#last art of the year n it’s them <3 very on brand

[francy-sketches]

POV they caught you chasing cats in the red keep

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART ONE

"trying to play it coy, trying to make it disappear"

⚠️ new series alert! ⚠️ and also my 1k follower celebration!!! (altho it might as well be the 2k celebration now considering how fast my following has grown. thank you ;-;) i polled my followers a little while ago to choose between 3 different fic premises and this one was the winner! it was originally meant to be a stand alone but i'm actually more interested in making it a brand new series, so i hope you guys enjoy! i'm not exactly sure how many parts this will be yet, i'll let you know when i do. title and lyrics are from 'bad liar' by selena gomez.

summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: (for this fic in general) age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink, dirty talk, general smut, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic) -- (for this chapter) wet dreams, mentions of masturbation. word count: 5k ao3

The sun is warm and pleasant on your bare skin as you lay out in the freshly mown grass of your backyard, absorbing the heat and smiling languidly despite the humidity. You're grateful for your family's wealth on days like today, knowing that at any moment you could take a few steps and dive headfirst into the cool water of your pool, fresh and inviting. It's been about a month since you returned and you've spent almost every day outside among the green grass, the chlorinated water, the burning Texas sun. It's been heaven.

The backdoor suddenly swings open and your father's voice booms out into the backyard, "Family meeting," he states, loud and serious, "Five minutes."

Or hell.

With a groan you slowly sit up, hands digging into the thin towel laid out beneath you. You know better than to ignore an order like that. Being back from college for the summer has certainly had it's perks; no annoying roommates, no loud parties, a large backyard and pool to yourself, but having to deal with your parents again certainly isn't one of them. You'd thought coming back after three years might have softened them a bit, lowered their guard, made them less strict. Instead, it's almost had the opposite effect.

You slide into your flip flops and walk begrudgingly inside the house, making note of your mother standing anxiously by the stove with her arms crossed. What's the issue now? At least once a week your father calls these "family meetings", which always pertain to you and only you, seeing as you're their only child. Last week they'd spent half an hour berating you about forgetting to put the garbage out, the week before they'd tried to explain the importance of an early bed time to you, like you were seven.

You're a grown woman, a full fledged adult. Sure, you're only twenty one, you're unemployed, you're currently in the process of obtaining an arts degree that probably won't secure you anything tangible in the real world, but you're an adult nonetheless. You only have one year left of school before you can leave all this behind and start fresh somewhere else. You'd thought coming back home for one more summer would bring nostalgia and happiness, a few months of normality before life exploded in front of you.

Turns out your parents had pictured something different.

Your father gestures toward the kitchen table, urging for you to sit. You hate when they do this, make you feel small and childish while they both stand above you and reiterate rules they've had your whole life, rules that apparently you'll never grow out of. You wonder what rule you've broken now.

"We've noticed that you barely leave the house," your father begins, voice deep and authoritative, "We were under the impression that when you came home you'd be spending time with old friends, doing some volunteering again."

"Going to church," your mother adds beside him, a frown permanently etched on her face, "You've only gone twice since you've been here."

Call the cops, you think to yourself, forcibly holding back an eyeroll. Ironically your father is a police officer, and you highly doubt he'd ever come if you called.

"Instead, you just spend all your time in that backyard," he continues, nodding along with your mother, "We didn't invite you back to simply laze around all summer, there have been clear expectations you're not meeting."

You take a deep breath, feeling a hint of anger and stubbornness burning in the pit of your stomach. You shove it down, back to that secret hiding place you've cultivated throughout all these years of having to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, dad," you say, trying to sound as earnest as possible as you look to him and then your mother, "Sorry, mom."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, we need to see action," your father replies quickly, brow furrowed, "No more lounging around in the backyard on weekdays, that's a weekend activity from now on, we clear?"

You nod, "Clear."

"We want you to get involved in something," your mom takes a step forward, places her hand awkwardly on your shoulder, "Why don't you call Bethany? She's always looking for more helpers at Sunday School, or maybe Alice? I hear she's been volunteering at the soup kitchen for the summer."

You haven't spoken to either Bethany or Alice since you left for university three years ago. The thought of calling them, let alone having to work with them in either setting, makes you feel ill. You nod again, pretending to agree.

"That sounds good, I'll call them tomorrow morning," Both of your parents smile, appeased, "I think I'll go for a walk now, if that's okay. Clear my head, think about things I can do to improve."

"That's the spirit," your dad says, wrapping an arm around your mother, "Remember, be back before dinner or the door will be locked."

"I know," you nod, forcing a smile, "I won't forget."

--

Well, that's it, then. You'll have to leave.

It sounds dramatic to say that your parents telling you to get off your ass is enough to send you packing, but it goes so much deeper than that. You've spent your entire life doing everything these people say, nodding and smiling when you're meant to, apologizing for everything, doing anything you can to appease and impress them. You'd spent your high school years in youth choir, church group, organizing fundraisers, studying your ass off, tutoring, joining as many extracurriculars as possible until you had no free time. And even then, nothing ever seemed to be enough for them.

When you'd left for college they'd both cried at the airport, held you in their arms and told you with sincerity that they'd miss you so much. Your mother had kissed your face and held your hands and your father had hugged you for the first time since you were eleven years old. And because of their sudden burst of emotions, of affection, you'd actually missed them once you left. You remember you'd cried on the plane, scrolling through pictures of them on your phone until the battery died, thinking to yourself that maybe they weren't the horrible, authoritarian people you thought they were.

They called you once a week while you were at college, asking for updates, telling you they missed you, giving you neighborhood gossip that made you laugh and feel nostalgic for home. Being away from them, it was like they suddenly became two entirely new people, bonded together by their suddenly empty nest and seemingly trying to do right by you now, even if it felt a little too late. You'd thought about coming home a few times for a visit, but the memories that triggered the anger in the pit of your stomach kept you from doing so. You'd kept them at arm's length until you felt ready to come back.

And now you're back, and nothing has changed. They're the same people they always were, expecting too much of you, thinking they can control you, never quite believing that you're trying your best. You'd told them before you came that you just wanted to relax this summer, spend some time at home, maybe meet up with some old friends - keyword being maybe - and they'd seemed totally on board with the idea. There had been no mentions of keeping busy, no mentions of Sunday School or soup kitchens or rules. Then you'd arrived and realized how stupid you'd been to believe that they could ever change.

Your entire life you've been their perfect girl, their A+ student who volunteered and read bible verses and tutored the neighborhood kids, sacrificed your happiness more times than you can count for the sake of keeping them satisfied. But that's the thing: they're not satisfied, and they never will be.

Your flip flops smack against the concrete of your suburban street, sun beginning to set in the distance as you think about how exactly you're going to escape this hell. Yeah, you could just walk out the front door without a word, but it's not like you have anywhere to go or the money to do it. You have your plane ticket for your return flight back to school, but it's not 'til September and it's under your father's name. Your family might be wealthy but none of that wealth has ever gone directly into your pocket, and you doubt it ever will if you just bail on them in the middle of the night with no warning.

Your thoughts scatter when you hear someone call out your name nearby. Your head swivels and you see one of your neighbors, Mrs. Lillard, waving from her front porch. You wave back, give her a small smile.

"How's college treatin' ya?" she calls to you, taking a sip from a bottle of beer, "Got a boyfriend?"

Your cheeks warm immediately and shake your head, "Not yet!" you call back.

"I bet you're battin' 'em all away," her voice is slurred and you're sure that's probably not her first beer of the day, "Nobody's good enough for ya, huh?"

"I guess," you say awkwardly, continuing to walk and hoping she won't ask you to join her for a beer, "How's your husband?"

"Pain in my ass," she responds with a grunt and takes another swig, "Bet you can't wait to have your own white picket fence, perfect as you are."

Her words make you uncomfortable but you just give her your signature fake laugh and flip your hair, waving again, "Bye, Mrs. Lillard."

Your face falls as soon as you turn around, anger burning again. You've spent so much of your life being the picture perfect little suburban girl, doing everything your parents say, saying your prayers and reading to the elderly, killing yourself to get straight A's and only speaking when spoken to. Your reputation is widely known around the neighborhood; the sweet little girl, the pure and innocent God fearing angel. You've portrayed yourself as that girl for so long that you almost don't know which part of you is real anymore.

You keep walking down the street, eyeing the sunset as you go and wondering what would happen if you just didn't go back home tonight. As your father had said, he locks the door every night after dinner; you don't have a key, you've never had a key. You're only allowed into your house on the basis of trust and good merit. If you just refused to go back tonight, how would they react? The thought of doing something like that sends a warm flush of rebellion across your skin, eyes bright with intrigue. But where would you go?

You turn the corner and your nose is suddenly hit with the delectable scent of a barbecue, smokey and delicious. You slow a bit, closing your eyes and breathing in the warm air, stomach growling. You suddenly realize that if you don't go home tonight you'll also miss dinner. Another rule broken. You keep walking, trying to follow the scent like some kind of bloodhound. Maybe you know whoever's cooking and they'll invite you to eat with them.

A few houses down you start to hear the sound of music. There must be a party going on, a birthday or some other special occasion. It's only as you get closer to the sound that you realize it's not being played from a speaker or stereo, but from someone's front porch; a real guitar, live and acoustic.

You approach the house in question and see a man sitting on his front step, guitar in hand as he strums a steady tune. He's looking down, watching his fingers, monitoring his movements, but you see dark brown curls with hints of grey peppered throughout, a stubbled jaw line and curved nose. You slow your speed, furrowing your brow as you try to place him. You're not sure you've ever seen him before.

His music is calm and inviting, a plucky sounding tune that seems vaguely familiar. You're suddenly filled with intrigue, trying to place the song and slowing to a complete stop in front of the house without meaning to. You watch the man's callused fingers pick away at the strings, fast and professional, like he's been doing this for years. He probably has.

You're still trying to place the song, biting your lip and swiping through songs in your mind like an invisible rolodex. Johnny Cash? Bob Dylan? It sounds like one of those songs your parents would forbid you to listen to as a kid, the ones with devil worship in their lyrics, sung by bad men who didn't believe in God. You'd always questioned this logic, wondered how songs about living out in the country or falling in love could be inherently against your religion. They didn't even listen to it, just blindly told you it was against the rules.

Suddenly the man stops playing and you realize the song has come to an end. He looks up then, notices you standing there at the end of his walk with your furrowed brow and flip flops. His eyes are brown, expression startled at first but then fading into something softer as he gives you a small smile.

"Been there long?" he asks, voice crackling slightly, like he hasn't spoken much today.

You shake your head quickly, "I'm sorry, I heard you playing and I-"

"S'alright," he replies strumming his guitar absentmindedly and giving you a shrug, "I don't mind an audience."

He's southern, definitely a Texan, but you're sure you've never met him before. His face and voice are unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. He's older, probably in his 40s or even 50s, but he's handsome and slightly boyish in a way despite his greying hair and freckled skin. He reminds you of one of those men on album covers your father had slammed down one day in the record store when you were nine, yelled at you in front of everyone that the men who made that music were filthy sinners. It hadn't stopped you from listening to them, though, curiosity getting the better of you.

Is that who you're looking at now? A filthy sinner?

"You okay?" he asks slowly, tilting his head. You realize you're just staring at him, gathering your thoughts.

You shake your head again quickly, feeling yourself blush under his gaze, "Sorry," you repeat, "I'm uh, I was just passing by and I heard you playing that song. It sounded really familiar."

He gives you a crooked smile and a nod, "Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan," you say, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. That song was from one of the albums you'd listened to in secret, one of the only times you'd had to delete your browser history. You feel pride swell in your chest at the smile you elicit from the man in response, like he's recognizing a fellow music lover.

"Good ear," he continues to lightly pluck at the strings of his guitar, "You play?"

"Um, not really." It's a half truth but mainly a lie, you've never played in your life. You feel slightly disappointed in yourself and you're not sure why; it's not like you've ever felt any kind of urge to learn, especially considering your parents would've made sure you only learned appropriate songs. When would you have even found the time between all your extracurriculars?

"Well, it ain't difficult," he starts playing the song again, slower this time, "Pretty repetitive chord progression, room for some adlibbin' here and there once you get the hang of it."

You nod like you understand what he's talking about, suddenly lost in the way his fingers pull at the strings, make the music come to life out of nothing. His hands are big, fingers long and thick as they curve back and forth, up and down. It's hypnotic to watch. He stops again and looks up, catches you staring.

"How old are you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You swallow, unsure what exactly the right answer is. Part of you wants to lie, tell him you're older than you actually are so he doesn't just see you as some bright eyed kid. This is the first person you've encountered since coming back who doesn't know who you are, doesn't know about your reputation. You could tell him anything, be anyone, and he'd take it at face value.

"I'm twenty five," you lie, but it sounds unnatural in your mouth.

He looks you up and down, eyes raking your body in a way you're unfamiliar with. Like a man. Like the way your roommates back in college get looked at, sensually and flirtatiously, being eyed up by drunk guys at the bar who only have one thing on their mind. You feel your heart begin to thrum quicker in your chest; is that really how this man is looking at you? This grown man, not a high school crush or a college fratboy, a real man?

"Sweetheart, we both know that's a lie," he says with a chuckle, eyes coming back to rest on your face, "I'd guess twenty."

You make a face, "I'm twenty one, actually."

He laughs again, putting his hands up in surrender, "My bad, twenty one."

You watch as he starts to strum once again, something new and unfamiliar. You listen for a few moments, eyes trained back on his fingers, watching him play.

"You wanna come in for a bit?" he asks, voice nonchalant, like he's asking you something completely casual.

And maybe he is, but the words make your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. The way he'd looked at you just then, laughed at your words, wanted to know your age... now he's inviting you into his house? You've never actually been flirted with before, not when it mattered, and you're not entirely sure if that's what's happening. But it feels like it, even though you can't imagine how someone like him could see anything sexy about a girl like you.

"...Why?" you ask quietly.

He looks up at you with another smile, still plucking the strings, "If you need to ask then maybe I read you wrong," he chuckles again, eyes trailing down your legs and taking in your short dress, the way it stops at your knees, "Now that I really look at you, maybe I'm talkin' to a good Christian girl."

"You're not," you say it too quickly, "I mean, I'm not. I'm not a good Christian girl."

"No?" he smirks, "Don't have a good southern daddy waitin' for you to come home? Momma waitin' with a pie in the oven?" he's not being serious but you feel your skin flush at the accuracy of his words.

"Maybe," you mutter, hand going down to touch your dress nervously, "But maybe I don't wanna go home."

He nods and stops plucking, licking his lips and thinking to himself. You have to admit, there's something about him that draws you to him, something masculine and new. He's much, much older than you but not in a way that creeps you out or makes you want to run away. You find yourself hoping he'll ask you to come inside again so this time you can give him the right answer, the one he wants to hear.

"You probably should," he finally says, then stands up on his porch steps and slips his guitar onto his back. The strap digs into his broad shoulders, accentuating his size as he suddenly towers over you on the step.

"Sh-should what?" you ask breathlessly, and you wonder if he can tell your heart race has picked up, see the thumping of your pulse in your exposed neck.

"Go back home," he says with a shrug, "I mean, if they're waitin' for you..."

"They're not," you say it with firm finality, shaking your head, "I'm twenty one, I do what I like."

He walks down the steps then, getting closer and closer to you until he's suddenly standing directly in front of you. His eyes cast downward, assessing your expression; you swear he looks at your lips and licks his own again.

"So would you like to come inside?" he asks again, peering down at you with a dark sense of desire that makes you swallow roughly, feel a light and steady thrum between your legs, "Let me teach you how to play that song?"

Here's your chance. Just say yes.

"N-no," you gasp, taking a step back from him, "Um, n-not today."

He smirks, almost like he knew that would be your response. He hitches his guitar up his shoulder and gives you one last smile before turning around and walking back up his steps.

"Well, I'm here if you change your mind," he calls back to you, reaching for the doorknob on his front door and peering at you with another side glance, still assessing you, "Would love to teach a pretty thing like you how to use her fingers."

You feel your lips part in surprise, an unfamiliar tingling sensation flooding your body as he gives you a wink and walks into his house, shutting the door behind him. You've still got that steady throbbing feeling in your underwear, something you've only felt a handful of times. You know what it is, you're not completely clueless, but you can't remember the last time it happened.

You take another step back slowly, heart still pounding in your chest as you stare at his closed door. Then you turn on your heel and speed walk back the way you came, flip flops slapping against the ground aggressively. You revel in the way your thighs rub together as you walk, soothing that ache.

Any thoughts of not going home have gone from your mind. You need to ask your parents who this man is. As soon as possible.

-

You get home right before dinner, giving yourself just enough time to formulate exactly how to ask your parents about the man with the guitar. You're slightly afraid that you might seem too eager, too curious, and that they'll see right through you; you can't imagine how they'd react to knowing their perfect little girl is getting butterflies over a middle aged man.

But that's what you have: butterflies. In your tummy, all over your skin, between your legs. Being talked to the way he did, being looked at the way he did, it's making you feel hot all over, itchy and uncomfortable but in a good way.

The last time you felt this way was during your first week of college, at a party you'd gone to with your roommate. You'd seen him across the room, tall and blonde, watched as he licked his lips and looked you up and down. He was gorgeous, an angel you were convinced God had placed at this party just for you. You felt that tingle between your legs, swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him.

Then he'd approached and you realized he'd been looking at your roommate the entire time.

Your mother is just beginning to plate the meal when you slip into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table beside your father. She serves you both with a smile and sits, then extends her hands to both of you.

"Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts," she begins quietly, and you quickly hang your head and close your eyes as she continues, "which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," you and your dad echo, then begin your meal. Just the same as always.

"How was your walk?" your father asks.

Here goes nothing.

"It was nice," you say, nodding thoughtfully to yourself and hoping you sound nonchalant, "I said hi to Mrs. Lillard."

"We've been praying for her," your mom interjects immediately, "She's an alcoholic, you know."

Your mom stays on top of all the neighborhood gossip, part of the reason you feel she might know something about the mysterious man. With a nod of your head you continue, "And then I saw someone else, a man playing guitar on his front porch, but I've never seen him before."

"Oh, him" your mom rolls her eyes, "Mr. Miller. Piece of work."

Bingo.

Your eyebrows raise, intrigued, "How so?"

"Kindness, dear," your father says with a disapproving nod to your mother, "He's done nothing to us."

She sighs and shakes her head, "You're right, I'm sorry."

The conversation is definitely going somewhere but it's already taking a turn into dangerous territory; you're not one to question, to interfere or interject. Pressing them further might make them suspicious, but you have to know.

"What did he do?" you ask, trying your best to sound casual, "If you don't mind me asking?"

Your mother is about to speak but your father gives her a look, almost a warning. She closes her mouth and sits back in her chair, waiting for him to answer you instead.

"He didn't do anything," your father explains, "Your mother invited him for dinner and he declined, that's all."

"It's the way he declined," your mother sits forward again, voice curt and irritated, "He was very rude."

"Rude?" You can tell your mom wants to talk about it, dredge up something she hasn't been able to discuss for a while; you're surprised she hadn't already told you over the phone while you were at college.

"This isn't appropriate conversation for the dinner table," your father says sternly, and you're not sure if he's talking more-so to you or your mother, "End of discussion." As usual your mother folds in on herself, picking up her fork and starting to eat again.

"Your father's right," she says, though you know she doesn't really believe that, "Let's just eat."

You wonder what the man - Mr. Miller - could have said to make your mother react this way. It's not unusual for her to get stiff and bothered by people - it's pretty easy to push her buttons, actually, but the list of things that offend her is long and detailed. He could have said pretty much anything to set her off. The specifics are lost on you.

You resign yourself to defeat and eat your dinner, sincerely glad that the tingling sensations in your body have subsided. You do not need to be feeling like that with your parents in the room.

-

You dream about him.

It's muddled and confusing, taking place simultaneously back at college and in your childhood bedroom, but he's there. In both places, somehow. You're back at that first week of college party, but instead of the blonde boy it's him standing across the room, eyeing you up and down. But this time he doesn't go for your roommate, he walks over to you and looks deeply into your eyes, gives you that delicious smirk and brings his hands down to touch your waist. He's so big compared to you, so much older. He pulls you in with a strong grasp and holds you to his broad chest, runs his hands down your back.

Then you're both transported from the college party to your parent's house. You're on your bed, sitting next to him atop the covers and watching him play guitar. You watch his fingers, long and thick, hypnotizing you with their movements. He stops playing and brings one to your chin, tilts your head up to look into your eyes again.

"You're not a good Christian girl," he whispers in that southern drawl, breath ghosting across your face, inching closer and closer, "You're all mine, aren't you?"

You wake up with a start and immediately feel the dampness in your underwear, the butterflies back again with a vengeance as your pussy throbs and pulses. You've never felt anything like this before, grasping your chest and reaching for your bedside lamp in the darkness. You sit there in bed for a few moments, catching your breath and waiting for the feelings to vanish again, for your aching core to stop reminding you that it's never been touched, not once, even though you know it's absolutely begging for it.

With shaky hands you reach down and run a finger through your wet folds, shivering at the soft touch. You've never masturbated before, never had sex or anything else you've learned about from your friends at college. They'd looked at you with disbelief when you'd told them you'd never even had an orgasm; one of them had gone so far as to ask if she could give you one.

"No," you'd said curtly, "No thank you."

Now you sit on your childhood bed with your legs open and a finger pressed lightly against you within your underwear. You're not even sure what to do, where exactly to touch, how to bring yourself to completion. You're twenty one years old but you've spent your entire life being the good, pure, God fearing girl waiting for marriage like her parents taught her.

"Enough," you whisper into the darkness, "I'm done waiting."

You yank your finger out of your panties and lay back on the bed, switching off the lamp and closing your eyes again. You've already decided before you drift off that you'll be paying Mr. Miller another visit tomorrow, as soon as possible.

He told you he wanted to teach you how to use your fingers; you intend to make sure he does.

[futurecorps3]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Masterlist<3

Summary: Sirius and reader plan a romantic dinner for a very tired Remus Pairing: Poly!wolfstar x reader Warnings: mentions of sex and that’s all, I think! It's fluff and post!war where absolutely nothing went wrong because Reggie was a spy for the Order just like in canon duh Word Count: 1.4K Requested: No

Sirius leaned against the kitchen counter, a playful twinkle in his eyes, and said, "You know, love, if our cooking skills don't impress Moony tonight, at least our charm will do the trick." Y/N laughed, adding a bit more salt to the pasta they had been working on for about an hour now.

"Bet your pretty smile and my dazzling gaze will be fit enough… I really hope he likes it though," she mumbled that last part, feeling a pair of arms round her from the back. "I'm sure he'll love it," Sirius whispered, kissing his girl's cheek and moving on to whisk the eggs for the brownies they were baking for dessert.

It was Remus' first year as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He had started the charge right after the war ended, and the trio had settled into a lovely flat on Eaton Square—a two-story building bought with Black family money. ("One thing my mum and dad will be good for!" Sirius had said back when he bought it.) They were slowly transforming it into a home. During the war, they realized they had the power to turn even a cavern into a warm place, as long as the three of them were together.

For the past week, Remus had come home absolutely drained. When he jumped into bed or the couch with them, he'd fall asleep right away and still wake up tired. Sirius and Y/N were aware that he was struggling to adapt to new routines; going from spending all his time with the people he almost lost to teaching six classes a day with minimal breaks was becoming challenging for him.

He'd adjust eventually and would be back to his old self, but for now, their boy was tired, and all they wanted was to treat him with every ounce of love and care he deserved. So, when Remus told them that he'd be coming home earlier that Friday, they decided to go all out with a romantic home-cooked dinner.

"Can you try this? I-I think it's a bit insipid," she said, stirring the cream-based sauce that was ready to serve, pouring a bit onto the back of her hand for Sirius to lick. His tongue gathered the liquid, and his eyes opened in shock. "That's amazing! D-don't change anything; it's perfect, baby," he smiled, grabbing the spoon from his girlfriend and taking more of it into his mouth, directly from the spoon to then place it back inside the boiling pot.

He either didn't mind or didn't think about it; knowing him, it was probably the latter. "Sirius, no!" she half-scolded while laughing, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Wouldn't be the first time my saliva is in either yours or Moony's mou- oi!" he snickered as the girl assaulted him again, all tiny hands against his broad figure. "You're disgusting," Y/N smiled, walking over to the dining table where a white tablecloth was set.

While the noodles cooked and her boyfriend danced to Queen while baking their last course planned for the night, she set the table. Y/N knew her boys to perfection, and Remus had always appreciated neat and aesthetically pleasing settings for their dates, and while this was not exactly one, she wanted it all to be perfect. Before coming home from a job interview that day, she stopped by and bought some candles and a nice bottle of wine; red. He loved red wine.

As she picked the bottle, she wondered how many bottles they'd collect as time passed and their flat became truly theirs. She smiled.

"Love, the water's doing it again…" she heard Sirius warn in a quiet panic and almost giggled. "Just stir them for a bit and turn off the stove; they're almost done," the girl reassured as she placed the brand-new silverware Regulus and James had gotten them when they first moved in neatly over the tablecloth, right next to the plates and careful that no wax could reach them when the candles eventually melted.

When all places were set and ready to be occupied—a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath in Remus', courtesy of their boyfriend—she returned to the kitchen. Her pasta was done, and brownies were in the oven. She found Sirius cleaning his rings, which he hadn't bothered to take off and were now covered in flour, delicate fingers gently scrubbing off the white powder.

Y/N took in the sight of him. He was going on about something that happened to him on the way home, about how he fought a lady for Moony's bouquet or something. She really didn't care when he looked like that. His long, black hair was tied in a messy bun with his wand, with a few strands falling out, a Rolling Stones t-shirt he turned into a crop top let a glimpse of his v-line show, as if it was purposely teasing his girlfriend, jeans hanging low and covered in flour.

Fuck. She scored. "… and so I told he- what are you doing?" he questioned when approached. Y/N stepped between the sink and his body, looking up at him while biting her lip. He felt her fingers hook on the empty belt loops of his pants, making him press flush against her body. "You're too pretty for this world; did you know that? Who gave you permission, Sirius? Do you think it's okay to be this perfect and just… exist like you're not this gorgeous?" she asked in all seriousness, making him blush and snicker at her flirting.

They were always like that with each other. Always flirting. Always trying to make each other blush. That, until Remus stepped in and made them both blush, fluster, and giggle like twelve-year-olds who just pecked someone else's lips for the first time.

"Careful. My brownies are still in the oven, and Moony won't take long in getting home," he warned, his eyes darkening a bit. "And?" she teased, scratching the bit of stomach exposed he displayed. "And if I bend you over-the-counter right now, dessert will be ruined, Remus will get too distracted in punishing us, and dinner will never happen. Just be patient," he groaned, stroking her face and kissing the corner of her lips, turning to clean his hands once again.

She ran her hands through his chest and screamed into his back in frustration, making his chest bubble with laughter. Right after, keys jingled in the front door, and they were both quickly at the door, smiling at each other like they held some secret intel Remus could never know about, and in some sense, they did.

Their boyfriend walked through the door, looking at them like they had grown two heads as he discarded his coat and boots by the door. "Well, hello," he smirked, walking over them and kissing their lips gently. "Are you baking something? I thought we'd do that on Saturday when Harry came over," he asked, trying to peek over their heads before Y/N pulled his head down with both her hands on his cheeks.

"We've got a surprise. Go change into something more comfortable and meet us in the dining hall." She smiled. "Dining hall?" Remus laughed, shaking his head as he felt electricity running through him with the information. Sirius remained serious as he nodded at their girlfriend's statement. "Yes, the dining hall, dear. Now go, c'mon," he encouraged, patting his shoulders as he walked away.

They used the time he took in putting some joggers and a shirt on to serve the pasta and place it on the table. Pads took care of the wine and looked up giddily at their boy paddling through the floor in disbelief. "Come sit." Y/N smiled gently, having changed the record to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars; Remus' favorite. "Oh, I absolutely despise you both," he said, running a scarred hand through his curls as he approached the table with a soft smile playing on his lips.

Remus eyed the food, the table, and the soft music playing in the background, somehow managing to keep it together. Until he saw the flowers. He picked them up and looked at his partners with utter adoration in his eyes. "Fuck you," he laughed as tears prickled his eyes, making his boyfriend and girlfriend walk over to him to engulf him in a tight hug.

He felt safe and protected, even when he was very clearly towering over both of them. "We know you've been having a hard time coping with change, so we wanted to do something special for you," Y/N mumbled against his chest, stroking his back comfortingly. "The things I cooked might be shit… know I made them with a lot of love though," Sirius joked, kissing Remus' cheeks, which left a salty taste in his mouth. Moony laughed airily.

Surrounded by the warmth of his partners, Remus felt a surge of emotion. It wasn't just relief; it was a profound sense of belonging. Y/N's lips pressed against his cheek, leaving a lingering warmth, while Sirius's hand ruffled his hair in a gesture that felt both affectionate and familiar. "Come on, or it'll get cold."

They sat at the table, humming to the tunes playing in the background as they rambled about their day, sharing minutes of comfortable silence accompanied by loving glances out of nowhere. After the war ended, this is what they longed for. The trio would never forget how they fantasized about simpler times while laying on icy surfaces or in the woods, praying to whoever was willing to listen for a crumb of grace and a bit of luck to find solace after all that was done with.

As their eyes locked, there was an unspoken promise of enjoying the one thing they dreamed of a few years ago lingering in the air. They were giving themselves and each other a gentler life, a kinder environment, and a safe haven they could always go to. A safe haven with great pasta.

"Shit, dove… this is amazing! Where's the recipe from?" Remus exclaimed, resisting the urge to lick the plate and limiting himself to only gathering the leftover sauce with his fork like a civilized person. "I called Effie.” "Bless her soul," Sirius groaned in a solemn tone, licking the plate. Moony chuckled and drank the last bit of his wine as Y/N playfully scolded him. How he loved them, he thought.

Y/N slipped off her shoes and started prancing around to the music with a glass of wine on her way to serve dessert, a pair of warm smiles beaming at her going unnoticed as she was too lost in the beats. She paid attention to the plating, so she grabbed the small plates they had with tiny flowers on them and sprinkled some powdered sugar on top of the brownies her boyfriend baked.

"Here you go." She smiled, kissing both Sirius' and Remus' cheeks as she put the plates in front of them after putting hers on the place, sitting back down the next second. They bit into the pastry at the same time Padfoot waited for their verdict. "So? How'd I do?" He asks, in a concerned state his partners found hilarious, seeing how seriously he was taking the whole situation.

Y/N's expression turned into a disgusted frown as she chewed but quickly replaced it with a smile, making the change obvious to Sirius. "What was that!?" the black-haired boy said with wide eyes, taking a bite off the dessert himself and frowning when he actually found it good. "Come on love, it can't be that bad," Remus said, biting into his piece and closing his eyes in disgust in a very exaggerated manner.

"The-they're good, baby." She smiles, leaving the large piece untouched in her plate as she looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I tried them; I did a bloody great job, so don't co-". His partners erupted in laughter. Moony almost cried, and Y/N's tummy hurt as Sirius shook his head with an upset pout.

"You're so mean. I hate you both. I'll never bake for you again!" "No, love, come on! We're sorry I-I just saw where Y/N was going and played along," Remus laughed, reaching over to engulf him in a hug, but his boyfriend pulled away, back facing his smiling face. He couldn't avoid the love for too long, cornered between his girlfriend who also reached out to embrace him.

"They're really good, Sirius! Come here; I-I'm sorry." "Why do you keep laughing!?" He whined with a little smirk playing at his lips he tried hard to contain when he found himself sandwiched between his loves. "No, ge-get off!" he playfully fought in-between giggles, trying to squirm out of Moony's arms, failing miserably. Y/N jumped over to them and kissed Sirius' face repeatedly.

"I-I'm leaving this house! Stop, Y/N, there's no changing my mind." He laughed. "We won't let you go; hate to break it to ya'." "Yup, I'm kissing you until you forgive us." They collapsed in giggles with sore bellies, letting go and going back to their spots to finish their desserts. "You did a splendid job, darling." Remus smiles, biting happily into his brownie. "Yes, they're amazing." Y/N assured and presses one last kiss to Sirius' cheek.

After several stories, laughs, warm smiles, and kisses were shared, they all decided to call it a night. Y/N grabbed one of Padfoot's shirts and a pair of Moony's socks, throwing them on before brushing her teeth and washing her face as her boyfriends got ready as well.

They jumped into the two queen beds they had joined and covered only with a soft silk sheet Sirius had insisted on getting since it was spring; They liked to cuddle, and if for some reason they covered more, they'd be kicking away in their sleep so they could be fresher.

Usually, Y/N would sleep between them, but today Remus took her spot and they were all comfortable with that. He wrapped his arms around his partners and kissed both of their heads, feeling exhaustion wash over him as their limbs pressed against all of his body; engulfed by love and warmth he craved his whole life before they came into the picture. "Thank you," he sighed, "for everything."

"Anything for our Moony," was heard in a soft whisper in the dark room, and with that, they drifted off to sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Marauders taglist (DM or answer to be added): @kquil

Oh I had so much fun writing this one!!! Hope you lovelies like<3 SIDE NOTE I JUST REALIZED I SAID NO WARNINGS BUT I LITERALLY HAVE A LINE WHERE SIRIUS MENTIONS BENDING R OVER THE COUNTER HELP 💀

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 7 - unconventional weapon

Warnings: red room violence, child death, minors fighting,

Word Count: 2.1k (gif not mine - from @notahammer form this gifset- I hope it’s okay that it’s borrowed)

Summary: Natasha tells a story of her past.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

A/N: this one delves into Natasha’s past, it’s not a happy chapter and sits heavier. Also, thank you for all the comments on the last chapter - I will reply to them - also dw in this house we love Maria Hill (she just has some distrust to work through) <3

.

Dostoevsky sits on the table and Natasha wonders at Maria’s choice of Crime and Punishment.

A Russian author and a title that mirrors herself seems a little too on the nose.

She appreciates the gesture though.

She didn’t know what had happened in the day between Maria seemingly wanting to torture her for information, to not asking her questions at all.

Debrief hadn’t touched on Odessa, but instead moved to code words and languages.

This she could easily talk on.

This was something she gave up readily.

She appreciated the reprieve.

Clint had returned to find her and Maria eating breakfast in her cell, as they had done for the three days prior. The mood more comfortable than the first time and, seeing Clint, she had smiled a genuine smile. She’d missed him.

With Clint back, he would resume the role of handler, changing the routine once again.

Whilst Natasha would miss the fresh air of the morning shooting range with Maria, she prefers Clint and the safety that his presence entails.

Will the debrief continue to avoid Odessa?

She’s sure Maria told him what had happened.

For now her voice had been heard, when she said that she couldn’t talk about it. But she’s not ready to trust they’ll avoid it forever, especially when she feels it could be used against her.

Today’s debrief looms.

Clint glances down at her in the elevator, catching her eye and smiles.

As usual, they enter the small office and sit with the two way mirror on the left.

He hands her two pictures.

Natasha’s blood runs cold.

“Who is that?”

The woman in the picture on the left has her black hair pinned back.

Memories flash.

“Stand straight.”

“Again.”

“Widows are marble.”

“You will not break.”

There’s a taste of poison in Natasha’s mouth and she wants to spit.

“Um,” she says swallowing, “she runs the widows. Trains them. Keeps the girls in line.”

She moves her hands under the table, clenching hard to keep herself present.

“What do you know of her?”

Clint asks the question slowly, like he knows what it will cost.

“The trial of the silent knife.”

Natasha doesn’t want to talk about this.

She looks at the second picture.

The branding mark embossed on skin.

“What is the trial of the silent knife?”

Natasha forces herself to calm. Forces air in her lungs and her mind to clear, even as images assault her, the cut of the knife and scar on her calf glisten.

“How did you learn to fight?” she asks, voice low.

Clint smiles easily.

“Back yard fights with my brother. My father, school, the military. You could say my learning was… eclectic.”

Natasha hears him in what he doesn’t say.

“How do you think I learned?”

Clint doesn’t answer straight away.

A question he’s likely never considered.

She sighs.

“We are trained in very specific ways. Ways to make prepubescent bodies strong. Running in mountains, strength training, exercises in multiple martial arts by different teachers. Each with their own style of reward and punishment.”

Natasha considers the questions about the woman and wonders where to start.

“Once we reached a certain age, the skills we learnt were tested.”

She knows he wants to ask more.

“I was 8.”

“The trial of the silent knife is the test.”

.

Natasha stands with the other girls.

She feels excited, adrenaline running through her body, as she wants to show her skills.

She feels ready.

The other girls look cocky. No one looks scared except Sasha, who always looks like she’s going to wet herself.

Natasha’s not sure how she hasn’t been kicked out yet.

There had been other girls who’d left. Bed empty after being injured, or crying, or talking back in ways that, even to Natasha, had felt rude.

The wind is cold. Though the ice has melted the world still holds a chill.

They’d been to this clearing before, fought here before, and Natasha was accustomed to fighting bare footed and without weapons.

“Line up,” the command comes.

The girls do as ordered.

Natasha exchanges looks with Freya, her friend looking determined and fierce.

She notes her friend’s bravery and uses it to calm her own fluttering heart.

It’s different today and they all know.

The twenty four girls are made to spar, lightly until they’re warmed up, going through the motions of hitting and being hit.

Four adults stand to her left, and she sees Madam and Dreykov standing behind them.

Her body feels cold, fear of both of them allowing one of the girls to sweep her legs.

She falls heavily.

Helped up, she whispers to her what she saw, and the message gets passed down the line.

Natasha often feels targeted by the two adults. They stare at her and she feels frustrated at the higher standard she’s seemingly held to.

She stands straighter as the round ends and they’re lined up again.

Now separated, they stand on either side of two lines marked in the dirt.

The adults move closer and Madam claps twice.

The girls stand straighter, eyes forward just as they’ve been trained.

“This is a test,” she announces. “You will fight until one of you wins.”

She walks between the lines to look at all of the girls.

“How you do that is up to you. You will be marked on how you do this. This will be done in silence. You must not scream, or cry or ask for help. Once in the arena, you are on your own. No one will help you except yourself.”

Natasha’s nerves rise.

She’s glad she’s not at the front of the line.

Briselle, one of the older girls, steps forward; her opponent is Sasha.

Natasha knows the outcome before they even fight.

A single knife is thrown in the middle of the arena.

Madam steps forward and Dreykov and the other four sit on chairs set up for them.

The girls sit along the outside, still in their lines, legs tucked under, fists on top of knees.

Briselle smiles as Sasha lunges for the knife.

She lets her pick it up and then kicks out at her.

Sasha moves back, using her momentum to feint left and swipe right.

The knife passes close to Brisselle’s neck.

The shock on her face pronounced, as Sasha presses her advantage.

Natasha had fought Sasha before. When Sasha was scared, she became desperate.

Briselle shouldn’t underestimate her, just because she looks like a scared little girl.

Briselle kicks out and makes contact with Sasha’s chest.

The kick is clearly winding, as Sasha gasps, her fist tightening harder around the knife. Brisselle presses the advantage, throwing another kick at her prone body on the floor. Sasha scrambles up, blocking it with her forearms, grabbing at a leg and attempting a throw without conviction.

Briselle’s weight seems an advantage as she holds her ground, her held foot flips up, catching Sasha under the chin.

The girl’s body sprawls, knife flying from her hand.

Briselle picks it up, kicks her and points it at her neck.

“Until one of you wins,” Madam reminds.

Briselle’s smile falters.

She doesn’t know what that means; but Sasha seems to. The crack of Briselle’s leg is loud, she shouts in pain. Sasha’s movements are quick. The first cut along her thighs and the second along her neck. Bloor pours from the wounds.

Natasha looks on in shock.

Sasha’s desperation to win had come at the cost of Briselle’s life.

The girl was dying in front of them.

Natasha feels sick.

An adult that Natasha doesn’t know pulls Briselle’s broken, gasping body away. Sasha looks at her bloody hands and is ordered by Madam to line up.

The girls hear a gunshot and all know what it means.

Sasha’s eyes go wide as she watches, her mouth opening with an outward breath. Tears leak from her eyes.

Two girls look wildly around and cry out.

Natasha’s head doesn’t move, but her eyes scan the other girls, some of whom were also crying, their predicament clear now. The years of training culminating in this.

The next two opponents stand, legs shaking, fear on their faces.

“Fight.”

Madam’s voice breaks the silence.

An endless minute seems to pass before one of the girls lunges for the knife.

The fight is short.

Clearly overpowered, the younger girl sobs as the other girl cries that she’s sorry.

The arena is bloody by the time it is Natasha’s turn. She rises on heels but doesn’t look at the girl in front of her. She knows her, but in those moments, she knows that she cannot acknowledge her.

“Fight.”

The knife is the obvious play, but the other girl is taller and reaches it quicker.

Natasha runs through the knife defenses, anticipating the lunge forward. She sidesteps, bending the girl’s wrist, and using her momentum against her. The angle of the wrist weakens her hold onto the knife and it drops to the bloody floor.

She kicks it out of the way, and slaps her heavily, knowing if she punches she’d hurt herself.

Her palm stings.

Avoiding the next punch, then kick, Natasha fights back, returning with a kick to the girl’s head.

It hits with a resounding thud.

The girl stumbles back, tripping on the knife.

Natasha lunges for it and the girl wrestles her for it.

Then arms back, the girl reaches for something that Natasha can’t see.

Natasha grabs the knife, but a rock smacks her in the head.

Natasha collapses.

Dazed, Natasha's vision blurs. She feels the girl climb on top of her, raising the rock again, readying to hit Natasha a second time.

But Natasha’s holding the knife upward between them, and as the girl leans forward it sticks between her ribs, killing her with a quiet “oh”.

The rock drops.

The unconventional weapon falling next to Natasha’s head as she huffs breaths.

Panic.

She has no thoughts in her head as she’s told to stand, her opponent dragged back.

Blood drips from her forehead and she touches it blankly.

The rest of the battles finish without Natasha registering who is still alive.

All she can think of is the knife pushing into the girl’s body.

Her chest feels so tight. Only the slightest amount of air seems to break through.

Her hands shake and she sits on them to hide it.

Natasha wants nothing more than to be left alone.

The knife.

She focuses herself by biting the inside of her mouth.

Her head hurts.

Still bleeding, she blinks it away from her eyes.

Madam stands in front of them.

“Do you know why it’s the silent knife?” Madam asks, picking the weapon up.

Twelve girls, bloody and bruised and traumatised, stare into space.

The four adults stand, Dreykov in front of them.

“You are part of the Red Room. Silent killers. You must know how to kill; friends, family, foe.”

She paces.

Placing a knife in front of each of them, Madam motions to it.

“You have passed this test. From now on, this knife is yours. Your right to own. From now on, the training will only get harder.”

Natasha eyes the bloody knife in front of her.

Sniffing, and wiping her face, she decides it was a friend and not a foe.

She picks it up cleans it with her clothing.

.

Clint sits back, his heart hurting at her story.

“Once we passed, we had to mark ourselves. The first kill. The mark, the one you see there, that’s the brand. That woman was a widow.”

She bites her lip.

She hates the story.

Telling it felt like it was someone’s else’s story.

“Can, uh, can we stop?”

Clint nods, not asking any more questions.

She’s sure it’s been recorded, but in that moment she doesn’t care. She wants to return to her cell. In that moment feeling, more than ever, like she belongs in one.

She’s made peace with most of her other kills.

But that first one��

Natasha clenches her fists and lets them go in time with her breathing.

She just feels old and tired.

.

[angelpuns]

Ranting anon is actually v interested in ur new au- so they are gonna make a lil list of questions-

Do any of the dudes have a specific thing abt their design that's special to them and like actually has a lil meaning

Does splinter particularly dislike anything about each of them

How often do you think they'd go out together

Do any of them have specially unhealthy and noticeable habits

Who's the quietest and loudest

Who spends the most time alone or with others

Who do u think is more willing to go out in public

Do any of them have a specific interest they can't seem to shake

Fav water brands (bc there is a difference! Nirvana and Aquafina SUCK!!!)

that's all for now :3 have a good day, drink some water, treat urself, don't forget to go outside every once in awhile <3 <3 (I am not rereading this so sorry for any mistakes, brain is still taking a vacation)

HOHOHOOO IM GLAD YOURE EXCITED CAUSE IM V V EXCITEDD

I'll go one by one for the first one ( they don't have super special meanings or anything, just things they like )

Leo ofc has his stars! He just really likes space and the star motif is super cute!! He also has his scarf, its just got all their colors on it - he sewed on the little bits himself.

Mikey likes to make bracelets and has a MASSIVE collection, so he's always wearing em.

DONNIE HAS A TOOLBELT!!! It holds all his stuffs!

Raph has his ripped pants - which he wears exclusively to spite Leo. Also has some dogtags that he found on the ground and decided he was gonna keep forever ( for funsies )

I think Splinter probably thinks that Leo is too...irresponsible? He expects a certain degree of responsibility that Leo doesn't really hit. He also is transphobic :)

For Mikey he definitely seems to blame him for things that aren't his fault. On the other hand, Mikey is also very messy, hates doing chores and Splinter can't stand that.

Same sort of thing for Donnie, but much less so. Excuses it away with compliments and stuff. He is the favorite child after all.

For Raph its like he doesn't even know he exists. He barely talks to Raph or really??? Worries about him?? He's just overlooked due to being the same age as Donnie ig

They go out together all the time! They usually end up arguing, but its always a lot of fun! Sometimes Raph n Donnie stay at home, but almost always its all four of em. Raph and Mikey also go out on their own ( separately ) a lot.

Uhhhhhhh I am actually gonna hold off on answering that cause I have a comic I wanna make about one of Leo's habits ( tee he its just one of my habits but anyway ).

Raph chews on his mask tails. Not really unhealthy but def noticeable. Mikey chews his nails like so so bad. I'll add more when I think of em :)

Quietist is Donnie for sure, Raph is the loudest. Mikey is the second loudest. Leo can be loud if he needs to.

Leo spends the most time alone, he doesn't really have much going on as far as a social life. Raph has a lot of friends and that's usually who he's hanging out when he's out.

Raph is the most likely to go out in public. Sometimes its to spite Leo and sometimes he just wants to go hang out in the city. Occasionally he'll drag Mikey out with him.

Leo has been into space since he was a kid and he hasn't been able to shake it since, Mikey n Raph ofc have their art. Donnie has his tech. The last three are more like just huge aspects of their personalities at this point. Mikey has been watching Project Runway nonstop for like 2 years ( Leo got him into it )

I don't know any water brands- Raph and Mikey are the only two that actually drink water and I think they drink a store brand? Leo drinks tap water :) Donnie is eternally dehydrated

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS I AM HAVING A BALL!!!

I feel a LITTLE bad posting about them so much when Kid Leo isn't over but its my coping mechanism <3333

Enjoy my rambles haha

[its-sixxers]

first tag game in ages

It has been forever since I've done one of these! Thanks for the tag @c-n-i-d-a-r-i-a-n!!

As I usually do for these sorts of things it's an open tag-in, if you like the post do it and tag me so I can see!!

3 ships: I'm also in the camp of writing/drawing mostly oc x oc and oc x canon (as I generally play RPGs where there's a player character that has a story or personality within player control or animation) BUT I thankfully DO have three!

Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess - Link/Midna

This one is an oooold one I've recently become reacquainted with and I am just as weak in the knees for it as ever. Enemies (sort of) to friends to lovers, subtext heavy, starcrossed - it's got all my favorites wrapped in a comfy nostalgic LoZ package. I just read the manga on archive.org and was well fed but also very heartbroken.

Psychonauts - Sasha/Milla

Love a good opposites attract with a dash of psychic spy mid-century design fun. Probably the nicest/healthiest couple I ship due to their source material being relatively bright. The fic I wrote for these two is probably my most popular when it comes to the hits to kudos/comment ratio.

Warcraft - Maiev/Illidan

Extreme emphasis on the enemies part of enemies to lovers. I was enamored with them both since I was a kiddo playing Warcraft 3, and in my World of Warcraft playing days the Legion expansion just set my imagination going. They hate each other. They're bound to each other. Maiev has no purpose with him dead. Her purpose is to kill him. Illidan is trying to save their people through questionable means. Lawful Neutral x Chaotic Neutral. It's candy to me lol. Also night elves are very cool.

first ship: Teen Titans - Starfire/Robin

I remember racing home off the school bus to catch this show. My first username ever was related to it. As an adult Beast Boy/Raven is more intriguing to me but these guys hold a special place in my heart.

last song:

last film: Princess Mononoke - Boyfriend had never seen it, I made pho and we watched it. Great night.

currently reading: nothing im illiterate

currently craving: a nap tbh

fav color: Coral Red!

relationship status: Just had my 1 yr with my boyfriend! (Our anniversary is New Years :') )

last google search: "How did this get here I am not good with computer" - was talking lolcats w my bf

current obsessions: Twilight Princess, VTM, The Sims, trying to get more betterer at art

[margotw10]

Crashing on Crush. JJK (m)

Pairing : crush!Jungkook x Female Reader

Synopsis : To celebrate your new job, you go to the bar with your best friend but you didn't know she had a surprise for you: Jungkook.

Words : 2.8k

Warnings : explicit language; alcohol consumption; cursing; sexual tension; making out in public (not so much in this chapter)

A/n : Hi! This is the second part so make sure to read the first one :) Don't hesitate to comment. I'm already working on the next chapters (be prepared for some spice 🌶) Please keep in mind that English is not my first language. And a huge thanks to my friend Mathilde who fixed a lot of grammar mistakes &lt;3

Ch. 1.---- Ch. 2---- Ch. 3---- Ch. 4---- Ch. 5---- Ch. 6---- Ch. 7---- Ch. 8---- Ch. 9----

"You’re close. Just hold on a little bit more"

You have dreamt about those words coming from Jungkook’s mouth. However, you thought you would hear them in the bedroom, during a hot roll in the hay. Not in the hallway towards your apartment door with Jungkook carrying you because you’re feeling weak. 

Skillfully, he takes your keys in your bag and opens the door. He quickly takes off his shoes before helping you with your heels. You really, really wanted to bring him to your place tonight but not in this situation… Why is fate so unfair to you? 

Jungkook helps you to walk to your bedroom and gently drops you on your bed. You close your eyes for several reasons. First, to try to feel better. Secondly, to not think about the fact that your crush is seeing you like that. Thirdly, to stop imaging how tonight could have been so much better than this, you and Jungkook in the bedroom.

"Do you want a glass of water or something?" Jungkook asks 

You grumble, sluggishly shaking your hand to say no. Right now, you just want to be alone and die in peace from the humiliation. From start to finish, tonight was a catastrophe. 

"Okay" Jungkook finally says after a few minutes of silence. "I give you my number, please call me if you’re feeling bad, or if you need anything"

He grabs a little post-it pad and writes down his phone number before putting it on your nightstand. With a last worried glaze, he leaves. 

———

Two weeks have passed since your first encounter with Jungkook. You kind of hoped this embarrassing night would have put an end to your stupid crush but it didn’t. It is even worse now. You just keep waiting for an Instagram notification of a new post. And you keep thinking about his body pressed against yours at night, in your bed. And that leads to a harden arousal that can only go away with an orgasm you provide to yourself while you imagine his hand instead of yours on your wet pussy. 

You never felt like that about a man. Of course, some of them like your ex-boyfriends excited you but never this much. You’ve never been so wet for someone, and Jungkook hasn’t even touched you. At this point, you just hope you’ll meet some guy who will take care of your horniness but you know you’ll think about your crush all along. 

The end of the school year and the fact that you have passed most of your exams now give you too much time to think - or more overthink - the situation.

Thankfully, starting today, your mind will be occupied: you finally begin your new job. This job in a famous art gallery in Seoul will be a great point on your resume and will definitely help you in a few weeks you graduate with a master’s degree in Cultural Business. To make a good first impression, you are wearing a brand new outfit: a light pink blouse and a white pencil skirt. You look professional and maybe a little sexy too, which boosts your confidence. And you really need it since you are stressed. 

The building is very modern and it's clear that you are in an artistic place: the architecture is signed by a famous contemporary designer. The huge and minimalistic lobby is fancy and you feel quite impressed by it. But you don’t have time to admire your new work place because a handsome, tall, blond haired man with glasses welcomes you. 

"Hi! I’m Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you. I’m the assistant of the owner" His voice is deep and warm and you can’t help blushing from his good-looking. His smile is so cute with his dimples.

"Hi, I’m Y/N. Thanks for hiring me. It’s a great opportunity and I’m willing to prove you you made the right call"

"I have no doubt. Follow me, I’ll introduce you to the team and I’ll show you around so you can get familiar with the gallery"

And just like that, he walks you around everywhere: the two large exhibition halls, the staff lounge, the administration offices and the storage where some of the art pieces are safely kept for the next exhibitions. You are very impressed with the logistics. Of course, you had studied these things in college but it was theoretical. It’s so different to experience it. 

Then, you meet your new colleagues and you immediately feel good. Everyone seems so nice and is really careful about making you feel at ease. Yep, you’ll be happy working here. 

"Hi Giiirl! Let’s celebrate your first day! Tonight, at 8? Danbam? 🥂" You smile reading Suzi’s text message. She is your number 1 fan and she always makes your big - or little - accomplishments count. Thinking about how lucky you are to have her in your life, your heart is wrapped with love. Indeed, your first - and so good - day deserves to be toasted. And there is no better place than your and your best friend’s HQ: Danbam bar in Itaewon. 

At 8 sharp, you enter the bar. The nice and not too loud music immediately puts you in the mood. You don’t take long to spot Suzi at your usual table. When she sees you, she smiles widely and hugs you. 

"How is my favorite boss girl?"

"She is tired but so happy to see you" You answer with a laugh

You and Suzi don’t waste time and order your drinks. She asks you questions about everything: the place, the people, the artists, … She is so invested, just like she would be with her own career and you can’t help but tell her, for the hundredth time, that she is the best-est best friend in the world.

"Well, keep that in mind then because I have a surprise for you"

You don’t like her tone. She is plotting something and you know by experience that you won’t like it. You know she means well but Suzi is a whimsical and unpredictable person so her ‘surprises’ can easily turn into chaos. This one is not an exception. 

Your best friend looks over your shoulder and you turn around to discover - with anxiety - what she has planned. And oh-my-god. You choke on your spit when your eyes meet Jungkook and all his glory. He is not alone though: Taehyung is by his side but you barely notice him. The only thing you see is your crush. He looks so damn hot with his oversized black t-shirt that allows his tattoos to show and his black cargo pants. If handsomeness could kill, you’d be dead by now. His long hair is shiny and fluffy, you want to run your fingers in it. 

You just have time to pull yourself back together before the two guys arrive at your table. You bow timidly and take a swig of your cocktail. You glare at Suzi, saying through your eyes how betrayed you feel. She responds with a half-apologetic half-teasing look. 

"So, Y/N" Jungkook speaks after order his drink "Suzi told us you started a new job. How is it?"

"It’s really nice" Your voice sounds so unsure, you clear your throat. "The place is very beautiful and everyone is very kind with me. I’m glad to work there"

"Congratulations then!" Jungkook exclaims, clinking your glass with his own that has just arrived. 

———

You don’t really know how it happened but with the alcohol blurring your mind, you didn’t notice Suzi and Tae leaving, leading to a one-on-one with Jungkook. Suzi might be your best friend but right now you hate her. The silence between your crush and you is so embarrassing. You still don’t know how to act with him. However, you know that your current mouth shut is no help.

"So, uhm, Jungkook" you start, unsteady. "Where do you work?"

Yes, just like you haven’t stalked him on Instagram. You know exactly what’s his work: graphic designer.

"I’m a freelance graphic designer" You notice how his doe eyes sparkle with passion. "I have some good partners now so I’m not as stressed as at the beginning. It’s more settled now. Maybe I can show you some of my works on Instagram?"

Oh boy. 

You gulp loudly. You’ve seen his work. A lot of times actually. But there is no way you’ll confess that so a weak ‘sure’ escapes your lips. Your heart raises its pace when Jungkook moves his seat closer to you. Your shoulders almost touch each other’s. He takes off his phone from his pocket and opens the well-known app. He scrolls through his profile, explaining the concept or telling you an anecdote about each project. However, you can’t really focus on his words when you feel the heat of his body irradiating. And that’s what explains your sudden heating for sure and definitely not the fact that you are imagining yourself riding his strong thighs while kissing his pretty lips passionately. 

"Are you okay?" 

Jungkook’s concerned voice rips you off from your fantasy. 

"I-I’m okay" You finish your drink to cool you down because, Lord, you’re burning. 

You look up at him and you are destabilized by his intense glance. He smacks his lips and the movement catches your eyes. You stare at his pulpy pretty mouth. It must be so soft. It must feel so good. 

"Do you want to kiss me?" Jungkook asks

Your lips parted due to the surprise. Maybe he is trying to joke because he feels you tensed but he is not joking. He is goddamn serious. And even if you were a good liar - which you are not -, the blush of your cheeks would deny your words. 

"I-No, I don’t want it" Your voice is a whisper. Especially when Jungkook is getting closer. 

His face is now only a few inches away, you can even feel his breath on your skin. 

"But I think you do"

"I…"

You don’t know what to say because yes, you fucking want to kiss him. The simple thought of it starts your arousal and you feel your panties slowly getting wet. Anyway, you don’t have to think about it because the sexiest man you’ve ever met closes the distance between you and kisses you.

He kisses so fucking good. His lips are soft, warm but the cold little metal of his piercing is like a delicious prickle of extra pleasure. It’s not a chaste kiss but it’s not an outrageous French kiss. It’s the perfect center between the two and it’s really, really good. It’s so good that you can’t help a little moan. Jungkook smirks when he hears it: what a beautiful music to his ears. It makes him want to kiss you deeply, just to hear it again. Your instinct controls your hands that grab the back of his head, not really to pull him closer but to feel more of him than his lips on yours. You feel his smooth hair, it’s delightful. Jungkook’s hands don’t stay static either: his left arm grabs your waist to pull you closer - if that is even possible - while his tattooed hand delicately caresses your cheek. This is the best kiss of your life. 

Jungkook’s kiss conveys his desire for you and it’s so fucking hot. Knowing you attract him makes you wet. You press your thighs together to prevent the leaking from your pussy. A gasp of surprise escapes your lips, but is silenced by Jungkook’s mouth, when you feel his arm going down to grab your ass. The fact that you are in public makes the scene so scandalous but also so arousing. A small part of you is filled with pride that this attractive man is kissing you. 

The magical, dream-comes-true moment is shut down by your phone. You both grunt in disappointment when you pull apart. You check your phone with annoyance and internally curse at the person who dared to disturb this fucking good kiss. 

However, the euphoria of Jungkook’s pulp lips on yours is quickly put aside when you read the message:

"Hi Y/N. I’m sorry to bother you but we really need your help at the gallery. You remember when I told you that working in art business could be handful? Well, your first day will prove it to you: the artist who was supposed to exhibit next month withdrew. Can you come please? Namjoon".  

Your heart beating with horniness is replaced by your heart beating with stress. You look up at Jungkook. His lips are shiny and red due to your harsh kiss and his long black hair is a mess, but you also notice the concern in his big eyes. 

"I’m sorry, I have to go to work" You don’t even recognize your hoarse voice, effect of the arousal in your body

"Right now?" Jungkook exclaims with a clear disappointment

"Yes I’m sorry. There are some problems, they need me…"

You are so frustrated but you also have no choice. You are not going just because it’s your first day and you don’t want to make a bad impression, but you are going because you do care about the gallery and you are not willing to let your kind colleagues dealing with it alone. 

"I’ll drive you" Jungkook offers

Your cheeks redden. "Cute" Jungkook thinks. Gosh, he loves so much seeing how you physically respond to his actions. This kiss was one of his best ones. Your little moans turned him on, especially because he knew some other guys have seen and heard the way you two kissed. He can’t help but feel possessive towards you. When you stood up earlier to go to the restroom, he knew he wasn’t the only one to look at your beautiful ass in this tight white skirt. All your outfit is hot, he wishes he could work with you just to fuck you dressed like that. You look like a good girl he wants to do naughty things to and the fact that some guys looked at you the exact same way makes him mad. He has never been the jealous type but now, his cockiness iss fully satisfied: the other men this you are his. 

"Thank you, Jungkook. Let’s go then"

You stand up and are ready to leave but Jungkook grabs your wrist.

"Can, uhm, can you wait just a few minutes?" He stammers

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, worried

"Yeah, yeah. It’s just that…" He is groping for words, not wanting to be too crude. "I can’t stand up right now"

He indicates his crotch with his eyes. When your own look down at the so-called area, they widen: there is a clear bulge. You’d dare to say a huge bulge. You blush even more by the sight of it but you also feel the wetness between your legs. You try not to think about how big Jungkook must be and how much you would like to feel him inside you. 

So you just sit back down and send a message to Namjoon to tell him you’ll be there in few minutes. While waiting for Jungkook’s cock to… set down, you try to have a normal conversation with him. You don’t know if you’re released or disappointed that your crush doesn’t seem to care much about the hottest moment of your life. He just keeps talking like nothing happened. Is this normal for him? Does he kiss a lot of girls like that? Because you surely don’t and you kind of thought it was special… You hide your sadness behind a smile and thankfully, Jungkook tells you that you are good to go. 

You’re not surprised with Jungkook’s car. His black Mercedes AMG matches his style. But you do feel a little intimidated by the vehicle. It looks so expensive and sporty. You’re afraid to scratch the door… The interior of the car is breathtaking: all leather with blue and purple led lights. You spend the whole ride examining all the details. By the way Jungkook is speaking about his car, his ‘Mimi’ like he calls it, you can see how proud he is about it. And he definitely can. He explains to you that it was his dream car and that he saved all the money that he could when he started to work to buy it. You listen to him, a tender smile on your face that Jungkook can’t see because of the night. 

He pulls over on the parking lot and you both get out of the car. He walks you to the entrance.

"Thank you so much for the ride Jungkook. If you haven’t been there, I would have had to take the bus"

"You’re welcome"

You see him hesitate, looking at his feet. You can’t guess that, in his head, Jungkook is wondering if he should kiss you goodbye or if you’d find it too intimate. However, he doesn’t have time to decide since he sees a tall blond guy coming to you.

"Y/N! You’re here, thanks God!"

Jungkook frowns when he watches you smile softy at the guy. ‘Who is he?’ He wonders. There is no doubt that the feeling squeezing his heart is possessiveness, he has just felt it few minutes ago in the bar when he was kissing you.

"Well, good luck Y/N" he finally decides to say

"Thanks, see you soon!" You hide your disappointment with a smile and wave him good bye. You wished he’d kiss you or hug you.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Namjoon asks when Jungkook is back in his Mercedes

"Jungkook? No, not at all" You blush.

Trying to cover your red cheeks with your hands, you don’t notice Namjoon’s slight relief. 

Your mind is filled with questions after the kiss. Jungkook is not your boyfriend, for sure, but you did make out with him. In public. Eventually, you’re glad to spend most of the night working because you won’t have to think about what this kiss fucking means. 

[tpwkxxangel]

Is this the real life? pt. 4

**not my photo**

my masterpost; fic masterlist; part 1; part2; part 3

[warnings: alcohol consumption, language, angst?]

Screaming, crying, throwing up. Multitasking if you will.

That’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past 24 hours. I’ve been going through the motions of life trying to hold myself together instead of going into a fangirl meltdown. Since I read Harry’s message, my brain has gone blanks.

@/Harry_Styles: Hey Y/N! I was just wanting to check in and see how you were doing after the show last night? -H

Such simple words that caused my brain to malfunction.

He knows I exist. I know that’s so stupid of a statement to finally absorb when I literally held a conversation with him, but how am I expected to function now that he knows I exist?

What makes matters worse, is that I haven’t even told the group chat. I can’t just shoot a text saying ‘Hey! My day’s been great. The meeting went well, I got an extra set of those cool detachable erasers ... oh and Harry DM’ed me on Twitter.’

That would not go over well at all. Luckily we have our weekly zoom session tonight so I can discuss the knowledge of my existence with them face to face.

Now what makes me nervous is the fact that I’ve left him on read for more than 24 hours now. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me now? What if I took too long and he forgot about me? What if--

I physically shake myself from my thoughts. My friends will know what to do. I pop the bottle of wine open and grab the bottle and a glass before making my way to my room. We have our ‘Weekly Wine Night’ as Dove calls it.

I pull up the zoom app on my laptop before starting the meeting and sending everyone the link. It usually takes them a few minutes to join, so I pour myself a hefty amount of wine in the glass before taking a leisurely sip.

“Hey bitches! Who’s ready to get fucked up?” Rachel raises her own glass of pink wine to the camera as everyone pops up.

We all laugh at her antics. She’s often the first one to pop the bottle and last to put it down. A party animal through and through and we couldn’t love her more.

“Ugh, can I go first this week? I have to tell you guys about the customer that I had to deal with on Wednesday,” Katie rolls her eyes, “It was like a wild Karen entered the building and I was not having it!”

She proceeds to tell us about a woman who entered her arts and crafts store to pick up an order, but wouldn’t leave once she received it. She tried to get a refund and store credit when she threw a fit over nothing.

We all laugh and talk about other stories of our week, some about people from high school who were blasting their lives all over Facebook.

For the first time since his message, I actually feel somewhat centered. We all met about two years ago. We were all placed into a group chat with a very very controlling fan. She branded herself as the ‘leader’ of our group when we were all trying to have fun on Twitter. When Harry started to promote his new album, the fans went crazy with new theories about the tracklist and things. She stole all our ideas and tweeted them as her own. It was just a very toxic environment, so we were sure to move chats and block her from all platforms.

“Anything interesting on your end, Y/N?” Dove asks noticing my far off expression.

“Um,” I take another sip of wine hoping to ease the words that come next, “I received an interesting DM yesterday.”

“Was it from that account that got suspended and is trying to get their ratio back using their back up account again?” Sofie rolls her eyes.

I laugh, because I did get one of those yesterday too, “No, no, um, this one was from Harry.”

Everyone quiets down. I think they are waiting for me to say ‘just kidding’ or ‘gotcha’ but I figured I might as well tell them now before I ignore Harry anymore.

“You’re joking right?” Katie asks.

I shake my head pulling up the chat to show them. “I low-key wish I was, but” I hold up my phone and show them the screen.

It’s like proof was all they needed to unfreeze.

“Y/N! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?” Dove shouts into the screen.

I hold my hands up in defense. “I didn’t know how to handle it! I’ve been in love with this man since I was like 13 and now, he’s messaging me over Twitter and not remaining the fictional character in my head! What am I supposed to respond?” I pout in defense.

Rachel rolls her eyes, “What’s the real reason?”

Ugh. Leave it to your friends to see through your pretenses.

I look down for a moment at the intimidating message. “It should be simple right?” I look back up at my quiet friends with a fake smile. “I’m a fan of his who has followed his every movement throughout the years. I’ve built up an immunity to his surprises, so why is it so hard to believe he would want to check up on me? Why would he give me the time of day after everything was done with back at that stadium?” I shrug with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Okay first off, you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met and he should feel lucky to even talk to you,” Dove says calmly, “Secondly, this is very much real, and you have a chance to talk to him.

“Yeah,” Katie tags on, “He wouldn’t have sent you that message if he truly didn’t want to hear back from you.”

“Oh my gosh! Do you think he was looking on stan twitter hoping they would find your user?” Rachel asks.

“That sounds a little far fetched,” Sofie says unsure.

���Oh I’m pretty sure he has a stan account floating around somewhere. He knew we measure his life according to his hair length,” I roll my eyes at the memory. I take another sip of wine and look up at the ceiling before sighing. “I’m gonna message him.”

A round of cheers sounds while I think of a reasonable response. How the heck to I do this?

@/yourusername: Hi Harry! I’m doing well. I flew back home yesterday, so I wasn’t able to get back to you sooner. The post concert depression is hitting, but I’m super excited to see you next week. Hope you’re doing well!

“There. I sent something,” I lift the phone up to show them before putting it face down on my desk, “He’s probably doing singer things you know. Like I probably won’t hear back from him anytime soon. Maybe he didn’t even notice I didn’t message back right aw--”

The sound of a tweeting bird interrupts me. We all look at each other wide eyed.

“Y/N?” Katie quietly whispers, “Who was that?”

Sofie’s face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, Y/N, who just DM’ed you?”

I shake my head, eyes still blown wide in slight panic, “I’m too scared to look.”

“Don’t be a baby! You already kept them man waiting for 24 full hours!” Rachel laughs.

I finally relent and pull up the chat.

@/Harry_Styles: I’m so glad to hear you’re back home safe. I was a little worried about leaving you at the stadium that night. What show will you be at next week?

I read aloud for my friends. It was almost like he was waiting on my message.

“He’s totally trying to spark conversation with you,” Rachel says.

“Shut up. This is not a rom com,” I sigh.

“What are you gonna say back?” Dove asks.

“Yeah, I think you should say--” Sofie is cut off by Katie clearing her throat.

“Listen. Why don’t we not crowd her. Let’s continue our wine night and she can talk to us if she really wants our help.”

I send her an appreciative smile. It’s almost like she read my mind. I think just having them here is already helping me gain control on my thoughts. Emotional support is what I needed.

They all fall into easy conversations again, but I can tell they are all keeping an eye on me.

@/yourusername: I’ll be in Nashville for both shows! I’ve always wanted to go, so I’m flying in a little early to explore a bit.

@/Harry_Styles: Nashville is super fun! It’s one of my favorite places to stop on tour!

We go on like this for a few minutes. He tells me about some of the cool places he’s seen in Nashville and giving some tips on where to get the best vintage thrifting done.

I finish my second glass of wine while waiting on his next response to come in. This is surprisingly easy. I thought talking to him would be more difficult but he’s honestly down to earth. It doesn't feel like I'm messaging my crush-to-end-all-crushes. The wine is probably helping a bit too. Might as well start on a third one. I’ll just work from home tomorrow.

It takes Harry a little longer to respond, so I tune back into my friends. Dove is telling an animated story about her dog who my phone chimes again.

“Guys!” I nearly throw my phone across the room when I read the message.

“What’s up?” Dove asks taking in the pure shock written on my face.

I read them the message Harry just sent.

@/Harry_Styles: They have a really cool rooftop bar that you should check out. Let me know when you fly in and I could probably show you if our schedules match up?

“Correct me if I’m wrong but that just sounds like Harry Styles just asked to take me to a rooftop bar next week.”

tag list: @harry-is-my-sunflower @gucci-hazza @sunshinetemptress9 @damnasstyles @msolbesg @hi-yekaterina @imaginesofdreams @multiplums @gxldenxash @infinitely-yellow @hoseokjin194​ @onecrazydirectioner​

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

[thefanficmonster]

Real Friends

Valkyrae & Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: SMAU, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following an accidental and not very consensual face reveal, Y/N’s dealing the sudden shift of the spotlight on him even more than it was before. Being the big deal he is on social media, the internet has every right to be freaking out. Luckily, he’s got a friend to help him cope with it all.

Requested by @iawaythrown Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for how long it has taken me to complete your request and post it but here it finally is. I’ve never written a SMAU before so this isn’t the classic SMAU format but I still hope you’ll enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Imagine you end a toxic relationship of almost a year and go to bed feeling like a ton of bricks has been lifted off you, like you can finally breathe properly and like you’re finally getting a taste of freedom. The very freedom you chose to lose by getting in the toxic relationship in the first place. Of course, I didn’t know it was toxic at the time, probably cause it wasn’t, but it gradually turned into a nightmare.

A nightmare that keeps haunting me even after I thought I had put an end to it.

Apparently, that was wishful thinking cause I woke up this morning to find an unbelievable number of notifications and messages from friends, family and my manager and associates. Being in the music industry as a faceless creator, I keep my circle tight and it only consists of people I can trust so to see them all freaking out at me at once, even the most level-headed ones, freaked me out too. Quickly, I opened the first notification I reflexively tapped on and it opened a post in which someone had tagged me.

A picture taken of me while I was asleep, no doubt one taken by my ex. That being said, I think we can all have a guess at who posted it in the first place. I didn’t listen to my manager when he told me to not allow anyone I trust 1000% into my inner circle. I was foolish and at the peak of my career, feeling on top of the world and feeling invincible which was rare for me. I’ve always been insecure about many things in my life, growing up with a lot of judgy people made me be that way. Not to mention that I didn’t want to be the victim of the internet’s racism either. People turn a blind eye most of the time, but it’s still there, it still exists and looms over all social media platforms, disturbing people’s peace left and right.  You see, I didn’t want people to have an opinion of my art based on my appearance or associations with other creators. I’m pretty good friends with many content creators, especially in the gaming industry, but I’ve never wanted to be put in a box as one of the many friends of someone famous. I made a name for myself without anyone knowing who I am exactly.

And now they all know because of this photo that my ex sent to float down the rivers of hungry social media:

Damn am I gonna get an earful from my manager or what. It’s still rater early though and I’m really not about to deal with this drama on a caffeine-free brain so if there are any calls, emails or messages that need answering - and yes, there are PLENTY of them - they’ll all have to wait until I feel like dealing with them. I’m glad I don’t have to keep up this unbothered charade at home since I live alone cause I seriously don’t feel ok with this. I mean, I could probably report it, but what use would that be when my brand now has a face and a huge chunk of my privacy has already surfaced against my will.

As I sit in my kitchen, sipping my coffee, I finally gather the nerve to at least scroll through the notifications that I’ve received. Fans reaching out, relatives, friends, pissed off people that are there just to exist and try to disturb my peaceful existence but all they’re gonna get is a hard DELETE from me. I have offers on top of offers for modeling pending, waiting on my response. I’ve never considered it, being a faceless creator and all, but my manager will definitely want to milk some cash from this too. That thought makes me sigh in defeat. I have no one to blame but myself for trusting my ex. No one made me do it, no one made me let them in, but I still did, fucking myself over insanely. Just like they’ve now fucked me over.

Amongst the sea of notifications and yet to be opened messages, one in particular stands out and makes me do a double take. It’s a message from my friend Rae - Valkyrae, as she’s known online. She’s one of those gamer friends I mentioned earlier, probably the one I’m closest with. Her and I talk on the regular so seeing a message from her in my inbox is nothing unusual so I wonder why that was the one that stuck out to me. Regardless, that’s the only one I feel like opening and replying to at the moment.

V ~ Hey Y/N, you doing ok? This all must be really hard on you so don’t feel obligated to reply. Do so when you can or want to. I’m here if you wanna talk

Of course Rae would be the one to know how I truly feel in a situation like this. I can act and cover up all I want but she knows exactly what’s underneath the surface of my façade. That third eye friends have for each other, it’s incredible.

Me ~ Doing ok. Wasn’t expecting to wake up to this but now that millions of people know what I look like it feels oddly bittersweet, you know? Like I don’t have to go out of my way to hide anymore but I’m also gonna miss that privacy I had while I was a phantom

Me ~ On the upside: people want me to be a model now XD

My message goes to Seen almost write away, the Typing icon appearing shortly after the messages were read. I wait for Rae’s reply, sipping my slowly cooling coffee with little interest due to how invested I am in our conversation. If there’s a person who can make light of this situation, it’s Rae, no doubt about it.

V ~ I know what you mean. It’s not gonna be easy to adjust to but you will get used to it eventually. I’m sure you’ll even grow to like it. Promise you, it’s not that scary to be exposed, there’s literal millions of people who support you wholeheartedly :) 

V ~ Us, your friends, are here too! Never forget that, we’ve always got your back, Y/N!

V ~ Oh and you really should be a model! Whoever’s saying that has got the right idea. Maybe don’t fear this new change, but embrace it! Take this new turn in your life confidently. Sure, it was out of the blue, but do you really want the person who exposed you to feel the satisfaction of bringing you down? That doesn’t sound like you at all tbh

The epiphany strikes me as soon as Rae’s words sink in as I read them. She’s 100% right. The last thing I want is for my ex to think they’ve won. I refuse to give them the pleasure of tasting victory on the expense of my mental health and career progress. In fact, imma show them just how much they benefited me. But first...

Me ~ Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this eye-opener

Me ~ I owe you one <3

I sure as hell owe her one, but for now I have other battles to win.

Rifling through my gallery, I find one more recent picture and without a shred of doubt or hesitation, I go straight to Instagram to post it.

~ “Since y’all were curious...And since y’all wanna see me model, you’re welcome” ~

Within seconds likes and comments start flowing in like a riptide, taking over my phone that, despite being charged all night, is already at half of its battery life.

I refresh the page with the post to look at the new comments that have come through, all supportive and complimenting me, some are real thirsty and some are incredibly kind. And even in that sea, her comment still sticks out to me, making me grin like an idiot.

“That’s what I was talking about! Work it, Y/N!“

[winchestershiresauce]

Be a Good Girl

Summary: After Dean finds out that you drank the last of his good whiskey, your boyfriend Sam decides he knows just how you can make it up to his brother.

Dean x Reader, slight/implied Sam x Reader (no wincest)

2215 words

Tags: NSFW, smut, kinda looks like dub-con, oral sex (male receiving), bondage, language, mild degradation, mild praise kink

A/N: I have so many more ideas for this, so please let me know if you’d like more/a sequel. <3

My Masterlist

--

You knew you shouldn't drink Dean's nice whiskey, even after the way it called to you. However, with the brutally long day you'd had and the boys asleep, it just looked so inviting. Admittedly, it probably had something to do with the way Dean had warned that anyone other than him who'd touched it would "seriously friggin' regret it." You knew being his brother's girlfriend allowed you some freedom from consequence but certainly not all, and part of you wondered if you could get away with it. Maybe you'd even wondered what would happen if you did get caught.

As Sam crawled under the table in the library to check the knots holding you in place, you thought to yourself that while you’d expected some sort of punishment or having to make it up to Dean, you were a bit surprised at the situation you’d found yourself in. This wasn’t the first time Sam had tied you up (and it definitely wouldn’t be the last), but the way his rope work had you spread eagle on the library table was very new. Sam emerged from under the table, satisfied that his knots would hold you in place, and stood to admire his work. Despite the chilly air, heat blossomed within you with the way he raked his eyes over your wholly exposed body. 

“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” Sam asked as he lightly ran his finger down the center of your chest and to your navel, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yes, sir,” you answered. Before stripping you bare and positioning you as a work of art in the library, Sam had hinted at what would be happening. He’d mentioned that Dean was upset about the whiskey and that you’d be making it up to him somehow. You’d thought maybe you’d buy him a new bottle, or wash Baby, or something like that, but Sam had something much more exciting in mind. You felt yourself getting aroused at the thought, just anticipating what would happen when Dean got back.

To put the final touches on his masterpiece, Sam stuck a bow and a gift tag to your lower belly, just above your ever-so-inviting pussy. ‘Dean, take what you want. - Sam’ the tag read. Sam nudged your thighs further apart and placed the brand new bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the table between them. He smirked and pressed it firmly against you, rubbing it slowly between your lips and over your clit before he pulled it away and positioned it for display. You lifted your hips, seeking more pressure against your now-aching clit, and let out a small whine.

Sam tsked disapprovingly, reminding you that you were to be seen and not heard. “Be a good girl, Y/N,” Sam warned. “Remember that Dean’s in charge. He knows your safe words and that you’re just desperate to make it up to him for finishing his whiskey. Be good.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before slipping the black satin blindfold over your eyes. You groaned internally -- you wouldn’t dare do it out loud -- knowing that not being able to see would only increase your anticipation and drive you crazy.

--

You heard the large metal door of the bunker slam closed and your body tensed. While the likelihood that it was Dean was incredibly high, you hated not being able to see what was around you. Footsteps echoed through the library as they approached.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Dean’s voice asked directly behind you. Some of the nervous tension in your body relaxed, leaving only the tension of excitement and anticipation. You felt a tiny gust of air on your face and you guessed that Dean was waving his hand over you to test if you could see through the blindfold. When you didn’t react at all, there was a quiet chuckle just inches away from your right ear.

“Looks like Sammy left me quite the gift, didn’t he?” Dean continued. You knew you weren’t supposed to talk -- you were just a fuck toy today -- so you didn’t answer. You heard him approach the opposite end of the table, feeling his eyes on you as he moved. When he picked up the gift tag, you felt his warm and calloused, but somehow soft, fingertip ghost across the exposed flesh below your belly button.

“‘Take what you want’? Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” His laugh was a bit dark and, though you couldn’t see him, you could sense his arousal. Your own excitement began to really bloom and you felt yourself getting wetter by the moment. When he picked up the bottle of whiskey between your thighs, you wondered if he could see how soaked you were, just imagining what he might do to you. You heard him open the bottle and take a couple swigs. “That’s the good stuff,” he sighed. “I wonder how well it pairs with this sweet pussy of yours, princess.” He ran his finger along the inside of your thigh before gliding it through your slick folds. You writhed in your bonds, wishing desperately that you could get more, or even just touch him, but you knew it was no use. Sam knew how to tie a knot and you weren’t going anywhere until he or Dean decided to free you.

You heard the wet ‘pop’ as he pulled his finger out of his mouth and groaned. “Shit, Y/N, that’s divine. You’re sweeter than a 15-year single malt.” You could hear the smile in his voice and fuck, you wanted him. Talent for the art of teasing must run in the family. He moved to the head of the table and you couldn’t help the pleading look you gave him when he removed the blindfold. He slid his hand gently down the side of your face and pushed your hair away so he could get a better look at you. Though you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound, a small devious smile made its way across your face. Dean mirrored the expression before pressing his lips against yours. It started gentle, maybe a little tentative, but didn’t take even a moment for the kiss to escalate to rough and full of want. You kissed him back hard, lifting your head off the table as much as your position would allow, and Dean slid his hand under the back of your head. Using his grip, he pressed his mouth against yours like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted. He licked into your mouth and sucked and bit your lips with such fervor that you were sure you were dripping on the table.

He pulled away with that devilish grin back on his lips. For just a moment, he paused to drag his eyes over the sight before him. Your pleading eyes staring up at him, your ruddy kiss-swollen lips, your gorgeous hard nipples… He groaned, knowing that everything before him was his for the taking. You let your eyes wander from his face down his body where you could see his erection absolutely straining against the denim containing it. You thought it looked so desperate to be freed, to be touched, that maybe it was almost as desperate as you were. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try to calm the lustful need bubbling up through every fiber of your being, but it didn’t do much good. 

Dean dropped his red plaid flannel to the floor and tore his t-shirt over his head. When he pulled his belt through the belt loops of his jeans, you couldn’t stop the low, desperate groan from escaping your throat. 

“What? You want this cock, sweetheart?” Dean chuckled. He dropped the belt and undid the button on his jeans, and every move he made to lower the zipper and push his pants and boxer briefs over his hips was so slow and deliberate that you tried with everything in you to press your thighs together. 

“Yes, sir. Please,” you whined, knowing any punishment for talking would be worth it at this point. You needed him and you needed him to know that. Luckily, Dean seemed to enjoy when his fuck toy replied, because he bit his lip and smirked. He dropped his jeans and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them. He wrapped one large, perfect hand over the hard, thick object of your desire and took deliberate, purposeful steps to approach you again.

“Open up, princess.” You obeyed immediately, opening your mouth and letting your jaw muscles slacken. He grinned and teased the tip of his cock around your lips, and your tongue reached out to taste him. Your tongue caressed the needy red head of his cock and lapped up the bead of precum leaking from his slit. Dean let out a low groan that came more from his chest than his throat and reached up to stroke your cheek. “Be a good girl for me,” he whispered before he thrust his hips forward to shove all of himself between your lips. Once the briefest moment of surprise passed, you greedily took him in, engulfing his throbbing cock with your wet, hot mouth. 

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him down and running your tongue along the underside of him as he found a rhythm. It didn’t take long for him to begin truly fucking your face and you wished so much that your hands were free so you could touch yourself while he did so. With every thrust, you felt him hit the back of your throat and you couldn’t help but think how good it’d feel to have him pounding your pussy like that. Your clit throbbed and your pussy clenched around nothing, both so eager and needing to be touched. 

His grunts were sinful and you swore you could feel them in your core. He held the side of your face in place as he used you, used your mouth like he deserved to. Your mouth had been what disobeyed him, giving in to the temptation of taking something that didn’t belong to you. In return, he got to take something that didn’t belong to him. You were the prize that Sam Winchester had to offer, and you loved it. Tears escaped your eyes as Dean slammed into your throat, sliding hard and fast between your soft lips. You gagged a bit when he went deeper and you felt his rhythm falter. You hummed around him, and only you knew that it was a sound of disappointment, as you’d been wishing, despite how well he was fucking your face, that he’d slide his beautiful, throbbing, delicious cock into your pussy and thrust into you with every bit of force he could muster. 

“Just like that, baby,” Dean grunted when you hummed, “Such a good girl.” You hummed again, only this time the praise swept over you and you wanted to make him cum by any means necessary. You could be a good girl and you’d show him. You let your jaw hang slack as he slammed into your mouth, as the subtle vibrations of your humming threw him over the ledge into his climax. With one hard thrust sending him impossibly deeper into your throat, he came. His gentle hold on your face was no longer gentle as he pushed you toward him, keeping your head in place as thick ropes of his sweet release spurted down your eager throat. When he finished, he loosened his grip on you and pulled his softening cock out of your mouth slowly, like despite the post-orgasm sensitivity, he never wanted to leave the perfect warm cavern beyond your lips.

He sighed, taking a deep breath to bring himself back to Earth, and you licked your lips to get the stray cum that had smeared there when he pulled out of your mouth. He grinned and you grinned back at him. 

“Sam was right,” he started, “You really are an even better fuck toy than you are a hunter. I didn’t know that was possible.” You blushed, but couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He may have gotten his release but you were still aching and needy for yours. However, you knew that this was about making your transgressions up to Dean, so you wouldn’t say anything. This would make incredible fodder for the next time you played with yourself, or you’d think back to it when Sam took you to bed and reclaimed you later like he did after every time he’d shared you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “Glad I could be of service. Did it make up for stealing and finishing your good whiskey?” 

“Oh we’re nowhere near finished, princess. I haven’t even gotten to feel that tight, pretty pussy squeezing around me.” He smirked and your cunt clenched, pulsing with arousal, excitement, and anticipation. 

“Are you gonna fuck me good and hard, Dean?” you asked, your expression a combination of puppy dog eyes and a sly grin. Dean ran his fingers through his hair and groaned.

“You have no idea, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you til you’re not sure you can cum anymore and you can’t remember your name. We’re just getting started.”

--

tags: @hobby27 @akshi8278 (Wanna be tagged?)

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

please. i can’t do this alone.

Titans 3.01

thoughts! thoughts! thoughts! some red hot thoughts!

SPOILERS ahead.

1. one episode in, and this season already looks set to give me everything i want. its abandonment of plot and storytelling conventions as it goes from one point to the next at breakneck speed; its cheerful bastardisation of iconic storylines from the comics; the ‘as-you-know-bob’ clunky exposition on one end and extremely restrained, subtle explorations of complex character dynamics on the other; endless shots of neon bleeding into black and blue corridors, shadows and silhouettes; my delight in seeing it celebrate and deconstruct the dark nolan-y batman aesthetic at the same time; my bafflement that it’s so fucking goddamn obsessed with the batfam when it’s supposed to be about the TITANS; kory just... saving every overburdened, clunky scene that she’s in by her sparkling charisma. just... *chef’s kiss*. muah. my show is back, in all its glory.

MY SHOW IS BACK, Y’ALL!

1.5. i mean... this show is so artful and weird and not afraid to go absolutely bonkers in exploring its characters’ psyche, but can just about barely stage a passable comic book fight when every tom dick and harry and their new streaming services can deliver ones that are far more exciting. i love this show with every atom of my body.

(there’s something to be said about rooting for the underdog as well. a pleasure in finding something to love about what other people dismiss. but! enough navel gazing! i have fictional characters’ navels to look at! metaphorically! and maybe literally!)

2. i expected jason’s death to come about pretty early in the season as soon as i heard rumours that red hood was showing up, but for it to happen in the first five minutes of the first episode... that’s a record. 

(well. “happen.” still don’t know what exactly went down there.)

2.25. GOD. jason is such a tortured and tragic character in this show, used and passed around by people with alleged good intentions, never really fitting in anywhere. he’s veritably bleeding vulnerability and the need to belong, the need to be known, and yet the tragedy is that his death proves that nobody in his life knew anything about him at all; that they only saw the flimsy walls he put up to protect his soft core, and thought that that was all there was. that they say they loved him, but blame him for his own death. 

dick is flabbergasted that jason can read, though we know from last season, from what jason revealed to rose, that he has a love for plays and music. barbara is quick to dismiss his actions as ‘impulsive’. bruce has no idea that his supposed son was building his own little chemistry lab right under his nose, and beyond that, no idea that jason needed structure, stability and validation beyond being left alone in a huge house with a treasure trove of dangerous weapons. kory thought his decision to fight the joker was from not learning and growing when the guy tried to kill himself last season and nobody apart from dick even tried to talk to him about it! did you consider that he might still be suicidal? especially after the titans admitted to having “given up” on him because he was just “too hard”?

2.5. the one thing that’s been consistent across all three seasons (so far) of the show is the unreliable narrator trope. there’s a reason why the characters’ dismissals of jason’s actions as impulsive is so repetitive; why jason’s death is a mystery dick feels compelled to solve. it’s a flailing attempt to know his brother much too late--but with red hood, maybe he gets a second chance, just like he got one with the titans. this is what jason’s arc has been building up to. this is ‘death in the family’ but more fucked up in some ways. it didn’t linger on the death because the death wasn’t the point. the joker isn’t the point. everything that came before it is.

this way it will also make perfect sense that the red hood’s main enemy becomes the titans rather than batman.

2.75. goodness knows what’s going on with jason’s little chemistry project. at first i thought he was immunising himself to joker gas or something, but maybe it’s what passes for lazarus pit juice in this universe? 

anyway, it’s pretty impressive that jason learnt all of that from a college chemistry textbook. STOP BRINGING UP THAT HE READ SOMETHING, DICK--

2.8. i’m glad that dick doesn’t immediately sink into self-loathing and guilt and tries to investigate jason’s death while also acknowledging how he failed him. it’s like he actually learned something from the last two years! 

anyway. more about dick later. 

3. oh how i love titans!bruce. a lot of characters had a lot of Opinions on his reaction to jason’s death in this episode, but again, i ask you to consider that they’re unreliable narrators, and this universe’s bruce is a product of how it shaped him. bruce wayne has become a phantom to himself--an artifice borne out of vigorous discipline and crushing self-denial. 

bruce has been batman for a very long time, and without a robin for much longer. (dick must be... in his early thirties? so he was robin for about, say, 10-12 years according to the timeline of the show. that still makes bruce pretty old when he took on his first robin.) things have... calcified (possibly parts of his brain). the personal cost and the collateral from the mission he’s taken up for most of his life is too much to countenance; it has to be a war, and war requires sacrifice. 

on some level bruce knows that’s a lie. he’s so goddamned alone. what’s he going to do? sit down and cry? who’s going to listen to him now? oh, is he going to just stop being batman? who’s going to stop gotham from consuming herself then? he’ll just have to forge ahead, do better next time, maybe he’ll be firmer with them, or kinder with them, or notice more things, or train them harder, or spend more time--

3.25. don’t get me wrong: titans!bruce is an asshole and a half. his roster of potential robins was honestly bone-chilling. the fact that there’s a twisted root of compassion makes it more disturbing. 

3.5. alfred’s dead! it must’ve been pretty recent, because i could’ve sworn that dick tried to call alfred in the very first episode of season 1, or at least considered calling him... 

what a devastating double-blow for bruce then, losing his father-figure and his, uh.... son-figure so close together.

4. i don’t know about barbara yet. i mean, i like her, but she had so much clunky expository dialogue to deliver this episode, and for an episode that was named after her, she only showed up halfway through it. but i like the weight of history behind her interactions with both bruce and dick and her compassion to bruce before he cruelly crossed a line. i also like the implication that she and dick have been in touch recently, and that she didn’t immediately try to guilt-trip dick about some perceived abandonment. it’d be too repetitive.

4.5. there’s also a sense that she ran interference for dick a lot whenever there was something Too Big and Emotional for him to confront directly, and i like and appreciate that character beat.

5. dick, my man! it really does feel like a substantial length of time has passed between the end of s2 and the beginning of s3... kory’s got a new costume, they’ve become celebrities in SF, working missions together, and dick’s actually smiling! genuinely enjoying his work and having fun with it for possibly the first time in the entire series! it’s really a far cry from the fractured, dysfunctional mess that they were at the end of the last season.

i just hope this doesn’t mean that they’ve magically reached a resolution off-screen to all of their fucked-upness from last season, and that the repercussions--for gar in particular--are actually addressed on screen. 

5.25. i mentioned this briefly above, but it really is so refreshing that dick doesn’t wallow in guilt and self-loathing after jason’s death; he acknowledges his and the titans’ failure, is able to admit to barbara honestly that he’s not doing great, and is actively trying to reach out to bruce to make sure he’s ok, is trying to investigate what made jason seek out the joker on his own, and is probably the only person not immediately buying that it was jason’s recklessness that got him killed. i love that dick is finally beginning to trust his instincts or just employ them at all after years of guilt and paranoia and self-loathing. we love some positive character growth!

5.5. another thing i love? the bruce-dick interactions on this show. every scene they’re in together is so fraught with tension, both of them holding themselves back, their emotions on a whipcord-tight leash. dick wants to reach out to bruce, is even somewhat familiar with this brand of denial in the wake of grief, but wants barbara to make the first move because he genuinely does not know how to get bruce to open up. his instincts are right, and wonderful, and genuine, but his expression has been smothered by years of trauma, emotional and physical self-discipline, and what i suspect is poorly treated mental illness. 

it takes a lot for him to finally explode at bruce at the end of the episode--in a way he hasn’t done even when his only opinion of bruce was ‘fuck him’--and it’s all the more startling for how subdued he’s been through the episode, how much he’s been holding back his emotions for bruce’s sake. love it.

5.75. it sort of hurts my heart to see the flying graysons poster in jason’s room. there are a few implications:

a) jason settled into dick’s old room despite living in a giant mansion with dozens of other rooms he could’ve used

b) he didn’t take down dick’s poster--not when he moved in and was idolising him, not when he moved out of the titans and was sort of hating him. i wonder if the reminder of what dick was before robin--that he was forged out of unspeakable tragedy--gave jason the connection to dick that he so desperately wanted in real life

c) dick moved right back into the room and slept on the bed that was now jason’s. grief can be so quiet and piecemeal sometimes.

6. i spy the beginnings of actual arcs for both gar and kory! i just hope that with the move to gotham their stories don’t fall to the wayside...

6.5. i’ve known tim drake for less than ten minutes but if anything were to happen to him i’d kill everybody 

7. this review has gone on for too long and i am tiRED. however, before i leave: i miss some of the dedication-to-aesthetic that titans season 1 used to have. remember how the first few episodes didn’t really feel like a superhero show but something out of gothic horror? there was something gorgeous and raw about that, about open landscapes and the road and creepy buildings looming up at the end of it. moving to titans tower in s2 really ruined a lot of that for me, given its ripped-from-architectural-digest aesthetic, all smooth and clean and artificial. 

i hope that we really explore gotham’s hellscape in interesting and innovative ways instead of camping out in the batcave all the time and indulging in the show’s unending love for long corridors, neon backlights and silhouettes.

8.....

9.  wait, fuck, HOW CAN I FORGET ABOUT HOT PSYCHIATRIST GUY (TM)??? NONE of you prepared me for his return! NONE OF YOU! i gasped! i got up and did a happy dance! 

listen, titans writers, if you’ve had a peek at my titans s3 wishlist, please go ahead and give the other items on the list a go too, thankyouverymuch.

[hermesacat]

HELLO ROCK N ROLL KITTY! (Vol.2): MAZZY STAR & HOPE SANDOVAL [Update August, 2022: This is a post I originally put on Tumblr in 2016. I'm re-posting it again today, six years later, Aug. 21. 2022 (updated to include some newer info) because it disappeared from my Tumblr account along with all my other previous content I'd posted to Tummblr. In the last few days, I logged into my Twitter account for the first time in years and discovered Twitter must have wiped it clean of content, followers and following.  It looked like a brand new account showing no activity, no content, no nuthin'. Did Tumblr do this 'cause I was inactive for so long? Hm. At least the account was allowed to exist, even if it had been reduced to nothingness! I had visited others' Tumblr pages occasionally but had not logged into my own for a very long time. I became active instead at fan groups on Facebook and elsewwhere and on my own you tube channel] ..................................................................................... This is a post on on Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval & David Roback as a cat appreciators. (Vol. 1 focuses on Dum Dum Girls’ Dee Dee Penny (now known as Kristin Kontrol) as a cat person). Mazzy Star’s / Hope Sandoval’s “totem animal” seems to be the cat as there are at least nine examples of cat image themes appearing in album art, merch, & music videos. Hope also meows her way, cat like, through a song, her guest duet on JAMC’s song “Perfume,” (a song whose lyrics only make sense when one knows the history of Chanel No. 5 perfume, & how the company became more responsible by ceasing to use in the making of its perfume musk taken from musk glands of the endangered wild civet cat). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pMPb6ifZ5c  . Plus, Hope’s been known to send letters on stationery with cat images printed on the paper, & sometimes signs autographs accompanied by cat cartoons she draws.

The photos are:

1) Hope Sandoval in L.A., 1993. Photo by Stefan De Batselier.

2) Cat imagery album artwork from Mazzy Star’s 1990 album, “She Hangs Brightly”, in yellow and black

3) Mazzy Star red and black tee shirt official merch design with cat image theme.

4) Mazzy Star black and white tote bag official merch design with cat theme.

5) & 6): Front and inside covers of Mazzy Star’s 2013 album, “Seasons of Your Day” with cat themes. [The album’s credits say: “Artwork: Mazzy Star, Barry Bodeker”]

7) Hope’s autograph accompanied by a cat cartoon she drew for a fan, Juan, after Mazzy Star’s Wiltern Theatre, L.A. gig, Nov. 7, 2013.

8) & 9): Two Black and white Screen capture pics of  two cats with different colourings that appear in Mazzy Star’s official video for the song “I’m Less Here,” released April, 2014. The cat on the left roams around in the video. The one on the right David is shown petting. The video’s on yt here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmQhNp5rr3Q The cat on the left roaming is Hope's own cat Herman, I believe who she's named in an interview. In the video, the colours of the cat on the left have been reversed like in an old photo negative.

10) Screen capture (orange toned) from the official video for the single”Isn’t It True,” by Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions, released April, 2016. It shows silhouettes of hands reaching out to two cats.

11) Black & white screen capture, close up of a cat’s face from a mysterious video from Hope’s tendriltales.com site, 2016, a video which also has some shots of Hope. There's good reason to believe the cat is Hope's cat Herman she has mentioned by name in an interview. In the video, the colours of the cat have been reversed like an old photo negative

12) Official post from Mazzy Star’s official Facebook page, Aug. 2016 re. the then forthcoming single “Let Me Get There,” by Hope Sandoval and The Warm Inventions with a cat them in its message which I’m going to guess Hope likely wrote.

13) Happy Halloween! At long last, a pic turns up of Hope with a cat! This pic was posted by Mazzy Star to their own official Facebook page, Oct. 31, 2016. Meow-wow. It must be Hope holding her cat Herman.

14) A picture of my own two cats as Mazzy Star cats (R.I.P. "Coco", the black one. The other, "Monkey" is still with me)

-References to Hope’s own cats, or cats she knows have appeared in a few articles over the years, most amusingly in a Sept., 2013 SPIN mag interview where she & Colm O’Ciosoig speak jokingly about a cat “Herman” but without letting on to the leg-pulled interviewer “Herman” is a cat, not a person! http://www.spin.com/articles/mazzy-star-seasons-of-your-day-interview/

A helpful SPIN reader in comments ID-ed the mysterious “Herman” as a cat, which fits with what Hope & Colm say about him. I see the current posting of the article no longer has any comments attached. So, I’ll leave a new one there with the “Herman” info restored that someone else originally supplied.

-Hope mentions cats in lyrics in at least one of her own songs, “Suzanne,” by Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions. The lyrics line is: “The cats in here are overflowin’ “

- There’s a 50 min. audio interview from 2013 with Hope & David I’ve upped to yt here: http://youtu.be/TJaFHGAEFiE  with a section (starting at the 30:16 mark) where they talk about cats, & it’s evident from it both are cat appreciators. At one point in the interview Hope says “I wish I could see a cat right now.”

-There’s a Rome radio interview & performance by David from 1988 (when Hope-era Opal was touring Europe) where he sings a song with amusingly odd sounding cat lyrics: “Sad and insane, Cat’s in the rain.” (Huh, David?). I’ve upped it to yt here: http://youtu.be/NL5mzjwyWNc It turns out it’s an Opal song called “A Falling Star” originally from the Opal era when Kendra Smith was still singer, but  with new lyrics. Hope sang the new version with cat lyrics on the 1988 Opal tour after she became Opal’s singer.

-Here’s a passage from an Oct., 1996 Alternative Press article: QUOTE: “We pile into William’s [William Reid of JAMC, Hope’s bf of the time] compact car. He drives us to his and Hope’s place so she can get her notebook of lyrics [before they go to the studio for a Mazzy Star rehearsal for an upcoming tour]. At the house, David goes to the back garden to pet William’s cat. He speaks of his love of animals, nature and the beauty of Cambridge (where Syd Barrett lives, he notes).“

-In an October, 1993 Melody Maker interview, David recalls first encountering Hope at 1980s L.A. rock shows as “Just a set of eyes, like a cat” !

-Cat  passage from 2002, Jan. 3 Rolling Stone Hope article/interview: “Hope sits at home in Berkeley while her cat meows over the phone even louder than she is able to speak.”

-Cat passages from 2002, August, L.A. Press Telegram Hope article/interview: “It becomes apparent that Mazzy Star lead singer Hope Sandoval is definitely a cat person when a faint mewing comes throughthe phone  during an interview from her Bay Area home…But like the territorial half-Siamese cat making its presence known  during this conversation, Sandoval has always set public and private boundaries in her career…”

-My own main youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/user/Bobjb999 has a large collection of Mazzy Star, Hope Sandoval, & related recordings, mostly live, including many unreleased rarities, mostly audio with slideshows, although I have a few fine videos. Most of those slideshows have one or more cat pics sneaked in. It’s a small side distraction, but as a cat-person-Mazzy-fan I enjoy playing up the Mazzy Star cat connection a little! I also have a secondary yt channel with more Mazzy rarities, here: https://www.youtube.com/user/Bobb99999999 .................................... [LATER UPDATES, Aug. 2020: Here's an excerpt from an interview with Hope and Colm (of The Warm Inventions) from The L.A. Record, Jan. 2017 https://issuu.com/larecord/docs/la_record_126_web

INTERVIEWER: Hope, do you have any hobbies besides making music? Do you collect anything? Records? Instruments? HOPE: Well, obviously I buy instruments—but no. I wish I could have a cat collection. That’s my fantasy. I’d be the crazy lady on the block with all the cats. I only allow myself one cat but I fantasize about having loads.

INTERVIEWER: It’s really disciplined to only have one cat.

HOPE: I know! And I can barely handle the one cat. I didn’t tell you, Colm [Colm is on the phone with them in a three-way phone interview] but he didn’t come home until three in the morning. I couldn’t sleep all night and finally I heard his little door and I went to open the little door and he walks in and he’s limping. He is ok. He’s sleeping now and I’m just debating whether I should take him to the vet. He’s one of those cats who is just a fighter. He thinks he’s in charge of the whole neighborhood so he’s constantly getting into fights and this will be, like, the fifth time I’ve taken him to the vet and at this point they’ll probably call child services on me. It’s just strange. He’s a fighter.

INTERVIEWER: f you did have a collection, you would be at the vet nearly every other day.

HOPE: Can you imagine the expense of having ten cats? .................................................... Here's a 2018 quote from Hope where Hope mentions her cat Herman. It's in a quote re. her 2018 collab with Mercury Rev from a tribute album celebrating singer Bobbie Gentry, The Delta Sweete Revisited, an album of new cover versions of the songs on Bobbie's 1968 album. Hope sings on one song "Big Boss Man" https://bellaunion.com/2018/12/mercury-rev-and-hope-sandoval-share-big-boss-man/ QUOTE: “Well, the only boss man in my life is my cat Herman so this song was a bit tricky for me but I am so honoured to have been asked to be a part of this amazing group of women paying tribute to such an inspirational artist. I’ve always been a fan of Mercury Rev and Bobbie Gentry, so needless to say I am over the moon to be a part of this project.” (-Hope, 2018)

............................................

The idea of doing a HELLO ROCK N ROLL KITTY! series was inspired by a popular post I saw & enjoyed at the Dangerous Minds site of photos of rock stars with their cats & dogs: http://dangerousminds.net/comments/rock_stars_with_their_cats_and_dogs

[Full disclosure:  My yt & mazzystar.free.fr  handle “Hermesacat,”  is homage to a fave cat of my own named “Hermes” (now deceased). Resemblance of the name to the cat Hope & Colm cite, apparently named Herman according to a 2013 SPIN interview, is but an amusing coincidence. “Hermesacat” was my site name for years at (sadly now defunct) fan site Mazzy Star Boulevard. Btw, there are current worthy fan sites  here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/6071129794/ (I'm an admin at the FB group); and here: http://mazzystar.free.fr ;

-Bob B. (Hermesacat)

[herstarburststories]

the first step is always the hardest.

Pairing: au!dean winchester x reader

Summary: Huntercorp!Dean asks you out on a date.

A/N: I'm happy with how this one turned out. It's very different from my usual to do, but so cute! au!dean lives in my and in brazil right now sjhsjs. Anyway, this is my part for @firefly-in-darkness 2k challenge! Congrats again, honey. My prompt was “I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe.” And this was requested by @anaelsbrunette.

Warnings: mutual pining and adorableness.

Some things aren't supposed to be hard. In Dean Winchester's opinion, this is one of them. What he's about to do isn't quite professional or preferred by his dad -- although, not exactly against HunterCorp's strict code of conduct. Alright, he might have to report to HR about the relationship due the anti-harassment policy if you two ever get that far, but that's another point. The fact right now is, it shouldn't be this hard to blurt out a simple 'would you like to go out with me?' towards the woman he had been pining for weeks. 

Dean asked girls out before, and three out five said yes. Usually, his goofy way of flirting is enough to make them take the lead. When it doesn't happen, though, the Winchester laces his hang out proposal with wiggling brows and a suggestive smirk. They'd laugh and a date was settled.

He isn't shy. Dean gets embarrassed easily and yes, he is a little too spoiled to have a larger vision of the world, but he can get his way with the women he's interested in. Therefore, it shouldn't be that difficult, right? In theory, safely hiding in the back of his head, it isn't. The hunter remains passing some vague steps on his mind: 1.) Go to you. 2.) Try not to get lost at the sight of you. 3.) Don't try his Spanish to impress you because it's not going to work. 4.) Smile in a boyish way, just being cool. 5.) Ask you out. Samuel said it was a good plan. He just needs to execute it, get through his words and make them into actions. 

So why is it so excruciatingly hard?

You, a HunterCorp's rookie, recently graduated in their new worldwide program to recruit willing hunters that weren't born in the life. You are smart, bilingual, pretty, strategic, spontaneous, and strong. You laugh loud as if joy should be going inside everyone's ear, but you also fight to kill with both words and trained combat skills. You, one of the best hunters of HunterCorp, which is the only thing Dean would ever try to say he was compared to you. You, Y/N Y/L/N, the girl with fancy red boots and tight jeans, is everything Dean never dreamed of and way out of his league.

You are a ferocious scream in civility that shakes his ground and makes him want to know how human savagery felt like after years being spoiled. You tease the green eyed hunter, never leading to evilness, and always with a beam that makes him feel lucky to be the fool to your kingdom. Dean feels comfortable with you, like taking his expensive socks off at home and chuckling with his mouth full, or even attempting a new food that makes his tongue experience marvelous flavors never felt before.

The eldest Winchester brother is almost dancing around his own feet for five minutes and counting. Gulping nervously every time he hears the noise of a door opening as he shuts his eyes, picturing the perfect ending of 'asking Y/N on a date' plan.

Okay, fine. Maybe he does have a reason for envisioning the possible difficulties of this situation. How could he not? Dean wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable by asking you out again if you said no today. It's a now or never situation. How can he not be sweating in his levis?

“Duncan?” you ask, your voice exhaling a name that isn't his, but it catches Dean's attention nonetheless. He must have been listening what you were saying before even turning around to catch a glimpse of you. “Duncan!”

You poke his arm, causing him to move quickly to face you. Despite getting his name wrong, you look gorgeous: your hair was a mess like usual after spending too long in your office, sunglasses on the top of your head, and a joyful grin on your painted lips.

He straightens his posture to regain some confidence. “Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Your eyebrows knit together in a weight of confusion. "Who are you?"

This is it, his mind whispers. Rule number four, be cool. Say that thing that guy says in the movie which Sammy made you watch! Dean licks his lips, leaning against the counter. He shrugs, attempting to get in a persona that would only be him in another universe. “I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe. You know, Dean Winchester.”

His shoulders drop as you let out a laugh, and suddenly the perfect threat in his fantasy became a funny joke. He doesn't even waste time being too embarrassed, though: he loves that sound.

“I'm kidding, Dean Winchester. I know who you are. You know, you're kind of the owner of this building?” you say humorously, pointing around the establishment.

Dean's brows arch quickly as he replies: “Technically, it's my father.” 

“Who cares about the technical, right?” Of course you would say that with your own sequin smile and a playful wink. Who gives you the right to make his heart go wild? God, he sounds like a chick-flick. “Anyway, do you need something? I noticed you standing at my door.”

“Yes.” His stupendous moment. The stage is his and he better make it worth it. Dean's going to ask you out now, and then, he sees your features changing into curiosity. You're so adorable with your soft frown and head cocked, hair cascading down like one of the surrealistic paintings decorating his office walls. It reminds the Winchester of the way their brilliant colors and space tangle together to make something so gorgeous he couldn’t bear to give it another name but art. God, what if you say no? What if you say yes? What if everything is weird after that? “No. I mean, yes. I...”

“Are you okay?” You place a hand on his bicep. One touch, a blaze starting to burn in the best ways. His heart gives out, beating too crazily to be properly felt -- that doesn't help one bit.

“Yeah, this muchacho is okay.” Dean points at himself with two thumbs. Here goes all the rules in less than three minutes of chatting. He sighs to himself, offering you a pageant smile. “Just forget about it. I was going to ask for a report on your last hunt, but you can send it to my email.”

“Sure thing. I'll send you them after I come back from lunch. McDonald's waits for me.” The Winchester doesn't know if his mind is playing tricks on him, but he can swear he saw disappointment on your face. It could've been that tell, your hair brushing your lips like he craves to, or even how you blink so adorably under the dim light that makes a sudden glimmer of newfound courage hit him. Granted, it's with a trembling voice, but still.

“Maybe I could go have lunch with you?” Dean can practically hear his brother saying, be assertive, ask her out. He rushes to correct himself. “You. You could grab lunch with me. If you want. We could go have lunch together.”

“You like McDonald's?” You bit your bottom lip, arms crossed despite your subtle chortle.

“Of course.” Dean scoffs, gaining a glare of yours for a few seconds before he sighs with a shrug, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks. “No. Processed food isn't a thing in my house. Dad likes to spoil us with homemade meals and scotch.”

“Well, I'm sure John doesn't know how to cook quesadillas. I know the perfect place we can go.” You grab his wrist, and despite all empirical evidence to the contrary of such strong euphoria stemming from a simple touch, he goes against every scientific rule and gets to heaven on earth. “And Dean?”

His voice is lighter, happier by that mere gentle gesture which causes Dean's cheeks to dimple with branded delight as he answers: “Yes?”

You don't bother pulling your hand away. Instead, you intertwined your fingers, smiling like a baby when you notice his sweaty palm. At least you aren't the only nervous here. “Our second date will be at McDonald's.”

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[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way.  

hi lovelies! this is my fic for miss olivia’s @bfharry​ boyfriendathon! i’ve had this concept for a year now, and i’m so happy i was finally able to write it!

thank you to @bopbopstyles​ @stellarboystyles & @avhrodite​ for beta-ing! <3

enjoy 7.5k words of friends to lovers & uni!harry & boyfriend!harry !! also the story is supposed to go semi-fast since it is mostly flashbacks, the sparkly breaks will tell you when the flashbacks start and end! 

i’ve made a playlist for this fic! if anyone would like to listen while reading click here

please please leave feedback! super excited for this because it’s probably a fav of mine and i’m really proud of it, so i would love to know what you think! a reblog, comment, and/or ask would mean a lot! <3

The birds were chirping and the sun was beaming on you, leaving a glow to your skin that had shined ever so brightly, giving you a healthy and lovely tint to your skin. It was a lovely day that there was not an ounce of complaint in your mind because of the beautiful weather Mother Nature decided to provide you with, knowing that you hadn’t gotten perfect weather for the past few weeks. The trees and grass were as green as ever as slight wind rustled between the leaves, making the sound of the crisp leaves loud. 

It was a moment like this where you felt so happy and grateful to be in a beautiful city; that you had made the right decision. The London view and atmosphere does not compare to any other place in the world, aside from the fact that you haven’t been to many places in your life. But you’re a bit biased on your opinion because London graced you with your boyfriend, Harry. You remembered the first time you came to London just two years ago, and you never imagined how your life had planned out until this very moment. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You had stepped on the plane with nervous thoughts running through your head. It was the first time you ever rode a plane, and your destination was hours away, practically a full day. It was a major step, and you probably should’ve thought it through; maybe traveling to the next state, but to travel to another country was a big step for you. 

It wasn’t a vacation, more like, school in a different country for a few months. You had decided to study abroad when you were in high school, wanting to get away from home and also learning in a brand new place without the toxicity hanging onto your foot as you try walking away. It had taken a while to finally study abroad because the requirements of you needing to finish your first year of college before you could study in the fall. 

Your family hadn’t taken it well, but you decided that there was nothing you could do to stop them. You were going to pay for the trip and your expenses all on your own. It definitely helped that you got a scholarship to go to university in the first place, and lucky enough to live on campus away from home.

You were sad that they didn’t feel an ounce of happiness for you, and you had asked your cousin to take you to the airport, being the only person to bid you goodbye. The feeling was overbearing and overwhelming, making your heart sink but at the same time feel full with sadness. At the time, you had felt like everything was holding you back and you just wanted to get away. 

A new start was needed. 

It was August when you traveled alone to London. Anxiety was boiling in your throat as you craved the need to hold onto something as the ride was quite bumpy, making you sweat and shake. But you survived, and you were at your new home. At least for the next 4 months. 

It wasn’t a hard decision to decide to study abroad, but you really hoped you met good people and made friends. It had always been a struggle making and keeping a good batch of people in your life. You had thought it was easy to make friends during your time in London; no one knows you and they don’t know your insecurities. So, you thought it was going to be easy.

And luckily, you were right. 

You had met your three best girl friends, all that you had shared a small place with. The common room had held so many memories between the four of you, and you felt so immensely grateful for them. Late night talks and laughs while drinking wine and eating snacks were some of your best memories. You had missed the common room greatly. 

One night, Tanya had suggested a night out on their first week there, “let’s all go out with the guys tonight! I already met Peter, and we talked about going out, so we could introduce you to everyone!” 

The girls and guys were stoked for the most part, and you were excited too, but also nervous, hoping the guys had found something interesting about you. 

And that was the night you met Harry. 

Some of the students that went to university in London shared a dorm with the abroad students until they left. Half were in the art program and the other half was the journalism program. Two of the girls in your dorm, Donna and Sophie, were in the journalism class, and you and Tanya were in the art one. You had wished everyone was in the same class, but that made get togethers and dinners at night way more fun because it had felt like everyone had so much to catch up on, and the fun was at the highest level. 

You had seen Harry approximately twice within your first week, but it was merely just from passing. But that night was the first proper night you hung out with him and everyone else. 

You couldn’t deny that he was insanely attractive. Just at first glance he had that sort of charm to him that was irresistible and alluring, wanting more after he was done talking. He was a bit on the quiet side when you met him, but learned that he started getting louder and talkative once you warmed up to him. He was outgoing and fun, the life of the party once he had a drink or two in his system, and when he does have some liquid courage, he gets cuddly and affectionate. 

“Do you want another drink?” He asked in his buzzed state. 

“I think I’m okay right now, and who’s going to take care of you when you keep having more?” You teased. It was definitely the alcohol talking because you would have never voluntarily teased someone like that. 

“Well, we have a few people in our group.” It had made your heart flutter when he said ‘our.’ You had never had a group of friends to call yours, and although it was only the first week, you had known they were going to be a group of special people close to your heart. 

“Our friend group is also drunk off their asses, so I think there needs to be a responsible person right now, and that is me,” you put your hands under your chin and started fluttering your eyes innocently. Harry thought you were the most charming and sweetest girl he’s ever met, and it had only been a week. 

“Okay, whatever you say, missy,” he teased. You held back your big smile, corners of your lips turned up. 

“Go get your drink. I’ll wait here,” you pushed his shoulder slightly towards the bar with a chuckle. 

“Ooh, bossy. I like it,” he said with a wink before he headed towards the bar. You were lucky that he had already left to get a drink, or else he would’ve seen your face turn into a light red shade, flustered from his actions.  

As the night went on, Harry had practically clung onto you when he was buzzed, and never let you go until everyone walked back to the dorms. 

“No, don’t wanna leave ya,” he whined a bit when you tried handing him off to his friend. “Nooo, don’t make me go with him,” he pouted as if he was a child. You had gigged, thinking he was the absolute cutest when he was drunk (and not drunk) as he clung onto you until you physically had to put him in his bed.

His arms were still tight around you, your body was laying slightly on top of him. Lazy smiles and droopy eyes were made at you, causing you to chuckle. 

“Mmm. Hello,” he said with a giggle. 

“Hi. You okay?” 

“Yup. Perfect. You know...you’re very pretty,” he says as he smiled. Although he was drunk, Harry was telling the truth. 

“Thank you.” And although he was drunk, it still made you smile. 

“Mhm…” he mumbled in response. The silence between you two was enough to lull him to sleep; arms were still around you. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” you said against his forehead, giving him a small kiss as you tried your best to slip out of his hold. 

That moment had changed everything. 

The two of you had gotten closer after that night. The next day, you bumped into him in the lobby of the building and he asked if you wanted to walk to class with him. 

You laughed about it with him as you walked, “you were so cute last night.” 

“Yeah, M’sorry about that. I get like that when m’drunk,” he shyly said. 

“No need to apologize. I’m glad you had fun,” you said with a smile. He had smiled back at you as he felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter around. 

You and Harry spent almost everyday after class together or in between classes for a quick bite to eat. There was a usual coffee shop near the building that you would always meet each other at on Mondays and Wednesdays. On Tuesday, you two would walk together to a fish n’ chips spot for lunch. On Thursdays, it was a sandwich shop. Fridays you saved your outings for that night as everyone got together on Fridays. 

“We could make this our thing, y’know?” Harry suggested. 

“Fish n’ Chips Tuesdays?” You beamed at him. 

“Yeah, and coffee shop Mondays and Wednesdays, and sandwich shop Thursdays,” he was quite nervous getting that out, but he managed to do it with a smile. 

“That would be nice. Don't you think you would get tired of me?” You teased him, raising your eyebrow as you took a handful of fries and shoving them in your mouth. You hadn’t realized, at the time, how unattractive you might’ve looked, but Harry couldn’t help but smile and fall deeper. 

And he never got tired of you. 

Aside from having lunch and coffee everyday together, you had taken him to art museums. He wasn’t horrible at trying to interpret art, but looking at you beside him as you gazed at the art above yourself was something that he was fond of. He smiled every time you got lost in the art as you studied it, passionately looking up, trying to figure out what each piece means to you. It was admirable, really. 

“You’re gonna be up there one day, watch,” he had whispered to you as you were in a daze. You chuckled as you looked at him, seeing if he was messing around. He wasn't though. He had seen your paintings and sketches, and thought that you deserved to be hung up high in the gallery. 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled and he put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his side. The affection had made you blush, thinking how you were falling for your best friend. 

After two months into studying abroad, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been. Aside from the constant moving around and trying your best to explore every part of the city, you felt like you belonged there. All those years living, you felt like you weren’t truly living, and being in London was possibly one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

You felt at peace. You were calm, and genuinely happy. Your head wasn’t racing like it was back in your hometown, and you weren’t anxiously looking over your shoulder, realizing that no one really is after you. 

The group decided to take a trip to Paris for the day, and the rest of the days would be spent hitting up a city or two. Everyone had the week off; a bit like spring break as you finished the first half of studying abroad. Everyone was super excited, and you haven’t been to Paris before so it was going to be a new place that you could check off from your list with your favorite people. 

It was a two and a half hour train ride from London to Paris, so you had loaded up a two hour playlist for the ride. 

At the time, it seemed like everyone knew that you were crushing on Harry, except Harry himself. When everyone boarded, the only seat empty was the one next to him. You weren’t mad, in fact, you were thrilled that the seat next to him was vacant. When you sat next to him, his eyes beamed, glad to see you, and you looked over at your friends as they gave you that teasing eye look while you rolled your eyes. 

“Anyone sitting here?” You asked and he shook his head no, giving you a small smile to sit down.

Everyone was still tired, considering it was 7 in the morning, and the group wanted to stay in Paris for the entire day. You yawned and Harry looked at you, giving you a soft smile. You grabbed your earphones out of your purse, handing one earphone to him and placing the other in your ear. In that moment, Harry was so happy as you two listened to Frank Sinatra on the way to Paris, placing your head on your shoulder and his on your head as Frank lulled you both into a nap before your adventure together. 

The entire day was eventful, but exhausting. With everyone on their feet, they were all ready to crash and luckily it was nearing sunset before the last train of the day. 

The last touristy place was the famous Eiffel Tower. Everyone had decided to get some wine and snacks as the whole group sat on a big blanket in the grass area in front of the Eiffel Tower. The sun was slowly setting and the guys were playing with a soccer ball, passing it around as the girls drank and talked; music playing from the speaker Sophie had brought with her.

 You took a mental picture of the scene around you; the people, atmosphere, and the feeling. And you had softly smiled, thinking these are the people in your life that are going to be in your life forever. Despite the fact that half of you had to go separate ways, there was a certainty in your head that everyone will always end up back together again. 

The sun had fully set and the lights on the Eiffel Tower had turned on as it started twinkling, lighting up Paris since the sun had gone tired. The guys were getting tired as well, so they sat with the girls. Harry was on your right side, arm behind your back but he didn’t touch you as it rested on the blanket and he leaned on it. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered ever so softly in your ear. You turned towards him and he smiled. 

“Right now?” 

“Yes, right now. Please, dance with me,” he pleaded and you nodded. He had immediately gotten up and helped you up. 

‘A Sunday Kind of Love’ by Etta James began playing softly as you and Harry swayed. Your arms were around his neck and his were around your waist. Chests pressed together as you had felt his heartbeat that pounded through his chest that gladly traveled to your chest, making your heart beat in sync with his.

It was silent between you two. There were no outside noises interrupting your bubble as you two ignored the eyes your friends were giving you. It was just you and Harry, the music, and the Eiffel Tower that captured your love and kept it for memory sake as you swayed under the moonlight. 

Harry had pulled away from you, looking so intently in your eyes, fondness gleamed out of them.

“Be mine,” he said softly. “I’m fallin’ for you, and I’m fallin’ hard. Please be mine already?” You were about ready to cry in that moment, but tears glossed your eyes.

You nodded and he beamed, “Only if you agree to be mine as well because I’m falling for you too,” you added. 

Harry immediately nodded, “I’ve been yours…this whole time.”

“Harry…” 

“Yes, darling?” The pet name had come unexpected, but you loved it nonetheless. 

“Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands, brushing away the strands of hair that had covered your pretty eyes before capturing your lips with his. The molded between your lips and his was perfect, like they were meant to be kissing Harry’s. Your hold on him grew tighter as your tongues touched for the first time. It sent shivers down your spine and made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. 

It was a moment that would never leave your mind and you two would cherish it forever. 

It had been two weeks since the group arrived back to London from Paris. Two weeks since the best day of your life, and you and Harry were attached at the hip and at the heart. It had been so easy to be around him, and you couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

You’ve been falling for him ever since the day you went out with everyone for the first time and clung onto you like a koala. But you were glad to be that tree for him that night. 

The regular dates hadn’t stopped. You two acted the same around each other, and that was because of the friendship before the relationship. And you were able to hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him against the wall of an alley.

It was the third month of school, and everyone was swamped in midterm studies. The amount of stress everyone had was enough for an entire school year because of how fast paced the program was. 

It neared eleven at night in the boys’ dorm. Everyone’s heads were in their books or typing on their laptop, papers scattered around them. For the art program, you had to visit various museums and look for a painting that defined the meaning of Impressionism art along with a 2,000 words that went along with the painting. 

Multiple yawns passed through the room, and everyone was exhausted. 

“Alright, I’m done for the night. Can’t do anymore studying,” Tanya said as she started packing her things up loosely. 

“Yeah, think we should call it a night,” Cade suggested. 

A series of ‘goodlucks’ and hugs went around the room as everyone packed their things up, and the girls went off to the dorm as you were still packing, wanting a minute alone with Harry. 

“Stay the night?” He had suggested, and you turned around and stopped fixing your things. 

“You want me to?” 

“Yeah. Think I’ll sleep better with you here and m’all stressed out.” 

“Okay,” you replied back, thinking that you would sleep better with him as well. 

As you two got into bed, Harry had played music on his phone, saying that it had helped him sleep and it was a habit when getting into bed. You noticed that you and Harry had the same love for Frank Sinatra as he hugged you to his chest. 

The two had laid there, not even closing your eyes to try and get some sleep. But rather, staring at the ceiling, running your hands up and down each other’s skin. 

And the moment you had leaned up to give him a kiss, you two couldn’t stop there. 

Hands that roamed your body had made that electrifying feeling stronger, pulling him in for more. The passionate kisses that you two traded had triggered each other’s arousal as he hovered over you. The pull and undressing of each other’s clothes while ‘Strangers in the Night’ played had left you wanting more and more of him. 

“I’ve never done this before. Like any of this,” you whispered. 

“Do you want to continue? We don’t have to if you don’t want to--I’m definitely fine with just kissin’ ya,” he said with a smile, causing you to beam at him being a gentleman. 

“Yes, want this so bad, baby.” You responded quickly, feeling very eager. He smiled in return and continued what he was doing.

He had asked you throughout the experience if you were okay with everything, and when you told him ‘yes please, give it to me’, he made sure he got you ready for him; rubbing your button and fingering you to your high, something you’ve never experienced with another person. 

It was the reassurance that Harry had given for your first time, and the constant questions of making sure if you were okay and if you were comfortable when he slowly pushed into you, trying to make sure he wasn’t being too hard with you because of his hard and big length. 

“So good for me,” he whispered out, kissing your lips. 

“Feels so good,” you had moaned out, never experiencing this type of feeling before. The pleasure had taken over the stinging feeling of your Harry entering you for the first time. You two were connected in a way you’ve never felt before. 

The soft whispers of praises that fell from your lips, and your arousal and orgasm prior that lubricated Harry’s thrusting, had made him feel so many things. He wanted to last for you, he didn't want this moment to end. Scratches in his hair and down his back had encouraged him to continue as you moaned his name in his ear, and he pressed wet kisses to your neck as he grabbed your breast. 

Two strangers in the night who had no idea of each other’s existence just three months ago. They had no clue of what their life was going to become when they met each other. It was the way you looked at each other that he knew you weren’t going to be just a stranger to him. Although he had a bit of alcohol in his system, he knew in his heart that he was going to find that sort of comfort and caring personality when he started talking to you. 

Harry continued to make love to you as the moonlight was seeping through the blinds, like the love that seeped through your veins for each other. He brought you both to your highs, and the only thing that was heard was the hushed moans and groans that came out of your mouths that could signify the love you have for one another.

It was that moment that changed everything. 

The fourth month had approached sooner than you would like. 

You and Harry hadn’t discussed what was going to happen when you had to leave, but you had hoped that you could make long distance work. 

The feelings you had for him were nothing you had ever felt before. It had made you cry out of happiness in random times, but also made you want to scream because of how too good to be true he is. 

He treated you like a queen. Making sure to give you as much love as you could handle, but sometimes a little more because he couldn’t hold it in. 

Throughout the weeks, you had learned so much about him and him, you. You didn’t think there was someone in the world that was so kind and caring; someone who shares similar passions and likes the same things you do. He was an angel sent from above, and you wanted to keep him for as long as possible. 

One night, you two shared your pasts together as you laid in bed together after a session of love making and a few rounds of hard fucking per your request. 

The fear you had inside of you was trickling down with your words when you had told him your insecurities and stories of your family that you wanted to forget. But he took everything so well; never looking at you for your insecurities, but only for your heart. 

“They weren’t very really supportive of me--of what I wanted to do. They just expected me to follow what they wanted, and I didn’t like that…” His hands roamed your skin innocently, comforting you and let you know he was there for you. “I was already miserable there. I didn’t want to be even more miserable doing something I hated. So I went against their demands and they said they weren’t going to pay for anything. But luckily I got a scholarship, and moved away from home.” 

“I’m proud of you for doing that.” You looked up at him as he continued. “It’s admirable to see you chase your dream and do what you want to do, despite being told by parents who don’t support you. You’re strong for that, y’know?” You hadn’t responded; just took in his words of support and comfort. You kissed his chest, leaving soft and wet kisses to his skin. 

It was like you couldn’t get enough of him. The magnetic pull that you had between you had grown, making the force stronger than ever, and you never wanted to leave his side. 

As the last few weeks of studying abroad we’re coming to an end, everyone was focused on finals. There weren’t that many dinners or nights out at that moment, but everyone had time since the people who lived outside of England had a week before they had to pack up and leave. 

One night as Harry was in your room, studying on the bed as you were writing a paper for your final project, he had suggested visiting his hometown. 

“Darling, I have a question,” he perked up. You looked at him and nodded for him to continue. “You could say no and that would be totally fine, but how about we go to my hometown this weekend? We could even study over there. It’s less noisy and it’s not a hussle and bussle kind of town. I just want you to be able to see where I grew up.” 

You smiled, “Sounds nice. Where are we going to stay?” 

“Figured we could stay at my mum’s? She’s got a great backyard, or we could explore and I could take you around,” he said with great hope. Your heart fluttered, Harry wanted you to see where he grew up. He wanted to show you every corner of his hometown. 

“Oh…at your mom’s. Is she going to be there?” The thought of meeting his mother had scared you. You had never met anyone’s parents, and it was the nagging thought in your head telling you that you were going to mess it up. 

“Yeah, but we could get a hotel or something-”

“No! I would love to stay there, and I would love to meet your mom.”

Harry smiled, giving you a kiss to your lips before grabbing his phone and texting his mother.

The train ride to Holmes Chapel was about two and a half hours. 

You suddenly had a fascination with trains as you felt like it kept you calm while you watched different towns and buildings pass by. 

With the speed of the train, it had felt like you were in slow motion. Your eyes tried taking in everything you saw, capturing every moment of what you want to remember. And Harry is in a lot of those images. 

Holmes Chapel was very welcoming and warm. Despite the weather, it was warm. It felt like home. It was a small town and everyone seemed to know the next person, but you loved every part of it because it was where Harry grew up. 

His childhood home was even lovelier. Maybe it was because of the fact that Anne lived there and Harry grew up there, but she was ever so sweet and welcomed you in with open arms. 

She had taken a liking to you immediately, telling you childhood stories of Harry and his sister, Gemma, that only family knew. Harry was ultimately surprised at how quickly Anne opened up to you. He knew his mother was kind, but she kept to herself and didn’t speak when she was uncomfortable, so to see his mother laughing loudly with his also somewhat shy girlfriend, made his heart burst with love. 

Harry had watched them sit at the dining table, sharing stories as he leaned against the kitchen counter as he wore a robe to keep him warm while smiling so big that his jaw physically started to hurt. 

He’d never had felt so loved and had never loved anything like he does with you. It surprised him how fast he fell for you, but it was quite possibly the easiest thing he did. There was no judgement in the relationship. You had kept him grounded and helped him when he was going through a rut when writing. 

The only thing that was bad about the relationship was the distance that will be put between you two when you leave to go back home. He didn’t want this to become a fling, to have a time limit. He knew exactly what he was getting into the day he asked you to be his, and he didn’t want to let go of you. 

And he truly hoped you felt the same. 

Just after you and Harry were back in London after visiting Anne and his hometown, finals had approached rather quickly. You had had a great time spending a little time with his mother, and you think she liked you very much. There were countless conversations and laughs that you will never forget. 

“Can I ask you something sweetheart?” Anne asked. 

“Of course,” you said, and you had been nervous as to what she was going to ask. 

“You mentioned that you were leaving just before the holiday, but I just wanted to ask where that leaves you and Harry. Are you two still going to be together?” A frown had made an appearance on her face, resembling your own. 

“I would like to. We haven’t spoken about it, but I’m sure that conversation will happen soon,” you had answered honestly.

“You still would still want to be with him?” You nodded in response. “That’s great to know. I like you a lot, and Harry has taken quite the liking towards you as well, but I just didn’t know if it was some sort of abroad type of relationship; someone to just keep you company in a new country-”

“No, it’s nothing like that! I know it’s only been almost two months of our relationship, but I love him, and I would never let him go. I didn’t want to study abroad to have a relationship, but he stumbled into my life so unexpectedly and I don’t have plans of letting that kind of love go.” 

Everything you had said was the whole truth. You weren’t expecting a relationship to come out of this, but you’re so immensely happy that it did because Harry walked into your life. Although you hadn’t known him for a very long time, quality overruled quantity. The connection you two had made within the few months meant something deeper than a fling. 

Anne smiled and nodded, like she was appreciating you and her respect for you had increased. The topic was over, and it was onto the next that was followed by laughs. And that entire time you stayed at her house, Anne knew exactly why Harry had fallen in love with you. 

The last week of being in London had come very quickly, and sadness was an understatement. 

The people who were leaving had decided to start packing the things that they didn’t need and weren’t going to use anymore, so they had extra time to spend and go out with everyone because packing your things for four months plus the things you bought wasn’t all that fun. 

It was Monday morning after finals when you had heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. You had groaned as it felt like you had slept for only 30 minutes. You debated on whether to check it in your sleepy state. The buzzing had stopped, making your thoughts turn off, but started back up once again and you figured you should check it. 

Harry was calling you in the early hours of the morning. It was 6 a.m and if it were anyone else, you would ignore it. 

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You had mumbled once you answered the phone. Harry chuckled, but also fell deeper in love as you were just as caring as you were awake. 

“Darling, m’fine! M’actually outside of your dorm. I didn’t want to knock and wake everyone else up, but get up. We’re going on an adventure,” he said in a hushed voice, and you practically heard his smile through the phone. 

“Harry…” your eyes were still closed, exhausted from your slumber. 

“Please, baby. You won’t regret it.” 

And you didn’t. You never regretted anything when it came to Harry. 

You had gotten up and dressed warm enough for your adventure, and met Harry outside to which he rewarded you with a hug and kiss, thanking you for putting up with him. 

You both got in Peter’s car that Harry had begged him to take for a little bit, and luckily he agreed because the tube wasn’t running at that time. With Harry’s arm in your lap, you leaned on his arm as you closed your eyes until he took you both to your destination.

It was still a bit dark out, but it was way past the starry night it was a few hours ago. The sun was just about ready to rise, and the early bird got the worm. 

Harry had held your hand as he led you both up to top of the Primrose Hill, showing the beautiful London city. It had taken you both a while to get to the top, due to you being extremely sleepy still and sluggishly holding you both back. Harry had set a blanket down for you two to sit on, and you immediately snuggled into him. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darling. We have a sunrise to watch,” he said, leaning his head down and caressing your face. 

“Mmm. Tired,” you grumbled. 

“Please? It’s your last week here,” he said sadly, and you wished you hadn’t complained that you were tired because hearing his tone had almost broke your heart. But that woke you up slightly, realizing that you didn’t want to miss another moment with him. 

The sky had gotten a little lighter, and Harry checked his phone for the time, about 30 minutes till the sun started to rise. 

“Tell me something,” he said. It had been a thing you two did when you started hanging out. It was sort of a confession time; either can say anything you want to say and the other will listen. 

“I’m going to miss you so much that the thought of us not being physically next to each other will hurt so bad,” you confessed. 

“I’m going to miss you too.” 

“Baby, you don’t understand. My heart will completely break once I part ways with you at the airport. I cant handle it, Harry,” your body had completely faced his, and he noticed your eyes were swollen from the lack of sleep and the incoming tears. 

“Hey, I know exactly how you feel. You’re not the only one who gets to feel like that,” he said more seriously. “But we’re gonna get through this, okay? We’ll do everything to make sure we make it together,” he had placed a hand on your cheek. 

“You want this right?” Your insecurities had gotten in the way and you needed reassurance from him, and Harry knew that and didn’t ever complain to give it to you. 

“Of course, baby. Never gave you a reason telling you I didn’t want this, right?” You shook your head, tears had made its way down your face, and Harry had shared the same tears as you. “Then don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Harry held you to his chest and you both cried in each other’s arms. 

The sunrise was as beautiful as ever that morning, screaming for a new beginning as the sun illuminated the sky into an orange and yellow glow. The new beginning was right in your arms as you held him tighter while tears fell down both of your faces, feeling powerful and stronger together as you two poured every emotion and energy into each other. 

Harry was your sunrise and your sunset. 

You wanted to spend the beginning of every morning with him and have him be the last thing you see before you are pulled into a deep slumber, dreaming of him for hours until you see his face again and make him your reality. 

And you both were going to make it. 

The ride to the airport was long and filled with silence as words weren’t needed at that time; only the hurt because of the love that was so strong that nothing could come between you two. Not even distance. 

You already missed the whole group dearly, and the last dinner with everyone was bittersweet. It was an emotional one as everyone talked about their favorite times and laughed at memories of drunken stories. And at the end, everyone raised a glass. 

“To the best group of friends out there.” 

“To a talented ass group of artists and writers.” 

“To love, laughter, and the pub.” 

“To new beginnings, but never endings.” 

Everyone cried and hugged each other, making the moment last forever, but it was definitely not the last time. 

You slowly walked with Harry, hand in hand as he rolled your luggage, to the area where you both had to part your ways. He had kissed your hand and head multiple times until you stood facing in front of him. 

The embrace you two shared was the most gut wrenching feeling you had ever felt in your life, and it felt like your heart was physically breaking along with Harry’s. 

Your hearts had always been in sync, beating as fast as the other or filling in beats for one another when one of your hearts had skipped a beat. Being without one another would feel like a missing beat in your hearts, and you needed the other to fulfill it.

“This is not goodbye. It’s never going to be goodbye with you, okay?” Harry’s voice croaked and you nodded, too afraid to speak as tears spilled out of your eyes. 

You were breathing deeply, knowing you should go through TSA already as you both were trying to spend every last minute together. 

“Tell me something?” Harry had asked one last time in person. You thought hard about it, wanting to make it the best one he’s ever heard. 

“I love you, baby.” 

He gave you a small and sad smile as more tears formed in his eyes, “I love you too. So much, darling.” 

And then you were off.

Harry had watched you walk away until he couldn’t see you anymore before he had sulked back to his dorm, crying all the way back. He felt empty without you beside him. With spending everyday with each other for the past four months, it had felt like a punch to his chest when you had left. 

When he had gotten back to his room, he noticed a large square board wrapped in festive wrapping paper with an envelope attached to it. 

‘To my lovely Harry, 

Thank you for loving with me, laughing with me, and living with me. You’re the best person I’ve ever come to know, so I hope you enjoy this piece that was dedicated to you (and our group of friends). I’m so grateful you’re the person who has my heart.

I love you and miss you so much. 

Yours forever.

The tears hadn’t stopped since he saw you leave, and they kept on coming as he opened his present.

Sitting in his hands was your final project along with your paper. It was a painting of his hand holding a heart as blood dripped from it. He noticed it was his hand because of the various rings he wore. The London Eye, Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, and the pub were at the aorta as a plane curved from around the heart. The background was painted as an orange and yellow color, symbolizing the sunset. 

Harry sobbed and hugged your painting to his chest, feeling as if it’s the last thing he has of you for a while. He picked up your paper and read the title. 

‘The Power of Being Vulnerable’ 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

And so you were sat on a floral blanket, two years later; setting up your lunch, and taking out your sketchbook along with your supplies. You had brought your painting easel, in case it wasn’t going to rain, and you’re glad that you brought it because the weather was just gorgeous enough to paint outside for a while.

Before you went to the park, you had time to make a quick and small charcuterie board that was filled with Brie, prosciutto, crackers, and honey; a snack that would take up your time under the warm sun. 

You started sketching your drawing until you felt a familiar pair of lips against your cheek behind you. 

“Hi, darling,” his raspy voice that had brought you immediate peace said in your ear. You turned your head, and saw the beautiful smile beaming down at you before sitting down and meeting you at eye level, giving you a kiss to your lips. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“Sorry I’m late, quite the line at the sandwich shop, but I got your favorite as always.” You smiled after him, thanking him for waiting in that line and for the food. 

“It’s okay, practically just sat down a few minutes ago, and set everything up.” 

“Okay, good. By the way, you look absolutely beautiful,” he took off his sunglasses to give him a more clear look. You were wearing a dress that complimented your skin tone, making your eyes enticing that he couldn’t help but fall more in love.

“Thank you, my love. You look so handsome,” you complimented back, leaning in to peck his lips. Harry was wearing a plaid button down flannel, black jeans, boots, and a fedora. His hair has grown much longer over the past few years, and you honestly love it. One day, you had told him that he looks like a prince to which you earned a blush. 

“Gonna paint, my darling?” 

“Yeah. Nice weather out today, so definitely going to.” 

“Can’t wait you see what you put together,” Harry smiles, making the dimples that you love so much, pop out. 

You and Harry spent the rest of the day together before it was time to head to dinner with the six other people that had changed your life. It was something simple like sitting on top of the same hill you were at two years ago that made your heart flutter. With his head in your lap as he read a book, occasionally stopping to scratch his head and give him a kiss to his forehead, and you sitting upright painting away as he fed you crackers and cheese, you would have never known this is how your life would turn out. 

You were extremely grateful for the years you were given to be with Harry and your group of friends that you love so dearly. You were a shy girl, scared of being scared, hardly opened up to anyone. 

But that same shy girl blossomed. She blossomed into a beautiful woman who was being praised and treated like the way she should. The man beside her had reminded her every single day that she is a stunning and caring person that deserves the world and more. She eventually started to believe it herself. She began to start seeing herself that way. She woke up and looked in the mirror and started to remind herself that she was beautiful and that she was going to take over the world. 

The affirmations had come from opening herself up to people who genuinely cared about her. Because being vulnerable isn’t bad whatsoever. 

It allowed you to let go of whatever pain there was inside your heart and leaned onto someone so they could hold your pain as well because you finally weren’t alone. You finally had people who loved you and needed you. 

You had opened your heart up all those years ago, and it led you to the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With two years of loving each other and two years of long distance, you had opened up your heart to the most special man in the world. The constant tears of missing each other from the other side of the world. The need to feel his touch. The tiring plane rides every four months to visit him, until it was his turn to visit you. The care packages. The long FaceTime chats. They all led to the best hugs when you reunited with Harry. 

You would travel the world and back if it meant Harry was your destination. 

And it was where the world took you that led to your forever. 

feedback is appreciated here! <3 also i would love to take blurbs for this and write more about them, so please let me know what you like to read!

[pinencurls]

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - - 

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 

 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 

“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . . 

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 

“Harry?” 

“Ellie?” 

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 

“Oh- H, Sorry!” 

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 

“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . . 

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 

“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 

“Then stay.” 

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 

. . . . . 

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 

“And you’re almost six foot!” 

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 

. . . . .  

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 

. . . . . 

Unknown Number 

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 

Me

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’ 

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 

. . . . . 

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 

. . . . .

 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 

. . . . . 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 

“That’s the plan, love.” 

. . . . . 

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 

“Breakfast?” 

. . . . . 

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 

. . . . . 

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 

Me 

Meet me at mine x

Harry 

Okay - what was that about? 

Me 

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/ 

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 

“Eleanor would have a field day.” 

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases. 

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Really..she’d be right about that?” 

“I’m pretty sure-” 

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 

“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 

. . . . .    

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 

“Yes dear?”  

“What was that?” 

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?” 

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x