out of Sam and Dean scoffs annoyingly.

Just when Dean wants to open his mouth to tell Sam to shut the fuck up, there’s a knock at the door.

They both turn their heads to see Y/N open the door to his study. Dean feels a rush of blood to his head. How long has she been standing outside? How much did she hear? But before he can think about being more embarrassed, another punch knocks him out when he sees her walking in with her beautiful dress.

“Sorry,” She says, “Am I interrupting?”

Dean has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak, “No, you didn’t. Come in,”

She nods and walks further into the room. She looks absolutely stunning, a really stark contrast to the look when he met her. It’s not that she was ugly before, she wasn’t — isn’t. He can see that she only wears minimal makeup.

“How do I look?” She asks with a smile as she twists around in her dress and somehow Dean wishes that Sam wasn’t here to see her like this.

“You do clean up nicely,” It slips out of Dean.

Clean up nicely? What the fuck did he just say? Who says that?

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Sam chimes in to probably play off the stupidity that Dean just let slip out of his mouth and Dean sends him a grim look.

But it doesn’t stop there because Sam ignores Dean’s look to wink at her. He’s a little irritated by it, to say the least.

“So, Y/N,” Sam says, “Do you care to tell me how you two met?”

“Sam, aren’t you late for your appointment?” Dean interrupts.

Sam looks at him puzzled and it takes another two seconds until he catches on, “Oh, yeah. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you because you’re a delight,”

The tall man stands up and takes Y/N’s hand, places a kiss on the back of it before he leaves and Dean tries his best not to let the feeling of jealousy hit him. He doesn’t know why he should feel jealous anyway. There’s nothing to be jealous about. It’s a business deal. He should be used to it, right? Right.

“My father will arrive in thirty minutes,” Dean says drily, his throat restricting the longer she looks at him.

“Is there anything I need to know before you feed me to him?”

Dean lets out a small snort, “I’m not feeding you to him. I’m there too and can help out. When I think of it, maybe it’ll be good if we could establish the story of how we met.”

“Oh, I know!” Y/N shrieks out and gets all excited. Dean thinks it’s really cute. “How about I got into the elevators so quick which made you spill the coffee you’re holding over your shoes and pants? Like, the story is really partially true and it would be less hard for me to make it sound trustworthy,”

“Go on,” Dean nods his head, and empties his glass before he sets it down on the table before him.

Her long legs and the away she sits doesn’t help his state of mind. The dress has ridden up on the couch and Dean tries to look anywhere other than at that exposed flesh that he’d like to sink his teeth into.

“I was afraid that you’d be mad at me so I offered to buy you a coffee to make up for it, but you didn’t want that because you were late to a meeting. But I was persistent and waited in front of the door and asked you so many times if you wanted a coffee and to please let me make up for ruining your suit. And somehow you agreed, maybe just to shut me up. We went on a coffee date every day until we fell in love.”

After her story, she smiled satisfactorily. The smile of a winner if he ever did see one. One he shows too often after a done deal.

“I don’t really have time for coffee dates,” Dean adds his two cents, knowing that it doesn’t sound quite nice but he just can’t help himself. That’s the way he is. The way people expect him to be.

There’s a little pout on her lips, and Dean’s not prepared for that because it looks too cute, “I mean do you have a better idea?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “I like it, I never said I didn’t,”

“Good, but I’ll let you come up with your proposal story, okay? I feel like I can’t pick my brain anymore than I already have. It has been a long day.”

“Right,” He stands up and pats his thighs, buttons up his suit jacket too because he thinks it hides his more than semi hard dick pretty well, “Wait here, I’ll be right back,”

Dean leaves the door open and Y/N can hear his heels clicking on the stone flooring until the sound is out of earshot. She wonders what he’s up to, feels a little nervous about it.

While Dean’s gone, she gets up from the couch and looks around the room. The study is spacious, like every room in this ridiculously big penthouse, she guesses. There’s a desk at the far wall, a bookshelf graces the other wall. It’s full of books. She wonders if Dean really reads. It doesn’t seem like he has the time to do so. She wonders if he relaxes at all because he seems so tense all the time. Maybe he only tenses up when he’s around her, at least she can’t help to feel this way.

There’s the group of sofas where she was sitting on but right by the floor to ceiling window is another sofa that looks out over the city. She wonders why that is because the sofa seems a bit out of place.

Standing by the window, she’s looking out over the city, the people and cars seem so small from up here. She doesn’t dare to touch the glass though in fear that she’d leave handprints all over it. Dean probably won’t be happy about that.

She’s lost in thought, wondering over and over again if she had made the right choice. It was a spur of the moment thing. She does a lot of those, like the time she hooked up with Jimmy for the first time. They were at a frat party and she knew him from her communications class. She let him drive her home, even though he was definitely not fit enough to drive but her head was spinning and she might have had a couple of drags of a joint too many. They didn’t even make it into her apartment, fucked right in the backseat, not worrying about contraception.

By the time she knew she was pregnant, it was too late to abort, and honestly, she wouldn’t know if she would have. It’s not the baby’s fault. She and Jimmy tried to make it work, even though he was always suspicious if the baby was really his. Jimmy’s parents were loaded and he had a bigger apartment close to campus, funded by his parents. She moved in there because his parents wanted it that way, not because he did. While Jimmy was still enrolled and finished his degree, she dropped out to care for their baby. He eventually graduated but stayed in college to pursue his Master's degree.

When Liv was four, Y/N wanted to try her chance at the job market as well, but Jimmy was against it. His parents were too, apparently, because they said that she wouldn’t be able to give their grandchild a good future and they wouldn’t stand to have their name dragged into this. She fought tooth and nail to keep Liv and changed the child's name back to her own. And after a long fight, they eventually agreed that she would take Liv, and Jimmy was not to pay a single dime.

Getting out of the abusive and loveless relationship was probably the best decision of her life up until that point. Jimmy drank a lot and was overall not happy. He would lash out at her and she didn’t know why she stayed. Maybe there was a shred of hope that she desperately tried to cling on to.

So, when she moved out, she stayed with Bobby for a while until she found the job in Dean’s company, and then it went pretty quick. She and Olivia moved into their own apartment.

A year later, she heard the news that Jimmy’s parents went bankrupt and Jimmy was trying to hold himself above water after he developed a drinking problem. Apparently, Karma’s right there helping her.

She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Dean returning, only realizes it when a figure is standing behind her. Startled, she jumps a little as she turns around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He mumbles as he steps closer to the window to stand next to her and they look out of the window together. It’s romantic, she thinks, with the backdrop of the city, especially at night.

Looking over to Dean again, she notices him holding a velvet box in his hand and smirks, “Is that a ring, loverboy?”

Dean sends her a look accompanied by a little frown. Something that says, I have heard it but I won’t say anything because it’s stupid. Well, he might not be wrong.

“Sorry,” She breathes out, “I told you I tend to babble when I’m nervous,”

He sighs and lifts his eyebrow before he opens up the box and it is as if the air has been punched out of her lungs.

“Wow,”

The ring is absolutely beautiful.

Dean smirks and clears his throat before he speaks, “It used to be my mother’s,”

It wasn’t like all the engagement rings Y/N’s seen that the rich and famous women are wearing nowadays. This one is modest, might even be boring and too normal compared to those. The ring has a bigger round diamond in the middle, with two smaller accompanying stones on its side. It’s a gold color ring too, not white gold like they usually are. It looks special and it looks like it has more sentimental value around it than monetary value. Maybe that’s also why she thinks it’s so precious.

“Dean, I can’t possibly wear this ring,” She says, but his hand already goes to her left one, grabbing it and holding it up to slip the ring on her finger.

He pauses to look at the ring, smiles as he sees how it fits. How did it fit anyway? How is that even possible?

“I was right with the measurement,” Dean chuckles and she thinks that he wants to turn away, but he’s still standing here holding her hand, “I want you to wear it whenever you’re with me, okay?”

She can not do anything else but nod.

“I proposed to you on this rooftop, overlooking the city,” He says and it takes her a while to realize that he’s talking about his proposal story that he’s suggesting.

“Right,” She bites her lips and looks down to the ring briefly before she looks up to meet his eyes again. They are glistening a little, and there’s a hint of a smirk on his face. Right here by the window, his freckles are prominent on his face.

Y/N’s distracted, feels the urge to count them.

“We were alone and we just had a meal. It was a warm summer night and we took our desserts on the terrace,”

She can picture it clearly and her heart starts to beat faster.

“I didn’t prepare a speech,” Dean clears his throat, and adds, “And the things I said weren’t particularly romantic,”

“It didn’t matter, because I know that you feel more comfortable showing your actions rather than using your words,” She chimes in, “There’s no romance needed, no sappy words, because you already show me enough how much you love me,”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes after she said it. Somehow she thinks it’s fondness, but then something changes and he avoids her eyes. Instead, he looks down to the hand that’s still holding hers. His cheeks are tinted pink. It’s totally cute how embarrassed he gets.

“So,” Dean swallows, “The contract says that we don’t touch each other more than necessary, especially not in private. But since my dad will be here, we will probably need to keep up the illusion, don’t you think?”

“Dean, the only one who seems to be uneasy and flinches at my touches is you,”

The pink in his cheeks rises up to his ears, “Yeah, I’ll try to change, okay?”

“I want you to feel comfortable. And please know that you touching me doesn’t bother me. I’m not disgusted or disturbed by it, okay?”

He nods, “I’m not—” He starts, but stops to exhale, and then he tries again, “I’m not disgusted by your touches, I just need to relax, I guess,”

“What would help you relax?” She asks and she means it. Maybe she can help.

“It would help if I knew that I didn’t pay you,” He chuckles drily, “Dad will be here soon so let’s get this over with,” He pulls her along to the door and her grip tightens around his hand.

She’s so fucking nervous.

“What if he hates me?” She whispers just before they reach the door and Dean turns around, places a hand where her shoulder meets her neck.

“My father wouldn’t like you even if it was real. He has high standards,”

“That’s fucking reassuring, thanks,”

Dean chuckles, “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, okay?” He rubs along her arm with his other hand, “Can you pretend to love me for a while, Y/N?”

“It depends,” She says with a shrug and his eyes widen. She smirks then to ease the situation because he obviously doesn’t get the joke. “Can you pretend that I’m the only thing that keeps you going? Pretend that I’m your first thought when you wake up and the last before you fall asleep, Dean? It’s more challenging for you with the array of women you’ve dated,”

He smiles crookedly, and there’s that glint in his eyes again, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not worried about my end of the bargain,”

Her face feels hot all of a sudden but she frowns after she catches herself, “Of course you’re not because you have nothing to lose,”

The frown on Dean’s face matches hers from before, “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah well, if I screw this up, I will lose my job and a steady income but you?” She pokes at his chest with her index finger, “You, Mister, will probably get a lecture from your dad, but you’ll be back to dating super rich women and beautiful models, and you can go on with your life as if nothing happened.”

Dean chuckles and he looks kind of amused? Which is not fair at all when she’s all worked up.

He pushes both his hands into his pants pockets, balances back and forth on his heels before he leans down to be on her level, brings down the air with him and she can smell his cologne. It’s intoxicating.

“Tell you what,” Dean smirks, “If this blows up because of me, if they should see through me or if anyone should question my feelings for you, I’ll buy you an apartment and I’ll help you secure a job. I have connections. Somewhere where no one knows that you were being engaged to me. But,” He darts his tongue out, licks over his lips and she bites down on her own because she knows exactly how they feel, “If you make a mistake and it blows up because of you, sweetheart,” He makes a pause and stands back straight.

“I have nothing you’d want,” She shakes her head.

“There’s something,” He shrugs and he says it so easily too. She can’t help but frown in confusion.

“What?”

“If it blows up because of you, Y/N. If you fail to convince the world how much you love me,” He grins, and the grin grows cocky, “You’ll marry me,”

Ch. 07

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#legally yours #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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eartht137 · 4 years ago

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DEAREST HEART-LETTER TWO

Whooo, goodness!! I spooked myself after writing the first letter. There is a dog next door to my house and she likes to stare out towards the back "alley way" and one night while I was showering by candlelight (blinds still aren't fixed) she wouldn't stop staring out at the alley way. My azz was spooked lol. That being said, here is another "letter" from Mr. Kal El himself. Enjoy curvies MMMMMMwwwaahhhhhhh!!!!

Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Stalking (This chapter is pretty tame)

A few days later, the whole situation had hidden itself in your brain. You had so much going on in your waking life, you really didn't have time to dwell on a possible prank. Your birthday had arrived and you really weren't feeling too thrilled about it. Your depression just had to spike up and ruin the one day you thought you would enjoy, but you didn't even get to stress about it for long. You'd stepped into your office to boot up your computer for the day, and you saw it. On your desk was a letter, same vintage parchment, but his time it had an Aster instead of a Rose. You stared at it for so long, wondering if you should read it or not. You finally sat down and pulled the letter out of the envelope to see what he had to say.

Happy Birthday Little One,

I wish so badly that I could show you the best birthday you've ever had, but that will have to wait. I know you're not looking forward to today. I've noticed you haven't mentioned it much, and you almost forgot. How do you forget your birthday silly girl? I have purchased a gift every year since we met, I can't wait until I'm able to give them to you and you can unwrap each and everyone as if it were Christmas. Why haven't you planned anything? Not even a free day for yourself, what's going on? I wish you would talk to me. I want so badly to help you get better, but its a one day at a time deal. I was there you know, when you almost died? I was there the night you called your husband and told him the truth about how bad you felt. I swear it was the scariest night of my life when the surgeon walked in and told you they were putting you in an induced state for a week. All I could think was, what if you didn't wake up, or what if they did something wrong? What if they hurt you more or caused a bad reaction. I have seen a lot of things, but I have never been so sad and afraid to lose someone like you. I watched over you every night, making sure you'd come back to me and the baby. Well, you know what I mean. I know that's been rough on you, but you are making great progress. I remember you saying you'd like to change your hair, would you like for me to set up your appointment? I think you'd look delicious with cherry red hair, just don't cut it please. I love your hair. I love everything about you. I know you don't remember, but the moment our eyes met, I couldn't get you out of my head. I tried, I swear I tried so hard to stay away. I'd go for walks at night to clear my head and try not to think of you, and I'd find myself further and further away from home. It has to be fate that wants us together, because there you were, pulling in from work one night. I watched you sit there blaring your music, trying to finish the song before you went inside. I knew you right away, I had never been so....I can't describe how it felt, it was overwhelming. It had to be love that outweighed the hurt, even your "husband" walked out to greet you, it just couldn't overshadow what my heart felt. I told myself that I loved you enough to let you be happy, and I did for awhile. Not one day or night went by where you didn't cross my mind, so I decided to whisk by and take a picture of you, just for memory of the woman I couldn't have. One picture turned to two, two turned to ten. I had to get the perfect angle, but the only perfect angle is up close, in person; like I said I did try. I wish I could take you out for your birthday. I'd cook for us and we'd go down by the river, or I could take you somewhere 5 star. I know its really not your thing, but you deserve to be served like a queen. You are a queen to me. I dreamed about you, I dream about you all the time, but this one was different. It scared me so much, I woke in cold sweat. I can't bear to think about it now, but I know it was just a stupid dream. I will have to go out of the country for awhile, but I promise to still write as often as I can. I love you, so much.

With All My Heart and Soul,

Kal-El

"Babe!!! Babe, I need to tell you something." You said scared senseless. You rushed to your husband, showing him the letters and explained that you thought it was a sick prank. Your husband immediately called the police. He packed you all up and as much as he hated it, you all went to stay with your mom.

That night while you were up talking to your mom, she leaned back and asked you something insane.

"Is that really another man's baby?" she asked seriously.

"NO! I don't even know who this is, I swear I don't know a Kal-El. I've never met anyone like that in all my life." You whisper screamed at her as you struggled to hold back tears. She stared into your eyes for a moment before sighing heavily. Before you knew it she was crying and hugging your neck so tight you couldn't breathe.

"After all you've been through, this was the last thing you needed. I've always told you to be careful and watch your surroundings." She fussed.

"Ma I did, but I don't ever go anywhere. I stay in the house most of the time and I'm always with my family." You couldn't help but feel as if you were being attacked.

"You never know who is watching you." She argued back.

"Ma, look at me." You said standing back opening your arms to show your full body. "All these years I've worked hard to feel comfortable in my own skin. It took me a long time to feel fully comfortable around my own husband. All of these years you guys have trashed me for my weight, the times you all have told me that I get different treatment for my size, there was no way in this world I could've ever imagined that I would get stalked by-by this Kal-El fucker!" You yelled as tears flowed down your face, you could even feel your face strain in anger. "Now this is happening, and I should've been watching my surroundings. You drilled in my head for years that people looked past me for you and everyone else. You drilled in my head that people would only want me to use me, YOU DRILLED IN MY HEAD THAT I NEVER HAD THE LOOK TO MAKE IT OUT HERE, SO NOW HERE WE ARE WITH A MANIAC THAT SOMEHOW MANAGED TO FIND ME THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW OR HAVE ANY CLUE AS TO WHAT THIS GUY LOOKS LIKE AND I SHOULD'VE BEEN WATCHING MY SURROUNDINGS!?" Your head felt like it was on fire, then all at once stars appeared and you lost vision.

When you woke up you were laying on the floor with a jacket under your neck as your mom and family (that she had called) stood around trying to get you to come back to. You tried sitting up, but only felt dizzier. Your hands and feet felt numb and you were shaking as sweat poured off of your body. Your husband sat by you, fanning you and giving you water. When you began to feel better, he helped you up and over to the couch. He asked everyone to leave you alone and not upset you anymore.

"Baby what do you want to do? How can I make you feel safe?" Your husband asked.

You stared deep in his eyes and remembered why you loved him so much. He always went out of his way to make sure you were happy. You thought back to not so pleasant days when you both argued and said mean things and your realized then and there how much you took him for granted sometimes. Before you knew it the flood gates released and you sobbed.

"Can you just hold me please?" You asked in a small pitiful voice.

"I will always hold you and be there for you baby. I love you. We will get through this together, like we always do."

#dark clark kent #plus size reader #henry cavill #dark superman

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lovely-necromancy · 4 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

#creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #brain thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #reader insert #no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out #Crossposted #as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read #other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3 #Ao3 has priority #A cure for insomnia

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