#its so beautiful and has so much emotion bagged into it

[2danesand1cat]

The themes of regret, grief, and guilt have been in my mind lately, particularly regarding my sweet angel child-Damian.

It’s a pretty consistent theme in the comics that Damian believes he is not good enough, he’s a monster, that he’s not like his father or siblings, and that he’s full of uncontrollable anger, malice, and spite.

And while of course each batkid (and especially Bruce) have their own unique experiences with guilt and regret, I can’t help but imagine what all of that must feel like to a kid so young, who is incredibly skilled and highly intelligent, yet also very naive in a way that a child is about the world and their place in it.

Damian is frustrated when people don’t understand his harshness and his intense motivations, as it creates a barrier in the way he relates to his family. Additionally, he is barely able to step out of his own perspective as a child, preteen, and even young teenager to understand other people’s ways and motivations. This would certainly be incredibly isolating, having this drive and intensity you were tortured to develop and that you are now being told is wrong even though that’s all you know. But more than anything, he just wants to please someone, and it feels like they just keep misunderstanding him. This, of course, is not to say they didn’t try. Dick, Alfred and Bruce are his heroes for a damn good reason, but it took a great deal of time and constant redirection.

Even now, as an early teen, he’s still struggling with maintaining all the work he’s done on himself to reframe his self image and control his emotions. YOU KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS FOR A 14/15 YEAR OLD TO CONTROL THEIR EMOTIONS?!?!

Do you know how much guilt and regret that must take, to keep him on track?

His desire to please is so strong because each small bit of praise that he earns reinforces this very feeble idea that, maybe, just maybe, he is good, and is doing something right. Each time he hears these things, it slowly erodes that constant weight on his tiny little shoulders of the guilt he carries everyday.

I can’t help but think of all the times he pleaded with himself and some high figure or something to “please, make me good like Richard. Help me be better. Help me be like Father. Please, please please” as silent sobs gripped his tiny frame and tears poured down onto his pillow.

Or all the times where he is sketching or training or just trying to exist and is hit with a wave of guilt as he has a flashback about his time in the league or even his early days in Gotham. Those are the days when his sketches get crumped because “it’s not worth it to even try to create something beautiful” in those moments. And how he refuses to wrap his hands as he hits the punching bag over and over again, feeling a small bit of relief at every spilt knuckle because “I deserve this pain” is all he can think.

Still til this day, as nightmares come and go, he lies there in bed and repeats to himself that “yes, that was me, i did kill, i did slaughter”, and even though what he just experienced in his dream wasn’t real, it was all at one time very, very real.

There were times when he wouldn’t eat breakfast after he lay up all night, coming to terms with his past self, reasoning that breakfast is for people that deserve it. He must instead punish his body for the its sins. Seeking comfort to placate his conscious was weakness as well. He did his best to hide his guilt and suffering from Dick and Alfred and Bruce, as it was not their cross to bear.

What he forgets, and still often forgets, is that he is and was just a child. And what he is trying to learn is that everyone has regrets, but we are not our past, we are our efforts to create a better future self. It gets a little better each day. He is trying.

At least now, he has given himself the permission to seek out the love and comfort he so desperately craves. When he silently pads into Bruce’s room at night, Bruce understands. They don’t speak, not then at least, but Damian no longer constantly denies himself the goodness that he is learning he deserves.

[hangingoffence]

Caesar's theme (Il mare eterno nella mia anima - Kohei Yamamoto ) truly is one of the most unique pieces of music in Jojo especially when it comes to jobros. everyone else' has rock/pop type song but Caesar has is an opera 's songs are heavy on the instrumental music itself but Caesar's song focuses in the vocals (most jobro song dont even have any vocals or lyrics). And the fact that the whole song was produced specifically for Caesar's death scene. It was also used when first introducing the character.

The lyrics, which talk about death and memory point to the fact that Caesar's greatest feat was to die for the Joestar family (which uknow is the Zeppeli curse). His whole life, backstory, his whole character arc all lead to the moment when he sacrifices himself for Joseph. His whole purpose as character in the story is just that. Even though he does serve a purpose as the more experienced rival to Joseph but that too leads to him accepting his ultimate faith.

And the song i think summaries that well. Because as Caesar as a character the song too was made for that specific moment specifically.

[feitanii-ll]

★ —–– " how they love you — jjk version

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 who would give you the world if he could. and trust me, he's tried.

satoru who doesn't believe that he could find true love, surprised that he has the ability to be so vulnerable around you. drop that stupid, "honored" role and just... be with you.

the one who tries to make you laugh as much as he possibly can, because your laughter keeps him alive. your smile makes his brain all hazy. the crinkles in your brow makes him stare— he's crazy about you.

satoru who's so so strong, but wouldn't dare use that strength to hurt you. using it only to help. gloating about how many grocery bags he can carry on both arms, though it's simply to showcase his strength, and to lessen your struggles.

the man who scoffs in the face of higher-ups when they scold him for interrupting their meetings with your ringtone, and answering your calls.

"it's my wife?" he simply shrugs, when asked why he insists on making a mockery of these meetings.

satoru who tries to be helpful in his own ways, researching little online tips on "how to keep your spouse happy!" he's embarrassed when you see the search history, reassuring him that he's already perfect, and helps so so much.

satoru brags about you, because God, are you beautiful. so graceful. you put up with him.

he sobs to himself in the night when when sees you lying beside him. you chose him...and not just for his strength or title, and he knows this. his emotions are through the roof for you.

your husband, satoru, loves so loudly.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈, 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 didn't even think he was worthy of love.

it's sad to hear, how undeserving he felt before he met you. with a busy work schedule, crabby attitude, and dangerous job, he convinces himself that it's impossible for him to find someone who could "put up" with him.

for the longest, kento yearned love. a marriage. a happy home. a new feeling of pride in something positive.

kento is a new man when he meets you.

kento who treats you like absolute glass, completely careful of you emotionally, physically, and mentally. there will never be a day in which kento doesn't know what you're feeling. he knows his way through your heart and soul, making it his job to be able to read you in and out— he knows you better than you know yourself.

kento who feels like he needs to spoil you. like it's in his blood to give you top-tier quality items, the only time he ignores you being when you try to convince him otherwise.

this is a man who wakes up on his own at ungodly times of the night and looks over his shoulder to see you sleeping soundly beside him, your designated spot all warm from how relaxed your body is into the mattress. he finds himself, like a routine, gently rubbing your silk-clad back as you sleep on your tummy before reaching over.

"hi, sweetheart. I miss you," he mumbles against your ear, giving the shell a soft kiss. its not like you're gone, but he simply misses you because you're asleep, unable to speak to him. "sleep well." he finishes, before settling in bed beside you.

nanami wants you to make his house a home. he knows your favorite isle in the grocery store is the home-goods; he doesn't miss the way your eyes gleam at the pillows, coasters, and floor mats that could match whichever theme you so desperately want. loves when you point to a house plant and explain why it'd be such a good detail to your house.

kento doesn't hesitate to buy you everything you look at, and no, you're not allowed to object.

kento loves you cautiously— in the best ways.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎, 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is such an angel.

"can I help, my love?"

"do you need anything from me?"

"no no, I'll do it, darling."

he's so unbelievably sweet to you, constantly trying to help you out, make you feel happy, do whatever he can in exchange for your sweet sweet praise that he lives off of.

choso, the man who can't keep himself off of you. the one who pushes his head into your tummy from under your arms as you scroll through your phone, furrowing his brows when you only giggle instead of run your fingers through his hair like he was hoping.

choso who's still a little new to the world, and gets excited over the smallest of things. amusement parks, grocery stores, pet shops— he's so curious.

the one who makes you breakfast in the morning, trying his best not to wake you up with clattering pots and pans, so excited when he successfully makes you a meal and brings it to your sleeping form.

cho who doesn't stop inviting yuuji over, considering he's about the only immediate family. his heart melts when he realizes that this is his family. you, itadori, and him.

choso who discovers Polaroid cameras, and snaps a photo of you three when you're out and about. pictures of frogs in your backyard, pictures of yuuji tumbling down a steep slope on your hiking trip, photos of the two of you on a lazy day in which you stay in (one he slips into his clear phone case).

choso, is so so patient— often being the mediator to your overthinking or frustration. he's so good in the way he calms you down, gently tugging you by your hip in attempts to pull you away from strangers you wind up bickering with at the mall for being so rude to you.

choso who loves yiu and all your attitude, often calling you his "angry bird." (he only just learned of the game.

choso loves you so sweetly.

[cloudcountry]

Hello! If it's not too much trouble, can I ask for some headcanons for Deuce, Jack, Jamil, and Azul overhearing the reader gushing about them to a friend? It's not like they meant to eavesdrop, they just happened to be passing and they heard a snippet of all the nice things the reader said about them

SUMMARY: they eavesdrop on you while you gush about them!

COMMENTS: writing for jamil is so hard...........

Deuce left to go get some snacks for you and Ace, since he was used to carrying all of the bags anyways. He didn’t expect to come back to hearing you gush about him to a disgruntled Ace, going on and on about how amazing you thought he was.

“Prefect pleaseee, spare me. I know you’re down bad.” Ace groans, and Deuce stands outside the door just a little bit longer even though he knows it's bad to eavesdrop.

“What do you mean!? Have you seen him!? I am the perfect, acceptable amount of interested, thank you very much!” you proclaim dramatically, “He’s just so hard working, and so kind, and even though he’s so tough he’s also really gentle...have you seen him make eggs? I wish I was those eggs!”

Deuce’s face feels like it’s burning. He steps into the room, unable to listen to your rambling anymore. You and Ace stop talking and turn to look at him, only for Ace to burst with laughter at his flaming red face.

Jack would love to say that he’s unfazed. He’d also love to grab his tail and stop it from wagging so damn much, but unfortunately that is not how his tail works. It's a bit odd that you decided to tell this to Ruggie of all people, and honestly Jack thinks you should have gone to literally anyone else.

He respects his upperclassmen of course, but he knows Ruggie is going to tease both of you relentlessly. He can already hear it now, the high pitched, iconic Ruggie laugh ringing in his ears 

Regardless...his face is far warmer than it usually is. Maybe he likes being praised...just a little bit...

If Azul is being honest, he was just eavesdropping to gain insight into your struggles. Now he’s stuck sitting a table away from you, hiding his face with a textbook because he definitely looks at least a little bit panicked and he has a reputation to uphold.

You're babbling on and on to your Heartslabyul friends about how lovely you think Azul is, despite their interjections of “Prefect that is literally the guy who screwed us over” and “Prefect...you could do so much better for yourself, you know that?”

He covers his surprised snort with a soft cough when you shoot back with a “Well you two were the ones silly enough to sign his deal. His business is still running for a reason.”

Really, you’re something else.

Jamil isn’t used to praise that it’s for his food and isn’t from Kalim. Unfortunately enough, it’s him who you’re talking to when he walks into Scarabia’s lounge.

He freezes in place when he hears his name, about to open his mouth and chastise you two for talking about someone when they’re not there, but he hears just what you have to say and he’s so glad he didn’t get the chance to say anything.

Staring at you and Kalim’s backs, he has to admit he’s more than a little flustered and more than a little annoyed that he can’t see your face or the smile you’re so obviously wearing when you talk about how beautiful and clever Jamil is.

A foreign emotion rears its head inside him and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—he’ll just get you to spill your guts later.

-> deuce's darlings . . . @vivigoesinsane @deucespadez @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> azul's business partners . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

[orchidniins]

Finally Home | George Clarke

Summary: Where George is finally home after a long 2 weeks on tour. Pairing: George Clarke x gn!Reader Warning: Fluff Word count: 950+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! How the writers block has been eating away at me this week. This ones short, but longer one coming out next Monday. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

George had been away for what felt like an eternity, though in reality, it had only been a couple of weeks. Had you gone to one of his and Max’s shows a few days ago? Yes. Did you still miss having him around? Absolutely.

You were maybe a little too excited for today. Despite having to work all day and missing the final Useless Hotline show in London, you were thrilled at the thought of having George back home tonight.

You were wrapped up in a soft blanket on your couch, a Netflix reality show playing on the TV as you tried to pass the time before George got home. The warmth of the blanket and the gentle glow of the TV lulled you into a relaxed state. The exhaustion from the day began to take its toll and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

George had just returned from the after-party, and he couldn’t wait to see you, to sleep next to you in your own bed. Quietly, he stepped into your apartment, expecting to have you run into his arms, only to be met with a sight that made his heart melt. He placed his bags gently next to the door before walking towards you.

He found you, his partner, asleep on the couch. The low sound of the TV played softly in the background. You were cuddled up in a blanket, your features delicate and serene. He thought you looked incredibly beautiful, even more so in the soft, warm glow of the TV. Your hair framed your face perfectly, giving you an angelic appearance. You looked so peaceful in your slumber, so utterly beautiful, that he couldn’t help but smile.

George crouched down next to you, taking a moment to simply watch you. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and loving. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the light touch causing you to stir awake.

You blinked your eyes open, a bit groggy from sleep, and were met with the sight of George’s loving gaze. Your heart leapt with joy, and a sleepy smile spread across your face. "George," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up, feeling an overwhelming rush of happiness.

“Hey, love,” George whispered back, his voice filled with emotion. He couldn’t resist pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you tight. "I missed you so much."

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck. "Missed me? I just saw you in Bristol like three days ago," you murmured, your laugh muffled but filled with love. "But I’m happy to have you back with me." You inhaled his scent, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.

George pulled back slightly, smiling with a crinkle in his eyes, looking oh so handsome. “Well, I’m all yours now,” he said, his eyes sparkling with love. “You have all my attention.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Good, because I’ve missed you too,” you said as you caressed his cheek.

George leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. As he pulled away, he sat down on the couch next to you, and you two began talking, catching up on everything you had missed. You laughed as George recounted all the amusing and memorable moments from the tour, listening intently while cuddled up next to him, tucked under his arm, reveling in the warmth of his presence.

George sighed contentedly, "Nothing beats being back here with you."

"Aww, don't lie," you teased. "It must have been fun having all the ladies fawn over you at your shows."

George grinned, "I'm smart enough not to answer that... and even smarter to say I love you."

You laughed, "I love you too." He leaned in and placed a slow, tender kiss on your lips, and you leaned into it, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

His gentle hands caressed your waist as you shuffled closer on his lap, straddling him. Your lips met in a kiss, starting off slow and tender. George lightly pecked you on the lips, murmuring how much he had missed it being just the two of you. You pressed yourself closer to him, earning a groan from the sudden movement.

He began to kiss down your neck, finding the spot he knew made your knees weak. You felt him smirk against your skin as you let out a soft gasps, his lips leaving sweet little nibbles. The sensation made you moan softly in his ear, which was enough to get him going.

His lips attached back on yours and the kiss grew heated, the passion between you intensifying. George suddenly felt like there was too much space between you, and he tugged you closer to him, his hands roaming under your shirt, the contact making you gasp into his mouth, the heat between you growing as you both became consumed with each other, lost in the burning touch.

Your hands roamed his body, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his back. Both of you poured all your emotions into that kiss, scared to pull away from each other. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging slightly, causing him to groan deeply.

George was the first to pull away. “I think we should move this to the bedroom,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his eyes dark with lust.

You nodded, breathless, and the two of you stood up, never breaking contact as you made your way to the bedroom. Neither of you wanted to be apart for any second longer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

[formulamar]

she’s a ferrari - part 3

charles leclerc x yn!ferrari

fc: addison rae

summary: as a child, the great-grand daughter of Enzo Ferrari used to spend her weekends hanging around the paddock. but once she went off to university her appearances became rare. what happens when she starts working for Ferrari? and... one of the drivers steals her heart.

READ PART TWO HERE

NOVEMBER 2023

twitter

ynferrari's story

twitter

charles_leclerc

liked by joris__trouche and 905,679 others

charles_leclerc: I gave absolutely everything today. Thank you so much for everything. Thank you for the support throughout the whole season. It's been a tough one and I already can't wait to be in 2024 to be hopefully fighting for wins again ❤️

5,382 comments

ynferrari: you make us proud everyday ❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

DECEMBER 2023

ynferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 109,354 others

ynferrari: finally gradu-ATE-ed!!!!! big thank you to my family, my friends and to beautiful London!!! you've treated me so well. can't wait for this next chapter, but its painfully bittersweet to close out this one. 🎓💐🤍

6,039 comments

carmenmmundt: intelligent AND gorgeous 🥰

-> ynferrari: you're my inspiration 🥲

fernandoalonso: Lo hiciste!! (you did it)

liked by ynferrari

carlossainz55: 👏👏👏

ynscousin: CONGRATULAZIONI YN 🍾 also how did you get rid of your jet lag so fast?

-> ynferrari: trust it was a pain 😭

ynbff: WE DID IT BABES!!!! ILY

landonorris: are you sure they didn't hand you someone else's diploma on accident?

-> ynferrari: just shut up and come to the party 🙄

user: who bought you that degree?

tifosi2019: from one grad to another congratulations yn!

-> ynferrari: congratulations to you as well!

charles_leclerc: Smartest person I know ❤️ Congratulations

-> ynferrari: grazie bello :))

-> lordcharles: EVERYONE SEEING THIS INTERACTION

ferrarifan03: CONGRATS YN!!!!

ynfan53: CONGRADULATIONS PRETTY GIRL

tifosi75: yn...is it possible this next chapter involves you being in the paddock more often??

-> ynferrari: 😉😉

user: spoiled brat

-> ynferrari: not too shabby yourself xx

-> ferrarifan03: HELPPPPP

rumorhasitf1

liked by f1fan, ynbff and 4,673 others

rumorhasitf1: RUMOR HAS IT

Rumor has it that various f1 drivers attended YN Ferrari's graduation party in London on December 9th. Guests included Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, Mick Schummacher, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lance Stroll, George Russel and YN's rumored boyfriend Charles Leclerc. Susi and Toto Wolff were also in attendance. Witnesses state that YN and Charles held hands, danced and conversed throughout the whole evening.

753 comments

norrisluv: now the important question is what did he gift her...

-> lechairs: EXACTLYYYYY IM SO CURIOUS

lec4: getting emotional just imagining this...cutest couple to ever couple

charlnor: susi and toto being there is a little random to me not gonna lie...

-> scunteriafer: i'm hoping it's just cause they've known yn since she was little and they have a close bond and not because of anything else

cl16fan: Charles and Yn dancing together... i'm actually dying

lonso14: imagine nando just glaring at charles the whole night FHSKAJFLD

f1fan05: WAS FRED THERE @/rumorhasitf1

-> rumorhasitf1: Our source says yes!

ferrarienthusiast38: YN'S BESTIE IN THE LIKES HELLOFDJKSLJ

ln4s: it's got to be true then omgggg

lordpercevalfan: can we talk about this pic holy hell Charles how'd you bag that

twitter

PADDOCK GOSSIP

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

formulaamar 🎬: i wanted to get this out way earlier than i was able to but i couldn’t because school started again for me 🙄 and ive been busy with that but here’s part 3!!! this was supposed to be the last part but i decided why not add a little more hehe 😇 remember to comment if you wanna be on the taglist!!! ALSO ITS FINALLY RACE WEEK AGAIN LETS GO LETS HOPE FOR FERRARI FIXED THEIR FREAKING CAR 🥰

taglist 🌷🏷️: @agmoon03 @sarx164 @janeh22 @kindestofkings @ttokkisbee @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @lottalove4evelyn @1800-love-me @forza-charles @blushmimi @emryb @heavy-vettel @tvdtw4ever @harrysdimples05 @chelle1306 @majasophieanna

[koiiiji]

hiii! i really love your windbreaker scenarios😭❤️ can i request a hyuk kwon scenarios with friends to lovers trope, if you don't mind? thank you so much!!!

AHHH U READING MY THOUGHTS! i had it in my drafts, but already posted!! so here like a short scenario in same timeline, just take it as what happened in gaps here

author note ; seminar week in uni hits hard, but random tequila shots with flatmates in the middle of the week hits harder.... but don't worry i played through and won this fking hangover and dropping this post now😌🫦

warnings ; fluff, cute hyeok, not proofed

(bro is the type of guy who will show off a trick on his bike he hasn't trained enough yet and end up falling)

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friday evening started out great - all the lectures were over, the weather was beautiful outside, the sun had not yet disappeared behind the horizon and was giving the city its last rays. this week you didn’t miss a single lecture, and in general today you were quite active in class, you also agreed with your classmates to meet next week to complete a group project, so your socially active duty for today has been completed and you can calmly relax on weekend.

entering cozy apartment, you set down your bag and kicked off shoes, ready to delve into usual routine of household chores. you took a slow shower, completed all the steps in the skin care routine and now you wanted to start that series that you had been putting off for a long time when you heard a soft knock sounded at the door, interrupting your thoughts. curious, you opened the door to find Kwon standing there, with his usual calm and relaxed face. his presence caught you off guard a little, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. "hey..." he began, his voice a gentle murmur. "i was wondering if you'd like to go to that shop near our building with me. i wanted that banana drink you recommend me recently... and i thought you spent whole day in uni, so we could take a little walk together... you know to catch some fresh air and stuff..." your initial surprise quickly gave way to excitement, as your lips curling into a grin. despite his usual reserved demeanor, Kwon's offer filled you with pleasant a sense of warmth, joy and anticipation. "sure, i’d love to," you replied, grabbing a jacket and slipping on her shoes.

together, you ventured out into the cool evening air of Seoul, the streets alive with the hustle and bustle of city life. As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but steal glances at Hyeok, marveling at the way his stoic facade softened in the glow of the streetlights. small conversation about everything flowed effortlessly as you made your way to the shop, sharing stories and laughter along the way. but little did you know that Kwon had something else up his sleeve, a secret he was eager to reveal. of course you notice bike he took with him, but you genuinely thought he was so obsessed with these races and bicycles that he just wouldn't get off his bike.

upon reaching an empty playground nestled within a quiet corner of the neighborhood, Kwon's eyes twinkled with mischief as he hopped on his bicycle, a gleam of excitement dancing in his gaze. "watch this," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement as he prepared to demonstrate a new trick he had been practicing. however, fate had other plans in store, and as he attempted to execute the trick, a misstep caused him to lose his balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a muffled thud. your heart felt like it skipped a beat as you rushed to his side, concern etched across your features. ignoring the pain coursing through his knee, Hyeok tried to brush off the accident with some kind of incomprehensible emotion. but you saw through his facade, your heart aching at the sight of him in distress. without a moment's hesitation, you took charge, guiding him to a nearby bench and inspecting his injury with gentle hands. rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a pack of cute adhesive bandages adorned with playful images of bananas, a small smile tugging at your lips. with utmost care, you cleaned his wound and carefully applied the bandages, your touch felt so tender that Hyeok could feel goosebumps down his spine.

in that vulnerable moment, when he saw you on your knees before him as you tended to his injury with unwavering kindness, Kwon felt a surge of emotions wash over him, his heart swelling with a newfound warmth. as he looked into your eyes, he realized with startling clarity that what he felt for you already went beyond mere friendship.

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[maiden-of-the-waters]

Sparks and Showers Part 1

//My first attempt at writing for @tunadunanana ‘s OC, the Phoenix Maiden, affectionately named Birdie. Tuna, this story turned out so much longer than I was expecting and planning, I really hope I did your Birdie correctly because this is a lot of writing for her to be completely out of character 🤣🤣 if she is I do apologize.

This is a SFW story, no warnings, not proofread to do forgive any spelling errors; MOD//

Summary;

The Journey has been complete, Battles won, and Memories restored. Birdie and the Newly Awaken & Reincarnated Sun Wukong are making their way back to their home mountain of flowers and fruit. But when they stop to rest, the creatures of the forest make it hard to relax.

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🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜

——————————————————

Time can be a beautiful thing when it runs in your favor. And it can be painful when it is against you.

That was a world defining truth that Birdie had come to know incredibly intimately.

Matters of the heart usually fought with Time you see, clashing in the worst of ways. Days seem to stretch for far too long with the Heart was grieving, and when the heart was at its happiest time flew faster than any falcon.

During the final battle the Destined One had had with the stone shell of the king who had once unknowingly held her heart, Birdie wished time could fly faster, to get past this awful moment.

The irony wasn’t lost upon the Phoenix Maiden that not even hours earlier, when they were bantering back and forth, she had wished time could slow… just a bit. The maiden setting aside her pain at seeing her dear friend in the face of this stranger who had become her friend as well,

But there were also occasions when time seemed to slow in the good moments as well.

After that previously mentioned battle for example; When the dust had settled, when that radiant light that was oh so familiar faded, when the elderly monkey that held that awful awful headband took a step back, when she saw her friend’s own head still free of that golden chain….

When he stood up…

When he turned to look at her when she took a hesitant step forward… and recognition flashed.

“Birdie?” His eyes widened and he smiled.

Birdie felt her breath catch in her lungs as - for the first time in hundreds of years - she allowed herself to hope…

Because that smile - oh that smile - that was His…

Time slowed as she took a few steps closer. The wings of hope spreading ever wider in her chest. The pair took each other in.

“Wukong?” Her voice, usually so melodic and sweet, cracked under the force of the emotions that were cascading through her. Part of her was scared to make a noise, to break this fragile moment in fear that it was just some cruel illusion, another dirty trick from the gods.

This Wukong, who carried himself the same, still standing in that familiar way that favored the hip opposite of his Staff… the familiar way his tail barely moved as he was taking something in… it was all Him… but there was a look in his eye that was a bit… unfamiliar… Older, wiser? Only that capricious Time would be able to tell….

But, this Wukong took a slow step forward, Helping the Phoenix Maiden close the distance just a bit more… and let out a soft Hooting Chirp, a curious sound… a question?

It was such a little sound…

But it caused the Phoenix Maiden to drop her Bow, Arrows and her Bag into the water uncaringly as her brought her hands to her mouth to cover the Sobs that shook her body. Every dam within her breaking as emotions surged forward, overtaking her in an overwhelming force.

He was back! It was Him! He was Back!

She ran to close that distance as he reached forward to receive her. And they shared an embrace so tight that no force on heaven or earth could’ve separated them in that moment.

They clung to each other desperately, afraid to let the other go in fear that this was all a perfect dream.

But Wukong was the first to feel relief course through him as he felt her tears soaking his fur on the side of neck… because never, not even in his unconscious and hibernative state, had he ever imagined her crying in such a way. And he knew this was real.

He held her tighter to him, wrapping his arms around her in a force that tried to shield her from everything, to keep her secure even as she fell apart.

As for the Phoenix Maiden,

The sweet woman with such joyful colors that mocked her ever mourning being, the woman who wore loyalty on her skin and her heart on her sleeve even as the world around her crumbled, the woman who began this journey to give herself closure and possibly make peace knowing her dearest friend had gone before she could tell him how she felt and the feelings she held - Because why rush to spill your heart when you were supposed to have eternity?

For the first time in Hundreds of years… the Tears she were shedding, the sobs that were making her tremble…

They weren’t of grief.

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🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜

—————————————————

The next couple days were a joyful blur for the Phoenix Maiden, reconnecting with her dear monkey, speaking the words in her heart that she never had a chance to say before. The absolute joy at hearing him accept her feelings and validate them by matching them with his own.

There were many talks of expectations, of what they desired from one another, the fears they carried, the love they had, the future they wanted… but alas those stories cannot be told here, for they were private and for each others ears only.

And of course, not all moments were good. You see, the trauma they had gone through didn’t magically disappear with the presence of the other.

Poor Birdie was reminded of this first hand when she had a nightmare of her world being over again. Dreamed of blood on her hands, desperately reaching for a body that was always just out of reach. No one responding as she screamed for help.

When Wukong had finally able to shake her awake from that unconscious horror, she had clung to him for hours, her cheek against his chest, her ears focused on the steady beating of his heart. The pair holding each other until her trembles faded and a dreamless sleep swept her up once more.

Sun Wukong wasn’t spared either. (Though one could argue seeing his dear friend be tormented so was torture enough.)

No, the immortal monkey king too had bad dreams, though his weren’t always at night. As he settled into this new body and the memories it held before he returned, the Great Sage now found himself plagued with visions and hallucinations as past and future clashed in his mind.

Both the present body and his past mind struggling to find their equilibrium, his Yin and Yang out of balance.

Visions of being defeated, his body being torn apart, Phantom Pains leaving him resting his head in the Phoenix Maiden’s lap as she attempted to sing away the pain that had long since passed, past battles with modern foes, voices on the wind that mimicked his people but were wrong, illusions of a weapon or claw about to strike his side before fading before the hit could land. He would turn and snarl at the sound of an enemy to find it was only empty air.

He had forced himself back into his meditations and his more Buddhist mindset in an attempt to force the Equilibrium to settle when he went to go attack an enemy only for that enemy to turn into his precious Birdie before his Cudgel had a chance to land its hit.

That moment had been a reality check for both of them. Wukong may be back… but he was still very much not at his 100 just yet…

It helped that Birdie was so supportive of him, gently taking his hands when he flinched away from her, telling him in that melodic voice of hers that, They just needed to take it slow, these things take time. Besides, they finally had forever. Wounds would heal, the nightmares would fade.

It was that night that they decided to start making their journey back to Mount Huaguo, that beautiful Paradise of Flowers and Fruit. “After all!” Sun Wukong had spoken, his fur puffed in joy and anticipation. “What better place to heal the mind than my paradise on earth! Besides, I believe their handsome king has been absent for long enough.”

He felt himself puff up more with pride when his words brought a smile to his Birdie’s lips.

—————————————————

🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜🐒🦜

—————————————————

This is how we find ourselves where we currently are at within the story my dear readers.

As both Sun Wukong and the Phoenix Maiden are beings capable of flight, the pair crossed an impressive distance of land in a relatively short amount of time. Neither had any doubt that if Birdie had clung to Wukong on his jīndǒu yún cloud, (筋斗云) they could make it back to Mount Huaguo in a day, if not a handful of hours.

However they both came to an agreement that with it being as long as it had been, it’d be wise to move at a more leisurely pace - even if from the air - so that Wukong could familiarize himself with how the land had changed. At the pace they were going, the trip would take 3 days and 2 nights back to their beloved mountain.

Everything went smooth the first day and night. The second day say they were forced to slow because of winds that were blowing against them. Birdie beating her wings twice as hard to move forward against the breeze. Wukong stayed a bit behind her to catch if it was needed.

But Birdie took it with good humor, giggling that that flight had been the best workout she’s had in years!

That brings us to where we are tonight:

“It is good that we arrive back at the Mountain tomorrow,” Birdie hummed as she opened her bag and took out two generously sized Mangos and a bag of tree nuts from a cashe Zhu Baije had gifted to them before they departed. “This is the last of it, we may need to forage for lunch tomorrow…”

Sun Wukong nodded as he grabbed the mango and stoking the fire they sat by to warm themselves and their clothes before they went to rest in the trees for the night.. “Hmm… unless we want to agree that taking it at a leisure pace was a silly notion and we just use my jīndǒu yún to cross that meager distance before our bellies have a chance to complain?”

“Sun Wukong!” Birdie gasped, a playful gleam in her eyes, “Am I to hear that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven can’t handle roughing it any longer? What does the Handsome Monkey King miss his pillows?”

“Blasphemous! You dare to insinuate that This great King can’t handle a bit of dirt?! Better to wish to avoid dirt than be dragged back to the earth like a waterlogged pigeon because of some wind!” Sun Wukong leaned forward as he accepted her invitation to play, a relief warming his chest to have confirmation once again that the years didn’t take this game of theirs away.

“Even Pigeons can keep themselves pristine and well groomed! How many pebbles and rock clumps have I had to untangle from your fur since your return you wretched Stone Monkey! Perhaps we should go ahead so the denizens of the mountain can run you a bath and line up to groom you properly!” She narrowed her eyes with a grin, but also carefully watching for his reaction, remembering how important troop grooming sessions were for his kind.

But there was no insult in his eyes, only mirth as he matched her grin. “Brave woman! Brave indeed! You voice so easily on my stone nature but tease me for wanting to stay away from the floor in which entangles those clumps in my fur! Dare I say you are contradicting yourself?”

The Phoenix Maiden leans in close and settles herself against him in a motion Sun Wukong doesn’t trust one bit, not while they’re within the game, but he enjoys her proximity too much to push her away. That’s before Birdie leans her head against his shoulder and innocently entangles her fingers in his fur at the base of his neck, taking care not to snag the fur.

“Oh Wukong…. Should I gather some soft moss for you to rest your royal head? I’d hate for you to crimp your neck at your impressive age.” From where she sits, Wukong can’t see her face, but he doesn’t have see it to know she’s holding in laughter from the way her shoulder shook, to how her tone is pitched.

Wukong made an aghast sound from his chest as he playfully grabbed the woman beside him making her finally release her laughter as she squealed and attempted to get away from his tickling hands.

The Phoenix Maiden didn’t realize until too late Wukong’s dastardly plan as he took them to the forest floor as they tumbled around each other in their game.

That was, until Birdie’s hand brushed against something in her hair….

Was that… a twig? Leaves?

Realization dawned as she shoved a Cackling Wukong away to take stock of her appearance.

“Oh you didn’t! WUKONG!” She was covered in Leaves, Twigs, Dirt… and those Rock Clumps. She looked a right mess, and thoroughly tumbled.

The smug Monkey King laughed even harder, the force of it making him loose his footing and nearly causing him to fall into the fire. “Don’t worry! Don’t worry! I’m sure once we get back to the mountain, the denizens will run you a bath and line up to groom you!”

He laughed harder as he threw her words back at her.

She succeeded in untangling a stick from her hair and proceeded to throw it at the furry Stone Menace, causing him to wheeze as he gripped his sides.

Birdie attempted to pretend to be stern before she fell into laughter as well. What could she do? Sun Wukong’s joy had always been infectious.

——————

The joy and mirth of the moment came to an abrupt end when Wukong froze and was suddenly on his feet, staring unblinkingly into the forest, his stance tense.

“Do you hear that my Birdie?” His voice was softer now, barely above a whisper.

Birdie felt her heart sink in her chest a bit as she slowly got to her feet and took a step back, running on the assumption it was another invisible enemy that often plagued his mind, and readying herself to jump into the trees should a one-sided battle commence.

“Wukong, I don’t-“ the snap of a branch cut her off as she froze as well, turning her head to look in the direction the sound came from… and it was only then she realized how silent the woods had become. “Yes. Yes I heard that.”

She grabbed her bow and notched an arrow, flexing her wings to become airborne at the first sense of true danger.

More rustling and the sounds of large trunks snapping made them both tense further in readiness for whatever they were about to face.

Just when the Stone Monkey was about to activate his gold vision, a blast of fire and molten rock shot at him as a horrible screech shot through the trees. Officially breaking the otherwise eerie silence. He only barely moved out of the way in time, the smell of singed fur quickly filling the air.

Birdie yelped as the molten rock landed next to her foot as she jumped into the air with a single beat of her wings and took a shot in the direction of where the attack had come from.

Another awful screech rang out, letting Birdie know her blind shot had landed.

There was a burst of movement as the awful beast finally revealed itself. A giant Róngyán xīyì (熔岩蜥蜴) ((Lava Lizard)) at least 16 heads long burst forward. It’s wide mouth open, attempting to swallow one or both of the travelers but missing them both.

Its movements were heavy, clumsy and uncoordinated. Its large and burning eyes nictated as it moved its head around looking for where its prey had gone. It’s fat Tail lashing and trying to rid itself of the arrow sticking out of it. Rumbling with dissatisfaction.

Both Wukong - from his place hiding in the brush, and Birdie - from her spot in the trees stayed quiet, hoping the beast would move on. The Lizard was larger than the xīyì usually came. They were supposed to grow no larger than a forearm.

And they usually stuck to the Volcanes of the North. It was a long way from home and clearly was a successful hunter if its size was anything to go by. Though, despite its size, it clearly wasn’t a wise creature, clearly it wasn’t capable of speech or hadn’t any power to achieve transformations. It was simply another predator like a tiger or an alligator.

The xīyì curled its head back as it curled its tail up, almost making itself into a ball before its blackened charcoaled scales began to rattle and steam and the pink of its belly glow before its golden throat and cheeks bulged. And it just so happened to be in the direction Wukong was hiding.

“WUKONG! GO HIGH!” Birdie shouted as she took another shot. It found its home in the xīyì’s Shoulder as the creature screeched once more. Spewing a torrent of fire and molten rock out of its gullet. The spray going a considerable distance as Wukong shot upwards with his cudgel to avoid the attack

The xīyì twisted its body around rapidly as it continued to empty its gullet. The area quickly becoming encased in flame as the thick slag stuck to the tree and ignited them.

The Phoenix maiden felt her eyes begin to burn and her throat itch as smoke blew in her face. She began to cough as she beat her wings to move the smoke away and push herself higher into the air.

Wukong snarled and bared his teeth. “Bothersome Beast! I shall make your hide into an armored Tunic! Watch as I end this!”

Twisting around, he brought up his cudgel and flipped it so it was above him, using his strength to bring it down with a force that cracked the earth. Flattening the creatures head, the Róngyán xīyì’s body going still.

He landed on the ground next to it, and kicked it in irritation. “A good armored Tunic indeed! I should’ve left your eyes! Gave you a last look at the mess you caused!”

“Wukong,” Birdie raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that poor creature is hearing you anymore.” She then looks around as anxiety starts to build within her chest. “This forest is going to burn, what do we do?”

Indeed the fire was spreading fast. The dryness of the wood combined with the strong winds working in tandem to turn the steady blaze into a raging inferno.

“Bah!” Wukong shrugged away her worries as he finished skinning the beast and folding away the pelt carefully to be turned into its tunic later. “We can fly above it Birdie. It won’t harm us.”

Birdie scowled. “Wukong, the denizens of the forest can’t all fly. We can’t just leave them to burn.” She points at a bird nest in the distance with three far-too-young chicks to prove her point.

Wukong thinks for a bit. “Very well, grab the nest with the babes, we will take them with-“

“Wukong!”

“Fine! I’ll go have the dragons send a-ACK!” He flinched and turned his head down as a raindrop found its place in his eye. A few more raindrops fell against Birdie’s cheeks and Wukong’s head before the rain steadily became heavier and heavier.

The rain felt warm, and to Birdie, incredibly familiar as the sweet smell of fresh water, ozone and flowers filled the area.

Raising a hand to protect her eyes she looked up at the rain cloud that had snuck up on them and saw the vague outlined shape of a woman in the clouds, her hair fading and falling as the rain that was now smothering the flames.

Birdie feels herself start to smile and her emotions rise into her throat as she’s almost sure that the woman - Her dear sister who had stood by her through everything - looks at her with a reassuring smile before her head turns away, her body sways, and she fades into a cloud once more… vanishing with the gentle sound of a distant rolling thunder.

“Wukong… did you see her?” Her voice soft and gentle. Still shielding her eyes as she looked up at the clouds to see if She was still up there, but she was gone. Moved on, giving her sister the privacy she had promised her so long ago when Birdie had first left for this journey.

Wukong was rubbing his eye from the liquid smack he had undeservingly received, and gave his body a good shake to rid himself of water that was soaking him. Taking one of his hairs, transforming it into a large umbrella, he grabbed Birdie and dragged her closer to him to join him in his jīndǒu yúnas to relieve her wings the stress of flying in the rain.

He shook his head as he felt her settle next to him. “No… I didn’t see her. Who? The Pearl Girl?”

Birdie rolled her eyes and gave his chest a weak smack even as she got closer to warm herself with his heat. “Wukong be respectful, she’s our sworn sister. She has been truly a support for me these past couple hundred years.”

Wukong grumbled but adjusted his body to hold her. “I don’t know how she has still fooled heaven into thinking she’s some peaceful ‘Tranquil Lady’. She’s peacefully shoved water up my nose and in my ear for a innocent prank more times than I care to remember!”

Birdie laughs as his words bring up multiple memories of the various ways Wukong would try to elicit some emotional reaction out of her otherwise non-reactive friend when they were still on their great journey to retrieve the Tripitaka Scriptures. And only succeeded in getting a physical response instead.

The phantom sounds of him cussing and sputtering and hacking while Zhu Baije laughed filled her ears. The Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ’s only emotional reaction would be the slightest of a glare and eyebrow twitch before she went back to drinking her tea and the conversation she usually had with Birdie or Sha Wujing on the occasions she was summoned to assist the pilgrims.

Birdie leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “You usually deserved it, you were awful. Constantly poking and prodding at her when she had taken to time to come and help us.”

Wukong huffed out a laugh. “She always had this calm demeanor even when she was angry or irritated underneath. I was simply helping her express her emotions.” He remembered the one time he had seen her punish and execute the Bā tuófēng yěmán rén, that sort of calm rage wasn’t healthy for anyone. Especially not for a woman with the power to inadvertently make it everyone else’s problem.

Yes, Wukong thought to himself. He was justified in his needling and pranks towards the princess. Because he knew he’d been awful and annoying. Usually ever on his worst behavior when that pearl maiden was around, going just far enough to not have his master punish him with that blasted headband.

Because it allowed her to release those emotions she usually kept so bottled up, giving them an outlet that wasn’t a violent storm or a deadly riptide.

Truly, he deserved more appreciation. The great and handsome monkey king didn’t have to go out of his way, but he did for the sake of his friends.

Birdie laughed at his pouting face as she gave him a kiss on the cheek to sooth him. “Well you could’ve told her that rather than being so… You about the whole thing.”

Wukong pouted then chuckled in agreement. Indeed he had been awful. But it was fun. He began to have his jīndǒu yúnas take them out of the storm’s path and to a dryer area to listen to the rain from a distance and get some rest before they finished their journey at sunrise.

The Phoenix Maiden sighed as she watched the rain and distant thunder. It had grown to become her favorite sound when she was at the sea side palace. “It will be good to get back… I miss her. We have so many stories we have to share with our sister.”

It was a murmured statement, perhaps not something she realized she spoke aloud. But Wukong heard her all the same. She looked up at him and said in a more clear voice. “When we get back we need to come up with a ‘thank you’ gift for her. She made sure the mountain stayed protected and the damage was healed, along with keeping your citizens safe after… you…” her voice trails off and her face falls a bit before she hugs Wukong again.

“Never do that again…” It was an order.

“It’s okay Birdie… I don’t plan to go anywhere. I’m back for good this time.” He promised as he held her closer.

They stayed like that until the last of the distant glows of the fire went out, the forest safe and protected once more.

Wukong thinking all the while.

He had been gone for a while, and his Birdie - Because she was his now, she had given her heart to him and he had no intentions of returning it - had clearly become attached to their sworn sister, that infuriating pearl maiden. And now he learns she had also kept his home and people safe in his absence?

He nodded, pleased. His sworn younger sister was infuriating, but he would never say she wasn’t driven and loyal. He would think of a reward for her. And Birdie wanted to see her…

Then a thought struck him as he jumped up with the startled Phoenix Maiden in his arms. The poor woman letting out a yelp at sudden movement.

“An Idea! I’ve been struck with a great idea!” Wukong hooted as he jumped down onto a tree and carefully sat Birdie down, wrapping the fresh pelt around her shoulders to keep her warm. “Make up a camp! I shall be back soon!” Transforming a couple of his furs to make them into camping supplies, replacing what they had lost to the flames.

“Wha-Wukong!? Where are you going!?” Birdie sputtered as she fumbled with the objects that were shoved in her arms.

“A surprise Birdie! I go to grab a surprise!” Wukong beamed down at her before speeding off. Going to greet his infuriating Sworn Sister of the waters.

When we next meet, we shall see how that interaction goes.

———

PART 2 is out.

Read it Here

Taglist;

@tunadunanana @szynkaaa @bottyshaker-900o @marcu-bug

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! 😁

[seven-meds]

Have you seen Joker: Folie à Deux yet? If so, what are your thoughts?

Spoilers, obviously.

It was tonally and philosophically very similar to the first. And I suppose I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm part of the closest thing to a "target audience" that it has. Personally, I would have felt spat on and kicked like a dog had it depicted a charismatic criminal duo leading a revolution. My displeasure at the concept of a sequel centered around my belief that it would abandon its nihilistic, antagonistic perspective to give the average fan something they can easily get elsewhere. It's a belittling, hateful couple of films, which is what interests me. Whether they're good or bad is irrelevant. Whether they respect me as a person is even more irrelevant because I am not meeting them where they are at.

In many ways it was deeply erotic, fetishistic, and honestly pornographic. The treatment of Arthur is gratuitous in its sadism, it's often lip-bitingly intense. The pleasure it takes in torturing him is transparent, and so openly sexual. In the most obvious case: hands grabbing and clutching his clothing to strip him bare, the display of his contorted body and exposed stomach, water and paint dripping down his neck and onto his chest. If you prefer fandom terms, it's whump. There were a few instances where I thought it should have gone much farther, where the way it held back felt cowardly or dishonest. Was any of this its intention? Difficult to say. The line between the emotional intensity of sex and the emotional intensity of pain is hard to distinguish.

Arthur's relationship with Harley mirrors his relationship with his mother, someone else he has to put a mask on for. Her painting his face before allowing him to fuck her is the equivalent of her having put a paper bag over his head. I enjoyed her manipulative and unpredictable nature. She's attractive in the way Lou Bloom is. And the very immediate and inappropriate whirlwind relationship that spawns from two people who connect entirely through their own suffering is familiar.

Hurt and pain is an intrinsic part of Arthur as a character, he's simply designed to suffer alone. This is what makes him so incredibly easy for certain people to like. Maybe they feel similarly about themselves, maybe they like the idea of healing him, maybe they just like to watch harm befall a man until he breaks. There are many reasons to find him beautiful just as he is, even if he was never intended to be.

To me his story was taken to its logical conclusion, a conclusion it could easily have reached in the first. A different outcome would not have made sense. And despite it being so logical and obvious I didn't expect it to happen at all. But it did.

[winterrrnight]

make up

PAIRING: drew starkey x best friend!gn!reader

SUMMARY: you are skilled at make up, and when you're doing Drew's make up while sitting in his lap, you both feel emotions you aren't sure you have felt before.

WARNINGS: fluff, nothing else :)

EDITH SPEAKS: UGH I WISH I COULD DO MAKE UP! but I really cannot ahahahahaha, but in the fanfiction world all is possible ;)

I think the ending kind of sucks, but I really just wanted to write about that make up scene so that's done! Ignore any little grammatical/spelling errors.

Please like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🌦️

UPDATE: part two is out now! read here

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You and your best friend Drew have been invited to one of your friend's birthday party. The theme of the birthday party is 'Euphoria', so everyone's outfits and make up looks have to be inspired by the show. You are super excited about it, because the aesthetics of the show are mesmerising and the idea of using glitter, and purple-blue eyeshadows makes you enthusiastic.

You are quite good at make up, having picked up at it at quite a younger age. Make up to you seems like painting, but this time a person is your canvas. On the other hand, Drew doesn't know anything about make up. At all. So naturally, you both decided that he will come over at your place atleast 2 hours before the party, so you both can get ready and leave together.

The party starts at 8 pm, and right at 6 pm, you hear your door bell ring. You open the door and let Drew in, who has come with a garment bag in his hand.

"We should get started on the make up, because we don't have enough time." You say, after you both have greeted each other and shared a hug. You take his hand and lead him to your room, ushering him to sit down on your bed as you gather your make up bags.

You pull out all the make up you will need and keep it on the bed for easy reach. "You okay with all of this?" You ask Drew, and he gives you a nod.

"I dont even know where all these go on my face," he says, laughing, "so yes, I think I'm okay. I trust you with this." You smile at his words. He tells you he's done his basic skincare routine: cleanser, moisturizer and sunscreen, so now you know you can start with the make up.

You take the primer and as you start layering it on his face, you realise how much you are having to bend, because you're standing in front of him and he's sitting on your bed, meaning you're completely towering over him.

When you are done applying the primer, you straighten your back up and let out a groan. Drew opens his eyes and looks at you with concern.

"You okay?" He asks, your hand now on your back.

"Yes, I'm fine," you say, looking around your room to look for a chair for you to sit down, but internally groaning again when you can't spot one.

"You know, you can, sit on my lap if you want to," Drew says, and you look at him with wide eyes.

"Oh no, its okay, I must have a chair somewhere in my living room, I'll get it, or I can just sit next to you on the bed-" You know there isn't much space on the bed; with your outfit, make up, Drew's outfit, your jewellery, and other little accessories spread around on it.

"No it's okay, I promise," he looks at you with reassuring eyes. You give him a slow nod, and sit down on his lap, your legs on either side. You don't put much weight on him, worrying he might find it a little heavy.

"You can sit down comfortably, i promise you aren't heavy." It's like he can hear your thoughts. You let your complete weight on him, and you see he's still smiling at you. You feel your heart rate quicken when his hands land on your waist and help you sit comfortably. You let out a deep inhale, and try to divert your complete focus to the make up which you need to be done within less than an hour.

You put on some foundation and concealer on his face, and start to blend it out with a beauty blender. At moments, you find yourself holding onto his shoulders for balance, and you take your hand off in just a second.

"Why are you so stiff? Relax," Drew laughs at you, his eyes closed with the unblended concealer still on his face.

He's right. Why are you so stiff? Why are you not able to relax and do what you're so experienced in? This kind of make up look never takes you this long, but your position on top of him, is making you feel emotions you didn't know you had for him.

You've been best friends with Drew as long as you can remember. He's been there for you through primary school, middle school, high school, and even when you both separated paths because you went to separate universities. He never failed to call you up almost everyday to check up on you and update you with everything that's been happening with him. Especially after he made acting his job and started getting attention, he has always taken you to film shoots in different places you never thought you'd get to explore before.

After spending so much time together, you never thought of him something more than a best friend. Why? You don't know. But you've also never ignored the fluttering in your heart each time your hand brushed his when you both reach out for the same thing at the same moment, or when he's doing a photo shoot and he looks at you and shoots you the most adorable smile. But you can never think of being something more. If you did try, you both will most probably fail, and all these years of curating a beautiful friendship so carefully will go down the gutter in a matter of seconds.

So you've always dug all these little feelings in you. No one needs to know about them. You both are perfectly fine as best friends. That's it.

Once you're done with the concealer, you start on the actual make up look. You choose a blush which will match Drew's skin tone really well, and start to layer it on a brush. Drew watches you carefully as you brush the make up brush on the palette.

You move a little closer to his face, the distance between you two being reduced to small magnitudes of inches, and start to brush the blush on his cheeks. His eyes instantly fall shut on the feeling of the soft bristles against his cheeks, an instant calm rushing in his veins. You, with your eyebrows furrowed, keep on brushing his cheeks as carefully as you can.

His cheeks are now subtly suffused with a champagne pink, and you decide to start with the eye shadow.

"Close your eyes for me," you mumble, but he doesn't need that notice. His eyes, already closed from feeling you so close to him, your heart so close to his, your skin occasionally touching his. He just hums to your words, and you start to apply the eyeshadow on his eyelids. You've never been this close to him. You notice every freckle, every scar, every beauty mark on him you've never seen before. He just became a whole lot more beautiful to you.

You want to stay this close forever. His body heat has warmed you up, and you're extremely comfortable in his lap. You slow down your movement with the eyeshadow, never wanting this moment to end.

When the eye make is done, you grab onto the silver glitter and apply it on his cheekbones, which accentuates them even more, and some on his eyelids which matches really well with the purple tints of the eyeshadow.

You get some last needed items: mascara and a lipgloss. You gently apply the mascara to his eyelashes, making sure not to poke him in the eye. You open the lipgloss and move impossibly close to him to apply it on his lips.

You gently drag the end of the applicator of the lip gloss across his lips, the gloss leaving a shine as you move it across. His lips, separated apart slightly, heave of little exhales as you are so close to him.

You just want to press your lips against his.

What? No you don't! Hes your best friend, nothing more. You cannot risk it all simply because you want to know if they taste just as sweet as they look.

You clear your throat as you're done with the lip gloss and move your face away from his. "It's done," you say with a contented smile as you look at your finished result.

Drew looks at you with a grin on his face. "How do I look?" He asks you. He knows he looks absolutely stunning. You did his make up, so yes, theres no way he doesn't look beautiful right now.

"I think you look great," you say with a cheeky smile, as you start to get off his lap, but his arms fixate around your waist and stop you from getting up.

"Don't get up, I loved having you sit on my lap," Drew says with a pout. You feel your cheeks heat up, but just giggle at his reply.

"But then we will get late for the party, and I still have to do my make up look," you say. No doubt you don't want to get off either, but you have to, you have no choice.

"Forget the party, lets just stay here and do something else," he pleads. His blue eyes pierce yours, which want nothing more than to just look at you forever.

"But then my make up look will go to waste! I did it for the party, you know," you humph. Forcing yourself against your will, you get off Drew's lap. You take your time to wear your outfit and finish with your makeup, and just five minutes before your decided leaving time, you both are completely ready.

You now stand in front each other, your faces gleaming each time light reflects on them. You did your own look quite matching to Drew's, the same purple hues and glitter splattered across your face.

"Wow," Drew whispers looking at you, as his arms find your waist again. You're beginning to get used to them being wrapped so firmly around you and softly pulling you closer to him.

You give Drew a smile and intertwine your hand with his, and you both go out of your house to go to the party.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag

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[jocelynscrazyideas]

Baby I’m home! | Nico Hischier x Reader

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Warnings: smut, language, not much of dirty talk (there literally is none).

Summary: Nico come back from a roadie in Minnesota, they had lost their chance to get into the playoffs. Nico gets h0rny and…

A:N- HELP I’m so tired it’s so hard to keep writing, again I don’t have faith that I’ll like this piece but I spent 2 days trying to write it so here 🫶😉🍇

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a roadie Nico returns home. The devs went to Minnesota and they had lost. Originally you were asked to come, actually the coaching staff were going to pay for some of the WAGs to go. Last time, the boys had gotten in a huge argument about the gameplay, and who should be on the first lineup. That’s not in their hands, it’s in the coaches and the stats of the players. Anyway, to keep them from miss behaving, the women were allowed to come.

“Baby!” Nico yells out for me in his American accent. He’s wearing his white tank top that stretch over his back and biceps, wow. He’s a smoke show.

“I wish you went! The Girls went out to the bars and the boys stayed behind and watched bar fights break out.” Nico explains. I’m actually quite nervous that he’s not showing any emotions.

Why is this loss so important? Because it was the devils last chance to win or even tie the game to get into the playoffs. Statistically in team stats overall no, they shouldn’t make it, but in number in points from each individual players had, yes they would have made it and probably win. John is an incredible defender, and so is Luke. Jack is a beautifully gifted skater and Jesper has the moves to skate within seconds across the whole rink. Ofcirese, Nico. My beautiful man. He is the most manly boy in the team, big muscles, coordination, and most importantly his social media presence. Everyone loves him.

I mean I love him.

“I know! I’m sorry.” I shout from our bedroom upstairs. Hear bags drop from downstairs and I think I hear some mumbling. I didn’t go on the roadie because I had work and I’m getting the worst headache for the last week.

“I brought up some meds. Does it still hurt?” Nico questioned and he pulls his tank top off and threw it onto our hamper that rots in our closet. Holy heaven of Abs. He’s just so fucking lovable, I don’t care about the fact he’s hot, but the way he carries himslef, he knows that no matter what he does, it’ll be intentional for him.

“Yes, thank you bubba.” I responded as I take the bottle of pills and take two pills. Yes, my head hurts so much I took two.

“Can we grab something to eat? I hungry.” Nico asked as he takes me by my hips.

He grasped onto my hips and ricks me back and forth, I can hear his stomach growl as he rests his head onto my shoulder. He shoved his head into the crook of my neck, I can feel him take my perfume from my body and pull it into his lungs. He’s smiling, I can feel his lips against my ear, and he starts to wrap his legs around my feet.

He starts to hurt me around and now I’m facing him, he’s looking straight into my eyes. He takes my hand and he places it to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, and it’s pounding. My stomach drops as he sweeps my from my feet and onto the bed.

“Do you want food? Or we can stay in and shower, then you know do whatever.” Nico suggested, I can feel him slipping away from me. He gets up and grabs his bag.

“You better not get your gear! Its stinks!” I yell after him as nico turns to the stairs to grab his away game items.

“Baby!” Nico shouts for me. “Can you grab some milk? I wnat pasta.” Nico I a sucker for some creamy and thick pasta.

I run down the stairs and I slide into the kitchen in my socks. I have on my- well Nico’s favorite shirt on me, it’s a blue halter top that wraps around my neck with beads, it has shells laces together at the bottom almost as if it were a belly chain, and the shirt is cropped above my belly button and it’s ribbed. It’s cute, but it works better for a swimsuit cover up.

“You look sexy.” Nico slips as he eyes my shorts.

Nico,a boxers are a bit to big for me butt I slide them on anyway, and the best part is that it’s plain black, so it really does match my outfit, it’s called my “I don’t fucking care” outfit. I love the outfit, nice and short and skin tight so I can get every little breeze in, especially since it’s March and season is almost over.

“Are you gonna grab the milk? Also while you’re at it could you grab the packaged rav?” Nico requested as he slips his old man slippers on. He collects his supply’s such as a pan, the milk I gave him and the ravioli, and of course some pesto. It’s not really pasta, but he diced up some cheese, slipped some butter in the ravioli, and he stirred everything together. He lets it set as he grabs two plates. I didn’t wnat any but he knew I haven’t eaten since he left. He puts some buttered pesto cheesy ravioli on my plate and as the man he is, he cooked it so he gets more. He just flips the pan upside down and gathers all of the pasta.

He finished up with dishes since we finished the ravioli, it was delicious.

“So, you wanna shower?” Nico asked me and I can feel him getting really close to me. He picks my hands up and we start to slow dance to the sound of construction in the neighborhood.

“Yeah, well YOU need to shower more, you’re stinky.” I say in a sarcastic way. He looks me dead in the eye and he picks me up. He carry’s me up the stairs and he throws me down onto the bed.

The blunt force of getting absolutely demolished by this man felt oddly great. He pulls my hair to the side and he starts to kiss my neck. I feel his stubble graze my skin. He’s warm breath is trapped in between my jawline and his lips. He pulls away and rubs his chest, he walks out of the room.

I hear the shower turn on, he moans along the sound of water hitting the grout in the bathroom. Nico enters the room eyeing his next meal.

Me.

I took my clothes off and I lay back as if I didn’t move. Nico runs towards me and kisses my forehead all the way down to my belly button. He licks my creases. He holds my breasts as he nibbles down onto my thigh. He looks up at me grinning, and I understand what is about to happen.

~

Water is everywhere. Nico had picked me up and slid his pants off. We had been teasing eachother for about three minutes, then he got to needy. His very hard veiny cock hits his abdomen every time I kiss him, it’s like it has its on pulse.

“Never stop.” Nico says as I go down to my knees. I kiss his v-line and he holds onto my hair. He grips onto me and he pressed his back against the wall. I lick his tip, and then I start to pump. I again start to take him into my mouth, I feel like gagging, it’s so gross, I c at take the taste of cum, but for him I will. I start to moan, enjoying my time trying to please him. Nico throws his head back and starts to get loud, he bangs his hand against the opposite wall, and he’s hunched over. I have very little space to suck. The water starts to get cold so I get up from going down on him. I turn the water to a hotter temperature and I massage his biceps, he starts to get really really warm. He dick is really pushed up against himself.

Nico looks like he’s going to cum, I mean he already did in my mouth, but now he’s opening his mouth anbd says “Turn.” One work that this man says to me and I fold. Nico takes me by my waist and bends down. He’s on one knee as he grips onto me. Nico pumps himself, he’s jerking hard enough to cause me cum. He starts to kiss me down under. I look down and he’s on both knees now, making love to my pussy.

I start to move, I can’t take it anymore, I pull his hand away from my upper body and force three fingers up my hole.

“Woah, woah, you can’t get it to fast.” Nico pulls out and sucks on his finger. He gets up and he pulls me onto his chest. I feel his cock on my back. I turn on my heels and I find Nico smirking down at me. I lay down in the shower as steam fills the large room.

“Legs.” Nico says, but in his switz accent. I do as I’m told and I start to run my clit.

“You’re soaking.” Nico eyes my pussy as he pumps into me. I feel his tip, now his whole cock is inside. He’s warm, and I can feel him twitch as he try’s to say, “can I?” He’s asking for approval to start moving, and I oblige.

“Yes, and of fucking course I’m soaking.” I say as I look up towards the hot water. Nico develops red dots on his back as he starts to thrust himself into me.

“Come for me baby.”

I start to moan and I feel him practically in my lungs. He stands up as he starts to cum. Strings of our future kids are coming out of my 3rd favorite piece of him.

“Oh baby.” I look at him and his dimples are showing. I start to cum again when I see him stand up.

I push him back down as I throw myslef on top of him. I sit on him and his friend. I take a minute to catch my breath as I relax to take him. It’s been four days since we’ve had sex. I push my hand onto his chest and my other in his abs, I can feel him cum, streams of warm substance fills me, and I take myself off of him. I sit in his face and he licks me clean, but that’s before I start to cum into his mouth.

“Let’s clean up, so we can do it again later.” Nico request as I get up and I start to clean up my hair from the knots it’s been tangled into. I grab shampoo and lather it onto Nico’s head and into mine. I feel Nico wash his head as the water falls into my crevices.

We warm up and dry off and Nico swoops me up again and he snuggles me into his arms as he turns our heated blanket on. I’m stuck in his large arms and I’m glad it’s him I can feel poking up at me again.

“Baby, I’m glad you’re home.” I say as I turn my head around to kiss his cheek.

[moonshynecybin]

who do you think would deal better with being isekai'd into omegaverse, marc or vale? alternatively which is more compelling

most beautiful ask. in the world. so funny. ummmm i think. vale is maybe more compelling because his issues with it would be. perhaps unsolvable and endlessly complex. guy who is a lil weird about gender, not terribly into the concept of marriage, and is pretty fundamentally adverse to being. shall we say emotionally legible/vulnerable. exposed. and omegaverse as a genre is all about exposure. its all. giving into the base instincts of your body and those same instincts giving you away to the object of your affections. its going into heat and the person youre in love with is the only one available to help you through it. its scenting someone and that being a crystal ball of their emotions and bodily state ESPECIALLY ie how much they want you specifically. its needing someone so bad you are literally insensate. its getting bonded 5ever and ever irrevocably, OFTEN in the heat of an instinctual moment without the relationship negotiation that happens irl. a genre centered around a betrayal of the body/heart to the mind, in many ways

now imagine you didnt actually grow UP in an omegaverse so you have no toolbox to DEAL with all that. sensory input off the SHITS. and. like suddenly and without WARNING now vale can feel in his CHEST exactly how distressed marc marquez is about every one of their interactions. and how much he wants his ass. like truly every part of his hind brain is like jesus christtttttt i should be inside him right tf now im a terrible alpha. and then the higher part of his brain is like what the fuck. what the fuck. i am not responsible for marc, what the fuck. and oh hey theres a bump on my penis i need to ask people about this right the hell now. thats vale. so i see this as a somewhat fraught comedy of sex errors where his ADHD ass is treading horny water trying to learn alpha manners and also. much more complexly. not fall into all of the traditional alpha expectations/roles. that little trap of gender. because at heart vale is a little trickster who loves to buck expectations!!! and maybe his journey here is realizing that he can just be himself comma sex freak. and that leaning into those "alpha" traits doesnt mean he is conforming lmao he can still have his own unique version of his family. learning the norms of a society and what makes sense to him and what still doesnt. sorting through the weeds of it. and that being vulnerable rules sometimes. and that marc loves him. because that last one is kind of hard to ignore now... again because of that emotional and physical vulnerability that comes with the genre... honestly him knowing all of that about marc without having to actually TALK about it may solve some of their problems tbh. like why work through all that verbally when you can sniff them and then fuck them. kind of the omegaverse fantasy in quite a few ways

marc. jeez louise. i think would HATE it more. at first. control freak 9000. maybe has to miss races for heats. suppressants arent legal. experiencing weird omega sexism if we want to go that route OR. my favorite. has been lying to the press about his status since he presented. tiniest 15 yr old youve ever seen: im an alpha ! :3 uh sure bud. sure. i bet. SO actually maybe he falls into a world where hes just been white-knuckling it for the last billion years during race weekends and most of the paddock kind of KNOW (scent blockers only go so far...) but are lowkey afraid to call him on it dlkjdfljldsfd... similar to vale in this scenario, he sort of has to learn how to omega— and when his heat hits during summer break and his ass start leaking in the middle of the spanish equivalent of walmart, he finds a psycho little ziploc bag of sweaty vale shirts under his bed and he genuinely is like girl what the hellllllllllll.... wiggin out. and his next heat he turns up to race with truly NO practice managing it all, so its way more obvious than normal and the farce is growing thinner and vale literally pulls him aside to be like hey are you GOOD ? but in that valentino not that i care about your ass kind of unspeakably divorced way and marc is like woag. bc a pheromone truck just ran him over. eyes glassy face flushed sweaty as hell mouth a little open.... and he opens his mouth to make an excuse and nothing comes... and then obviously they fuck like its the end of the WORLD

and like i DO think marc pulls out of it more cleanly than vale overall, bc something in HIS lizard brain would be deeply soothed by like. excelling at being an omega. getting an A + in being a bottom. doing that for vale, specifically in the context of pushing his body to the absolute LIMIT to do it.... hes locked in. its go time. and then theres the insane possibility of vale putting his mouth on his neck and them getting basically soulbonded forever where they have to have crazy sex every few months ? hes like ummmm okay. i could get used to this for a while lmao

[wordsarelife]

like lockwood, best friends to lovers

—you belong with me

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: reader has to flirt to finish a mission. much to the dismay of Lockwood she is far too good at it

warnings: flirting with sexual themes??

shortages: f/n — fake name

note: okay sorry this got a bit out of hand and it didn't really end where or how I intended it to. let me know if y'all would be interested in a part two!!!

part two: that's the way I loved you

you walked down the steps. the red dress you were wearing fluttering around the middle of your thighs. your hair was styled, Lucy had curled it after she had done your make—up

“test, test” you whispered into the little microphone you were wearing in your hair, so it would stay hidden

“we can hear you, y/n” George answered and you could swear he was rolling his eyes “we tested it a minute ago”

“sorry” you muttered

“leave her be” Lockwood said to George. he would always come to your rescue, even if you didn’t ask him to. that’s why he was your best—friend after all.

you breathed in deeply and snatched a glass of champagne from one of the waiters trays, gulping it down in one shot. you checked your lipstick in the little mirror Lucy had packed into the small bag you were wearing, before your hands found your waist and pulled down the dress, so your cleavage was showing

you stepped forward and sat down at the bar, right next to the guy you were targeting

his hair was black and he was actually attractive if it weren’t for the people he had killed to create sources. it was just your task to find one of them though, or better put: to occupy the man until Lucy had found the source.

“hi” you smiled, turning your head and also your chest, so the man could get a good look at it

“hello” he grinned and you swore you could’ve thrown up then and there. “would you like a drink?”

“sure” you outstretched your hand “i’m f/n”

he took your hand and shook it “Sebastian, and i’m glad to share a drink with a beautiful woman” he slid the drink the bartender had just supplied, towards you

“thank you” you smiled, raising the glass and taking a sip from the alcohol

“so, what brings you here?” Sebastian asked, while his hand found its way to rest on your knee

you could hear Lockwood and George drag in the air through the mouths loudly, like Sebastian had just touched their knee

you tried not to react to their sudden sounds, but Sebastian was good at picking up your emotions it seemed.

"everything alright?" he asked, leaning even closer

"yeah" you smiled, trying to fight the uneasiness you felt because of his proximity "I'm not used to the company of handsome looking men" you tried to save the conversation and Sebastian seemed to like your compliment

you ignored Lockwood's scoff while you watched Sebastian lean back in comfort "well" he smiled smugly "I'm all yours, beautiful"

you could hear Lockwood and George gag at the same time, you would have liked to do the same, but Sebastian was still looking at you. "what a lucky girl I am" you laughed instead and patted the shoulder of the male, who, again, smiled smugly at the gesture

his hand wandered a bit higher on your leg and you could feel it close to the hem of your dress. you threw a panicked gaze in Lockwood's direction. discreet enough that Sebastian wouldn't notice. it seemed like he was occupied anyway, with watching his own hand make its way up your leg. with every inch it felt like you couldn't breathe

you just hoped that Lucy would be quick.

"what brings you here, pretty lady?" Sebastian repeated his question from earlier, to which he had never received an answer

"work" you smiled nonchalantly, trying to keep your composure. his hand was resting for now, that was good.

"what do you do?" he smiled

"I've worked for a few agency's for a while (truth) but after I lost my talents I settled down and changed to the office area of fittes (lie)"

you pretty much still had your talents, you were only seventeen, but now you where trying to look much older. this was achieved by the make up and the obnoxious and uncomfortable push-up bra you were wearing. it felt like they would fall out of your dress any moment. Sebastian seemed to like the sight of your décolleté a bit too much, you noticed, while his eyes wandered down to your breasts while you were talking. you would have liked to slap his head and tell him how impolite it was to directly look there, not only under normal circumstances but while you were talking as well.

you weren't used to that kind of disgusting men behaviour, even if you had lived with two of them for the most of your life.

you could stand in front of George and Lockwood just wearing a bra and they wouldn't dare and look. Maybe because George was like a brother to you and Lockwood- Lockwood was a gentleman

your thoughts wandered away from the conversation at hand and back to the brunette agency head, who alway managed to make you feel at ease. even on mission like this one, he was looking at you across the room and anytime you would catch his eyes, your breath would calm and you would feel safe.

also, he had promised you to come and save you if things went too far. he was your best-friend after all.

your eyes wandered back to meet Sebastians and you remembered what Lucy had told you. if you feel uncomfortable just put yourself back in control. so you leaned forward, so he could get an even better look at your cleavage. he stammered while talking but quickly continued normally. you took his hand from off your leg and interlaced your fingers. he wouldn't notice that you were actually trying to keep him away, he would see that gesture as you falling into his trap. that was what men always thought.

now that you were back in control, your mind felt at ease and you felt less like a little girl that needed to be saved. now you were a woman. and he, he was still a man, luckily.

"I travel a lot" you answered the question he had just asked you about your work "I check out different agencies all around the world. make sure that they are working right. we wouldn't want any rules broken, would we?" you fluttered your eyelids and watched in satisfaction what effect that last purposely chosen sentence had on him

"n-no" he stammered

"are you alright?" you asked pitiful

"yes" Sebastian tried to gain back his composure and actually succeeded "but I must say, you're the most breath taking woman I've ever seen. everything is where it should be"

"oh my god" George muttered loudly, disgusted by the objectifying words the older man had just said about his friend

"I'm stopping this" you watched as Lockwood stood up from his place and George tried to hold him back. you knew that it was on you to prevent him from cancelling the mission. you send him a look that told him to sit down again and he eventually listened and scoffed

"thank you, Sebastian" you leaned closer, now speaking into his ear "you look more than daring yourself, if i'm allowed to say so"

"you are" he nodded leaning forward

now the moment had come. he would kiss you. you weren't sure if it would come to that point, but you had sworn to do it if it needed to be done to keep the mission from failing. a second before your lips connected, Sebastian was drown back

drawn back by no other than Lockwood. you were a second away from screaming at the boy, when you noticed Lucy across the hall. she had done it. the mission was completed. you no longer had to flirt with that scumbag.

"oh, Tony" you muttered in surprise, still playing a role

that was what you guys had agreed on. the moment Lucy would come back, Lockwood or George would interrupt the conversation and act like they were an old friend of yours who was in town coincidentally and had seen you sitting at the bar.

"f/n" Lockwood muttered angrily and you raised your brows, watching his expression "I'm sorry" he said turning towards Sebastian and outstretching his hand "Anthony Lockwood"

Sebastian took the hand he was being offered and shook it "Sebastian Keen" he said, still confused to what was happening

"nice to meet you. can I ask what you were doing with my girlfriend?"

"your what?" Sebastian asked loudly and you had almost joined in. his eyes wandered to you and you tried to stay in role, even if Lockwood had just completely changed your script

"my girlfriend" Lockwood repeated unnecessarily "were you bothering her? because it looked like that"

"no, she wanted-"

"yes, Tony" you interrupted, opening your eyes wider and letting them fill with tears "it's alright, dear" Lockwood outstretched his hand and helped you to stand up "stay away from her, you hear me?" he said threateningly

"I didn't harass her or anything. she's lying" Sebastian said angrily

Lockwood shook his head "doesn't matter, just don't ever talk to her again, alright?"

"sure" Sebastian shrugged his shoulders "she isn't that pretty anyways"

Lockwood interlaced your hands and walked you away from the man "she obviously is" he muttered to himself, but you heard him and had to smile at his words "you're pretty too" Lockwood turned his head to you while walking and smiled at your relieved expression

"I'm glad you didn't have to kiss him"

"I'm glad too"

"well, luckily your boyfriend was just around the corner" he smiled but you could see the sincerity in his eyes

you nodded, eyes glistening happily "yes, luckily he was"

[adore-laur]

COME HOME TO MY HEART

— an angsty continuation of home is a feeling that takes place months after ☕️

——

Standing under a bleak sky copious with death, Harry is just another person in a black ensemble of mourning that rivals the white winter scene. Snowdrifts heap over inscribed gravestones, and willow trees weep frigid tears along with everyone else at the street-corner cemetery. It's a sorrowful evening; not even the pastel pink wisps of a brumal sunset are able to lift spirits. 

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, its sleek wood collecting flurries from above, the surrounding air grows colder in lamentation. 

A departure from life is impossible to prepare for, isn't it? 

Harry hangs back from the crowd by a bare maple tree. He wears a long black coat with deep pockets for his hands. To anyone else, he's an intruding spectator, but in actuality, you personally invited him to be a crutch of support since your parents can't be that right now. 

He promised you he would be here, yet the way you've been gazing up at him with indecipherable eyes every now and then tells him you didn't quite believe him. 

When you had called him out of the blue and relayed the upsetting news about your grandfather's passing, his heart had ached in a way it hadn't ever before. It ached for you, his grief-stricken girl, and also for your family, who were always generous throughout the years. In the week since he arrived back in his hometown, he gave you time to deal with the initial grief independently. There was no need to barge into his ex-girlfriend's life and attempt to be your saving grace. If you needed a shoulder to cry on, he'd wait for you to ask and then lend it to you without a second thought. Your level of comfort with him isn't something to be presumed. 

Nonetheless, it's an unfortunate circumstance just to be able to see your face again. 

The crowd disperses once the loose dirt is shoveled back into the ground. Crumpled tissues in hands and hushed chatter signify the end of the funeral burial. It didn't feel right for Harry to attend the service, as it was for close family and friends only. Even now, a nagging feeling inside his gut tells him he doesn't belong in such a sensitive area. 

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and searches for your familiar figure that has suddenly disappeared. He mentally prepares what he'll say to you and is highly aware that there's no right way to go about condolences. He just needs to be as gentle as possible. 

Eventually, you emerge from a huddled group and lock eyes with him again, with a slight smile that mends his aching heart for the time being. 

"You look like a spy," you say, your boots crunching in the snow as you walk toward him. 

He laughs softly but doesn't say anything. Instead, his empathetic side takes in every part of your face, looking for an emotion to pinpoint so he can comfort you in the most chivalrous way possible. He notices your dissociative eyes with prominent bags under them, your tinted nose from the cold, and your chapped lips that make him yearn to kiss the rawness away. 

He's so close to you again. Has your hair gotten darker due to the seasons changing? Why do you have such beautiful eyes, even on a dreary day? Does the eyeliner you have on come from the pencil stub you've owned since high school? 

Knowing his own boundaries, Harry thumbs a quick swipe across your shivering chin and then wraps you in a tight hug. You instantly melt into him, your arms looping around his torso—just like that one night on the rooftop. 

"Your hair is so long," you mumble into his coat. 

He releases you before the intimacy starts to hurt too much, but he keeps a protective hold on your upper arms. "Do you hate it?" 

"No, it suits you." You swallow and look at him, your teeth chattering a bit. "Thank you for coming." 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies sincerely. "Gramps was a great man." 

"He liked you a lot." 

"Did he?" 

You give him an almost scolding expression and say, "Of course he did. When I brought you home for Christmas the year we started dating, he took me into the kitchen and told me you were a keeper." 

Harry's posture stiffens. "I didn't know that." 

"It was our little secret," you say quietly, snowflakes falling onto your eyelashes. "Um, have you had a chance to talk to my parents yet?" 

"I don't think they'd want to see me," he says while removing his hands from you. He tucks them back into his pockets since they're becoming numb. 

"Why not?" 

"I just have a feeling." He's been having a lot of those lately. "Not often that an ex-boyfriend shows up at a funeral, you know?" 

Frowning, you glance around and say, "It's not like they hate you or anything." 

God, he hopes not. Yet he wouldn't necessarily blame them, considering he broke their precious daughter's heart. 

"Where are you going after this?" he asks, not wanting to delve into his regrets. 

"My parents' house," you reply, your breath visible in the frosty air. "To my childhood bedroom. Hopefully, I'll get some sleep for once." 

You haven't been sleeping? He could've guessed, but he didn't want to assume. He wonders if you still light vanilla candles and turn on salt lamps to rejuvenate your energy, according to you. 

"Did you drive here?" 

"No, I rode with my mom and dad." 

Harry shifts his footing and clears his throat. "Would they mind if I stole you for a bit?" 

You blink quickly. "What do you mean?" 

"I just want to talk," he elaborates, scratching under his nose. "Catch up. That's all." 

There's an apparent hesitance when you nibble on your bottom lip. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Anything you want." Truthfully, he just misses hearing your voice. "I'm staying here with my mom for a while since my winter break starts soon. And, well, you're the only person in this town I enjoy talking to." 

"Are you kidnapping me from a funeral?" 

"Maybe don't put it like that." 

A genuine laugh escapes you, and Harry's knees almost give out. "Sure, let's go," you say with a smile and a lighthearted shrug. "Being here is making me sad." 

"Okay. Let me say hello to your parents really quick." 

You scan the cemetery, then ask, "Do you need me to come with you?" 

He scrunches his nose and toes the snowy ground with the front of his boot. "Please?" 

After he politely shakes hands with your dad and gives your mom a long hug, he walks you to his black Jeep parked on the side of the road by the first row of graves, his elbow hooked with yours so you don't slip on the pavement slush. The first thing he sees is that his windshield has iced over from the bitter cold. 

He sighs and fishes for his keys, then unlocks the doors. "Here, start it for me and turn the heat on. I need to scrape the ice off." 

You take his keys and slide into the passenger seat. Harry makes sure you're situated and then grabs his ice scraper from under the backseat. After a few minutes of manual labor, he gets behind the wheel and shakes snow flurries out of his hair. 

"Where on earth are your mittens?" he asks when he notices your hands are tucked under your legs. 

"I didn't bring any," you reply defensively. 

"Love," he stresses as he pushes his hair back. "It's bloody freezing out. Give me your hands." 

"Maybe if your stupid Jeep didn't take forever to warm up." 

Harry doesn't make a snarky remark since he knows you're sensitive right now. He just cups your hands between his and blows warm air on them to increase your circulation. They're soft and fit so well between his palms, like they were molded to be held by only him. 

"Ready to go?" he asks between blowing breaths, focusing his gaze on you. 

You study the snowflakes sticking on the windshield. "Where?" 

He gently sets your hands in your lap and then reaches across to buckle your seatbelt before fastening his own. "Is Edge of Town still your favorite café?" 

"Yeah," you say bemusedly, turning toward him with widened eyes of innocence. "Why?" 

Putting his car in reverse, he places one hand on your headrest and smiles at you. "Let's get some coffee there, yeah? For old times' sake." 

——

Sitting across from Harry at a corner table in the dimly lit café, you can't believe you almost forgot how handsome he is as you both sip from cinnamon lattes, careful not to disrupt the intricate art made from steamed milk on the surface. 

All the slight changes since you last saw him have become your focal point, his hair being the most staggering. It's now tied up into a bun, and you're not sure why, but it makes him look different. His facial features have gotten slightly older; the high school baby face you fell in love with now showcases physical maturity. 

He's different, but somehow all the same. 

You've spent the last half hour catching up with him, which has proved easy since college is a relevant topic in both of your lives. You learned that he's getting his degree in the spring of next year, and then he's going to find a job somewhere in Europe to start the next chapter of his life. You're proud of him. He's always had a good head on his shoulders. 

"Have you ever had marshmallows in your coffee?" Harry asks, tapping his foot against yours under the table. 

You set your cup down and blankly stare at him. "No, you freak." 

"It's good," he claims, wiping his lips with a napkin. "You should try it." 

"You know, your taste in beverages hasn't improved over the years. Don't even think for a second that I forgot about the ginger ale." 

"Excuse me," he says offendedly, "it helps fight the common cold and digestion problems. It's the perfect drink to have in the wintertime." 

"Absolutely rancid," you mutter, taking another sip of your coffee. 

As you continue your subtle ogling, your eyes catch brown leather peeking out of his coat pocket. The familiar journal of his catapults you back in time, flashbacks playing in your head from all the vivid occasions you've seen him carry it around or write in it. He had never let you look at his entries, always making a show of hiding his secret words from you. Looking at it now, you see that a page toward the end has some sort of bookmark sticking out. 

"You still have that?"

Harry looks confused. "What, digestion problems?" 

"No, oh my God," you say with a burst of laughter. "I meant your journal. You've had that thing for ages." 

"Ah." He pulls it out and sets it next to his coffee cup. "Yeah, I still have it." 

You admire how worn the cover is, decorated with permanent marker scribbles on the cracked material. "Are my terrible drawings still in there?" 

Nodding, he smirks and leans back into the booth, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll show you later. They're quite abstract." 

The space fills with comfortable silence for a while, and before you know it, you're walking out the door with him and into the night. You don't remember ever getting up, but the numbness in your brain might have caused it. The past week has felt like a fuzzy dream you've been stuck in. Grief is a peculiar thing.

Under the snowy sky, hometown nostalgia in the dead of winter creeps under your skin. When you look around at the sidewalks you used to walk with your grandpa, everything suddenly hits you hard. Your lips wobble as you try to blink back the tears, but they fall without warning. 

Harry quickly wraps both arms around your shoulders, resting his cheek on top of your head. "It's okay to cry," he whispers, kissing your hair. "I promise you it's okay." 

You sniffle and say, "Whenever we see each other, I always end up crying." 

He hums. "Sorry. I don't mean to." 

"No, it's not you this time." You bury your nose in his coat and let the woodsy scent of his cologne distract you. "I just always realize how lonely I am when winter comes around. It gets harder as I get older." Swallowing and shaking your head, you continue, "I used to adore winter as a kid. I would play outside in the snow for hours and then come inside to drink hot chocolate. I wouldn't care if the sky was gray or if my fingers would freeze. Nowadays, I just stay in my room when it's gloomy, unless I need to go to work. Growing up isn't as fun as I thought it'd be." 

"You still have my number," Harry replies softly, pulling you closer. "You can always call or text me when you're feeling lonely." 

"I had to pay by the minute when I called you about my grandpa since you were in the Netherlands." 

"And is that so bad?" 

You smile and sniffle again. "No, it isn't. To be here on an empty street in the freezing cold, crying and joking around with you—I've missed it. Not the crying, but you know what I mean." 

"I know," he murmurs. "I've missed it too." 

"Will you be celebrating Christmas with your mom?" you ask, hearing a car drive by. "She's still living here, right?" 

"Yeah, I'll be at her house." He cradles the back of your head and gently pulls it away from his coat. "You should stop by. She always thinks of you." 

You look at him and say, "All good things, I hope." 

"Always." Taking your hand, he starts walking further down the sidewalk. "Follow me." 

Harry stops at a streetlight and releases his hand to pull his journal out again. He flips through the pages until he gets to one toward the end. "When we said goodbye in the summer," he says, "I walked around town and wrote about all the places we used to go—places where we had good memories. You can read what I wrote if you want." 

"Really?" you ask. Harry nods, so you take his journal from him and read the black ink that fills half the page. 

The streetlight on the corner of Lawton Avenue. I kissed you under it on New Year's when the clock on my phone turned to midnight. Your lips were cold, but they lit a fire inside of me. What I would give to feel them again, even if they just pressed against my cheek like you did when we said goodbye. 

"Lawton Avenue..." you trail off, your eyes dancing around the area where you stand. "Isn't that—" 

"This is the same streetlight," Harry interrupts quietly. 

You exhale incredulously, gazing up at the familiar light. "It is. I remember now." 

"This feels right, doesn't it?" He steps closer until his boots touch the tip of yours. "Me and you being here. It's like something keeps bringing us back to one another. Does that sound crazy?" 

"Gramps," you choke out. 

He tilts your chin up with his knuckle. "Hmm?" 

You take a deep, shaky breath. "I almost wasn't going to tell you that he passed, but then I thought about how much he liked you. He always went on and on about how nice of a boy you were. How he saw the love in your eyes." 

"He loved you. I only saw him a few times, but I know that he loved you so much." 

"I know. I think he brought us back together." 

"Well, he was right about the love in my eyes," he says, his gaze piercing your soul. "I don't think it's ever completely gone away." 

Logical thinking goes out the window when you tell him, "I love you. I shouldn't anymore, but I do. 

Harry cups your cold cheeks. "Stop. You don't get to say that." 

"I love you," you repeat, your voice becoming thick with emotion. "You still mean so much to me. Just like what you said to me back in July." 

"Right person, wrong time. That's what we decided on the rooftop." 

"But I didn't mean what I said." 

That night was five months ago. It's wild how one day and one look at him can change all your feelings. The love you thought you lost with him is coming back as an unraveling epiphany. 

Sighing, Harry looks down at the sidewalk blanketed in snow. "You told me it would never work," he says. 

"I didn't know what I was saying," you reply hastily. "It was so overwhelming seeing you again after two years." 

"I don't understand," he says, slightly frustrated. "You made it seem like we were better off never seeing each other again." 

You wipe your tears that are either from the brisk air or your own misery. "I'll be your friend, I'll be a one-night stand, I'll be anything. I just want to be someone to you again." 

He glimpses at your lips. "You are. You're everything to me." 

"But the distance—" 

"Fuck the distance." 

It was the only thing that broke the relationship. 

"You were so good, Harry." Resting your forehead against his, you breathe out a landslide of emotions. "Such a good boyfriend. You loved me better than anyone." 

"I still love you," he says, placing both palms on your neck. "Years ago, it was high school love that I didn't fully understand. This... hey, look at me." Your chin is tilted back up with his thumb. "This right here is even more real to me. This is why I asked if we could try again." 

"So, what now?" you ask, looking into his eyes. "Do we try again?" 

"We try again." 

"How?" 

"If the distance fucks everything up," he says with his warm breath hitting your lips, "then we know we aren't right for each other. But I'll go through that possibility if it means I don't have to love you from afar anymore." 

"Just come home," you plead desperately. 

"I am home. Technically, right?" 

"No, you don't get it." You grip his shoulders. "Come home to me. To my heart." 

He kisses your cheek twice, the first quick and the second longer. "I'm right here, baby. I'll stay for as long as you need me to." 

"I want you to stay here." Your own voice sounds distant. "I miss you all the time." 

"I will," he affirms, his eyes fluttering shut and his voice fading. "I'll come home to you." 

Just as you're about to kiss his lips, something taps the back of your hand. The streetlight you're under goes dark, and the vision in front of you fizzles out as you blink rapidly to find yourself back in the café, staring at your latte. 

"Hey," Harry says tentatively, squeezing your fingers with his. "You all right?" 

Snapping your head up to him, you blurt, "Sorry. I zoned out for a bit." You shake your head and repeat, "Sorry."

"That's okay." He looks out the window—the snow is falling harder than it has been all day. "I was just saying that your parents will probably want you to get home soon since the roads will be getting bad. I can drop you off." 

Your throat tightens. "Um, sure. Yeah, I'm ready to head out if you are." 

"Okay," he says while standing. "Stay here. I'll start my car since it takes forever to heat up." 

You just weakly smile as he walks out of the glass doors. Sinking in your seat, you try not to think about where your mind has drifted. It felt so real, so wildly vivid. His voice, his words, his touch—all of it made sense. In your head, you do everything right. You let him in, not push him away. You talk it through, not avoid the burden you carry. You keep your chin up and do not give up at the first sign of doubt. 

After lightly slapping your cheeks, you sigh and put your coat back on. When you get up to shove your arms in the sleeves, you see that Harry left his journal on the table. It sits vulnerably next to his empty coffee cup, the string tied loosely around the cover. 

You shouldn't, but you do. 

Quickly opening it and flipping to the page with the bookmark, you skim the messy ink on the damp page. It looks fresh. Dried dots from snow darken the paper in various places, but you only focus on what the words spell out. 

She's under the willow tree, more beautiful than the weeping branches crystallized with icicles. I sit here in my car, wishing there was a way to let her know that I would do anything she wanted me to. 

My love for her warmly courses through my blood, protecting me from the brutal winter. If she opened her heart to me, I could make her my home again. Light those vanilla candles and kiss her like I used to. Tell her all about how she makes me a lovesick fool with no cure. Give her my time and apologize for ever walking away from the best thing that slipped through my fingers. 

Where she goes, I follow. There's some powerful force that refuses to keep us apart. Why can't she see it? I can't be with her if she doesn't yearn for me like I do for her. I understand the distance and why, in retrospect, she sees the potential downfall. However, I see the beauty that could flourish from it if we just tried. 

I want to come home to her every day, but how do I even begin to tell that to a girl who doesn't feel the same? 

Fuck the distance. 

The café door suddenly opens with a chime, making you slam his journal shut. Thankfully, Harry doesn't notice since he's too busy looking down and stomping his snow-covered boots on the welcome mat. 

You pretend you're picking up his journal for the first time and say, "Don't forget this." 

He glances up, eyeing what you hold. "Shit, thank you." He walks over and takes it. "Wait, I never got to show you your drawings." 

"It's fine," you tell him. "They're probably really embarrassing." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive. I'm pretty tired." 

His gaze dances around your face, then falls to your hands, fidgeting with the zipper on your coat. "Let's get you home," he says softly. "You can try to sleep on the way there." 

You end up doing just that until he pulls into your parents' driveway. Opening your eyes, you squint at the bright beams of the headlights reflecting off the house's windows. You look over at Harry and find him staring at you, his face barely visible in the dark. 

"We're here," he whispers. 

You nod sleepily and unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you for… making today a little easier." 

"Of course." He rubs the back of his neck, not knowing where to look. "I hope you get some sleep tonight." 

A chasmic pang. A searing sting. A residual twinge. 

Why? 

Because the words you tearily whispered to him before shutting the car door cause you to fall into bed and clutch the blanket until sleep overtakes your heartache. 

You're a good man, Harry. 

——

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Bucky finds that Aurora has changed.

Warnings: mentions of grief, smut

Series Masterlist

“I helped Zemo break out of prison.”

Aurora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She hadn’t heard from Bucky in months, and this is what he’d called to tell her. She couldn’t help but question whether he truly needed her help, or if he felt guilty.

He paced the front porch, his heavy footfalls thumping against the wood. “Doll, please, say something.”

“He framed you, Bucky. He’s the reason I was forced to choose between you and my dad.”

Bucky sighed, flinching at her tone. He expected it, but it still grated on his already frazzled nerves. He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t have any other choice. They needed Zemo, if they were going to track down the creator of the new super-soldier serum.

“Aurora…”

“Don’t.” She held up her hands, sighing. “Just… don’t.”

Bucky staggered. She’d grown so much in five years. She was as beautiful as he remembered, and more elegant, despite living away from the city. There was something else, though. She was no longer the same meek young woman. She’d been tempered by loss and grief. She was probably more powerful, too.

When he knew her, she was just discovering her innate abilities. He wondered what she was capable of, now. And that’s why he needed her. As the half-mortal child of Aphrodite, she could read people unlike any other.

“I need you,” he stammered quietly. “You’re the only person I trust.”

Aurora’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected this level of honesty from him, and as their gazes met, she clearly saw the vulnerability in his blue orbs. She also noticed the dark circles and bags under his eyes. He was still having nightmares. “Bucky…” she said more softly.

“I understand that I’m asking you to go against your moral code. I haven’t forgotten what Zemo did.” He dared to venture a step closer, to close the distance between them, physically and emotionally. “I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. That’s the last thing I’d ever do. Sam and I… we can’t complete the mission without him. But, I can’t do it without you.”

“You want me to come with you?” Emotion constricted her throat and pushed up tears behind her eyes. She glanced away, cursing herself for being so weak, until Bucky cupped her chin and gently coaxed her to look at him. He wore a glove to conceal his vibranium hand, the feel of leather and hard metal beneath it cool against her inflamed face.

“I want you to come with me,” he affirmed. “I want…” God, he wanted so badly for things to be like they were in Wakanda. He knew they never would be, but dammit if he wasn’t willing to try and make up for his absence.

“Where?” she asked.

“Berlin. From there, we’re flying to Madripoor in Zemo’s private jet.”

For a few painstaking moments, Aurora was silent. Bucky feared that spending time in such intimate proximity with Zemo was going to be the deal breaker. “I’ll do it… for you,” she murmured, finally.

The only thing she knew about Madripoor was its seedy and lawless reputation. She wasn’t thrilled by the idea; at the same time, there was definitely something lacking in her life. In her grieving, she’d lost part of herself and wanted her back.

Bucky exhaled a relieved sigh, thumb rubbing over the swell of her cheekbone. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Thank you,” he said in earnest. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“When do we leave?”

“Soon. Uh, once you’ve packed.” He tripped slightly over his words, running a hand through his hair—his short hair. Aurora liked it… a lot.

“Okay.”

The smile that crept halfway across his face broadened. Aurora gestured with a tilt of her head, and Bucky followed her inside. He took in the familiar surroundings. She’d transformed the cabin into her own. Seeing photographs of her and Tony elicited a pang in his chest. Although they were together for two years, she had no proof of their relationship. Nothing of him to keep her going after the Snap, except memories.

~ * ~

Six years ago

Covered from the waist down with a soft, woolen blanket, Bucky positioned himself above her. He felt her arch off the ground, watching her lips part in a moan. Slicked with sweat from firelight and the tropical heat of Wakanda, their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

“Bucky,” Aurora gasped, her fingertips pressing into his skin and sinew of muscle. His shoulders and back rippled under her touch, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so good and told her as much.

“You feel so good, baby,” he muttered, “so damn good.”

As he pushed in deeper, gaining in speed and roughness, she moved her hands and curled them into the blanket upon which she lay. She tightened around him, and he chased her orgasm with a groan, before collapsing on top of her. His heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of being alive and with her more than he could fathom at times.

Bucky closed his eyes to the feel of her fingers threading through his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, soldier.”