#it doesn’t feel joyful or exciting or satisfying

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Gosh this writers block has been with me for months now and it’s gotten to the point where no matter what I write, I’m unhappy with it, and it looks wrong and reads weird and feels bad and it’s just. come on man. This kinda sucks y’know.

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT 18+: their sexual energy towards you 🎥❤️‍🔥

pile one

they think your fine asf, sexy asffff, like beautiful. they put you on a high pedestal & high worth. they love your ass, they wanna do some backshots & u throw it back lmao. idk if their competing for you, ur putting up boundaries, or they are but someone’s standing on business & fighting for what they want. they might be scared of something, overthinking depending on your situation but it’s some anxious energy when they desire you. if your not giving them sex maybe their frustrated. but they would love some nudes, facetime sex. do they like to record? he thinks your so sexy & has a crushhh like he intends on coming back, bringing it back. just celebrating in child like excitement, gifting you, missing you because your so sexyy. why can’t he have youuu, like he feeling trapped to be honest. he just feel so awwnnn🫧. he probably just trying to get through you not having sex if you guys are not active currently & feels like your forbidden ⛓️ but he deeply desires you, baddd. your his type like the type of people he watches porn on. i could see them thinking about traveling, exploring & growing with you. the sexual experience they think about is at home, nice experience. i see like intimate, grownnn people drunk in LOVE type sexxx. we be all nighttt, LOVEEEEE. they definitely wanna get in between them legs, love your legs, how you sit! he think of you of each other peace of mind, like what you guys need.

pile two

okay, so i see a clear situation for some people this is someone that is at your job, school, that you guys work on something together, like professional partners. you might be a stranger that sit next to you, or work with you that they are plotting on how to come forward. for some you are probably still a stranger, or not as close and they see you being long term, and they want to work together and build something and a foundation with you that would be a wish fulfillment. their sexual thoughts is probably commitment, a lot of potiental. build on a relationship first? & wants to have a happy, both fulfilling and pleasurable time. their KINKYY. asf, and their desires with you is very unique, animalistic, lustful, and fetishes. a lot of 10s omg every card im turning over, this is stable, this is long term. this is something he willing to keep fucking, and do a lot with you. even if the sex is a lot of work and they picking u up. they want to grab on your hips and your ass. they definitely intend on getting in that, starting a spark, having a joyful exciting time. like they going to have some FUN sex with you make you happy. kissing while they in it. they love you, omg your their queen. lmao but the sex is going to be emotional but not vanilla at all. overall they might be mysterious, or you are. and it’s a crush, idk if they seem like your not feeling it or vice versa. or for someee people maybe their moral, mature and having flirty feelings waiting for a relationship again this can be your energy.

pile three

so currently this situation doesn’t look to present, active or in the best of terms. was it cheating going on?? is someone scared, trapped, and heartbroken. they still wanna fuck 👉🏽👈🏽 they intend on taking a risk & going for it. they want to start something new with you. you turn them on when your around them. they have a lot of not too lustful, but not to mature & commited sexual energy. “girl i can see your stressed, come rely on me for sex”. he wants to drink or smoke with you. get you wettt asf. you can just lay back on they bed and they wanna give to you and try some of that. if this person is kind of young they might have a objectifying mindset, but he’s satisfied. if you been posting yourself and you guys are not together they get turned on but irritated (im picking up on a cheating situation for some people). they think about sex toys with you. when your climaxxxing & being territorial over you. whoever cheated i see someone on their if you have dark hair they like that.

[i-luvsang]

do i get to know your name? — kim chaewon

pairing : idol!chaewon x fan!gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, idol!au ➖⟢ cw : nothing, i think!➖⟢ wc : 1K

chaewon falls a little bit in love with a lot of her fans. they’re all so pretty, so sweet as they grin and cheer her on. but god, the second she makes eye contact with you, with your eyes turned up and a smile so genuine and joyful that it lights your face up in a way she’s never seen before, it’s over for her. she sends you a wave and a wink, more than satisfied by your wild reaction as you scream in joy.

all night long, she pays special attention to you, always drifting back to you to point at you, pick up your phone and wave to it, even blow you kisses and send you hearts with her pretty hands. all while staring right at you, she talks into her mic about "how pretty our fearnots are." 

you think you must be going crazy. there's no way she'd pay all that close attention to you, right? you wonder if she always does this for other fans, but you can't help but deliver a happy reaction each time she does something that seems like it's just for you. she winks, and you wink back, making her grin even wider than before. she loves that she can make you shy in an instant, but that you’re willing to flirt back too.

she notices how kindly you act towards the other fans around you, and it hits her that she just needs to know you. chaewon can’t quite place it, but there’s something about you that has her thinking about you as she performs a song or the moment she walks in another direction to greet other fans.

after the concert, by some miracle, she manages to convince the staff to find you, and they actually do. you’re eternally confused when they invite you backstage, thinking it must be a joke or wondering if you did something horribly wrong to get in some sort of massive trouble.

they stick you in a random room and ask you to wait just a few minutes, brushing off your questions due to how busy they are. nervously, you pick at the hem of your shirt, the adrenaline from the concert still coursing through your veins, making it difficult for your brain to differentiate between the nervousness due to your unknown situation and the excitement of the rest of the night. to distract yourself, you pull out your phone, pulling up the video of chaewon grabbing it and posing for your camera. you giggle helplessly when she blows a kiss to the camera, then hands it back to you with a flirty smile that could have you melting right then and there.

you barely catch the sound of the door opening over the sounds of the screams coming from your phone. you quickly shut it off and set it down, hoping no one catches you in such a state. the device nearly tumbles straight to the floor when you look up to who opened the door.

you fumble for words, but she doesn’t let you flounder for too long before speaking.

“hi,” she grins, “sorry to keep you waiting, i just had to make sure i caught you before you left.”

her words don’t help you make sense of things at all, because it’s chaewon herself standing right in front of you.

“well, i mean, i-it’s okay! no worries, i’m so you’re so busy and exhausted right now and– yeah. um. did you, uh– need something from me?” mentally, you’re slapping your palm to your forehead. could i sound any stupider, you berate yourself in your head, still infinitely confused.

she can’t help but laugh softly, sweet and good-natured, at your flustered stake given how endearing she finds it. she always thinks it’s cute when her fans get nervous around her, but again, god, you’re just something different. with you, she just feels all the adoration tenfold when she looks at you, and she realizes that maybe love at first sight is real.

the smile she gives you is so sweet you really think you’re in true danger of melting this time. “well, you really caught my eye, i guess.” suddenly she’s feeling a little shy, too, realizing she’s never done anything like this before. but she pushes through it, easily back to her flirty and cute self. “and i couldn’t just let you disappear on me. you’re too cute for that.”

your eyes widen. you feel as though you must be hallucinating. “i– really?” is all you manage to say.

“really,” she confirms. “i know this is unconventional, and you don’t have to say yes to anything if you just want to stay my fan, but i’d really like to get to know you. if you want, let’s start with your name.” she grins, eager to hear your name so she can let it fall off her own lips.

“i’m– i mean, i would love that, i just– are you sure? i mean– that’s great, i’m just– just a bit– i don’t know, confused, i guess? this just … kind of doesn’t feel real,” you let out a disbelieving laugh, mostly at this whole situation and partially at how little sense you probably just made. and despite your last few words about this feeling fake, an uncontrollable grin tugs at your lips.

“i’m definitely sure,” she smiles right back at you. “and like i said, i know this is out of the norm, i get it not feeling quite real, even i’m a little confused right now, but truly, i just couldn’t get you out of my head since the moment we met eyes and i know that sounds super strange, but i’d really like to know more about you.

you let out another flustered laugh, but her words and the sincerity of her tone finally begin to sink in. “i’d really like that, too.”

she looks at you expectantly, like you’ve forgotten something. you raise your eyebrows questioningly, wondering what she’s looking for.

“so, do i get to know your name?”

[mysticinsightstarot]

Hii 💙

Let's dive into this detailed tarot spread about your future spouse, with Mingyu from SEVENTEEN's vibes guiding us! 🌟✨ Get ready for a fun and insightful journey filled with lots of quirky details and bright emojis!

1. Appearance & First Impression:

Card 1: 10 of Wands & The Sun Oof, your future spouse might look like they’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders, but that doesn’t dull their shine! ☀️💪 The 10 of Wands suggests they might appear a bit burdened or serious at first, but The Sun tells us that beneath that, they radiate warmth, positivity, and a bright, joyful energy. Their appearance has a magnetic quality, drawing people in with their glow—even when they’re working hard or under pressure. They have a strong presence that can’t be ignored, almost like the sun breaking through a cloudy day. 🌤️

Card 2: Page of Wands First impressions? Playful, adventurous, and full of youthful energy! 🎉 The Page of Wands shows that when you first meet them, they’ll come across as someone who’s always up for an adventure. They have a spark in their eye, a vibe that says, “Let’s go explore!” 🏞️ You’ll immediately sense their curiosity and enthusiasm, like they’re ready to take on the world with you by their side. They bring excitement into any room they enter, making you feel like every day with them is a new beginning.

2. Personality:

Card 3: 6 of Cups & Death Externally, your future spouse has a sweet, nostalgic vibe (6 of Cups) but with a depth that hints at major transformations (Death) 🌸🌑. People see them as someone who’s connected to their past, maybe even a bit sentimental or traditional in some ways. However, they’re not afraid of change; they’ve probably gone through some significant transformations in their life, which gives them a profound, almost mysterious aura. It’s like they carry the wisdom of someone who’s experienced deep changes and emerged stronger. They’re the perfect mix of old-school charm and modern reinvention. 💫

Card 4: 2 of Wands Internally, they’re always planning and dreaming about the future 🌍✨. The 2 of Wands shows that they’re a visionary, constantly thinking about what’s next. They’re the type who has a map in their mind, always looking at the bigger picture and making plans for the next big adventure. While they might appear calm and collected on the outside, inside they’re full of ideas and possibilities. They’re someone who’s never truly satisfied with staying still; they’re always ready to move forward, explore new territories, and make their dreams a reality. 🗺️

Card 5: 3 of Pentacles Their strength lies in teamwork and collaboration 🤝✨. The 3 of Pentacles shows that they’re great at working with others, building things together, and bringing out the best in everyone. Whether in their personal or professional life, they shine when they’re part of a team. They’re the kind of person who values the input of others and knows that the best results come from collective effort. People admire them for their cooperative spirit and their ability to create harmony in groups.

Card 6: 5 of Pentacles But every rose has its thorn 🌹. The 5 of Pentacles indicates that your future spouse might struggle with feelings of insecurity or lack at times. They might worry about not having enough, whether it’s material wealth, emotional support, or something else. These fears can make them feel isolated or left out, even when surrounded by people who care about them. It’s something they’ll need to work through, learning to trust that they’re worthy and deserving of abundance in all forms. 💖

3. Career & Ambitions:

Card 7: Ace of Pentacles Career-wise, they’re all about new opportunities and building something solid 💼🌱. The Ace of Pentacles shows that they’re either starting a new venture or constantly seeking ways to grow and expand their financial stability. They have a practical side that’s focused on creating a secure foundation for the future. Whether it’s a new business, investment, or career path, they’re driven by the potential to create something lasting and valuable. This card screams “new beginnings” in the material world, and they’re ready to grab it with both hands!

Card 8: 9 of Swords However, their ambition can sometimes turn into anxiety 😰. The 9 of Swords suggests they might be prone to overthinking or stressing out about their goals. They could be a bit of a worrier, especially when it comes to their career and making sure they’re on the right path. They care deeply about succeeding and might put a lot of pressure on themselves to get everything just right. It’s important for them to find balance and not let those worries keep them up at night. 🌜

4. Relationship Dynamics:

Card 9: 3 of Wands & Temperance In terms of compatibility, the 3 of Wands shows that your relationship will be all about growth and expansion together 🚀🌍. You’ll both be looking towards the future, making plans, and setting goals as a team. But with Temperance, it’s also about balance, patience, and blending your energies harmoniously. You’ll complement each other beautifully, each bringing something unique to the table and creating a relationship that’s both exciting and peaceful. It’s a dynamic where you both push each other to grow while keeping each other grounded. 🌈

Card 10: Ace of Swords & Knight of Cups When it comes to communication, they’re clear, direct, and emotionally expressive 💌🗡️. The Ace of Swords indicates that they value honesty and clarity in their words—they’re not one to play games or beat around the bush. Paired with the Knight of Cups, they’ll also be romantic, bringing a lot of passion and heartfelt emotion into the way they communicate. They’ll tell you exactly how they feel, often in a poetic or deeply moving way. Get ready for some love letters and deep conversations that touch your soul. 📜💖

Card 11: 8 of Cups Emotionally, there might be moments where they feel the need to walk away from things that no longer serve them 🚶‍♂️🌊. The 8 of Cups shows that your future spouse is someone who’s not afraid to leave behind what’s not fulfilling, even if it’s difficult. They’re on a journey towards emotional fulfillment and might have to make some tough choices along the way. This could mean they’ve had to let go of past relationships or situations that weren’t right for them, but it’s all part of their path towards a deeper connection with you.

Card 12: Ace of Wands, The Lovers & King of Cups The long-term potential of your relationship? Off the charts! 🌟 The Ace of Wands shows that your connection will be full of passion, creativity, and excitement 🔥. Paired with The Lovers and King of Cups, this relationship will be deeply loving, emotionally fulfilling, and spiritually connected. It’s not just about physical attraction (though there’s plenty of that!); it’s also about a deep, soulful bond that brings out the best in both of you. This is the kind of love that feels destined, powerful, and transformative. 💘

5. Advice from the Universe:

Card 13: The Star The universe is telling you to keep the faith 🌟. The Star is all about hope, inspiration, and healing. It’s a reminder that this relationship is guided by a higher purpose and that even in tough times, there’s always a light to guide you. Trust in the journey, believe in the magic of love, and know that you’re on the path to something truly special. This card encourages you to stay optimistic and to keep shining your light, as it will lead you to the love and life you’re meant to have. ✨

Bottom of the Deck: King of Pentacles The underlying energy here is all about stability, security, and abundance 🏰💰. The King of Pentacles suggests that your future spouse is someone who values creating a strong, stable life together. They’re someone you can count on, who will work hard to provide for you and build a life that’s comfortable and secure. They’re grounded, reliable, and have a deep appreciation for the finer things in life. This relationship is built to last, with a solid foundation of trust, love, and mutual respect.

So, there you have it! Your future spouse is a powerful mix of warmth, ambition, and depth, with a relationship that promises passion, growth, and lasting love. 🌟🔥💖 Get ready for an epic love story that’s written in the stars! ✨

[firsttarotreader]

Could you do a reading on how Pedro is feeling about being in London right now? There are a lot of race riots going on and the UK isn't the best place to be at the moment so how is he feeling about working there for a while?

Hello! I asked the cards about it and the first pull was The Sun, The Wheel of Fortune and Page of Coins. Also, welcome back my Salvador Dalí tarot deck! 🎉

The Sun means he is feeling joyful and passionate about his work there now. He’s feeling successful, happy and enthusiastic. However, The Wheel of Fortune shows him possibly having some ups and downs (emotionally too), knowing that things change, that they might change, since nothing ever stays the same. Like he doesn’t know if this job will go in a positive or negative way. Page of Coins points to him being ambitious, determined and focused, he wants to do everything right, he’s working to achieve his goals, but he could feel a little ineffective, maybe feeling like he is not succeeding in what he wanted to do (for the role, for the acting, not for his career as a whole), and he still needs to improve. But he’s got a plan and he’s sticking to it.

The second pull was the 4 of Coins, 9 of Cups and Temperance. 4 of Coins means he might be holding on tight to what he’s got, afraid of losing what he fought so hard to achieve. He’s not thinking of much else, he’s just fighting to keep his career the way it is, he could even be a bit selfish about it. 9 of Cups points to him being super happy and feeling lucky to be there, like a dream come true, and very satisfied at the way things are going. Temperance is about balance and moderation. Balancing past and present, insecurities and excitement, knowing that he has these positive and negative feelings but he needs to manage them. So he is adapting to the situation and working in harmony with the others.

Honestly, it doesn’t look like he is too bothered by the political issues in the UK now. He just seems very focused on his work and doing it right.

[rthidden]

Kickstart Your AI Journey with Quirky Projects

Feeling lost on how to dive into AI or data science? Let’s explore how silly projects can set you on the right path!

1. Embrace the Power of Hobby Projects

The best way to learn is by doing. Start with a project that genuinely excites you—whether it’s a chatbot that tells dad jokes or a robot arm that serves snacks. Here’s why starting with fun matters:

Boost Creativity: Engaging with something you find enjoyable keeps your mind open and sparks creativity.

Build Confidence: As you tackle simple tasks, you gain confidence in your skills and decision-making.

Learn through Mistakes: The inevitable hiccups and failures are your new best friends in learning. They provide invaluable lessons and playlists of “I guess we don’t do that” moments.

2. Set Clear, Bite-Sized Goals

Aim for the stars, but start with reachable little bullets. Define what you want to create and break it down. Let’s say you want to build a towel-holding robot. You might want to:

List the Features: Decide, for example, it should hold a towel and maybe flap like a bird.

Research Materials: Look up what sensors and motors you’ll need, even if it sounds technical.

Plan Small Milestones: Maybe the first milestone is just making it wave or making it stick to the wall. With that clarity, you can measure progress without the wild panic of "Where do I even start?"

3. Cultivate Continuous Learning

The world of AI and data science is a constantly moving target, but that’s not a problem—it's an adventure! Kindle curiosity through:

Online Resources: Websites like Coursera and Udacity offer beginner courses that simplify complex concepts.

Books and Blogs: Pick an easy-to-read book or blog about coding or AI techniques. Make your learning trenches fun!

Community Engagement: Join forums or local meetups. Sharing your “silly” projects—or just asking questions—can lead to friendships and invaluable insights.

4. Iterate and Expand Your Skills

Once you’ve completed your first quirk project, don’t stop pushing boundaries. Use your initial project as a launching pad.

Add New Features: Maybe your towel robot can now talk! Celebrate these upgrades as wins.

Seek Feedback: Don’t hesitate to involve friends or family. Their fresh eyes can offer perspectives you might miss.

Share Your Journey: Whether in a blog or social media, sharing your process not only encourages you to stick with it but also inspires others.

Starting your journey in AI or data science shouldn't feel daunting. By working on projects you're passionate about, you'll not only learn but do so in a joyful, satisfying way.

So, what project will you build this week? It doesn’t have to be perfect or groundbreaking; it just needs to be yours!

Embark on your AI adventure and share your quirky projects, thoughts, or questions in the comments below! Happy building!

[purple--queen]

Note: Clint is demon. Marc makes questionable decisions. One night stand (kind of) reason number 1923 why you shouldn't go home with strange men.

Pairing: Clint/Marc

Warning: implied sexual content. Sucking life out;) (It's actually attempted murder -_-)

Actually, he's not the type for something like that.

He doesn't let strangers pick him up.

That's Jake's thing.

Actually he just wanted to drink a beer. Just one beer before the night called. Before Khonshu called. And then there was Clint. He was just there and started talking. He usually avoids conversations, but there was something warm and sweet about Clint's voice that made him want to hear more and more. And every touch was full of electricity that sent a joyful tension through his body.

He wanted more.

And so he followed Clint out of the bar, like a moth drawn to a ray of light. And it turns out things only get better. It was the right decision. If he had stayed away from Clint like he usually does, he probably would have missed out on the best blowjob of his life. Plus, Clint's hair is so soft and fluffy and he makes such cute noises every time Marc pulls on it. He feels the electricity running through his body. Feels the waves of pleasure and the heat of Clint's body and he feels-

an incipient coldness that wraps around his heart.

“Uhm Clint,” Marc says slightly hesitantly and lets go of the hair. “Mhh,” Clint mutters without stopping what he’s doing. "May I ask a question?". This makes Clint look up. A blissful, self-satisfied grin spreads across his face as he licks his lip. “You can ask me anything,” Clint replies, smiling and cocking his head to the side. “Are you a demon?” The smile slips for just a moment before Clint lets out an amused snort.

“A demon?-” Clint repeats, sounding extremely amused. "What makes you think that?". "Oh just-" Marc begins and shrugs casually, he sees a white shadow out of the corner of his eye "the feeling that my life is just being sucked out-" "A blowjob should feel like that," Clint interrupts, grinning widely and with a excited grin. “In addition, your eyes are red and black.” “That’s the lighting conditions,” Cint says dismissively and is about to get back into action when Khonshu appears at the end of the bed. “And the God I work for doesn’t seem to like it.” Clint frowns in confusion. " The god-"

The sentence is interrupted when Khonshu grabs Clint's hoodie and throws him against the wall. “Ow,” Clint groans from the floor and Khonshu turns to Marc. “Things are going so badly for you that you have to resort to demons,” the god mocks, while Marc just shrugs his shoulders.

[blissfullyapillow]

“Can I touch your man tiddies?”

“Can I touch your man tiddies?”

Genshin Impact

Thoma x female reader

wc: 1,742

Notes: I have the strong urge to touch Thoma’s man tiddies, so this fic is inspired by Thoma’s man tiddies. Yes, you read that right. This radiates subtle horny energy I’m so sorry lol, fluff, slight crack, Ayaka & Ayato make an appearance

Back to Masterlist C

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 “Can I touch your man tiddies?” I ask Thoma with a straight face and in a serious tone. “H-Huh?” Thoma asks with genuine surprise. He turns around to gauge my expression, and when he realizes I’m being completely serious his face explodes in a wonderful burst of red.

“Um- I- Uh-” Thoma malfunctions.

I only watch in silence as Thoma continues to stutter. Eventually he takes a few deep breaths and calms himself down. “That request was… sudden. ….What made you ask Y/n?” Thoma quizzically replies. 

“I’ve been wanting to touch them for a while now. They look so nice, especially in your black shirt, and the way your chain bounces off of  them only makes me want to touch them even more.” I passionately give Thoma my honest answer.

Thoma’s face returns to it’s previously red state as he purposely avoids making eye contact with me. “Please?” I plead sweetly as I give him my best puppy eyes.

He does his best to continue avoiding eye contact, but eventually he succumbs to the urge and meets my intense gaze. The moment our eyes meet I smile to myself. Thoma can never resist my adorable puppy eyes. 

Thoma huffs as he closes the book he was reading. “I know you’re my girlfriend, but I never would’ve imagined you’d ask me something like… this. Oh, but don’t get me wrong! It’s a pleasant surprise and I find your bold question to be quite attractive- A-Anyway… You can touch them.” He happily agrees to my request. 

I jump up in joy and embrace Thoma. “Thank you so much Thoma!!” I cheer. Thoma returns my cheer with a happy chuckle. “Okay okay, well.. Whenever you’re ready, I guess?” Thoma tells me with a blush.

He sits down and situates himself in front of me as he waits for me to make the first move. His eyes are squeezed shut and his cheeks have a beautiful pink hue to them.

I sit on Thoma’s lap and wrap my legs around his waist. I giggle at the small noise he makes, but he doesn’t move at all save for the way his hands hold my hips in a death grip. 

I wait for a few moments and watch as he cutely peeks an eye open as nothing happens. I giggle at his adorable behavior and press a chaste kiss against his nose. “Relax, silly.” I softly whisper. I continue to press kisses all over his face until he bursts into laughter. 

“There you go, just relax. It’s nothing scary, I promise.” I encourage him. I watch with a smile as Thoma’s body language visibly relaxes, and the grip he has on my waist isn’t so strong anymore. “Hehe, thank you Y/n.” Thoma gratefully says after I successfully calm him down. 

“Anything for you baby.” I say. I try to contain my excitement as I reach my hand out to rest on Thoma’s chest. He watches with flushed cheeks as my hand makes contact with his chest. I lightly squeeze and Thoma squirms a bit. I bring my other hand up and do the same thing, and I blissfully sigh to myself as I feel Thoma’s tiddies in my hand. 

I continue to feel up Thoma’s chest and squeeze it here and there. I smile in self satisfaction and relish the feeling of finally being able to feel Thoma’s man tiddies. 

With a satisfied hum I finally stop feeling Thoma up and change my position. I maneuver my body so my head is now resting on his chest, and I listen to his fast heartbeat beneath my ear. 

“Is-Is that all?” Thoma asks in a joyful tone, trying to mask the arousement in his voice that I still pick up on. “Yup! Thank you so much honey.” I praise Thoma. I lightly pat his chest as I press a tender kiss to his lips. 

I feel his lips quirk up into a smile, and he returns my kiss tenfold. “Of course…” Is his easy going reply once we part. 

I feel Thoma wrap his arms around me, and I allow myself to get comfortable against him. Eventually Thoma picks up the book he laid next to him. “Is it alright if I read this to you?” Thoma asks me. “Of course. I love listening to your voice!” I wholeheartedly agree. Thoma presses a soft kiss against my hair. 

“Okay….” Thoma says as he opens the book. I feel him shift a bit as he gets comfortable. Before he begins to read the book, he tells me something that truly shocks me. “Next time, you don’t have to ask me Y/n. …You can even do it in public too, I-I don’t mind.” Thoma quickly adds the last part. My eyes were previously closed in content, but now they shoot open as I look up at Thoma’ face and gasp at him. He looks down and winks at me, and that’s how I know he must’ve enjoyed my fondling as much as I did. 

I become giddy with excitement as I listen to Thoma read to me. 

Well in that case…

 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 “Yes, of course lady Ayaka! …Oh, hey Y/n! It’s nice to-” Thoma yelps and doesn’t even finish his sentence as I admiringly fondle his tiddies in front of Ayaka. Ayaka looks on in surprise, but her expression quickly changes as she erupts into a fit of giggles. Thoma only closes his eyes in embarrassment, but he doesn’t remove my hands. 

It takes a moment before Thoma remembers where he is and quickly removes my hands from his chest. “Y-Y/n!!” Thoma lightly scolds me. I whine when he doesn’t let go of my hands. “You told me the other night it was fine to do it in public…” “I-I know, but-!” Thoma blushes as he avoids Ayaka’s gaze. I glance towards Ayaka before we both erupt into boisterous laughter. 

Ayaka may or may not have been in on this little stunt, and Thoma groans when he connects the dots at our sudden laughter. “Oh, you two!!” Thoma scolds us. As we continue to laugh we fail to hear the amused cough behind us. 

Thoma looks behind us, and what he sees causes his face to turn redder than his pyro vision. “Oh, kill me now.” Thoma groans to himself. He releases my hands in favor of burying his face into the crook of my neck. 

Ayaka and I stop laughing and exchange worried glances when we see Thoma’s reaction. “Aw Thoma, no need to feel so embarrassed! Ayaka already told me she doesn’t mind if I do this in front of her! We just wanted to tease you a bit! … Actually, I asked Ayaka for advice on the subject since I didn’t know how I should ask about touching your man tiddies. Like I told you before, I've been wanting to ask you, I just didn’t know how to bring it to your attention…” I bashfully admit to Thoma.

“Oh, how amusing.” A smooth voice says behind me.

I freeze as I feel my entire body tense up and all of the color drains from my face. Ayaka whips around when she hears the voice, and she squeals in surprise when she realizes who’s standing behind us. “O-Oh! Brother!” She nervously laughs.

I mimic the groan Thoma made earlier and bury my face in his hair.

….Kill me now. 

 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  Thoma and I are lying next to each other on his bed, and as I recount how scared I felt earlier Thoma bursts into laughter at my side. “Why am I not even surprised he showed up? I felt really embarrassed when I saw him at the time, but looking back on it, it's a very funny situation.” Thoma tells me.

I shake my head as I recall the amusement Ayato expressed at the situation before him. Ayato let Thoma return to his room with me afterwards, since Thoma was clearly shaken by Ayato witnessing the scene.

I pout a bit at the memory. I really hope I didn’t embarrass Thoma too badly. “Hey Thoma… if you feel really embarrassed about what happened, just know that I am so sorry. Ayaka and I thought it would just be a fun and harmless prank, and I’m sure Ayato just found the whole situation amusing. Knowing him, he wasn’t mad at all! In fact, I bet he’s just happy he has more things he can tease us about, a-and-” Thoma cuts off my apologetic rambling with a deep kiss.

This time I’m the one who’s a flustered mess as our tongues tangle in the most delicious way. 

Thoma pulls away after a few moments and coos once he sees my facial expression. “Y/n, if I really didn’t want you to touch my, uh, man tiddies as you call it,  I wouldn’t have agreed to let you fondle them like you have. Yes, it was a bit embarrassing, but it’s nothing to beat yourself up about or guilt yourself over. I got a good laugh out of it, and so did everyone else. Remember how we all laughed about it before we returned to my room?” Thoma asks me. 

I sigh but nonetheless nod in agreement. “Yeah, I do..” I trail off. Thoma flashes me a cheerful grin, and I swoon at the sight before me. “Come on, where’s that pretty smile of yours?” Thoma prompts me as he nuzzles his head into my shoulder. 

“H-Hey! Your hair’s tickling me!” I giggle. Thoma chuckles as he continues to nuzzle his head into my shoulder. He raises his head to look at my face once he’s satisfied with my giggles. “There’s that gorgeous smile! Now, will you grant me a favor Y/n?” Thoma cheekily asks me.

I tell him that I will, and I watch in awe as Thoma places one of my hands on his chest. He looks away with a blush on his face as he asks me to fondle his man tiddies again. I’m elated since his actions remind me that he enjoys my fondling just as much, if not more, than I do. 

I press a tender kiss against his soft lips as I abide by his request, and I relish the way he leans into my touch as a soft moan of pleasure escapes his luscious lips.

[mostlyinthemorning]

Self-indulgent thoughts about selling your hobby for money:

I want to talk about the monetization of hobbies, and specifically artistic hobbies, for a second. Every time I post pics of one of my handmade books, I get questions about whether I would sell them or take commissions. Which is a wonderful compliment - there is nothing better than hearing someone say that they like something you’ve made so much that they want to own it for themselves. 

But here’s the thing.

For years, I had a side-hustle selling stained glass on Etsy. I was good at it; I sold a lot of it, but eventually it got to the point where all the creativity got sucked out of it and I didn’t enjoy it anymore. And now I haven’t cut any glass in over 3 years. 

Not that artists who want to sell their work shouldn’t do so, although most of them aren’t being paid anywhere close to what their work is worth. Let’s take my little books as an example. On average, each one probably involves an average of 30 hours worth of work. At minimum wage (which is $15/hr where I am), that would be $450, just in labour costs. To get a price that comes close to what I value my time at, you can easily double it. Maybe you’re a person who’s willing to spend $900 on a small handmade book (and if you are, please DM me and I’ll reconsider my intention to sell), but it’s just not a feasible price to sell something.

The minute you create anything with any skill, there’s an immediate pressure to monetize it. It’s as though the only way to have any worth as a creator is to put a price tag on your work. If you can’t sell it, it has no value. If you’re not making money, then you’re a fool. There’s this notion that if we invest time and energy into something, even something that brings us personal satisfaction, that we’d better be getting paid, because otherwise what’s the point?

So why do it, if I’m not going to sell it? In short, because it makes me happy. I want to make things because it’s fun and satisfying and joyful - concepts that the world at large doesn’t consider as ‘enough’ of a reason to create art. I think this is why so many people look down on fanfic, because there’s no possibility of selling your work. When you write fanfic, it’s for your own enjoyment and the free enjoyment of others and that’s all it can ever be. And there’s a beauty in that - the innate desire to create with no hope of a monetary return.

There’s another side to this as well, which is that I think this drive to monetize the things we do for fun keeps a lot of people from trying things in the first place. How many times have I heard someone say that they could never be good at drawing or cross-stitch or underwater basket weaving as if they’re required to achieve a sale-worthy standard rather than enjoying the process of creating something for themselves? It’s a lot. A lot of times. 

All of which is to say that I’m not interested in commissions, because commissions feel like work and work takes the joy out of my creativity and when it comes down to it, I’m here for a good time, not a financially lucrative time. And wouldn’t the world be a better place if we all created things for the love of making them, instead of for a financial reward?

So, get excited. Try something new, and make art (whatever that may be) that makes you happy.

[minkmousesworld]

Oh I wonder what is pregnant Nezuko like? Does she want a lot of kids? Is she insecure about her pregnant body? Does she has sensitive chest? Does she wanna be sexually attractive? - Cake Anon 

As a Nezuko simp, I approve, cake♡

warnings: female pregnancy, children

⚠ sex during pregnancy, breast / nipple play, domfem elements, consensual somnophilia, fingering, penetration (giving ♂), oral sex (receiving, giving), dirty talk, mention of pregnancy kink

❀ Although Nezuko came from a large family, she would not want to have too many children. Maybe three or four, but no more. She loves children and really wants to have her own, but at the same time she admits that having a lot of children (as well as a lot of younger siblings) it's exhausting.

Nezuko saw how hard it was for her mother, even if the older ones helped with the younger ones, and she really wouldn't want to be in the same situation, even if she didn't say it out loud, as it was disrespectful and rude.

But she also feels that just two children may not be enough for her.

❀ Her first pregnancy passes quite easily, although for the first two weeks she feels sick in the morning (this sign appears in all her pregnancies).

Nezuko becomes more sensitive to odors and eats more than usual, especially dairy products like yogurt and cottage cheese. Among the negative signs, she sharply increases the appearance of insomnia and headache at first, but then she becomes very sleepy and easily overtired.

She also gets acne, but she just changes her cosmetics (or rather, almost stops using it) and the acne goes away.

In addition, Nezuko begins to particularly like giving you oral sex, the reason for which she does not understand at all. But since her stomach is not too much in her way in the first trimester, she is happy to indulge herself, although not without embarrassment in front of you.

❀ Although her body is becoming different, more plump, she is happy about this, since Nezuko herself has a slim figure and would like to be more curvy; or at least have thicker thighs on which you could lie or with which she could squeeze your hand or head. But due to frequent sports and a fast metabolism, it is difficult for her to gain weight.

During pregnancy, her breasts and thighs become larger, and she is very happy about this, although stretch marks bothered her at first; but she easily accepted them.

❀ During pregnancy, she becomes more lustful and excited, and constantly tries to snuggle up to you and kiss. Although Nezuko herself is very affectionate because of family habits, during pregnancy she wants to be even more close, even if you do not interact in any way.

In addition, her pussy becomes narrower, which is why during penetration she squeezes you harder, and her clit becomes larger and more sensitive, which causes sweet sounds even from the most gentle touch of your fingers or tongue.

She sobs charmingly and squeezes you tightly with her thighs because of the intensity of the sensations, so that during her pregnancy you will not be able to be rude to her as usual; her body becomes very sensitive, especially her breasts, to which even a very gentle touch causes pain.

Although her breasts are usually not very sensitive and from your touching them, Nezuko experiences more moral pleasure than physical, but during the first trimester her breasts become painfully sensitive to touch; during the second trimester her breasts cease to be so sensitive that it can not but please her.

❀ Nezuko starts to sleep a lot and wants you to sleep next to her or to be surrounded by a lot of pillows if you can't be with her. She would like to be more active, but it's hard for her to do any things when she just wants to lie down and even not necessarily sleep, but just relax.

On the other hand, Nezuko wants to constantly make love, even when she is not quite awake, since her body is constantly wet and aroused, especially if you sleep together.

So if you are okay with somnophilia, then she is in a very satisfied and joyful, albeit sleepy mood, since she wakes up and falls asleep during making love with her love of her life or after making love. It doesn't matter whether you want penetration, fingering or just kissing and petting, in any case, she is very happy and almost purrs with pleasure.

During pregnancy, her body experiences an orgasm stronger than usual, and increased sensitivity makes her body very responsive to any touch, which makes her more likely to experience multiple orgasms.

❀ She starts to like to tease you a little, especially when you make love to her.

It's just so funny to tell you how everything inside her shrinks when she thinks about you, or how wet she is just from your presence, or maybe to tell you that you seem to have really liked breeding her (especially if you practice somnophilia).

Or maybe you like to feel how hot and narrow she is inside.

Or put your hand on her stomach.

[songbirdstyles]

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly. 

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp. 

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do. 

 ~~

 The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry? 

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record. 

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends. 

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants. 

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

 ~~~

 The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off,  waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd. 

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

[startanewdream]

Godfather duty

Summary: When James is surprised by Sirius and Harry coming home drunk four in the morning, he questions himself when he got too old for that.

For @theblueocean 

Part of the Jily Lives AU

Rated M for mentions of underage drinking and some swearing.

Read on AO3 with all the correct italics, or below the cut:

_________

His eyelids feel heavy, but James keeps writing. He is almost finishing the first draft of the article for Transfiguration Today; it's due Sunday and he still has five days to finish it, but James is really anxious for presenting it. It's not his first paper for that magazine, but his article will be the headline this time, and he promised himself he would send them in advance as much as he could - and he still needs to send it to Minerva for her to read and review.

It feels a lot like he is back in school doing essays, but James doesn't remember being that excited back at Hogwarts - well, not about homework anyway.

He puts the final dot and lets the quill rest, satisfied. He will proofread in the morning, maybe even rewrite altogether from a different perspective, but it's done and it's a competent article, he knows.

Human transfiguration was always a point of interest to him.

He raises, stretching up and looking at his watch. It's past four in the morning already; he really lost track of time. He remembers Lily calling him to go to bed - and then he promised her he would go in a minute, which he clearly forgot.

He suppresses a yawn as he leaves the library, thinking only of sinking on his bed when he hears a sound coming from the front porch.

All his sleepiness is gone instantly, and he turns with his wand already raised, alarmed and with his instincts screaming even though it’s been months since the war ended; someone is turning the doorknob. The spell is almost leaving his lips when the door opens wide and he sees Harry's joyful face.

Harry is not alone; Sirius is with him, their arms around each other in a brotherly gesture and for a moment James has a flashback of himself with Sirius with that same easiness, both of them beaming happily and goofy; it's a memory of twenty years ago, of a night they went around Muggle London joining a pub crawl that ended up with James' mother finding them passed out in the middle of the Potter’s living room in Godric’s Hollows.

A lot of things happened that night - a flight from the Muggle police when they tried to climb Cleopatra’s Needle, an attempt to perform a serenade to Lily only to realize they were on the wrong street and throwing eggs at Grimmauld Place number twelve - but what he remembers clearer is the smell of the alcohol on him as he woke up next morning - and then the taste of it all as he threw it all up.

And right now Sirius and Harry have that same smell of cheap whiskey mixed with beer.

James blinks, confused. As far as he thought, Harry had been back from work hours ago - James was sure Harry had been sleeping on his bed right now.

It’s evident he was wrong.

‘Hi, Prongs’, Sirius says, grinning from ear-to-ear, sounding much steadier than James would have guessed from the smell coming from them. ‘Care to let us in?’

'What's going on?', James asks, worried, stepping aside to let them enter. Both of them are stumbling, but James has the impression that Sirius is supporting Harry more than the opposite.

For some reason his question makes them look at each other.

'What I said?', Sirius asks Harry as if they are sharing some old joke. Harry lets out of one of his rare carefree giggles. 'What d'you think we are doing, dear Prongs?'

'Coming home drunk in the middle of the night?’

‘Chill out, Dad’, Harry says, winking at him.

Chill out?

‘It’s four in the morning of a Tuesday - I thought you were home already!’

‘I had to work late’, Harry answers immediately, grinning. Sirius takes him to the living room, trying to help him on the couch, but Harry slides to the floor, falling on the carpet.

‘On a bar?’

‘It’s for work’, Harry insists, eyes open as if that was obvious. 

‘It was a very important mission’, Sirius agrees. ‘Stealth. Mixing with locals. Spying on people’.

‘Oh, were there Death Eaters on that bar?’, James asks, rolling his eyes.

‘It could have been! Harry needs to know how to handle his alcohol!’

Harry giggles.

‘I handle it very well’, he says proudly, clapping his hands. ‘Tell him, Sirius’.

‘He won us money on darts. He even closed his eyes for the last shot. You would be proud!’

‘That you were letting my barely out-of-age kid bet on games?’

Sirius rolls his eyes.

‘Everything was under control, he won. Stop worrying, I was on godfather duty tonight -’

‘Between a drink and another, you mean?’

‘ - and I brought him home, right?’

‘Speaking of that’, James raises his eyebrows, now sounding openly reproachful. ‘How did you come home? Don’t tell me you drank and apparated’.

‘I would never!’

‘Or that motorbike - if you came here flying, I swear I will -’

‘Relax, Dad!’, Harry intervenes, now raising on a jump, ignoring how he tumbles in the process. ‘We got a cab. Eeeeeeverything under control’.

James watches his son go to the cabinet in the room, searching for something until he takes out a feather to doodle something on a parchment, not realizing it’s a grocery list.

‘I see the control’, he says dryly. ‘What are you doing, Harry?’

‘I am making a howler’.

‘What? What for?’

‘To howl, duh - hey!’, he turns to Sirius, his eyes sparkling madly. ‘Remus never sends letters - he only sends howlers!’

Sirius chuckles. ‘I howl too! Owoooooo!’

‘Hey, hey, you are going to wake up Lily!’

‘And?’

‘And maybe you don’t want her to see what you did to Harry - Harry, stop that, you are not sending anyone a howler’.

‘I have to tell Ginny I love her!’

‘She already knows, I am sure, you’ve told her’.

‘But I never yelled it!’

‘And she loves you more because of that, come on, give me that letter’.

‘I knew he wouldn’t let you send it’, Sirius says, his voice now smug. ‘Prongsie is old’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘Same age as you, Pads’, he remembers distantly, taking the letter from Harry, though now he realizes he didn’t need to worry. Harry’s letter is unintelligible and he doubts he could cast the spell to turn into a howler.

Harry pouts.

‘Sirius is right, you are square’.

‘What?’

‘We can never have fun’.

‘And you are so serious - more than me, haha!’, Sirius adds, now laying down lazily on the couch, his legs spread. James is about to complain that his shoes are all muddy and Sirius should take them out, but he stops.

Oh, Merlin, he is really getting a bit square, isn’t he?

‘I can be fun’, he stresses, making Sirius let out one of his bark laughs.

‘Yeah, years ago. Before you were a dad - no offence, Harry’.

Harry doesn’t seem to have heard him, which James considers a shame. Harry would surely defend him - he was a cool dad to Harry.

No, he is still a cool dad. The kind that Harry can feel at will to talk about anything, that supports Harry and that is always there for him.

Except that Harry didn’t tell him about working late tonight or going to a bar. Except Harry and Sirius didn’t ask for his company.

And if they did - he thinks of the paper he just finished and how excited he was for it.

He would have said no.

That’s not very cool of him.

‘I will take a flight!’, Harry declares, his eyes shining with this idea and for once James doesn’t feel satisfied with the mischievousness in him.

‘No drinking and flying’, James says sternly, and he decides that he will have to remain uncool for a little longer. ‘You - you stay here! Sirius - watch him. Better than you did so far, I mean’.

Sirius grimaces, evidently annoyed, but he sits next to Harry, who is now mumbling something incomprehensible, though Sirius seems to be listening to him with attention. James leaves them in the living room, locking the door behind him just in case, and goes to Lily’s office hoping she has stored a Hangover Potion. He is in no luck, of course; it’s been years since he and Lily even needed one - James believes it comes with the age knowing when to stop - and there was nothing in Harry’s latest behaviour that showed them they would need it.

For a second James almost considers waking up Lily, knowing she would make the potion in minutes, but he doesn’t want her to see the mess Harry is right now; it’s far better she hears it later than witnessing first hand. He grabs a small cauldron and the ingredients he will need and returns to the living room.

In the few minutes he was out, Harry and Sirius managed to make things strangely worse. There is snow in the room, that he sees Sirius casting from his wand; Harry is perfectly still, the snow making a sort of white hat on his head, his arms wide open and also covered in snow.

‘What -’, James tries to ask, but he just blinks at the weirdness on the scene.

‘Shhhh’, Sirius says, a finger on his lips. ‘Don’t distract him!’

‘What is Harry doing?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Disguise training! He is a snowman!’

‘He is missing a carrot nose’, James notes, grimacing, and that makes Sirius turn his wand to Harry’s face. ‘I am joking!’

It’s too late; there is a flash of light and then there is a carrot on Harry’s face, replacing his nose.

‘Sirius!’, Harry complains, raising his hand to touch his new nose. His voice is muffled. ‘I can’t have a nose this big! How can I snog Ginny now?’

‘That’s your concern?’, James asks, half-amused, now taking out Sirius’ wand to make sure he doesn’t cast any more magic.

‘I will poke her in the eye!’, Harry says, moping, scratching the tip of his pointy nose thoughtfully.

‘I will transform you back as soon as you drink this potion, now lay still’. Harry sighs, sitting on the couch. Sirius sits next to him, patching him in the back as if he weren’t the one that turned Harry’s nose into a carrot in the first place.

‘Your nose matches her hair’, he says bracingly. ‘You will look beautiful together’.

‘I am not sure this is much comfort, Padfoot’, James notes, placing the cauldron in the fireplace and starting to throw in the ingredients. He could add something for the taste, but he believes the bitterness helps build character.

‘Well, I got him quiet, didn’t I?’, Sirius asks, pointing at Harry who is now sitting on the couch, still playing with his carrot nose.

‘You could have messed up so badly’.

‘I am not that drunk - I watched over your kid, no matter what you think of me’.

James shakes his head.

‘Letting him drink that much? He barely can stand - what if someone -’

‘The war is over, James’, Sirius tells him, sounding much grim now. ‘And like I said, I was there. Me, half-a-dozen junior Aurors and some seniors too’.

‘Unless any Death Eater threat would be a challenge to a drinking contest, I don’t think it would make much difference’.

‘Oh, Merlin’. Sirius sighs, walking to the drink cabinet and opening it to take a bottle of firewhiskey. ‘Here, drink this’.

‘What?’

‘You are sober, I hate talking to sober people when I am pissed. Sober people are boring’.

‘I am not boring’, James complains, pushing away the bottle that Sirius extends in his direction. ‘And I am past the age of being forced to drink to look cool’.

‘Then drink because it’s nice!’, Sirius says forcefully now. ‘Drink because you are alive! Drink because you are happy! Drink because for the first time in his life your son is properly pissed!’

‘That’s not a reason -’

‘That’s enough reason! He is eighteen! What age were we when we first got pissed?’

‘Seventeen’. Sirius raises his eyebrows, waiting for him, and James flushes, turning his attention to the cauldron. The potion is almost over. ‘Fine, fifteen - but it didn’t count, we weren’t thinking straight then’.

‘Yeah. Our first transformation’, Sirius remembers, but there is something heavy on his voice now.

‘What is the problem, Padfoot?’

‘Nothing’. 

That makes James stop. He takes the cauldron out of the fire, to let the potion cool down, and turns to Sirius, watching him. Sirius’ eyes are watery as he always gets when he drinks, but he sustains James’ look for a surprisingly full two minutes before he sighs.

‘Fine, you are the problem’.

‘Me? You take my son out for a drink without telling me, return home four in the morning and I am the problem?’

‘Look at what you are saying! He is of age! He was with his friends - and his very trustable godfather! He was having fun for once in his life, instead of living that responsible life you want for him’.

‘Responsible?’, James repeats, dumbfounded. Nobody had ever accused him of wanting to do the responsible thing. ‘I am just being his father’.

‘Well, maybe Harry doesn’t need his father anymore’.

There is a long pause after that. James blinks, once, twice, very slowly, trying to understand what Sirius means by that, and it’s only when he reaches for the drink cabinet to get a glass for the potion, that Sirius moves.

‘Shit - I didn’t mean like that - sorry, James, it’s not -’

‘No, I get it’, James says, his voice forcefully steady. ‘Harry wants the cool father figure that allows him everything - and, well, Sirius “what’s life without a little risk” Black is perfect for that’.

‘Don’t be absurd - that kid worships the ground you walk upon -’

‘And yet he was with you, not me. I get it. I am a father, not a friend’. He offers Sirius a full glass. ‘Drink this, you’ll feel better tomorrow’.

‘No, I deserve the hangover tomorrow, but that’s beside the point. It’s my fault’.

‘I don’t think you forced Harry to drink’, James notes dryly, sitting next to Harry to help him drink the potion. Harry seems to be in another world now, but he obliges to James’ help without questioning.

‘No, that was all on him - I mean it, he’d make you proud, he won a drinking contest with Thompson and he is twice Harry’s size - er, not helping, sorry’. Sirius sits on the other side of Harry. ‘He was going to tell you we’d be out for a drink. And I didn't let him'.

'Why? Why would you -'

'Because I thought you would overreact. Worry too much about him. Don't let him have any fun'.

'I would not -'

'And because I thought he'd ask you to come’.

James blinks. Between them, Harry lays his head on James' shoulder, now watching Sirius with mild curiosity.

‘I would ask’, he agrees, a note of pride in his voice. 

'Am I that bad company?', James asks in a low voice. Sirius shakes his head.

'Would you come with us?', he challenges. James keeps his gaze for a few seconds, but just like Sirius didn't lie for him before, he wouldn't dare speak anything but the truth.

'No, I had things to do today'.

'That article', Sirius scoffs. 'You don't talk about anything else'.

James frowns.

'It's really important - a chance of -'

'Getting yourself a name, I know, I know. But see -', his grey eyes are burning over James now, somewhat desperate. 'The Prongs I know would never care for reputation'.

'Sirius…'

'The Prongs I know would be honest with me'.

'I am - what are you -'

'I heard you and Kingsley, ok?', he blows off. 'Registering as an animagus? After all this time?'

There is another silence, broken only by the crackling fire.

'I was going to tell you', James says finally. 'I didn't think it was important - you don't have to register too -'

'That's not the point - you are breaking our trust -'

'It's just an entry on a list. It doesn’t change anything, I will keep our full moon nights -'

'When Remus has time, you mean?', he asks, sounding bitter now. 'He missed the last two, he'd rather stay home -'

'He has a kid now -'

'So do you and… you guys are getting old and responsible and too serious for me'.

'Nobody is more serious than you', James says, smiling at him, but Sirius just rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of firewhiskey on the coffee table, taking a sip.

James extends his hand. Sirius raises one eyebrow, in disbelief, and his expression only relaxes a little when James takes a long sip of the firewhiskey. The drink burns his throat, infusing him with that weird dose of courage and a will to do something, but James just sighs.

'You are no less serious because of it', Sirius notes.

'I got serious - the war, the first one and then the second one and everything - and I think I forgot how to relax - but that doesn't mean… you are my brother, Sirius'.

'The annoying prettier baby brother?'

'You are older', James says, grinning, and after a second of hesitation, Sirius smiles too. 'You can invite me - I mean, we can do things together. Even if it sounds - or is - stupid'.

'Things together like… registering our animagus form?'

James rests against the couch, and Harry moves his head to rest more comfortably on his shoulders; James thinks he will sleep soon.

'You don't need to do it too - Kingsley already knows about you and he is the bloody Minister of Magic, isn't he? This was not about doing the responsible thing'.

'Then why -'

'I want the credit'. James presses his lips, before admitting something he didn't even share with Lily yet. 'I talked to Minerva - if I get back to my studies, get enough recommendation to be approved by the board, I could get her position'.

Sirius blinks, startled.

'Her position? You mean -'

'Transfiguration professor, yeah'.

He looks away now, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It had never really been an ambition - teaching was much more something Remus had always wanted to do than him; James had been glad to focus on his studies and develop new theories of transfiguration until then. 

But ever since Minerva had vented that possibility to him a few weeks after the end of the war, when they were repairing one of the halls destroyed in the battle, that thought had been on his mind. He wasn't in a rush, but the idea of getting back to Hogwarts, this time as a professor, watching other students learn from him as much as he had learned from Minerva McGonagall… he couldn't deny that idea had taken root in his mind.

James always teased her that he had been her favourite student, but the fact was that she was his favourite professor and there was some part of him that wanted to impress her and prove himself good enough to replace her someday.

He waits for Sirius' response, but there is only a silence that doesn't seem good.

'I know it's huge', James mumbles. 'There are others far more capacitated than me, I am starting now to -'

'Shut your mouth, Prongs', interrupts Sirius, and James turns to him. There is a grin on his face. 'Being humble never suited you'.

James laughs softly.

'I wasn’t trying to', he assures him.

'I thought - I thought you had wanted to do the right thing. You know, registering just because you wanted to follow the law, as if… as if you were ashamed of what we did illegally -'

'Now it's you who needs to shut up, Padfoot'. He takes another sip of the firewhiskey. ‘Animagus at age of fifteen? I’m damn proud of it. Also, that’s the only thing that I have done that’s cooler than half the stuff Harry got into’.

‘Yeah, I suppose it’s hard when your son is a bloody hero’.

Harry chooses that moment to start snoring loudly, which sends James and Sirius into a fit of laughter. James raises, careful to let Harry sleep on the couch, and Harry doesn’t look remotely close to waking up.

‘I am glad you took him out for a drink’, James says, taking out Harry’s glasses. ‘I was just jealous - it should have been me’.

‘I am sure there will be another occasion’, Sirius says dismissively. ‘He will probably forget every embarrassing thing he did, you know how that works’.

‘Oh, he embarrassed himself?’, James asks, a glint of fun on his eyes. Sirius smirks.

‘That happy giggling Harry you saw? Just the last stage. He was all cocky at first - that’s how we got into that darts bet’.

‘Harry? My son? Cocky?’

‘Oh, yeah, he reminded me a lot of you’, Sirius’ smirk increases. ‘He was strutting and all’.

‘Tell me you took pictures of it’.

‘I would never’, Sirius declares, though James isn’t sure he believes him this time. ‘And then he got very… honest’.

‘That doesn’t sound good for that stealth mission’.

Sirius shakes his head.

‘If he was spilling out Auror secrets I would be happier - no, instead I had to hear about the time he and Ginny -’

‘Nope, nope, I don’t want to know’.

‘Well, me neither, I won’t ever use your Invisibility Cloak again, you can be sure. But anyway - that’s why he got here so drunk. I decided vodka was the only way to shut him up properly’.

Sirius looks so satisfied with himself and his choices, that James knows what he has to do.

‘It’s late’, he says pleasantly. ‘Crash here tonight’.

‘Oh, I think I will - I am not fit to apparate’.

‘Let’s go upstairs then’.

‘And Harry?’

‘Oh, look at him. He is sleeping so well, he can stay here tonight’.

‘If you are sure’.

‘Yeah, yeah, everything will be fine’.

_________

James has slept barely four hours when he wakes up with Lily’s cry. He puts on his robe lazily, waiting a few minutes to go downstairs; when he passes Sirius’ room, the door is already opened.

Good.

He finds them all together in the toilet next to the kitchen, and by the sounds coming out of there, his Hangover Potion wasn’t very efficient.

‘We were working late, Lily’, Sirius is saying, sounding properly desperate. ‘And we went out for a drink -’

‘It was a Tuesday night! He has to work in one hour!’

‘So do I - but you see, I’m his boss, so everything is fine! Also, I don’t think any of the boys will show up -’

‘Perfect’, Lily interrupts him, her eyes sending daggers in Sirius’ direction. ‘Then you can take care of him’. She sees James. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘Me? I was working late on my text, you know’, he answers, yawning and looking very innocent.

Sirius waits until Lily is out for the kitchen to turn to James, his eyes narrowed.

‘You knew she would be mad. That’s why you told me to stick around’.

‘If I knew how my dear wife would react to knowing you got our son pissed? How could I?’

Sirius grimaces as there is another retching sound coming from the bathroom.

‘Oh, you better go there and don’t forget to keep Harry hydrated’.

‘Watch it’, Sirius says, but he goes into the bathroom anyway. ‘I won’t ever show you the pictures’.

James shrugs, undisturbed.

‘That’s fine. Next time Harry gets drunk, I will be there’.

‘I won’t ever ever ever drink again’, Harry moans, hugging the toilet seat now, his face sweaty.

‘Oh, kid, we’ve all been there’, Sirius sighs, flushing down the toilet and helping Harry raise.

James grins to himself, glad that Sirius is doing his godfather duty once again, and leaves them alone.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Deep Longing Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 心驰之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

More from this collection: Kiro l Victor

[ Released in CN on 24 Dec 2020 ]

The plane is currently flying steadily. I’m entirely focused on the iPad I’m holding, until the end credits of the film gradually appear.

MC: Sigh... I still find it very sweet and warm!

Finally re-watching this Northern European Christmas movie with Gavin, I’m perfectly content, rubbing his arm. 

The fragrance of fresh laundry still lingers on the thick woollen sweater, blending with a familiar cool and refreshing scent. 

Gavin removes his earpiece, tousling my hair. 

Gavin: No wonder you like it that much. The movie is very good.

MC: Of course! It’s precisely because of this movie that I thought of spending Christmas in Northern Europe. 

Pure white snow, burning firewood, colourful lights entwining everywhere, decorated Christmas trees, and streets brimming with a joyous atmosphere... 

MC: I hope it’s really as interesting as in the movie. 

Gavin: It will. 

Gavin looks at me and the anticipation written in my eyes, his expression tender as he keeps the iPad.

“Ladies and gentleman, the plane is about to make its landing at the airport...”

We immediately straighten up, pulling the window shade up--

From high above the ground, a silvery white city embellished with a riot of fairytale-like colours enters our line of sight. 

The homeland of the legendary Santa Claus is quietly awaiting us. 

-

By the time we complete the check-in process, it’s already dusk, and the streetlights are gradually illuminated.

MC: Is the countdown event in the plaza happening at midnight?

Before coming here, I came across a local Christmas custom. Here, the most famous Christmas event is the countdown in the plaza at midnight on Christmas Eve. 

Gavin: Mm, it’s still early. 

MC: Why don’t we take a walk along the street first? It’s Christmas Eve, so there’s definitely lots of good fun and interesting things to see!

A hint of a smile appears on Gavin’s lips, as though he’s long since guessed that I’d say this. 

Gavin: Looks like it was the right decision to make a booking at this hotel. I did some research beforehand - the liveliest local shopping street is nearby. It shouldn’t be far. 

In the midst of our conversation, we’ve already pushed open the doors to the hotel lobby.

The fluttering snowflakes float around like cotton, landing softly on the snow-covered ground and the sharp roof of the lighthouse opposite.

MC: So beautiful...

Gavin and I are standing side by side, our breaths releasing puffs of white mist.

Gavin: The winter here is much colder than in Loveland City. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen such heavy snow.

Under the eaves, yellow halos from the streetlight fall into Gavin’s amber pupils, revealing an even warmer light. 

Sensing my gaze, Gavin turns his head to the side. The light and shadows outline the handsome bridge of Gavin’s straight nose. 

He chuckles softly, taking my hand.

Gavin: Let’s go.

-

Hearing the rustling of the cold breeze at my ear, and the crunching of snow underneath my feet, a wave of excitement suddenly overflows from my heart. I can’t help but break into a jog. 

Gavin: You’re that happy?

Tugging on Gavin’s hand, I nod in high spirits.

After turning at a corner, street vendors enter our line of sight from not afar off.

Tiny flickering lights intertwine in the air, hanging in front of the small stalls like waterfalls of flowing light, painting the entire street with a riot of colours.

Joyful songs drift in the night air of the city. In the midst of the bustling crowd, every face is brimming with relaxed and unrestrained smiles. 

A movie-like scene unfolds before my eyes, and I feel myself becoming more light-hearted. 

As though he can sense my fascination and elation, Gavin tightens his grip, his gaze lingering on my eager expression, his eyes glistening with a warm light. 

Gavin: Where do you want to go first?

The fragrance of all sorts of food diffuses in the air. Taking a deep breath, I feel the gluttonous worms in my belly stirring. 

Gavin: Shall we try the gingerbread cookies first? I heard the gingerbread cookies here are very famous. 

I didn’t expect Gavin’s suggestion to be exactly what I was thinking. A little excited, I nod several times. 

MC: We could have gingerbread cookies first, then Christmas cake, then drink the distinctive and warm red wine.... Oh yes, I heard there’s even a medieval merry-go-round that we could ride for free.

I count on my fingers, as though listing down family treasures. Suddenly a low chuckle drifts to my ears. 

The moment I turn my head, Gavin’s smiling eyes directly enter my heart, and an unnatural warmth subconsciously blooms on my face. 

MC: Don’t laugh at me. We’re already here, so we must definitely experience everything...

Gavin takes a step closer, helping me brush stray hairs messed up by the wind. A smile remains on his lips.  

Gavin: You’re right. We must do all of these things. You might have been too busy recently, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you looking so relaxed. It’s pretty nice.

While he speaks, he takes my hand and places it into the pocket of his coat naturally.

Gavin: The pace of life here is very slow. Today, we can take our time. We’ll complete everything you wish to experience slowly.

-

The nearest stall happens to be selling gingerbread cookies fresh from the oven. With an enthusiastic greeting from the owner, I purchase a bag of gingerbread cookies. 

MC: These gingerbread cookies have been made so delicately... 

From the bag, I take out a gingerbread cookie with a snowflake design. Bringing it to my nose, I give it a whiff. Then, I’m filled with anticipation as I take a bite -- It’s fragrant and crispy, and as delicious as expected.

While walking, I hand the bag to Gavin.

MC: Gavin, pick a piece too?

Gavin very quickly takes out a colourful Christmas elf gingerbread cookie.

Gavin: This one. It has a different design, so we can try different flavours.

MC: Sure! I didn’t think you’d actually pick such an adorable design.

Gavin lowers his head to look at the gingerbread cookie elf, then releases an incredibly soft laugh.

Gavin: It could be because... it’s smiling very happily. 

Gavin: Just like you.

Although cold wind blows past by cheeks, I seem to feel a warm sensation instead. Beaming with a smile, I bring the snowflake gingerbread cookie to Gavin’s lips.

MC: Here. You said we’d try different flavours, right? 

He bends down slightly, giving it a bite straight from my hand. Under the illumination of the streetlights, snowflakes land gently on Gavin’s hair.

Gavin: It has a very special taste, and also has the fragrance of ginger. 

While he speaks, I feel the warmth from his lips on my fingertips, enriching the lights and the night scene. 

I can’t help but sigh with emotion--

This seems to be the festival ambience I’ve wanted most.

At this moment, the bell from the plaza chimes from far away. I immediately check the time - it’s almost time to take action!

MC: Cough cough...

I clear my throat. Gavin halts in his footsteps, slightly puzzled. 

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Mm... it’s like this. We’ve already had good food and seen interesting things. So after this--

I deliberately pause. Looking at the crowded street market, a hint of contemplation flashes across the pair of amber eyes which are close enough to touch.

Gavin: Cough. I’ve prepared a gift for you. But you’ll have to wait for a while longer.

MC: ...eh? 

Seeing that Gavin has misunderstood, you can’t help but snort with laughter.

MC: Actually, what I wanted to say was that it’s time for you to receive a surprise!

Gavin’s eyes widen slightly for a second. Then, the corners of his lips bring with them warmth and happiness.

Gavin: Do I need to do anything? 

I hurriedly scan my surroundings. The “prop” that I prepared earlier is already nearby. As such, I blink slyly. 

MC: All you have to do is turn around and wait for me patiently.

Readily following my instructions, Gavin smiles and turns around. 

Just as I take two steps away from Gavin, I whip my head around in unease, plopping myself onto his back and peeping out at him.

MC: I’ll say it first. You must definitely not sneak a peek!

Gavin: Okay. 

MC: And you must wait for me to say that you can turn around before you do so.

Gavin doesn’t respond immediately. He suddenly turns his head, reaching out to tousle my head gently as it rests on his shoulder. 

Gavin: Don’t worry, take your time. I won’t sneak a peek. I can wait for as long as needed for a surprise. I’ll wait for you.

After confirming that Gavin is standing in place, I jog over to the side of the street. The young person who I’d contacted in advance is already waiting not afar off. Behind him is a small and adorable reindeer sleigh.

It’s the first time I’m seeing a reindeer sleigh, and I excitedly bend down to touch the docile reindeer, greeting it softly.

MC: You've worked hard!

With the assistance of the reindeer’s owner, I take the reindeer sleigh and the present, rushing back in a fluster. Everything is ready--

“Cling cling cling”!

Leaning next to the sleigh, I shake the bell on it, then shout loudly towards the tall and straight figure in front.

MC: Gavin, surprise!

Gavin turns around slowly. When he sees the reindeer, his eyes widen in surprise. 

In the next second, an unrestrained smile is on full display. Even his eyes are coated with surprise and a glowing expression.

Satisfied, I use one hand to smoothen the red Santa hat on my head, and use the other hand to support myself lightly on the sleigh. 

MC: The reindeer says that Christmas is here, and it has sent me to give you a present!

I retrieve a red coloured scarf from the sleigh, and show it off as though I'm presenting a valuable treasure. 

MC: Even though it doesn’t look special at first glance, but...

I point at the picture of a golden coloured ginkgo leaf in a corner.

MC: I personally stitched this on needle by needle!

Gavin takes two steps towards me, petting the reindeer.

The colourful lights happen to fall on Gavin’s face. I can clearly see the happiness gradually glowing in his eyes.

He lowers his head, the warm colour of his eyes full of unbridled light. 

Gavin: In that case, could you also personally put it on for me?

Stand on my tiptoes, I wrap the scarf around his neck seriously, and can’t help but admire it. 

MC: My taste is pretty good!

I chuckle playfully. Just as I prepare to step backwards, Gavin grabs my hand. 

Instinctively tilting my head upwards, what fills my vision is a face brimming with happiness and delight. 

Gavin: Thank you. I really like this surprise. Not just because of this scarf. 

While Gavin speaks, his fingers lace with mine, entwining them tightly. The coldness of the winter wind seems to melt into warmth because of the closeness of his breath. 

Gavin: I think the reindeer brought the wrong message. 

He stares fixedly at me, his clear eyes akin to the nicest colours in the snow.

Gavin: What I truly want has only been one thing from beginning to the end. Santa Claus likely heard my heartfelt wish. That’s why he sent the reindeer to bring you to my side. 

Heavy snow drifts in the air, and the coloured lights flicker radiantly across the entire street market. But all the radiance can’t compare to Gavin’s smile before me. 

Gavin: As for the surprise belonging to you... Look forward to it for a little longer, okay?

-

No matter whether I employ hard or soft tactics, Gavin refuses to disclose a single thing regarding the gift. He simply smiles and tells me to wait for a while longer.

Time passes by without us realising it, and the night has already set in. Gavin and I begin heading towards the plaza. 

Along the way, I realise that quite a number of people are chatting excitedly about a “big screen”.

Although I’m aware that there would be a countdown event later, what’s this “big screen”?

As though seeing through my confusion, Gavin explains.

Gavin: The “big screen” they’re referring to should be the one in the plaza. The reason why the countdown event in the plaza is famous is because of the Christmas tree in the middle. It was originally a tree which was already growing in the plaza. Not only that - the tree is over nine hundred years old.

MC: How do you know about this so clearly?

Gavin: ...cough. I did a little research before we came.

A certain warmth and sense of contentment overflows from my heart. Quietly, I tighten my grip on Gavin’s hand. 

MC: Looks like the tree carries the weight of a very ancient history.

Gavin: To the locals, this ancient Christmas tree is akin to the blessings of Santa Claus. Whenever Christmas arrives, people will decorate it diligently, and install a bell switch on its trunk. If you press the switch on the midnight of Christmas Eve, it not only heralds the arrival of Christmas, but also represents that the person who pressed it has received the greatest blessings. This is why everyone wishes to be that lucky person. 

MC: ...I’ve got it! In order to be the lucky person... you’d have to be the person selected on the big screen in the plaza, right?

Gavin: That’s right.

MC: There’s only one chance in the entire year. No wonder everyone’s looking forward it. 

In the midst of our conversation, we arrive at the plaza which resembles an ocean of joy, and I also witness the unique Christmas tree--

At a glance, one can’t seem to see the tip of the tall and towering Christmas tree. The sparkling and flickering star at the top is reminiscent of a brilliant light from high in the sky.

Vivid and adorable decorations and ribbons are strung in layers, filling the entire tree, giving off an especially warm appearance. 

MC: It’s the first time I’m seeing such a tall Christmas tree. It’s so stunning.

Hearing my involuntary gasp of admiration, Gavin’s lips curl slightly.

Gavin: Want to sit for a while at the stall over there?

Perhaps noticing that my cheeks have taken on a reddish hue from the wind, he reaches out to tighten my collar, embracing me gently.

I shake my head repeatedly.

MC: It’s a rare trip. I want to wait for midnight with everyone. There’s also a performance beforehand - it’s so lively.

The crowd gradually grows in size, and the liquid crystal numbers on the big screen start flipping with every second--

In just a few minutes, it’d be midnight. 

Happy and expectant faces appear on the big screen, and everybody waves their hands excitedly and exclaims.

Likely influenced by the surrounding atmosphere, a wave of hope rises in my heart. I whisper quietly to Gavin.

MC: Gavin... do you think we’d be that lucky?

Gavin returns my gaze, a slight yet confident smile on his lips. 

Gavin: As long as you believe it, we definitely will. 

Right after the words leave his lips, the image on the big screen happens to display our side profiles. 

My heart is immediately lifted--

The image pauses for a few seconds, then deviates slightly, finally focusing on Gavin and I!

Staring at my somewhat silly and stunned self on the big screen, I can’t believe this at all.

MC: Gavin, we...

Gavin: Mm, it’s us.

The night breeze tangles with the ends of his hair, blowing off some light snowflakes, and making the smile on his face even more evident.

He reaches out, holding me securely.

Gavin: Let’s go.

Amidst their cheering, the crowd automatically parts to both sides, paving a small path. Gavin leads me step-by-step towards the Christmas tree while I’m still feeling slightly giddy.

When I see the ceremoniously decorated Christmas tree before me, I finally return to my senses. 

Looking into the eyes which contain a smile and are so close to me, I can’t help but reach out to hug Gavin, my face full of excitement. 

Accompanied with a soft chuckle, Gavin encircles me with the scarf. His unique scent burrows into my nose.

I hold onto him, nuzzling myself into his arms. Crinkling my eyes into a smile, I lift my head to look at him.

MC: Gavin, I feel so happy today... It’s like a fairytale which hasn’t been thought of before.

Gavin tightens his grip on me, and light undulates in the amber eyes staring at me.

Gavin: Looks like the mission of letting you experience a different Christmas has been completed pretty well?

MC: Not just “pretty well”! We’re basically extraordinarily lucky today!

Gavin: In that case, I’m a little luckier than you.

MC: Why? 

Gavin: Because the lucky you belongs to me. 

Gavin lowers his head slightly, his lips bringing with them a gentle smile, his eyes filled with seriousness. 

He doesn’t seem to realise just how much the words he said can cause one to turn red in the face.

I open my mouth, wanting to cover the chaotic leaping of my heart. Before the words can come out, I once again feel Gavin’s warm breaths on my forehead.

Gavin: MC, this “biggest blessing” belongs to you. In the year ahead, you’ll have the most blessings. I wish that every day of yours will be happy and blessed. This is my Christmas gift.

My heart surges with emotions. Just as I’m about to say something, I realise something from his words--

Thinking about the surprise gift he mentioned earlier, and the confident tone he used when the big screen was sweeping across, could it be...

My eyes instantly widen.

MC: Gavin, did you...

Before I can finish, the crowd in the plaza begin the countdown, their joyous voices covering my soft exclamation.

Even so, I’ve more or less confirmed the guess in my heart. 

Ba dump. Ba dump. It’s as though I can clearly hear the violent yet excited beating of my heart.

Gavin seems to be in a great mood. The corners of his lips arch upwards, and he pulls me towards the switch on the Christmas tree. 

The countdown from the crowd happens to be reaching its end -- “Three, two, one!”

A second after our gentle push, a gigantic firework scuttles into the sky and blooms. Light-hearted music starts playing, loud and clear.

Beneath the tree, Gavin and I continue keeping our eyes fixed on each other, concealed by the branches. 

Gavin lowers his head, his eyelashes trembling, his clear eyes reflecting my focused yet sparkling eyes.

His fingers glide down my cheek gently, leaving behind a warmth I yearn for.

Gavin: What were you going to say earlier? 

I tilt my head, looking at him quietly.  

After hearing my wish of spending Christmas in Northern Europe, the person before me had started planning this trip, and had given me such a great blessing...

As compared to being selected by the big screen, the person before me is the blessing that I wish to have most. 

I encircle my arms around his neck, shaking my head with a smile. 

MC: Gavin, Merry Christmas!

Gavin: Merry Christmas, MC. 

Without realising it, I tug on his collar tightly, pressing myself to the side of his face. In an instant, all I sense is my heart being filled to the brim.

I can’t see the crowd in the surroundings, can’t see the mottled lights, nor the drifting snowflakes. 

All I can see is this smiling face whose breathing melds with mine. 

At this moment of undulating longing, I wish to convey all the brimming and surging emotions to him. I wish for this familiar scent to more completely encase itself around me--

Encircling Gavin tightly, I stand on my tiptoes, gently closing the distance between us...

-

Phone call: here

Texts: here

[gaymershigh]

How about Deuce, Azul, Idia and the Leech twins' if it's not too much, (smoll)male s/o saying "I love you." for the first time ? Thanks !

Sure, annonie! Since I also have a smol boi I can imagine this scenario in my head and It's! SO! CUTE! o(^▽^)o

Triggers: None

Deuce, Azul, Idia, Jade and Floyd small male s/o saying "I love you" for the first time

Neither of you two have said the phrase "I love you" no matter how much you two really want to say it because you two are too nervous to initiate it. He never had a romantic relationship before and is also as nervous as you so it's not really a surprise if you said it first.

He was always taking good care of you and always showing you physical affection. He enjoys hugging and cuddling your small figure, always nervously complimenting how pretty you are petting your head and everything. Yes, he has the balls to do all this but apparently not brave enough to say "I love you". Yes, very tragic.

So when you first said those magic three words, he was startled. Not sure what he really felt at the time but all we know is that he's shocked. When those words came out of your mouth, he made a dramatic gasp and stood like a statue, staring at you with his eyes all bugged out.

Despite him being probably ticklish, poking him even at his most sensitive areas won't even make him flinch, this is the most life changing moment for him. (almost correct, he's just being dramatic at the moment) He's aware that you love him but you saying it is still a shocking thing, this feels just like the time you confessed that you also have feelings for him. It takes a few minutes to go back to reality and when he does, his face is as red as Riddle's hair and fuming face combined.

He would feel ashamed about not being able to say it first. He would spit out thousands of apologies for not saying it first or not being not good enough because he didn't say it first. So he decided to spill all his feelings and what little things he loves about you in such a quick pace to the point he sounds incoherent. He'll get weird stares from other students and will get teased by both Ace and Grim later if they coincidentally walked pass you two.

Azul has said his love for you multiple times but it's not often as the others as he either doesn't have that much time to spend with you because of work or because he despises saying those words in public. Of course, he still wants to say his love for you but he has a reputation to hold and being overly affectionate is not something a gentleman nor a businessman would do! No matter how much he would love to hug your smaller figure from behind, it's just unprofessional.

He really doesn't give one if you haven't said you love him back but if this lasts until months, then he's getting anxious and antsy. He knows you love him back but he would appreciate it a bit more if you said it as well. He really craves to hear those three words from his s/o when dating. Plus, he has said it so much to you, why haven't you said it to him? He has these thoughts, thinking he was ready to hear it any moment but when he did hear it from you, he was caught off guard.

When you do say it, he stopped whatever he was doing. Yes, it was very unprofessional for a businessman to get so surprised over something so simple as that but give him a break. He might not be human but he still has the feelings of one. Plus, this is the first time he heard it from you. He managed to cover up his slightly shocked expression by clearing his throat and saying he loves you back, acting like nothing happened and tried brushing it off.

When he's in his workroom with both of the Leech twins there, he is having a hard time. Both having a hard time to focus and a hard time to keep his cool from his cheeks reddening in front of the devilish pair. He really cannot get that thought about you declaring your love for him, looking really cute and extra points for your shorter height making it seem more innocent and cuter. He kept adjusting his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. The two do realise that something's going on inside the mind of the octopus boy and decided to pester him about it later.

In his bedroom, a place where nobody is sure to see him doing whatever in there because he had forced the good habit of knocking and asking permission before entering to his dorm members, he's more of a mess since there's nothing restricting him from showing his true emotions. He's shifting all over the bed to the point of no return, all blushed up and still trying to cover it despite that nobody's there. It's always fresh in his mind and just prays for it to go away as fast as possible. It will, spoiler alert but it'll take a few couple of weeks or even months for the memory to fade away for now.

He has said his "I love you" to you before but it's not really that surprising or anything to be that shocked as he only declared it in text form. There's no way he's going to confess it verbally on irl because that's such a "normie thing to do"! And also because he's just anxious to say it in general. Yeah, it's just three words but they say so much and it's easier said than..actually saying it, especially in front of the person you want to say it to. Except he can't even say it in voice chat either.

It's like saying it in front of a cute anime girl character that every fan probably adores. You even have the cute height of an adorable move shoujo manga deuteragonist, the protagonist's love interest! cute, short and just the character's fan favourite, you know? It will either always take some time or it takes the end of the manga for the protagonist to confess. It's like the same thing except they're already together!

It was a normal day of voice chatting after a nice match of an online fighting game. He kept praising your amazing skills and tricks for playing for the first time and hoping that you two can play again. Then from that, he kept wanting to read these mangas he thought was interesting with you. He was very excited and filled with energy, how can't you not think that's straight up adorable and not express how you love that part of him?

So when you did, he went immediately silent. There's not even a noise of a ceiling fan. Just dead, utter silence. You kept calling out for his name no matter how many times he hasn't answered. Out of nowhere, he cut the call, leaving you alone. In just a few minutes later, he went offline. You were worried, what the hell just happened? You knew that kneading freakout about your sudden words but you for some reason didn't expect it to affect him that much. You might have to contemplate whether you should visit him to check if he's ok or not.

He's not ok, at all but not like in a bad way. He's happy but he's panicking. First, he's such a wimp for not saying the words first to the point you have to declare it first. Even if saying 'I love you' is such a normie thing, he's aware it's something important to say if you're in a goddamn relationship. Second, what was he supposed to say after that? 'I love you too'!? How? As much as he wants to spit it out, he couldn't. Though, one day. Maybe he could learn to say it back? Through the teachings of a shoujo mangas of course!

Jade is wonderful at saying his love for you verbally. His words can go from simple "I love yous" to a list of 150 reasons why he loves you in alphabetical order. Though he won't say it as much in public, his love language from both physical and verbal are endless! If you're a cheesy, affectionate man then he would be the perfect man for you! (though, he's always perfect for everyone in general)

There's no way for him to describe his love for you, especially his love for your small frame. It's obvious that he's a giant when compared next to you and he has pride for that. You unintentionally give him power and dominance just by staring at you. Just by holding you, he's amorous. He's always holding you close on his bed, whispering sweet nothings and the three words that never rolled out of your tongue until now.

It was another casual cuddling session after the long day of work of Jade. He was doing the normal thing, complementing your tiny body and saying his 'I love yous' and that. You were hesitant but after all this time of him praising you and after a long day of work, shouldn't he receive his reward and the thing that he should hear after months of being together? When you say the magic words, his eyes widen for a few seconds only for his face turns into his iconic toothy grin. He kept teasing you to repeat them as he pretended that he couldn't hear you.

He expects you to say these words more often now that you finally said it. For the entire time, he secretly waits for you to say those words because as much of a gentleman he is, he anticipated that you're supposed to say those words back not just because you're boyfriends but because he deserves it after all those comments he tossed to you. (don't worry, he means his words, it's just that my guy wants affection too) and when he finally gets it, he's very and finally satisfied, like he finished his final mission or something.

He might not show it since he's a master of hiding his emotions but he's genuinely joyful about it. He finally got one of his dreams about or with you finished and he was way more satisfied at the result. You're small innocent self finally saying I love you back is kinda like the dream for him for some reason.. Please say your love for him more without him begging because the last thing he wants to say to you is saying "say you love me"

Knowing Floyd, he doesn't care about what anyone has to say about his affection towards you. No matter where you are, if he's in a good mood then he has no resistance to just fling and run himself into your comfy arms. There's a reason as to why he chose you as your boyfriend after all.

He has a thing for people smaller than him and it's shown by bullying Riddle till he's about to blow up like a volcano (or already blown up, depends on how he feels or what he said) and you being his boyfriend won't make you immune to his teasing. If anything, he will bully you about your height even more but he knows where to cross the line unlike with other students. He's very touchy so expect him to touch your small torso every time he has the chance.

He doesn't even realise that you haven't said your love for him if your love language leans more to physical. He wouldn't mind if you don't say it if you're also returning his hugs and super invested in cuddling sessions. Kiss him, hug him or do anything that's physical and he would be just as happy but if you don't do any of that, then he might say something about it or puff his cheeks out, pouting.

You were on his lap, cuddling like always, ignoring the judgemental stares you two are getting. Brave enough for them to try staring down at your giant monster of a boyfriend. He pours everything interesting that has happened to him or he has witnessed, aka the normal things he does everyday (surprising of how consistent he was) and it was adorable especially with his cooing voice when he mentions something he really thinks is cool. You accidentally said that is what you love about him and he stopped and looked at you for a second.

"Oh, Is that so?" oh, get prepared to be teased for that by the way. He's more in love with more than ever when you said that, especially the way you said it confidently, knowing that well it's unintentional. He has no shame to ask you to say it more or he'll squeeze you. Unsure if that's just a joking statement or not. I mean, he's technically squeezing the life out of you, screaming "I love you" at a ridiculously fast pace so he's probably not. Unfortunately or fortunately for you, he will ask you where's his daily "I love you" if you haven't said it yet before you separate your ways to your dorm for the next day to rise.

Can you tell I panicked when writing Floyd's part? Don't know why I panicked in the first place though, lol~

~𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖎

[firsttarotreader]

Can you do a reading on how things have negatively and positively changed in his life because of his explosion into fame? How’s he coping with it all at the moment? We see him smiling and laughing in front of the cameras, but behind closed doors the beast of fame really affects the mental well-being of some celebrities.

Hello! So, to answer your question I did one pull for the negative feelings he’s been having since he became more famous and one for the positive feelings. First, for the negative feelings, the cards were Judgement, The Fool and 3 of Swords.

Judgement is a card of change. His life is no longer the way it was, a part of his life has ended and he should be ready to leave the past behind and start new things, new paths. And The Fool shows him ready for it. He’s excited, he sees all the potential, he’s full of energy, he is all set for going in on new adventures and experiment new journeys. However, 3 of Swords means he might feel like all of this is gonna end, like things will not work out and he will be left feeling sad and disappointed, feeling like a failure again. He fears these new projects and adventures will fail and just bring him pain.

The cards for the positive feelings were the 7 of Swords reversed, The Sun and The High Priestess. 7 of Swords reversed has our man feeling like a fraud, like with an impostor syndrome, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve what he’s got because he is not so good at what he does as people believe he is. However, the fame and recognition he’s been getting with The Sun shows us he is starting to understand that he is NOT a fraud, that he is just what people see. It’s becoming clearer to him and that makes him feel joyful, satisfied, positive and more optimistic and feeling loved and appreciated. The recognition would obviously include the Awards nominations and all the praise he’s gotten. The High Priestess means he now feels wiser than he’s ever been, like he understands things way better, and he has learned to trust his intuition more. Fame and success have helped him get more in touch with his deep waters.

With all that, I would say the negative part is the feeling that all of this will end and he will be sad and frustrated again, and the positive part is that he has learned to value his own work more and trust his intuition.

[icollectyoursins]

Don!Giorno x Fem!Reader SFW

anon asked: “May I request a cute date with Don Giorno? Like he has a massive crush and finally gets the courage to ask her out and takes her on a fantastic romantic evening and it ends in a first kiss?”

I am SO sorry this took so long. I literally had no motivation until last night (feb 3).

Giorno had been dying to ask you on a date for a while now, but was never sure you would accept. Until now. 

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: SFW, lots of fluff, sweet kisses.

Word Count: 1254

     The creak of a handle turning followed by the fwoosh of water echoes throughout the bathroom. Giorno diligently washed his hands, trying his best to calm his nerves. She was only 10 minutes late. 10 minutes. That was it. She could still show up. She was so excited when he asked her out to dinner, why would she not show up? A dreamy image of your smile danced over his eyelids as he blinked. He would replay your joy over and over in his mind if he could.

     He looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his jacket; smoothing out the creases. Satisfied with his presentation, he walks out, carefully dodging the various servers and tables to get to yours, a little disappointed when you weren’t there. Drinks had already been laid out and a small basket of bread was placed at the centre of the table. He’d ordered you your favourite drink that he had remembered from a past conversation, hoping to impress you.

     As calmly as he could, he sits at the table for another 5 minutes until he hears the host speaking to someone and a familiar voice. Suddenly, his heart starts to beat a little faster than he’s used to. He hears 2 pairs of footsteps before he sees anyone rounding the corner, one is of course the host, the other is unmistakably yours. The minute he sees your face, bright and elated, he’s standing up, moving to take your jacket.

     “Gosh, I’m sorry. Traffic was terrible!” You say, smiling up at him as he pulls your chair out, placing the jacket over the back.

     “I’m glad you could make it, (Y/N).” Hearing him say your name in his typical smooth voice gives you goosebumps every time. 

     Though it was no secret to certain members of your group of friends, you had tried to conceal your little crush on Giorno Giovanna for quite some time, worried he wouldn’t see you the same way or would be too busy with his work to consider a relationship. But then he asked you on a date! How could you say no? I mean, it was a dream come true!

     “Did you order food already?” You asked, nodding to the basket of breadsticks.

     “No, only drinks.” Your eyes drift to the glasses on the table, letting a small sound of shock, that made warmth spread throughout his body when you saw your favourite drink.

     “How did you know?” 

     He chuckles softly. “You told me while we were out with Mista and Narancia at the sandwich shop.”

     “Really? That was months ago! You remembered that?”

     “Yes. Actually, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I could never find the right time.”

     “You must be busy now, um... Don Giorno.” You weren’t quite sure what to call him now. Don didn’t sit right with you, even if it was his title.

     “Please, just Giorno,” he smiles at your politeness. You return with your own sweet grin. 

     You sat in silence for a little bit, admiring each other’s appearances. The waiter quickly took your orders, then rushed off to where ever they were needed. You looked around you, admiring the view from the balcony you were beside. The lights of various cars and houses twinkled on your glasses. Your date sat in wonderment at the white-yellow glow on your face, giving you a halo effect on your cheeks. 

     “You look lovely, (Y/N).” He said, still smiling. Internally he thought about how much he would give to see you like this every day. Much like you, he had been slowly but surely developing a crush on you. The more time you spent together, the happier he seemed to get, catching himself staring at you with a wistful smile on his face. 

     “Thank you. You also look good!” You replied a little too eagerly. Ah, that’s awkward. He doesn’t seem to mind though, chuckling lightly as your cheeriness.

     The rest of the night carried on with light, pleasant conversation and delicious foods. Gradually, you got more comfortable being alone together, sharing more about each other’s personal life such as routines when you got home, what foods you enjoyed cooking, small things like that. You learned that Giorno enjoyed reading more than anything else, having a full library at home that you were a little jealous of if you were being totally honest. 

     Eventually, he asked for the bill, happily paying for the whole meal. Not that you expected anything less from a gentleman like him. You walked out of the restaurant with your arm wrapped around his, huddling close to him as you stepped out into the cold night. A car pulled up, assumedly for him. As you went to say your goodbye, he turned to you. 

     “Would you like a drive home?” He asked, sliding his hand down to yours and holding it gently. You were a little shocked, cheeks getting a little warm.

     “Oh, um... yeah, sure!” 

     The door was opened as you were lead towards it, sliding in with Giorno in tow. You gave the driver your address, then continued your previous conversation from dinner, passing the time on your way home. It came quicker than you had anticipated, having been enjoying his company too much. You were a little disappointed, honestly. Did it really have to end so soon?

     “Let me walk you in.” He said, opening the door on his side. Still holding onto your hand, he gently pulled you out, holding you close for a moment while closing it behind you. Your cheeks got hot again, a little nervous being so close to him. Slowly, you walked up the steps to your apartment, milking out the last of your time together.

     The two of you stood in front of the door, turning towards each other. Your eyes locked with his beautiful green ones, getting lost in them. 

     “(Y/N).”

     “Giorno.”

     It was as if there were a magnet pulling your closer together until his breath tickled your face. Soft, but firm hands wrapped around your waist and neck, thumb brushing your jawbone, making you shiver. Not wasting another minute, you leaned in, pressing your lips into his. He tasted sweet. Not overly sweet, just-

     He pulled you into him, pushing deeper into the kiss. Your knees went weak and suddenly you were thankful for the strength of his arms around you, holding you up.

     Sweet.

     All too soon, Giorno pulls away. Both of you were breathless from the feelings rushing over you. Cheeks burned hot, a harsh contrast to the cool night.

     “Would you go on another date with me?” He asked softly.

      God, you could barely talk, croaking out a “yes” before quickly pulling back and unlocking your door, a little shocked at the intimate and kind gesture. 

     “Good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He was about to walk away when he tenderly cupped your cheek in his hand, pulling you into another kiss. “Good night, (Y/N).”

     And with that he was gone, trotting down the stairs to the car, bursting with a joyful satisfaction that he had never felt before. As Giorno slid into the car, he caught a look at his reflection, noticing a stain the same shade as your lipstick. He traced a finger over it, before pulling out a napkin. Whatever brand you used, it seemed to work well because the more he rubbed at it, the more it spread around the corner of his mouth, creating a larger stain. He could already hear Narancia and Mista’s laughter in his mind.

     He smiled, looking back at your door, now closed.

     Whatever teasing he would get, you would be more than worth it.