#or as my mum said 'i can never tell if they are sincere they look sincere but then!' XD

[mikimeiko]

The Morning Show | Season 2 (2021), Jay Carson

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 6

2.7k | angst No matter how loyal, guard dogs still have their teeth (part 1) (part 7)

Simon’s steps to your door were heavy, as his heart had been since that call.

Despite his blazing wrath, he was unprepared for the waves of guilt that washed over, the shame that wrestled to drown him. He was unable to protect you from his past – he brought it upon you, even after how much too sweet you’d been, how softly you’d touched him. How could he ever look you in the eye again?

The stray never deserved any of that.

When you gave him a squeeze at the door, he didn’t return it. Still, you tugged him in with the same lovely smile, even when it wasn’t as wide.

“Fancy a cuppa?”

“No.”

Your pretty hand shouldn’t be in his filthy one. Do you even know what I do with these hands?

You sat at the dining table and Simon remained on his feet to your side, eyes fixed on the cup of pu erh before you. His fists clenched and released. You didn’t like pu erh.

At the end of the day, he was still a reaper in dress uniform - one with an unrelenting demon that lurked in the far corner. He could have fucked him up that evening at the bakery. Feel his nose crumble against his knuckles, maybe even the snap of his scrawny neck in his hands.

But no, this happened because he didn't. Like his mum said, you were good for him, of course you were. But was he for you? He was nothing but trouble.

You smiled up at him. Always so sincere, so delicate, making his stomach twist more.

“My dad’s visiting this weekend. I was wondering if you wanted to meet him? And… Um, what I should introduce you-“

Not addicted, he'd tell himself too many times, as if it didn’t sound like a bloody lie to his own ears. You were the beginning of an incurable addiction, a cliff with the bewitching view he was a step away from falling off of.

His gaze left you. “I’m going back home with my mum tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you said, your disappointment evident. “Okay, maybe next time then.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he forced the words out, nails digging into his palms. “We should stop this.”

“What… What are you saying, Simon?”

“This. Meeting you, staying over. I’ll have less time when I become captain. This isn’t going to end well,” he reasoned, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself this was the right thing.

He knew it was, even when it didn’t feel like it, like a lot of things in life. He knew one day he’d be glad he did this. One day, even when right then it felt like the worst thing he could be doing. Would someone, something, rip this decision away from his hands?

“You don't get to say that yet, not right now. I know you're going through a lot.” You reached for his hand. “But we can wait until things settle and we’ll talk-“

He pulled away from your touch. “I've made up my mind. I never meant for things to get this far.”

In the still room, his stare remained on the cup you hadn’t touched since his arrival.

“You knew this all along and you still let it happen,” you said as realisation dawned.

He looked up to meet your hardened gaze. He’d seen you sad, annoyed, angry, but this was the first time your eyes were devoid of warmth. Being the receiving end of that stare was a stab to his chest.

“I should believe people when they show me who they are.” You chuckled humourlessly. “Get out, Simon.”

The world slowed. It was hard to draw his breath as he remained unmoving, like he was chained to the floor of where his sanctuary once was. Despite the arms that ached to wrap around you and never let go, he forced himself to walk away as his blood ran cold.

The door slammed behind him. He didn’t expect a positive response, of course, but it was definitely not the shatter of his own heart.

Still, it didn’t hurt as much as it would have had he waited until you inevitably left him for one reason or another. At least he’d never have to worry about being like his dad, about hurting you, betraying you, if you weren’t there to begin with. Like he’d always known, you deserved better, someone as lovely as you – unlike this stray who would never be enough.

It’s the right thing.

He could give his mum his undivided attention now. She would never leave nor kick him out the door. If he was not wanted, he had to be endlessly needed, used dry until he was nothing but a ghost.

“Who the fuck broke my bloody door!”

Simon and his mum had been waiting for his dad’s return to the house that had turned into a complete mess. Meanwhile, she’d packed as much of her belongings as she could, her luggage in the living room.

“Sign the bloody papers before I make sure you never can anymore,” Simon barked, standing tall next to his sitting mum.

His dad rounded the corner and Simon’s jaw ticked thinking of what he did to you. He let out a weak sigh at the sight of his wife and son at the dining table, a sight he hadn’t seen in over a decade. His eyes softened.

“I don’t want anything from you, James. Please sign them and we’ll be out of here.”

He pulled out the chair across the table and propped his elbows up, face in his hands as he took a deep breath.

“I need to apologise, Melanie,” he began. “I’ve made your life hell, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I was my fault.”

“She didn’t ask,” Simon said through gritted teeth. He shoved the papers closer when he ached to break the filthy table with his dad’s skull.

“I’m sorry about your last night here. It was unforgiveable, what I did.”

Simon slammed his fist onto the table. He had watched the grand performance too many times. “You’re not fooling anybody with your tricks. Sign the bloody papers. I swear this is the last time I’m asking.”

His mum patted his hand, and he reluctantly took the seat next to her.

“I want you to have the house, Mel. You’ve always kept it too beautiful for a man like me. It’s the least I can give you after everything.” He let out a steady breath, flipping open the document. “I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for how much I’ve hurt you,” he added quietly.

Was that remorse that settled in his hollow eyes?

His mum bit her lip as a tear slipped. When Simon wrapped an arm around her, she sobbed into his chest.

No words were exchanged as his dad went through the papers, and it remained so until Simon wheeled his mum’s luggage out the door behind her.

“Goodbye, James.” She didn’t spare him another look.

“Simon?” he called in a small voice. “I’m sorry I’m not the father you deserve.”

The lieutenant threw the door shut.

Simon spent the next few days with his mum, Tommy, his wife and son. Since his last visit, Tommy’s got a new job and seemed to be spoiling his son rotten with plenty of new toys, including the shiny red bike outside. Unfortunately, even after over a year, he and Beth still hadn’t had much luck trying for a second child.

Joseph was a brilliant kid with a toothy smile, just like Tommy was, and it always surprised Simon how big his nephew got between each visit. It was a shame he only got to meet his family twice or thrice each year.

“Joe, you’ve been sitting on your uncle’s shoulders all day,” Beth said with an amused smile. “Give him a break.”

“It’s the best seat ever!” His little arms wrapped tighter around Simon’s head, eyes glued onto the cartoon on the telly.

“You need to do your homework.”

“I’ll do it here.” He poked the top of Simon’s head.

He laughed. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Come on now. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” he huffed before dragging his feet to his room.

While he flicked through the channels,  Beth went back to the kitchen where his mum was. He wasn’t one to watch the telly apart from football, but his thumb hovered over the button when the Great British Bake Off came on.

He remembered the episode. He’d watched it with you, the only person he ever watched the show with. It was yours, like a secret only the both of you knew.

It’s the right thing.

Faintly, his mum chuckled at something her daughter-in-law said, and his mind couldn’t help but drift to all the times it was you and her in his flat instead. Sharing stories, laughing, while he smiled at the sight from afar.

It’s the right thing, Riley, I promise.

He turned the telly off and went for a walk instead.

At dinner, the table admired little Joe’s drawings he’d done at school – he always saved them for when his daddy came home. With his precious family beaming, it seemed like the life Simon should have had, the one he always imagined was supposed to be like. But even without the devil trailing behind like an ellipsis, this, somehow, didn’t feel right either.

Despite his smile, his chest was heavy with the rotting carcass of the heart he didn't know he still had until weeks ago.

It’s the right thing, it’s the right thing, it’s the right thing.

Later that night, Simon’s head tilted when he entered the guestroom his mum occupied.

“Have you not packed yet? We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ve still got training on Monday.”

On the bed, she lowered her book and frowned. “I’m not leaving. Manchester is my home, Si.”

“Home is where you’re safe, mum, and you’re not here.”

She sighed, the sympathetic kind, before putting her book away. “My well-being and happiness aren’t your responsibility.”

He scoffed. “‘course they are.”

“I can’t thank you enough for thinking about me, but what’s happened, happened. I’m trying to start over, and that includes not being a baggage to you.”

He blinked. “Mum, what are you on about?” he asked carefully as he sat next to her.

“You need to live your life. You push good things away, Si.”

What… “I don’t. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Always so stubborn.” She shook her head. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Si. My first love… Your granddad didn’t want us together, and I ended up with your dad. I grew to love him, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I chose easy over real. Sometimes I wonder if I’d been less afraid, what life would be like now.

“I'm by no means regretful, because I got to have my two perfect sons, but you had to pay for my mistakes too, and for that I’m yet to forgive myself. I’m supposed to give you a good life, but I didn't. The least I can do now is not hold you back.

Her hands clasped over his. “So live for me, Si. Don't worry about me. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will always be your mum. I can’t stop loving you even if I tried. I just need to see you happy, that’s all I need from you.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m not good enough for her,” he muttered.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Isn't it too late?”

“Never.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You make it sound harder than it is.” She cupped his cheek. “It won’t be painless, but if she’s the one, it will be worth it.”

Against his mum’s shoulder, he wished his tears would stop flowing, but with the way she rubbed his back, Simon was once more just a little blond boy with the scraped knee.

From the front porch in the chill night, it was shameless how he called you at that hour, when he didn’t even say goodbye when he left. It was shameless how even after you rejected his calls, he still called for the 5th time, or 10th – he’d lost count. But at last, the line connected.

“Luv,” he said breathlessly, palm pressing against his eyes that had barely dried.

“Please stop calling me.”

“No, wait. Please, listen. Don’t-”

“You’ve made up your mind. Begging only reduces me to nothing, so I didn’t try to change it. I owe you nothing, Simon.”

And the line clicked off.

Still sat on the steps, he blinked at the phone in his hand, deciding if he was going to worsen the situation if he called again. It was shameless that he did anyway, but it went straight to voicemail.

Simon might not have had plenty of dating experience, it was shameless really, but he knew he still had a chance if you were mad.

You’d listen when he showed up at your door, still hauling his backpack.

“Luv, please. Please, listen.”

He thought his heart was about to explode when your footsteps approached. The door opened halfway.

“Hi,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he was near to tears. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t get the words out.

“I've thought about it. You're right. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was always so hard to see you leave, and I realised it’s only going to get harder.”

No, no, no...

“Thank you for being honest and saving us from further heartache. I know I didn’t have to block you, but I hope you understand my decision to not be in contact anymore.”

“Luv, no. I wanted- I want to try. I don’t care how hard it gets.“

“I care. I want stability, maybe even a family, and I see now we’re not heading in the same direction.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pained smile. “I wish you all the wonderful things, Simon. Truly, I'm so thankful I got to know you.”

He barely made out the words tumbling out of your lips, wishing he was hallucinating.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you whispered as you closed the door.

Even then, you didn’t give him a foul look for his audacity to show his face after biting the hand that fed him. It was the last time you were going to see him, why did you still have to treat him with respect?

He wished you’d have said something mean, even sick. You should have called him names, tell him he was the most ungrateful man there was, that he was just like his dad, so he had something to hate, so the fire could flare up high once more and he’d be safe behind it like he always was.

But it was you. You could stab him in the chest, and he wasn’t sure it would have been enough to hate you. To overwrite how wonderful you’d been to the wounded stray.

His gaze cast down, unmoving at your door. He did this to himself. It was his fault for dropping his cold stare, for smiling, for looking when you weren’t, cracking his jokes, touching your hand and kissing you, for lying down and baring his belly. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t want him anymore after what he’d done.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the vivid curve of your lips, your soft laugh, the caress of your fingers. The ache for you morphed into an itch that made him want to claw at his skin, to replace the sweetness with bright, searing pain.

Would you please do the humane thing and shoot him so he didn’t have to drown in the storm that brewed in him?

It was for the best, he told himself. It was what he wanted after all, to keep his problems away from you, to keep you happy, even when he wasn’t in the picture. Leaving you was his repayment for being a thankless beast.

“Just because I go, doesn’t mean my heart follows,” he whispered.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast

[shawnxstyles]

personal

DATE: JULY 24, 2023

summary: you and harry are best friends who tell each other everything. or so you thought. when harry finds out you’ve barely done anything sexual, he offers to change that. and then things get a little… personal.

song: Glitch- taylor swift (this song seems fitting)

words: 6.5k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [rubbing, fingering, nipple play, praise kink], mirror sex, cum tasting??, dirty talk), and language.

note: i literally wrote this in a few days i think. this idea is so basic, but who doesn’t love a cliché concept? PART 2

bestfriend!fratrry x inexperienced!reader (because i literally write no one else and fratrry is the love of my life)

—

Harry had a lot of friends. People that he grew up with and some that he met along the way that just stayed. But you were his number one overall, and he told you everything. You told him everything too.

Well, almost everything.

It never really caught his attention that you guys never talked about sex. You guys have been friends for 15 years, since you were five, so you’d think it would have been brought up at least once. But now that Harry thinks about it, he can’t think of one time you’ve talked about the act.

He didn’t think it would be like this. And he didn’t think you’d answer like that.

You and Harry were casually hanging out on a free school day, just like you always do. And then you start talking about this date you went on and how the guy was great. Harry was happy for you, he really was. All he wanted was to see his best friend happier than happy. However, being the best friend he was, he was nagging and joking with you.

“Think he’s the one, eh?” Harry jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully on your couch.

“Oh, stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. Yeah, Mike seemed like a decent guy and maybe you could have a relationship for a short time, but he was nowhere near “the one.”

You weren’t too desperate for a relationship, you liked whatever came to you. This cute guy asked you on a date a week ago and you weren’t going to say no. Because what if he was the one? He wasn’t, but what if?

“Imagine it, Doll,” Harry started. He began calling you Doll when you two were just kids. You loved to collect dolls of all sorts, but you never dared to take them out of the box. Harry thought it was silly, but also cool. “picket white fence, beautiful lake house. Kids runnin’ ‘round—”

He saw your face cringe at the word kids. He tilted his head in confusion, arm moving to rest behind you on the couch. He scoots closer to you and waits for you to respond.

“No kids for me,” You awkwardly chuckle. It seemed almost sad the way you sounded.

“What? Thought you wanted to be a mum?”

“Not anymore,” You breathed out with an awkward smile, “need a husband to do that.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout getting a husband. Shouldn’t stop you from wanting ‘em,” Harry smiled sincerely at you and you nodded while looking down.

“Plus, you could always just go out on the street and ask some good-lookin’ lad to be the father of your kids!” You socked Harry hard in the shoulder. He lets out a hearty laugh because he always ruins a sweet moment with a stupid joke. That’s just how you like it though.

“I’m not a prostitute!”

“Never said tha’.”

“Can we just watch some TV? You’re annoying me,” You roll your eyes as you reach for the remote. Harry continues to laugh as you switch the television on.

When you’re indecisive, you toss the remote to Harry and he shuffles through the stations. He lands on a random one, also indecisive. You guys were too similar sometimes.

“Look on your phone for somethin’ and then I’ll find it. I’m done searching.”

“You looked for like two seconds!” You laughed at his laziness. He shrugs with a smile, leaning into the couch. Again, you roll your eyes playfully before doing a bit of research on your phone.

Suddenly, a moan echoes throughout your living room and your whole body stiffens up. Harry notices and tears his eyes away from the screen, which was portraying the sexy noises. You don’t look at him even though you can feel his eyes burning into you.

“Alright?” he asked out of concern, peering at your rigidness. He’s only ever seen you get like that when you were anxious or scared, but nothing happened. Maybe you saw something scary on your phone?

“Uh, yeah,” You squeaked as the TV moaned again. Your face cringes and you force yourself to keep your eyes on your phone.

“Y/N, seriously,” Harry stares between you and the screen when she noisily moans again. The woman was being eaten out by the man and was being overly loud. Her back was arching and her breasts were on display. The movie was inappropriate, 18+ for sure, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. Right? You were both 21 years old.

“This… just makes me a tad uncomfortable is all,” You answered honestly, voice quiet as your legs tightened together. Harry’s eyebrows pursed together.

“Uncomfortable? Why?” he couldn’t help the question that slipped out of his mouth. He was too curious to know why a little movie made you stiff yet fidgety.

Unless… you were feeling something different than uncomfortable.

“No,” You shook your head and attempted to push yourself off the couch. Harry didn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and pull you back. He didn’t want you to run away and for you to feel like you couldn’t tell him something.

“Just tell me.”

“No,” You stood your ground, way too embarrassed to say something. Way too embarrassed to admit that you’ve never had sex before. Way too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything more than rub your own clit. Once. And it didn’t even feel that good.

Your skin was fiery and… tingly. Harry was much closer to you than he previously was because he pulled you closer to him. Your bare thighs were touching, warm on warm with a sudden spark. You didn’t know you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply at Harry’s hooking stare.

“Doll, you tell me everything, but you can’t tell me why a little porn makes you uncomfortable? Because I know it’s tha’.”

“Ugh,” You groaned between clenched teeth. You threw your head back until it hit the top of the couch. Harry’s grip on your wrist never left you. He squeezed it reassuringly, letting you know that he supports you in whatever you’re going to say.

Are you really about to say it?

“Y/N, just—”

“No.”

“I thought we were best friends—”

“Do not pull that card!”

“But—”

“I’ve never had sex before, okay?” You shouted over Harry’s pleading voice and the echoing moans from the television. You’d think by the time you had a whole argument they’d be done having sex, but nope.

Harry was cut off, so his mouth was slacked open. Once he realizes his jaw is on the floor, he blinks a few times to really process what you’ve said. If you had told anyone else, they would have harshly judged you. Harry wasn’t necessarily too different, but he was your best friend, and he was going to try his hardest not too. Harry was just more shocked if anything. He had a handful of different bodies, enough to give him a good amount of experience. So when he finds out you’ve done nothing, he’s beyond surprised to his core.

“But you’ve had so many dates,” Harry looks over at your face, which was looking down at your lap. Your wrist was still trapped in his hand, but you were twiddling your thumbs like you were in trouble. He starts rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb over your knuckle. Your skin was so hot, and Harry’s theory of you being turned on continued in his mind.

Did you even know what that meant? You were naive, right?

“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” Your attitude was shining through. But deep down, you were more embarrassed than anything. This was just your coping mechanism. And of course, Harry knew that.

“Surely you’ve done something else,” Harry suggests. You pin him with a knowing look and a long blink.

“I haven’t,” You answered before even hearing his question. He clearly doesn’t care about your reply because he’s asking you a series of interrogation questions.

“Have you had someone eat you out—” Harry points to the screen, but it was on a commercial break now. You got the point, but Harry clearly didn’t.

“No,” You grumbled.

“What about fingering—”

“No.”

“A toy?”

“Where would I even buy that?”

“Or—”

“No, Harry. Nothing.”

“Not even rubbing?” he asks. You stay quiet, unsure if you want to admit the one-time experiment you did.

Why does it even matter? You tried it and you realized you don’t like it, so you never have to do it again right?

“Not… really,” You hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion while your skin burned at boiling temperature.

“Humping?”

“No—I tried to…” You couldn’t get the words out. Not ever you’d think. But especially not with Harry so close to you. His body was warm, not as warm as yours, but it was eliciting something inside of you that you couldn’t comprehend. The way he nonchalantly said so many dirty things made you dizzy.

“Tried to what?” Harry was thinking of so many things you could say. He wanted to finish your sentence, just like how he wanted to finish you until you were crying his name and soaking him. But he wanted to hear you say it. He’s never thought of you in such an explicit way, but with the words and tension floating in the air it was hard not to.

“…do it myself.”

“And how did that work out, Doll?”

“Um,” You didn’t expect him to ask. Your neck and cheeks light up in small flames. Where did this come from? “I…”

“What? I thought you could tell me anything?” When your eyes flickered up to his, they were a dark, swirling green you’ve never seen on his face before. Your heart skipped a dangerous beat, frightened with anticipation.

“I know, I can. But this… it’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s personal—”

“Best friends are personal.”

“But not like this. Best friends don’t do this,” You tried to get up again, nearly ripping yourself away from his grip. But you were in too deep now. Harry wasn’t going to let this one slide. His mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

You.

He yanks you back and twirls you around, releasing your wrist in the process. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his lap. You couldn’t contain the slight gasp you let out at the feeling of his strong legs beneath you. Your legs were on either side of him, tempting to squeeze shut. Every movement you made Harry would feel in this position.

“Best friends can say anything. They can do anything too,” Harry’s hands caress your thighs. They’re comforting and inviting, but are also sending a field of goosebumps along your skin warning you to flee. It’s hard to focus on anything but his touch and the vibration of his words through the air. “Now, tell me, did you rub yourself?”

“Yes,” You stutter, trying to stop your hips from squirming on his lap. He notices and grips one side of your body to steady you. It only makes you want to shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more of it.

Was it wrong to want more of your best friend’s touch?

“Did it feel good?”

“No,” A part inside of you was a bit disappointed that it felt so bland. You thought masturbation was this great thing, and that’s why people did it so frequently. You heard it was also a stress-reliever, but for you, it was just a stress-inducer. Harry could tell by your tone that you weren’t lying.

“Well, you probably weren’t doing it right,” Harry replies and you look up at him with a slightly startled expression and a scoff. You didn’t expect his response to be so straightforward, like he was a doctor diagnosing you with some disease.

“How could I do it wrong? Don’t I just rub…?”

“Baby, it’s much more than that,” Harry said sincerely. He’s never called you baby before, but the nickname had your heart jumping. “Were you even wet?”

“What? I—probably? I don’t remember…”

“You would remember.”

“The experience wasn’t very memorable,” You grumble with an eye roll.

“Do you want me to show you?”

His question had your head spiraling. He wanted to what? There is no way. There is no way those words just left Harry, your best friend’s, mouth.

“W-what? That’s way too personal!” Your eyes were wide and your skin was burning. You were nearly dizzy with this whole conversation and your stomach was tight. You thought you might need to lie down for a while.

Maybe you were sick. Yeah, that’s it.

“Best friends are personal, Doll. Just let me show you, yeah? And then we never have to talk about it again. If y’don’t want. Please,” Harry’s charm was convincing you. Everything about him was luring you in, completely different than ever before. The way his eyes was dark and his touch was warm made you feel wanted and needed, which was contrary to your past dates. They didn’t look at you this way, nearly beg for you this way. They didn’t show you anything. They wanted you because they wanted to get their dick wet, but they hated the idea of a virgin.

And Harry’s familiar. He’s safe. You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with him. But then why are you so nervous?

Harry was willing to teach you how to do the one thing you’ve been curious about your whole life, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity, why? Because he’s your best friend?

Isn’t that supposed to make it better?

“Okay, fine,” You inhaled as your hands gripped onto his T-shirt on his shoulders. You had convinced yourself to let the words slip out. “Show me.”

You were agreeing almost as if this wasn’t a big deal for you. But to Harry, it was. He would take your firsts, and something about that filled him with pride. A smirk slowly rides up on his lips, “Now?”

A blush cascades through your body. Of course he didn’t mean right now!

“I-I thought you meant—”

“Shh, relax, Doll. I was just makin’ sure,” he smirks again, pulling you closer to him. He loved watching you get all squirmy and flustered more than he thought. You could feel his body heat more than ever now, and you’re surprised you lasted this long on his lap without dying. “I’m going to give you a few options, okay?”

With anxiousness, you nodded and swallowed.

“When we do this, you have to talk. So use your words, Y/N,” You knew he was being serious when he said your name, so you replied with yes and then he was giving you your options.

“So, I can lay you down right here on the couch and show you how to rub your little clit,” his explicit words were making your privates ache, but it wasn’t painful. It kind of felt… good? You felt a foreign liquid dampen your underwear, and you can only assume that’s the wetness Harry was talking about. “Or, you can do it yourself on m’thigh with my help. Which one sounds like something y’want to do?”

“The first one,” You answered, painfully desperate to squeeze your legs together to stop this ache. “But how will I see what you’re doing?”

Harry thought for a moment. You made a good point. How were you supposed to learn simply from feeling? Harry knew you were a bit of a visual learner, so he wanted to make sure you saw how to pleasure yourself correctly. And he knew the perfect way to do that.

“I actually have a third option. But s’not really a choice anymore,” Harry doesn’t say anything after, he just lifts himself and you off the couch without warning. You wrap your arms and legs around his body like a koala, making sure you don’t fall. His warmth encompasses you back and you wish you could just stay there forever.

Familiar. Safe.

When your head peers up from his shoulder, you’re in his bathroom. Your eyebrows pinch together, curious as to what his third choice was.

He sets you down on the floor until your feet are planted. You unwrap your arms from him, still confused.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were still dark, and you wondered if they would ever go back to the strong, emerald green they used to be.

“Yes, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no one that you trusted more than Harry that wasn’t in your bloodline.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, “Strip f’me. Keep your bra and underwear on.”

You nearly questioned him in shock. But then you remembered what the whole goal of this was. He was going to show you how and you were going to listen, right? So you did.

Carefully, you stripped yourself of your clothes. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, and some were revealing, so this can’t be as bad, right? Harry didn’t peel his eyes away although you wanted him to. He hasn’t seen you naked since you two were little kids, and even though you weren’t naked, it felt like you were with his burning gaze. Obviously, there were some changes too. Like height, hair, breasts, ass… the whole thing. Harry doesn’t say anything until you’re in your undergarments.

A swimsuit is definitely different.

“Good. Now, c’mere,” Harry sits down on the floor, a few feet away from his full-body mirror. His body was up against the bathtub wall to keep himself steady. You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, wondering what was going on through his head.

He pulls you between his legs until you’re pressed against his body. His warmth radiated through you far better with less clothes on and your body ached some more. Your legs closed to squeeze it away.

“Nuh uh,” he declines. Harry grips your thighs with his ringed fingers and yanks them apart. You gasp at the extreme vulnerability and the coolness that waves over your privates. He throws your legs over his and bends them slightly, making you unable to move at all. “Keep them open, yeah?”

You nodded, but that’s not what he told you to do.

“Words.”

“Yes. Keep them open.”

“Good girl. You’re learning,” Harry smiled and looked towards the mirror. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the growing wet patch on the front of your cotton panties, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He saw and felt your body squirming similarly like how you were on his lap. He’s had a rock-hard cock since this conversation started, so he’s not surprised if you can feel his hard-on poking your back through his shorts.

His hands rested on your knees as you watched him in the mirror. The entirety of it all was extremely erotic, like something that would be on TV.

“If you like something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. It’s important that you do so, okay? It helps both of us learn.”

“Okay,” You were nearly shaking with anticipation. You were so nervous, but why? It’s just Harry. It’s just Harry. “I kind of like when you say I’m doing a good job. Makes me feel… nice.”

“Yeah?” Harry tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to rise on his lips. Of course his best friend, who happened to be the most innocent person in the world, had a praise kink. It just made too much sense. “Like when I call you a good girl?”

You sighed and nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything this time. He just kept going.

One of his hands rested on your knee, tracing delicate circles. He stayed in the same spot, for god knows how long, and you wondered when he would do something. He seemed to be in a trance. He was hyper-focusing on every centimeter with those circles, and although you were getting impatient, you felt cared for.

One of his hands snakes to your chest and rubs your nipple through your bra. Just when you were about to protest, his fingers moved a tad lower. The roughness of his pads tickled your skin just right and caused your thighs to squirm. It was entertaining for Harry to watch you get all squirrely from such a simple touch.

He’s going to have fun with you.

“It… tickles,” You observe as your eyes look down at his fingers, very gradually moving closer to that ache in between your legs. You felt like a kid exploring a new world for the first time; naive and curious.

“What does?”

“Your fingers,” You stare at him in the mirror almost as if he’s stupid. What else would tickle?

“Does this tickle?” Harry’s knuckle brushes the inside of your thighs, lower than he’s been. You inhale at the subtle sensitivity.

“Not much,” You answer, and his knuckle continues to sway leisurely. Your breath picks up, rising faster at his hand’s proximity.

“What about this?” His index finger traces the hem of your panties with purpose. You gasp when he gets deep in between your legs, outlining your cunt with ease. Your legs attempt to shut with a shake, shying away from the vulnerability, but it’s impossible with his strong legs prying you open.

“A-a little.”

“And this?”

As if his touch could be anymore teasing, he finally dances along your clothed cunt, tracing your lips with curiosity of how you’d react. A mix of a sigh and a moan wavers out of you unintentionally, hips pushing closer towards his finger. Your mind blanks, light and fuzzy. Your face immediately falls to gaze at his movements, attracted to the air-headed feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Harry demands while delicately caressing you. It was ironic, really. His voice was so rough and stoic while his touch was ever so gentle. With a few blinks, you're focusing in on the mirror, obeying his command. “How does this feel? Does it tickle?”

“Good, and yes,” You swallow your moan as his finger keeps petting you lightly. You were almost getting used to it, but you wanted more. “Is this what I was supposed to do?”

“Sort of. This is called foreplay. Heard of tha’?”

“I think so?” You were breathless.

“S’basically where I get you all wet and ready f’me. You like that?”

“L-love and hate relationship right now,” You pant as his finger rises away from your weeping, covered hole and travels up to your clit. You choke out a gasp as he strokes it nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Your hand drops to his thigh, gripping it strongly as your body begins to tingle. You strain your neck to keep your eyes on the mirror ahead of you, trying to watch how he does it.

His familiar smirk never fades from his face, cheeks a tad rosy from the heat waving between you two. His wrist is probably sore from the tedious, repeated movements he does. His thick fingers delicately circle your covered clit, applying generous pressure until you’re panting.

“More. I think I need more,” You suggest when his pace stays a consistent speed. You needed to feel his fingers on your bare skin. If he was going to touch you, you wanted him to just do it already.

“Y’think?” Harry’s tone was taunting yet serious. He wanted you to be firm with what you wanted. He didn’t want you to second-guess your own pleasure. If you needed more, you needed to tell him that. The best way for that to happen was for him to train you. “Beg for it.”

As your head becomes floaty with the stimulation, you don’t even hesitate to throw out pleads.

“Please, Harry. I-I need it, need more,” Your head slowly falls back onto his shoulder before his touch is gone. “Wha—”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see you. All of you. He needed to see what he did to you, and if you were really as desperate as you seemed. As shocking as this all may be to you, it was just as shocking to Harry. He couldn’t believe he was this turned on from his best friend’s inexperience. He’s always liked when a girl knew what she was doing and knew how to reciprocate. But something about Harry teaching you and showing you the ropes just fills him with a kind of power and pride that he can’t get from anywhere else. And he’s feasting off of it.

“M’gonna take these off, alright?”

“Everything? O-okay,” He unclipped your bra as you slowly slid down your panties. The tile beneath you was colder than before, but Harry’s warm body behind you kept you comforted.

“Have you heard of the traffic light system?” he asks, hands resting gently on your bare shoulders. He gets straight into the safety part first. It also distracts him from ogling your naked figure against him. He could feel his cock twitch in his briefs at your fluttering pussy and peaked nipples.

“I assume you don’t mean the ones used for driving?” You both chuckle and break some of the swollen tension in the room. It was a nice little reminder that it’s just Harry.

“No, Doll. The one for safety and consent,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, no, I’ve never heard of it.”

“If you say red, I’ll stop instantly and ask what made y’red. Communication is key. If y’say yellow, I’ll slow down and ask you again. And then we can either continue or stop, whatever y’want. But if your color is green, I’ll keep going. Understand, love?”

There was a lot of information, but you were able to keep up. It was actually similar to the traffic light system, which makes the name very fitting. You reply with a firm yes to note that you understand.

All while he was talking and explaining everything, you were getting used to looking at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t always confident in your body, but staring at it in between Harry’s made you feel safe and sexy somehow.

Before your mind can wander too far, Harry’s hands are falling down until they’re at your nipples. His rough fingers lightly pinch the already-hard buds until you’re pushing up into his touch. The warmth and the nakedness made you overly flushed all over. He gropes your breasts with care, slyly sliding another hand down lower.

Throughout this entire process, you’ve been soaking; in your underwear, in your shorts, and now on his bathroom tile. Your lower body has been throbbing in desire to be aided, and Harry seems to know just what you need.

His fingers hover right above your mound that’s screaming for him to go lower. Your heart rams against your chest in anticipation of his bare hands on your bare body, on your most sacred and vulnerable parts. No one has ever touched you beside yourself. A small part inside of you was glad that the first person was Harry because you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

Right?

“Stop thinking s’much,” he says, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His face moves your head, so his lips can kiss your temple reassuringly. You slightly arch your back, so maybe he could see how desperate you are. Your legs were still spread by his, so you know he can see your wetness. If you can see it, so can he. “Just let me show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” You roll your eyes as he shifts your hair behind your ear, “What if I don’t even like it?”

“The name is very fitting. But that’s for a different day,” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Now that sounds like something Harry would say. But your entire face gets warm and your head gets a little fuzzy when you actually imagine it. “and you will. Trust me.”

You take a deep breath. You weren’t sure how far you guys were going to go, but you’ve never felt more ready and more safe. With the system Harry told you about and all his reassurance, it was clear that even if he was teaching you, you were the one that had all the control.

“Now watch me.”

With those words his hand turns into just one finger and resumes on your clit. You gasp into the air as your body jolts. The roughness of his thumb paints your arousal over and over on your skin.

“This little thing is important. Don’t neglect it.”

His rhythm is slow and tedious as he circles the nub. You see and feel him dip down to collect some more of your wetness as he continues stroking you.

“How’s this? Color?” he gruffs in your ear while staring at you darkly in the mirror. You could barely understand him because you were panting embarrassingly and trying your hardest to focus on the reflecting glass in front of you.

“Good! Wait—green,” You corrected yourself as a moan elicited from you, his touch feeling even better each second.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck,” You feel yourself clench around nothing but your own wetness at his words. You both watch as the liquid quenches out of your dripping hole, making Harry groan from behind you.

“Do y’think you can handle one finger? Hm?” his voice rolls perfectly into your ear as he twists your peaked nipple. You couldn’t control your moans at the pleasure. His voice sounded just as good as the feeling of his hands.

“Yes, yes. Harry, please,” You nearly cried from how bad you needed it. You didn’t even know you needed it this bad. You thought you were going to hate this feeling, but you’re far from it.

“So submissive, so responsive,” Harry’s middle finger pushes against your hole, teasing the opening. You hold your breath as he makes you wait. “Breathe, Doll. Relax.”

Your eyes close for a moment. You breathe deep and feel your limbs lose their sudden tenseness. Before you can open them again, Harry’s finger is slotting inside of you easily. A gasp falls from your mouth as your hand grips on his meaty thigh for support.

“O-oh.” The feeling was insane. Intense. Nearly overwhelming. You clenched around his digit, consuming and caging it like it would fade away.

You’re so tight around him, he swears his finger might fall off. Harry’s cock is pulsing and pleading behind your back, but you don’t seem to notice. He’s making sure he doesn’t rut into you, but it’s so difficult when you’re all spread out and submissive for him.

He’s never thought of you like this, but fuck, now he can’t think of you any other way.

“Color, Doll?” Harry grumbles in your ear, voice low and breathy as it fans over your skin warmly.

“Green. What’s more than green? B-blue? Just–don’t stop–God,” Your squeaky voice rambled as his finger pumped in and out slowly. You can hear his smile behind your screwed eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed delicate circles over your throbbing clit to escalate the pleasure.

Your chest was beating fast when your legs started to shake. Your hips bucked closer to his hands, needing more as you chase the glorious feeling.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Harry praises, subtly curling his finger as your back arches. You know that one finger isn’t a lot, barely anything, but you were melting at the praise that Harry gave you. His constant encouragement is what made you putty in his hands. Literally.

“Harry,” You moaned into the heated air, causing Harry to groan desperately behind you. And you’re not too stupid to deflect that Harry might be turned on from the scene unfolding. If you knew more, if you knew better, you would have offered to help him after. But you were inexperienced, and you assumed he wouldn’t want someone to give him head who could possibly bite his dick off.

“Are you close, baby? Hm? Gonna come for the first time on my hand?”

“Y-yes! Please,” You begged as you climbed your high, wondering what the top would feel like if the chase was this blissful.

Your head falls restlessly on his shoulder while his right hand keeps focusing on your cunt. It was covered in your arousal as his pace picked up. The stimulation was almost too much, your body wanted to push away. But your mind was pleading to feel a release you know your body needed.

“Is it gonna h-hurt?” You groaned as your cunt clenched around him again, stomach tensing. A strong rush you assumed could only be an orgasm was approaching you all too fast.

“No, Doll. It’s gonna feel real good,” He twisted your nipple again, pushing you over the edge. You felt his thumb and index pinch your clit, causing you to scream his name against his chest. “Look in the mirror. Watch yourself fall apart f’me. Watch and make sure this time is memorable.”

You always thought Harry had a way with words. You never thought that about dirty talking though. His hands were as skillful as can be, and maybe one day you’ll be able to make yourself feel as good as he made you feel. But his words are something that you’ll never be able to treat yourself with. You don’t think you’ll ever meet another person whose voice is as fitting as Harry’s.

With his demanding tone, you came right over the edge. An overwhelming ripple of pleasure ceased through your body, shaking your legs to the max. Soundless moans and clawing nails were all you were capable of as you came on his large hand. Although you were straining, you never took your eyes off of the mirror. He told you to look at yourself as you came, but you were only staring at the glaring green eyes reflecting back at you. He rubbed all of your orgasm until you were trembling from overstimulation.

Just when you thought he was done, he raised his ringed hand to his mouth and tasted you. You thought that was something that they only did porn or movies. You swallowed intensely as his hum vibrated through you.

“Do you always… taste it?”

“If I think it’ll taste good,” he smirked as you scooted forward to grab your shirt. As you throw it over your head, you just had to ask.

“Did mine taste any good?” You slightly cringed as you asked the question. Does cum usually taste good? What does it even taste like?

His smirk widens, a hint of evilness rising, “do you want to find out?”

Your skin flushes even against the chilling tile. Your heart skips a beat at trying yourself. You hadn’t ever thought of it before. But you’ve come (literally) this far tonight, so why not just take it a little further?

“O-okay,” You slowly lift up your shirt, revealing your fucked-out cunt to him again. “So I just…?”

“May I?” he suggests.

“Yes.”

Two of Harry’s fingers swipe over your cunt, which was still covered in a mix of your arousal and cum. You jolted from the stimulation, tensing quickly before his touch was gone.

“Open,” and without thinking, you do. Your mouth falls open as his fingers lay flat on your tongue. Salty and creamy, it spreads over your tastebuds. You hummed around his fingers just like he did because it tasted good. Yeah, it was a bit odd, but once you got past that, you realized how erotic and sexy it was. “How’s it taste?”

After a bit of suckling on his digits, he puts them out way too soon for your liking. “Good, actually.” You creak from your dry throat.

“I think so too. Let’s clean you up real quick.”

Still sitting on the floor, a warm, wet towel soothes your sensitiveness as he wipes away all of your liquids. A smile broke out on his face when he finished before his hand landed on top of your head. He shook your hair like crazy until it was already wilder than it was. The action was childlike and friendly, almost as if everything between you guys never happened and you were back to square one. It was better that way, though. Right? To just go back to how everything used to be?

Harry grabs the small hand towel and exits his bathroom. You assume he went to discard it and add it to his laundry, but you just sat there in oblivion. You already missed his touch, longing for something you should’ve never even had in the first place. He was the one that offered himself to teach you, but now you’ve been taught, so where do you guys go now? Are you really supposed to just go back to the way it was?

He saw you in ways that no one else has before. You always thought that you would be intimate and have your groups of firsts with someone that you were dating, someone that you loved. Because of this, you realized that Harry was the safe option. Doing this with Harry changed your views on everything, and your body, heart, and mind couldn’t keep up with the rapid reversal.

You knew that Harry had a few notches in his belt. But were they all from relationships or just one-night stands? You didn’t know because you two rarely ever discussed the topic. Was it easy for Harry to go from girl to girl? Or did he get attached like you?

If there was one thing you always feared from sex and sexual doings, it was the intense attachment. You had heard about the infamous addiction intimacy laces within your veins that makes you crave a person. Now that you’ve been with Harry, that won’t happen to you, right?

You’ve known Harry forever, yet you’ve never craved him. He’s your best friend, and you’ve never seen him as more than that. If it was anyone else, you’d probably lose all control because you have no significant relationship with them. It would be easy to latch onto anybody because it would be easy to lose them too. Harry, on the other hand, was not easy to lose.

The last thing you want is to convince yourself of anything. You don’t want to “crave” Harry just because you saw something about an article online about “sexual chemicals fusing.” You couldn’t. No, it was too risky.

You’ve known Harry forever, so you couldn’t lose him forever too.

“I think I found a good movie to watch!” Harry’s voice echoes from his living room and all the way into the bathroom where you haven’t moved a muscle. Your overthinking was louder than it’s ever been. With a shaky breath, you rise from the tiles and stare at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. The same mirror you watched Harry finger fuck you with.

“Be out there in a second!” You shout back as your heart beats rapidly from his heartwarming voice laughing loudly at something. You clutched your chest, wondering why the fuck you were feeling the organ lurch for him in a way that wasn’t meant for him.

You knew that it was way too fucking personal.

—

thanks for reading angels 😙 part 2

taglist: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @raajali3

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine telling zoro you're pregnant

The test results indicate that you were in fact very much pregnant. Having confided in Robin and Nami about missing your period– you had thought maybe it was a fluke the first time, but after a second month without you asked them to help you find a pregnancy test. So, when the crew docked a few weeks later – the three of you went to the local doctor to take a test. Now you sat alone on the deck of the Sunny, results written on a piece of paper. Approximately thirteen weeks. The girls were just as shocked as you and when Nami asked who the father was, you flat out refused to say.

“Not before I tell him.”

They seemed understanding but there were only so many options for them to pick from. It had to be one of the men on the crew, Nami had pointed out. Robin was more respectful and said it was up to you to decide when you told the others – until then, they would keep mum.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

Looking up from the paper in your hand, you saw the father of your child and felt a wave of nerves. He seemed relaxed in his white shirt and black pants, swords sheathed at his side. He looked perplexed when you shoved the results into his chest and started toward the observation room. The rest of the crew had ventured out onto the island, but you came back with the results, telling Robin and Nami you wanted to rest for a bit. Zoro had gone out too, but he must have gotten back, and it was a good thing too. Going up the stairs that led to the upper deck, you felt his sharp gaze on you then heard a curse in the wind. He called out to you but you kept walking to the observation room. Once inside, you sat down on the edge of Nami’s desk and waited for Zoro. He walked in, moments later, fist closed around the paper.

“You’re pregnant.”

“So, you can read.”

“Not funny,” he murmured, taking a seat next to you. Neither of you said a word for what felt like minutes but was most likely seconds until he sighed deeply. “Well, are we going to tell the others?”

“I don’t know.” Your forehead met his shoulder and he chuckled, giving your thigh a soft pat.

“I never thought of having kids or being a – a father. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to do it.”

“We don’t have to, you know,” you whispered, eyes focused forward. Zoro stiffened beside you. “I’m sure there’s a doctor we can go to…we are pirates after all.”

It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross his mind in the time it took to read the piece of paper and the walk to the upper deck, but it was a brief though. He didn’t know what kind of father he could be, because he truly never thought of the possibility.  Would a child ruin his goals? Would it shift everything in your lives? What about your dream to help liberate people around the world? What would having a child do to those dreams?

“Zoro, what do you think? This can easily go away, and we can go back to our lives.” You stole a look from him, and he turned to you, eyes filled with thought. “It can go back to us sneaking around, just us two. Wouldn’t you like that?”

He stared at your face, recognized the sincere gaze in your eyes – the kind of expression that gave many people hope. That’s what you did, gave people the strength to move forward and do things they never thought possible. Zoro was staring into your eyes and wondered if his child would have their shape. He moved his arm around your shoulder, and you relaxed against his side, the two of you close together as the ship docked quietly.

“No matter if it’s a boy or girl, my kid’s going to learn to three sword style.” You moved away from Zoro to get a better look at him. He seemed resolved and smiled at you. “I’m not raising no wimp. We’ll probably have to add a room to the ship. Sure, Franky’s up for the challenge.”

Like that, Zoro was all in.

“Zoro…”

“��also, Chopper better know how to deliver a baby. Nami and Robin can help.”

“Zoro…”

He stood up and walked over to the wall of books. “Do you think there’s a baby book here?”

Zoro finally looked at you and stilled at the tears in your eyes, realizing then that he hadn’t heard a word from you – what you wanted. He felt ashamed for running his mouth so much when you hadn’t even confirmed that you wanted the kid too. He strode over to you, taking your hand in his. If you were to say you didn’t want to go through with the pregnancy, then that was the end of the discussion. He wasn’t going to force anything on you – not even his own kid.

“Hey, what are you thinking?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you laughed. “I’m thinking you’re going to be a really good dad, Zoro.”

The man’s eyes softened, and he asked if that meant you wanted to have the baby. You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, huh?”

He kneeled in front of you, holding your gaze with a stern expression. “Listen, no matter what, I’ll make sure nothing ever bad happens to you two. Got it? The two of you belong to me now and I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Belong?”

An eyebrow rise had the man turning red and he backtracked, swiftly getting to his feet. “I don’t mean it like that! Just – you now, that’s my kid in there and you’re my….”

Amused, you questioned him further. “You’re what?”

Zoro cursed; cheeks bruised with embarrassment. Taking his hand, you smiled up at him and his body resigned. He pulled you up from the desk and held you at the waist, thumbs caressing the hem of your blouse. Realization hit him that you were going to be glowing with child, his child and the thought brushed away all insecurities. He took you in his arms and lifted your chin, eyes baring into yours.

“You’re the mother of my child and I love you.” Perfected words came from his mouth before his lips touched yours and his arms moved around your waist. He pulled you closer, kissing you gently, cradling your back delicately. He was terrified, a feeling that was foreign to him because now more than ever, he had something so precious to lose. His lips parted from yours and he smirked at the way your eyes fluttered open, and he brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip. “So, we’re really going to do this?”

“I love you, Zoro,” you grinned, grabbing his hand to place over your stomach. “…and yes, we’re going to do this.”

Lost in the moment, in one another’s eyes, neither of you heard footsteps approaching. Both jumping back when two hands patted your backs – it was Robin at the doorway. “What a pleasant surprise, are you going to tell the others? Nami didn’t place her bets on Zoro.”

Zoro cringed at the thought of anyone else but him being the one to have gotten you pregnant – it made him want to fight Sanji, because he was sure that’s who Nami thought the father was. It made him mad, but then you touched his shoulder. “Might as well tell them all.”

“Yeah, probably,” he sighed contently, feeling your hand on his back. He nodded to Robin and told her to lead the way – the three of you leaving for the main deck where everyone was gathered, showing off the goodies they had purchased in town. Everyone’s attention drew away from their purchases, eyes focused on Zoro and you as Robin stepped aside. The swordsman and you exchanged glances before you blurted out the news. “Zoro and I are going to have a baby. I’m about three months pregnant and I’m sorry if this puts a damper on things for us as a crew….”

“Don’t be sorry.” Zoro placed a protective hand on the small of your back and looked at Luffy. “I intend on seeing all my promises through, we both do.”

Luffy stared and stared, everyone silent, until a smile pulled from the corner of his mouth, and he rejoiced. “How cool! A baby! That’s like another crew member! You’re gonna teach it three sword style, right, Zoro?”

“Luffy, you can’t give a baby a sword!”

Usopp chastised the captain while Sanji sighed. “Zoro, you’re a lucky bastard. I guess I need to go back into town to get more supplies. A pregnancy calls for healthy foods.”

“I’ll need some medical books; you should be taking vitamins as well.” Chopper tapped at his chin, asking if he could do a full examination on you. You agreed to bring him the paperwork from the doctor’s office tomorrow as well. You relaxed as Zoro told Franky about the extra room, the two men moving off to the side to discuss plans for some renovations. Robin mentioned a bookstore in town. “We can go get some baby books.”

Everyone busied themselves with plans and you felt a wave of relief that the crew was actually happy about the baby, so much relief, that you placed a loving hand on your stomach. It was going to be a challenge, further along in the pregnancy, especially with all the situations the crew finds itself in, but they were your family.

Family protects each other.

 Eyes teared as you witnessed the love of the crew embracing Zoro and you then you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

“I should have known it was him,” Nami smiled, patting you lightly on the head. “It makes sense now that I think of it. I do love kids, you know.”

“Good,” you laughed, holding back tears as she hugged your side. “Because we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Looking to where Franky and Zoro stood, the father of your child found your stare and he smirked. A soft, quiet, knowing smirk that penetrated the depths of your heart and you wished then, that your child would have his smile. Have his small smile and immeasurable strength. The child was going to need it– to the world government, the people that would love them the most, were dangerous people. But your child would know the truth, they will see it with their own eyes and feel it within their heart. They would have a crew full of a family that would do anything for them – no matter what.

[ghcstao3]

what about werewolf!ghost x vampire!soap 👀

hope you don’t mind me using the occasion to revive the rileys for an awkward family dinner

-

Being brought home to meet Ghost’s family is probably one of the more interesting moments of Soap’s (unbearably long) life.

And not only because he’s never properly dated someone as long as he has Ghost before—it’s also because said family isn’t human, and is more than aware of the fact that he drinks blood to keep himself alive.

So. Interesting is where he stands.

Soap is lured in with a false sense of security from two things—the first being Ghost’s insistence that his mother, brother, and sister-in-law are all nicer than him. The second being the warm smile Mrs. Riley offers him at the front door, entirely friendly and sincere, not like the brandishing of sharp canines that Ghost has flashed Soap with once or twice.

She’s pleasant to talk with, already siding with him when it comes to her son’s tendencies, and she even goes so far as to pour him a glass of pig’s blood she’d purchased just for the occasion. And being that it’s so nice, Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he can only tolerate the stuff at best, especially now that he only ever takes from a specific source these days.

It’s through this lovely conversation with Ghost’s mum and the general sense of domesticity that has Soap believing that he shouldn’t encounter any problems when Beth and Tommy arrive.

But how wrong he was.

Beth at least tries to be polite, though Soap doesn’t miss the distasteful scrunch of her nose once she obviously catches scent of what Ghost so lovingly calls the wrongness of vampirism. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t so much as bother trying to hide his disdain.

(Thank God Soap finds out later that it’s mostly just the whole protective older brother act, but still. It hurts Soap’s feelings, just a bit.)

Dinner is absolutely stifling when all but Soap are eating what Ghost’s mum has made, all chatter dying off much too quickly in what little bouts Ghost, of all people, tries to initiate. Soap traces his finger around the rim of his barely-touched glass all while he tries to ignore Tommy’s pointed looks like Soap had done something to personally offend him.

Maybe he had.

“You’re sure about this, Simon?” Tommy eventually, finally asks after nothing but pressing silence. Though the question is asked to Soap’s left, he still feels golden eyes near identical to Ghost’s bearing down on him.

Ghost drops his fork onto his plate, his frustration palpable, emanating in waves. “Do you have to be such a prick, Tom?”

“Boys,” Mrs. Riley scolds from her end of the table. “We have a guest.”

“Yeah, and that guest’s a vampire, Mum,” Tommy spits, throwing out his hand in gesture to Soap. “He eats people.”

“Tom,” Beth hisses.

“Common misconception,” Soap mumbles. He feels all attention shift to him, as if they all remembered he was present—right, super-hearing. He clears his throat, raising his voice, “Only the… bad ones do that.”

“Besides,” Ghost is adding, and Soap is a little fearful of where he plans to take this, “he only feeds off me.”

A tense silence blankets the table. Soap wants to sink into the floor.

“…What?”

“It was my idea,” Ghost attempts to amend, but it’s already much too late. This is already a disaster, beyond disaster, and maybe Soap should’ve stuck to his guns about not meeting a family of werewolves as a vampire.

“Doesn’t matter, Simon!” Tommy exclaims his disbelief.

Ghost rolls his eyes. Soap had not at all imagined this to be where the night would lead. It’s what he desperately wished wouldn’t happen. Because he loves Ghost, and Ghost loves his family—so Soap had felt he needed to be in their good graces.

There goes that idea.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust him, Tommy,” Ghost says slowly, challenging. “Is how I feel about him not good enough?”

This finally seems to stun Tommy into some form of submission. Soap doesn't miss Beth reaching out to flick Tommy's ear.

"S'pose it is," Tommy grumbles.

"Good." Ghost sits back in his chair, and resumes eating with a smug self-satisfaction poised in his broad shoulders.

There's a kick under the table delivered to Tommy, though Soap can't tell by who. He only knows its recipient by the muttered sorry, John, that follows.

Soap supposes he can be content with that for now. He gives Tommy a close-lipped smile, fearing that any show of fangs might provoke him.

All things considered, things could be worse. Even his military training wouldn't give him a considerable upper-hand against a natural-born werewolf.

He'll have to talk to Ghost about it later. Maybe when the werewolf is shifted, and Soap can dig cold fingers through thick fur. Then again another time, when Ghost can respond with more than huffs and whines and low growls.

They'll figure it out—they've already done it once before with just each other.

But they definitely have to smooth things over sooner rather than later, or else it's going to be real awkward when Soap finally gets the courage to pull out the ring that's been weighing his pocket down for little over a month, now.

It's fine. Everything will be fine. Soap can manage interesting.

[avocado-writing]

Hey, so recently my mum and sister have been calling me unlovable and unmarryable (long story, they're not dealing well with the stress of planning my sisters wedding) and even though I think they don't mean it, it's really getting to me. Please may I request Aziraphale comforting reader who is going through this type of thing too? Extra points for smut?

notes: hey anon, what the fuck? i'm your new mum now. fuck that noise, we're not here for it. hope this helps babe.

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rated: M

He can tell when you’re miserable. There will be a little clench of your jaw, a hitch in your voice, and he’ll immediately ask you what’s wrong. And that’s when you’re trying to hide it. Today there is no clever cover-up. Today you are just sad.

Aziraphale finds you staring out the window of his shop at the rainy London street. You look tired. He can see the tears in your eyes that you were clearly trying to hide by facing away, but when they begin to fall fat and heavy down your cheeks there is no pretending otherwise. The angel reaches out to pull you into him, and you grip his coat ever so tightly.

“My dear, what’s the matter?”

“Sorry. Oh god, fuck, this is so stupid. Sorry, I didn’t meant to say ‘fuck’ - ”

“Take a breath, love,” he suggests, and you do, a long, juddering one, but a breath nonetheless. The long swooping motion of his hand caressing your back helps steady you, and eventually you’re able to talk.

“My mum just said something horrible, that’s all.”

“Oh, well. I’m sure whatever she said wasn’t true, my darling.”

“She said I’m not marriageable. I’m not loveable.”

Aziraphale stills. He takes you by the biceps and gently pulls you to arm’s length, giving you a look of utter horror. There’s a long pause, and for a moment you’re worried it’s because you’ve done something wrong, but it’s because he’s trying to work out what to say. What can he say? It’s such a ridiculous thing that’s been told to you, he can’t picture someone telling you such a lie. 

“That’s…” he scrambles for something to say, but settles on simply, “not true. That’s not true at all my dear. Anyone would be very glad to be your spouse, I’m certain of it. And as for ‘unloveable’, I’ve never heard a lie more brazen.”

“Oh, come off it, Aziraphale…”

“I’m not joking,” he states, firm. You dare to look up at him through watery eyelashes and find nothing but sincerity. And then his grip on your arms turns to a gentle stroke of his thumbs, and the anger on his face melts to softness, and he whispers, “you are very much loveable, I assure you.”

A spark of something fizzes between you. Something that’s been growing for ages, actually, but neither of you have quite been brave enough to act on it. But finally Aziraphale sees his opening.

He kisses you, and you turn to jelly in his arms; his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to allow him access. You cling to him tightly, as if you’re afraid that if you don’t you’ll topple over. When you break for breath, you pull away before he can capture you again.

“Aziraphale, look, you don’t have to – you’re not obligated – “

“I’m not doing this because I feel I owe you something, my darling. I’m doing it because I’ve wanted to for a very long time now.”

You crumble.

He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, everywhere he can reach, everywhere he has to strip to access, and he lays you down on the sofa in his office - he cannot hold himself off long enough to get to his bedroom - and makes love to you the way you deserve. Where every touch tells you how much he treasures you, each roll of his hips promising he’d never lie about how he feels.

And then, between open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips at your lovely bare skin, a litany of “I love you”s. Because, look at you. Who couldn’t?

taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 10

Prompt: O74 — “I want to be there when you get what's coming to you."

AO3 or read below:

“You look beautiful.” 

Ginny smiled; a faint rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks. One long strand of hair fell across her shoulder, contrasting strikingly with the exposed patch of skin above her dress’ neckline. “I think you’ve just forgotten what I look like when I’m not covered in baby sick.” 

Harry returned her smile. “I think you make the baby sick work for you.” 

Ginny’s laughter was musical, though, strictly, it was probably considered too loud for the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant. The middle aged couple at the table next to them turned sharply to look at her; she smiled warmly at them before returning her attention to Harry. 

“Well done, you managed to relax long enough to tell one joke.” 

“I am relaxed.” Harry took a sip of his wine to cover the lie he knew Ginny would be able to see written all over his face. 

“Right,” she said doubtfully. “So, if I suggested we go and get another drink somewhere before we go home you’d be absolutely fine with that?” 

The mere suggestion caused his grip to tighten on his wine glass. “You’re not drinking,” he reminded her evasively. “Doesn’t seem like much fun for you.” 

And it definitely wouldn’t be any fun for him. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ginny said thoughtfully, twirling the loose strand of hair around her finger. “I’m quite enjoying watching you pretend you’re not freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” Another lie, one that he knew was betrayed by the tense set of his shoulders, and his clenched jaw, neither of which he felt capable of doing anything about currently.

Ginny snorted derisively, earning her another reproachful look from the neighbouring table. “We’ve left him with Mum and Dad before and you’ve never been like this, what’s the problem?” 

“There isn’t a problem,” Harry’s knee bounced agitatedly up and down beneath the table. “But your mum and dad have a lot more experience with babies than Ron does.” 

“He’s babysat Teddy and Vic plenty of times before.” 

“I know.” He’d told himself as much numerous times over the past two hours, while fighting the urge to abandon dinner altogether and go home, a course of action he’d known Ginny would not take kindly to. 

“Ron kept you alive under much more challenging circumstances,” she continued. “I think he can handle a six month old for a few hours.” 

“Right,” Harry agreed, because the things he wanted to say weren’t exactly fair to his best friend who had, as Ginny had just pointed out, shown him unwavering loyalty in the past. 

“Do you want to become one of those couples who can’t go anywhere without their baby? Because if we don’t enforce some separation, that’s who we’re going to be.” 

“Would that be so bad?” The question left his mouth before Harry could stop it. 

“No,” Ginny answered patiently. “But we don’t want him to grow up clingy either. We’re doing this for him as much as for us.” Her eyes dropped to the tablecloth; her next words came out much softer, and Harry could see she’d had to fight to say them at all. “... And sometimes I need to get out of the house and have an adult conversation that isn't interrupted by babbling or crying every thirty seconds.” 

His – admittedly unnecessary – worry over James was pushed slightly to the side for the moment, replaced by a strong torrent of guilt and concern for Ginny. “Sorry,” he said softly, because he was. Her conversation had been bright and animated since they’d sat down, and it hadn’t occurred to him how much she’d probably needed it after six months of near-constant childcare. “Did you want to go somewhere else before we go home?” 

Ginny shook her head as she looked up from the tablecloth. “No,” she smiled again, letting Harry know she was being sincere. “I think two hours might be my limit… I miss him too.” 

Permission explicitly granted to return home to James, Harry wasted very little time settling the bill, leaving his half-full glass of wine forgotten on the table. He took Ginny’s hand, forcing himself to walk sedately out of the restaurant and into the awaiting night. 

“You’re not being as smooth as you think you are,” Ginny laughed, allowing Harry to lead her into the dimly lit alley beside the restaurant. 

He came to a halt, far enough into the passageway that no Muggles would be able to see them from the street. He pulled her closer, smirking at her through the dimness. “Let’s get home, make sure James is asleep, and I’ll show you how smooth I can be.” 

Ginny’s renewed laughter was abruptly cut short by the crushing void of apparition that swallowed them into total darkness. A moment later, they re-emerged, breathless, in their freesia-scented back garden. Light from the living room spilled out, illuminating the path to the door. Ginny tapped her wand against the lock; it swung open at once to admit them. 

They were greeted by the sound of James’ newly discovered laugh. Grinning, Harry followed it down the hallway and into the living room. 

Ginny was half a step ahead of him. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, Harry collided with her but she hardly seemed to notice. “What have you done to my baby?” She demanded.

Harry’s eyes darted to James, who was seated quite contentedly on Ron’s lap. He inhaled sharply at the sight of him. 

“What do you mean?” Ron asked innocently, turning his gaze on James. “You’re fine, aren’t you mate?” 

“Give him to Harry.” Ginny’s hand curled into a fist around her wand. “Now.” 

Ron’s arm tightened around James, clutching the baby to him like a shield. “I think he’s happy where he is.” 

“I’m going to kill you.” 

Ron paled slightly, looking from Ginny to Harry. “Tell her she’s being dramatic.” 

“Absolutely not,” Harry shook his head vehemently. “You knew what you were doing – I want to be there when you get what’s coming to you.” 

He stepped around Ginny, leaning forward and plucking James out of Ron’s firm grasp. “Don’t let Uncle Ron confuse you,” He said softly, lifting James snuggly against his chest; trying not to grimace at the bright orange onesie covering his son from head to toe, particularly affronted by the Cannons logo emblazoned across his chest. “Mummy and I have already told you we’re a Harpies family.” 

[blingblong55]

Just....please stay?- Keegan P. Russ

Based on a request:

GN!Reader, established relationship, angst, cheating

It was nothing but perfect. It was the life you wanted and dreamed of. He was so open, honest, loving, supportive, and caring. At times you felt as if it was all just a dream. The only times things would get hard were when he was away for work. But when he would come back, it was nothing but happiness. His arms would wrap around your waist, his head nuzzled in between you neck and shoulder. He would give you kisses all over your face, each time repeating 'I Love you's '. And he meant them all. You and him had met days before you started Uni. He was walking to a bar when your friend accidentally bumped into him and caused him to drop his phone.

Your friend from embarrassment kept walking, you stayed behind and made sure his phone was all fine. Since that day, you two went on dates. Got to know each other and when he met your parents, he knew he must ask for permission so he could be more than just your friend. To your surprise, your dad was more than happy, months later, your dad would get calls from Keegan. You mum would get random visits, he and her would talk for hours. Your siblings loved him.

For six years this was all he offered. Not once did he ever raise his voice, or even dare to show how angry he was at something you said. You eventually moved in together. It was a small yet comfortable flat, it was all either of you needed. He was always so soft and emotional around you. It was rare for others to see him like this, but..in some ways it was beautiful how you two matched each other.

"My love, I want you to know how much you mean to me. I know I say it too often, and it can get annoying, but it's the truth. R/n, I absolutely love you. I love how you see the kindness in others. I love it when you hug me, when you make silly jokes and how much you laugh at mine. I have no idea what I did to have you, but I promise I will keep doing just that to keep being worth your love."

His eyes so sincere and kind. He truly was someone else with you, but whats a fool if not in love? "One day, I'm going to marry you, I'm going to work very hard to earn the title of being your husband, I just know I can. Can you promise me you will work hard too? So we can be worthy of those titles?"

It was the words, the way he'd make you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It was his way of showing you, you were truly his on and only. Yes there were fights, but after, he would talk to you about them. "I know baby, I know. let it out, " he would say as he held you close in his arms, "I want you to know that despite this little moment, my way of loving you hasn't changed, I know I said mean things and you did too, but thats okay. I love you, you know that right?" Always made sure you knew what you meant to him. Never did he ever want to go away while you two were upset at the other. If you were sleepy, but recently had an argument, he would make coffee or tea, and you two would talk things out all night.

But now things were different. You and him were sitting on the couch, watching some sitcom. He looked at you in awe, "you know, you are so important to be, max (I think this is a GN name,..so lets keep it as that). I really do love you." He smiled. You weren't the one to make a big fuss over little things. And since you both always talk about things, you just asked him. "Keegan? who's..who's max?" You looked at him with just a tiny bit of,,sadness? or perhaps confusion.

"Oh..sorry..I meant r/n, sorry." His face slightly red, he didn't even notice he had called you someone else's name. "who is this..max?" You sat straight up, leaving his arms in the process. He chuckles, "oh you cant be possibly upset?". "Who. Is. Max?" you asked once more. Why was she ignoring the question.

He sighs and looks away for a second. "You'll hate me if I tell the truth."

"who is max, Keegan?" your eyes became teary.

"max,...max is..well," he couldn't bring himself to tell you the truth, "I fucked up r/n, I'm sorry, its just that I was feeling alone and sad."

"why?" you asked immediately as you wiped the tears that fell from your eyes.

"we had that argument and,,,, you and I weren't talking...and you left to your friends and...well..I needed someone" His voice shaky as he too started to cry. "I'm your boyfriend/girlfriend Keegan. You come to me! Not anyone else. We talk things out, we don't go and sleep with others, we don't fuck up like this"

"please..please forgive me?" "what else did you do?" "it was just once" "and what if we have another argument and I leave to my friends for longer..will you see max again?" "what! no, I promise I won't, I'm your r/n, just yours" His lips quivering and he tried to reach your hands. You stood up, he grabbed your wrist, he fell on his knees to the ground. "please don't leave..I love you r/n, I really do." "if you really loved me, you would've never fucked someone just because you were lonely" "I know I messed up, but please give me another chance, I'll do anything you tell me, anything...just....please stay?" "fuck you." you pushed him and went to your shared room. You closed the door behind you. He stayed on the ground, holding himself close as he cried. "what have I done? I Ruined the one person who saw me for me..I fucked up.." he cried and cried until he fell asleep. You sneaked out and drove to your friends place.

The entire time you tried to wipe the tears as you thought of all the little things you two had shared. The intimacy of being held close, having him whisper sweet nothings while you two danced in the kitchen after hours. His sweet little kisses, that to others were nothing but with each one, he would declare his love for you. How much he loved when you would randomly ask him questions. "hey Keegan...hey Keegan?" "yes, my love?" "do you know why the Taj Mahal was built?" "Hey Keegan?" "yes, my love?" "if unicorns aren't real,,,then who made them up" "I dont know, my love, want me to look it up"

"Babe? have you ever seen a brown cat? Like not a dark brown cat, or a ginger cat..just a brown cat" How he absolutely let you ask them all, and when he didn't have the answers at the time, he would look them up and tell them to you as you two slept. He was comfort and a home. You were never this talkative with any one else, ever, but with him...you could ask anything or say anything and he'd still look at you with a warm smile and answer as best he could. It was more than love, it was more than two fools falling deeper into it. It was a luxury to feel and have what you to did. It was a love war, it wasn't fair at the end, but at moments, it was comfort and peace.

That was you.

That was him.

It was short lived, but it was love for what you knew.

A/N: okay...but hear me out, listen to some sadder Coldplay songs and you have a river of tears...anyways, did I hope it was angsty enough.

Also anon, I hope you liked it

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[tomhiddleston]

One More Tomorrow (Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader) - Chapter II.

CHAPTER I.

Summary: Billy's crush returns to The Halcyon for her seventeenth birthday and the two of them enjoy more chances to grow closer.

Pairing: Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader (third person)

TW: so much fluff, blink and you miss it Billy having some impure thoughts, mention of death of a parent, Billy being Billy again

Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N: I love Billy Taylor so much that I want to scream, explode out of my body, and ascend to the moon. That's the author's note. Also, thanks again to @valeskafics for giving this a read-through for me! c:

Disclaimer: I do not own any The Halcyon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are always appreciated!

Art deco dividers by @saradika

It is the longest summer of Billy’s life, waiting for the months to tick by and November to finally arrive. Every day is just another shift. The same old thing day in and day out. Now and then, Billy catches himself staring wistfully at the marble staircase as though he will see her coming down to have lunch with her father or pop out for a bit of shopping. He even starts dreaming about her. About taking her dancing or going on a drive through the country. One morning he wakes up blushing after dreaming about her in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle toward him in a church filled to the brim with white roses. 

Does she dream about him, too?

The stiflingly hot summer months wane on and Billy continually bothers Mr. Garland about the Greenes’ return visit to The Halcyon. Every time he asks, the answer is the same: there has been no request yet about any birthday party, whether for Mr. Greene or his daughter. Billy starts to wonder if she won’t return in the fall. If, maybe, she’s found a beau in Birmingham - one she would rather celebrate her birthday with. One her father might actually approve of.

He starts to mope around The Halcyon when August turns into September with still no word, enough that even Mr. Garland begins to notice. His mum, Peggy, has seen the most of his gloomy mood out of anyone, what with having to watch him drag his feet around their house every morning and night. “It’s about that girl again,” she tells Mr. Garland and both share a sigh. Young love can be such an overwhelming, complicated thing. But this is Billy’s first time coming face to face with it, and she hates to see her sweet boy - her eldest child and only son - like this.

Peggy is, therefore, elated when a letter arrives at The Halcyon addressed to Billy. When he arrives to have tea with her that afternoon, she wiggles her finger at the mailboxes beside her desk and tells him to look. 

But who would write to him? His confused expression only warrants a smile from his mother.

“It’s from Birmingham, Billy.”

He very nearly throws his teacup to the ground to lunge for the letter. Sure enough, that’s his name written in delicate cursive on the back of the envelope. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he tears open the letter and finds an automobile sketch inside with a single folded piece of paper. A handwritten letter so perfect that it almost looks printed.

Dear Billy,

Mr. Garland said you liked my father’s automobiles, so I managed to get one of his original sketches of the Model F for you. It’s not much, but I hope you will like it all the same.

I’ll see you in November.

She’s signed the letter “yours truly.” Not “sincerely,” not “regards.” He’ll be pouring over the meaning of that one for days. But, no matter the meaning of the signature… she’s remembered him. She’s thought of him. She’s taken the time to write to him! And she does still plan on returning to The Halcyon. 

Suddenly, his dreary summer no longer feels so dreary.

November 1939.

The leaves on the trees lining the streets of London have turned orange and fallen. The grass, once kissed with glittering morning dew, slumps from the heavy frost that coats it each sunrise. It hasn’t snowed yet, but winter’s chill is beginning to set in in earnest. 

None of the ladies at The Halcyon dare step through the front doors without their heavy coats, gloves, and scarves any longer lest they catch their death, they lament. The fireplaces roar at all hours to offer some heat to the towering lobby. The doormen keep the doors shut as much as possible to trap the warmth inside. Cold manages to seep in every now and then when an unfortunately timed breeze blows through just as someone is stepping in or out, but it’s never severe enough to linger.

It is only a few weeks before The Halcyon’s lobby will be stripped of its usual flowers, vases, and other decorative trinkets and decked out in full Christmastime splendor. But first, the hotel must play host to the seventeenth birthday party of a certain young woman. And her father has spared no expense in decorating the lobby and the bar for the occasion. 

Before the Greenes even arrive, the lobby is filled with dozens of arrangements of white and pink roses in gold vases. Mr. Greene even commissioned a special tiered gold chandelier for the occasion, which hangs low over a stunning centerpiece of peonies, hydrangeas, roses, and lilies enhanced with sparkling Swarovski crystals. 

The other bellboys whinge about the decorations being too much, but Billy just brushes them off. He knows in his heart that they aren’t enough. Every flower in the world wouldn’t be enough to match her beauty.

He’s proven himself correct when the front doors swing open and she walks in, arm linked with her father’s while the other holds onto her dog’s lead. Billy has made sure that he is the one to take her coat and hat. He notices the coy smile on her rouged lips as he slips the coat off of her shoulders and the soft blush that blooms on her cheeks when his fingers brush against her upper arm. 

“Hello, miss,” he mutters softly, unable to hide his own smile. His heart is full to bursting at being so close to her again. The warm, rosy scent of her perfume is filling his nostrils and making his head spin.

“Hi,” she whispers over her shoulder, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “It’s good to see you.”

“You…” Billy’s mouth has gone so dry that he can’t finish what was meant to be a two-word sentence. He clears his throat to no avail. “Uh huh.”

She’s quickly whisked away by her father and Mr. Garland, who are eager to show off the decorations to her. It’s clear that she isn’t used to such grand gestures, seeing how she nervously clasps her hands in front of her and shifts from one foot to the other. Billy drinks in the sight of her, in her pale blue dress that he guesses has been tailored to fit her judging by the way it so perfectly hugs her every curve. His eyes linger perhaps a little too long on her bum because he hears Feldman clear his throat. 

“Come along, lover boy. Luggage to unload.”

Billy doesn’t see her again until the following afternoon, when he is sent up to her room to take her dog out for a walk. She’s otherwise preoccupied, Feldman says. If it were for anyone else - even His Lordship himself - Billy would have groaned and grumbled about having to stumble about the streets of London being dragged along by a dog. He doesn’t even want to think about the more than few occasions when he’s lost control of a dog’s lead and left the guest’s beloved pet to run amok in the streets. He’s had to dodge cars chasing after more than one poodle or bulldog, only to return to The Halcyon completely out of breath and with his bellboy hat and cloak all askew.

But he won’t let that happen to her dog. There is no way that he will treat this dog as anything but the most precious jewel in the world. 

Walking toward the lobby, he has wrapped the lead around his wrist twice so there is no possibility for the dog to break free. He does thank his lucky stars that the dog is so small and well behaved. Even less of a chance to muck things up. Still… he can’t help but feel nerves churning in his stomach at the thought of something happening to the animal.

“Alright there, Clara?” he asks the corgi as she trots along happily beside him down the stairs. “It’s you and me today. Please be good, yeah?”

“Don’t worry. She always is.” 

Billy freezes. He knows that voice. 

When he looks up, his eyes meet hers. He’s been standing at his post by the door all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but he wasn’t expecting to see her right now. His free hand tugs at his uniform jacket to make sure he looks perfectly tidy and in order.

“Clara, are you going for a walk with Billy today?” She coos in a high-pitched voice to the dog, who spins in a circle in excitement. He watches a small crinkle form at the corner of her eye as she smiles at her beloved pet. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold and her hair is windswept, but she still looks as lovely as ever. “Do you… mind if I join you?”

“N-not at all,” Billy replies, sounding more nervous than he’d like to. “Bit cold out, though.” No, he reprimands himself. Don’t try to dissuade her, you idiot! He’s fidgeting with his hands again like he does every time he talks to her. Get it together, Billy.

“It is, but… I need a break from all this last-minute party planning. If I have to look at another table setting, I think I’ll die of boredom.” She rolls her eyes dramatically to emphasize her hyperbole, but Billy still prickles at the mere thought of it. 

“I don’t want you to die,” he responds with a little too much sincerity. But he means it. He can’t think of anything that would be worse.

“All the more reason for me to join you, then, Billy.” 

Her smile softens the tightness in his jaw. He offers a crooked grin in return, but he’s kicking himself inside. Will he ever stop making a fool of himself in front of this girl? He could tell himself a thousand times to act normally around her and he would still muck it all up the second he opens his mouth to speak to her. And yet, she doesn’t seem to mind? She might even… like him? 

He reckons he’ll never understand girls.

Their walk with Clara winds up being the longest they’ve ever spent alone together. It’s so much more than a stolen glance across the hotel lobby or a few minutes spent chatting when he brings her tea. They are strolling through Hyde Park side by side, almost in a world of their own. This isn’t the time of year when mums are out with their babies in prams or old couples are walking hand in hand among the trees. Due to the cold, the park is uncharacteristically empty and quiet, save for their own shoes crunching along the stone path and the jingle of Clara’s collar.

But the very best part is that Billy has gotten a chance to hold a proper conversation with her. If by “conversation” he means “letting her tell him about herself while he bloody clams up yet again.” She tells him about her life in Birmingham, about a book she’s reading, about her father’s company. Anything and everything. He’s happy to hear her talk. He’d listen to her read the dictionary aloud if it meant he could hear the sound of her bright, sweet voice. She has a way of softening the inflection at the end of her sentences that is so warm, so comforting. 

“Billy.” His head snaps toward her like it does every time she says his name. “Is it true that your mum works at The Halcyon, too?”

“Yeah… she’s the telephonist.”

“Oh. I’ve spoken to her, then.” A realization dawns on her and she laughs, throwing her head back in a way that makes his ears go hot. “Oh… Mrs. Taylor. I’m so silly. I should have known. She seems nice.” 

“She is.” Billy wrinkles his nose. “Bit overbearing, though. Sometimes…” He’s convinced that his mum still sees him as her little boy the way she treats him at times. Fussing over his hair, fixing his collar, tying his shoes. As if he isn’t turning eighteen next year. 

“Yeah, but that’s just her being your mum, isn’t it? They’re supposed to be like that. It just means she loves you.”

Billy shrugs. Doesn’t make his mum any less annoying about it. “What about your mum?” 

He realizes he’s well and truly stepped in it when he sees her face fall. He had wondered why only she and her father had been to The Halcyon, but guessed that maybe her mum didn’t fancy traveling. But the way she purses her lips and stares at her feet as they continue walking suggests something else. 

“She died when I was four.” 

“Oh–” Billy feels his heart sink at having brought up such a sorrowful memory. He wants to apologize a million times and it wouldn’t be enough to convey how sorry he is.

“Please don’t feel bad about asking. It’s been so long that I… I don’t really remember her. It’s just been me and dad all this time. And he makes sure I know that I’m loved.” She laughs dryly. “I mean, look at how completely overboard he’s gone with this birthday party. I guess that’s his version of being overbearing.”

Billy’s expression softens. “Well, but… you deserve it, though. I’d throw you a party like that. If I had the money.” He realizes what he’s just said and hurriedly attempts to cover his tracks. “I mean…! If I was your dad. No–” Bloody hell, you’ve just made it worse. 

She laughs in the same way she does whenever he fumbles over his words with her. Not laughing at him, not laughing like he’s stupid like other people tend to do. It’s a genuine, sweet laugh accompanied by that glimmer in her eyes that he loves so much. He pulls his lips inward as he feels new heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Did you get my letter, Billy? From this summer?”

His previous embarrassment almost completely forgotten, his face lights up in a wide grin. He becomes more animated than he’s ever been around her, almost bouncing along the path beside her. She clearly notices, judging by the way she smiles.

“Oh, god. Yeah, I did…! That sketch by your dad… that was bloody incredible!”  

She laughs again, a laugh that seems to warm the air around them. “I’m so glad you liked it.” 

“Liked it? I… I loved it. The Model F is the most brilliant car on the market. But you… know that…” Billy stops himself before he begins to fanboy even more. He feels a little flutter in his heart as he glances sideways at her, though. He dips his head a bit in a moment of sudden bashfulness. “Can’t believe you… you know. Thought of me.”

“‘Course I did.”

Billy turns it over again and again in his mind, trying to decipher the meaning of her words. If he weren’t such an idiot, he’d come right out and ask her. But the words bloom and die on his tongue in an instant. 

He can’t remember a time when a girl ever looked twice at him, let alone thought of him when they weren’t together. Had she really taken time to think about him when she had returned home to Birmingham? Did she think of him when she took tea every afternoon, or when she removed her coat upon stepping inside her house? 

His silence eventually prompts her to prod him with a question of her own.

“Did… you think of me, too, Billy?”

His eyes are wide when he turns to her. He doesn’t mean to stare at her like some startled animal, but he can’t bloody help it. The thought of divulging the truth to her strikes the fear of God in him. 

“Yeah, I did,” is all he can manage to push past the frog in his throat.

Yes, he thought of her. He thought of her every morning as he stepped foot into the hotel lobby. He thought of her whenever he passed the flower shop at the end of his street and smelled the freshly cut roses they had for sale. He thought of her on rainy days, on sunny days. He thought of her morning and night. 

Even his younger sister, Dora, eventually started to notice how Billy seemed to float around their house whenever he would start to think about her. Being only eight years old, it had been a prime opportunity for the younger Taylor sibling to tease her brother relentlessly. But not even Dora’s incessant needling could have dissuaded Billy from thinking about the charming, beautiful girl from Birmingham who had smiled at him and made him feel wanted. Nothing could.

That’s what Billy would have said to her if he’d had the courage to do so. 

Instead, he just manages to flash a shy little smile that seems to satisfy her because she responds with one of her own. 

“Will I see you around at my party tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah… I’ll be working.” 

She doesn’t know that he begged and pleaded with one of the other bellboys to switch shifts with him so that he could be there. He doesn’t tend to work such late evenings. His mum prefers him to be home for dinner. But he would have done anything to be there for her party, even if it means that he will be stood by the door taking hats and coats all night.

“I wish you could come to the party itself,” she mutters softly, perhaps thinking that he can’t hear her. She sounds so earnest that it gives him butterflies. “My dad and my cousin Margaret won’t tell me what they’ve got planned, but I think it'll be a real gas.”

Billy knows he may be a bit daft sometimes, but he isn’t stupid enough to think that he could be anything but a bellboy at her party. When he’s alone with her, it feels a bit like they aren’t from different social classes. That the earrings she wears aren’t real diamonds and her clothes haven’t come from the finest shops in London. That he isn’t a lad from down the street who’s never owned anything that wasn’t second hand. She treats him like he’s someone. Someone worth talking to, worth listening to. Someone who is more than just another worker whose name she’ll forget by the next day.

It brings him crashing back down to earth every time he steps out of their little bubble and back into the real world. In the end, he’s just a bellboy. And she’s a beautiful heiress. Love, affection, even friendship between people like them is something forbidden. That is something that Billy must constantly remind himself of. It hangs in the very air around them whenever he is with her. But it does not stop him from wanting her.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” Billy says, and he means it. “I hope you do.”

Billy laments that they’ve been walking for long enough that The Halcyon has come back into view. Their approach spells the end of their walk together. It’s a return to that real world where they must go their separate ways; him, to his work, and her, to her glittering, beautiful life. 

The hotel lobby welcomes them back with the warmth of the fireplaces, which helps them begin to shake off the November chill. Theirs is a quick goodbye as her cousin pulls her away, shrilly and breathlessly admonishing her for disappearing when there is still so much to do for the party. But she’s sure to give Billy one last tender smile before she disappears into the restaurant.

There’s hardly any room to breathe, let alone move, through The Halcyon lobby on the night of her seventeenth birthday party. If anyone thought there had been too many flowers in the room before, then they would have had to rethink their definition of “excess” upon seeing the state of the lobby tonight. 

Flowers, mostly white roses, cover every pillar, frame every doorway, cover every rung on the bannister. There is even an archway created entirely from flowers at the top of the staircase - the perfect setting for the birthday girl’s grand entrance. And the gold accents have only been expanded upon since the day before. In some places, the light bounces off of the gold candelabras and vases in such a way that it casts a warm reflection on the walls and floor. It’s the most extravagant affair that Billy has seen at The Halcyon in more than a year of working there.

And it’s all for her.

The buzz in the room dies down in an instant when Mr. Greene appears in the archway at the top of the stairs, delivering a short speech about the gathering of family and friends that is eloquent without any of the stuffiness of having been rehearsed. It’s clear by the reaction of the crowd that he has a natural charisma about him - something that his daughter has clearly inherited from him. 

Billy’s eyes widen as she steps out from behind the flowers after being beckoned by her father. There must be a hundred people packed into the lobby, but it’s as though a spotlight has been shined on her. Flash bulbs pop and the room erupts into applause. But all that seems to exist in this moment… is her.

Billy enjoys the perfect view of her from where he stands beside Feldman by front doors. She’s wearing her hair in an elegant updo with roses pinned into her low bun. Her gold floor length gown cascades around her like a sparkling waterfall, flowing over each step of the staircase as she and her father begin to descend arm in arm. The dress is modest, with long sleeves and a v-neck that doesn’t show off too much. But the gold fabric gathers at the waist in a way that accentuates her lovely figure. Billy can’t help but bristle at the thought of all the young men who will get to dance with her tonight and rest their hands on the soft curve of her waist.

But when her eyes meet his from across the room - however briefly - all his jealousy and longing melts away in an instant. 

Billy spends the rest of the evening at his post but finds himself craning his neck each time the door to the hotel bar opens, on the off chance that he will catch a glimpse of her in her beautiful gold dress. He thinks he does once or twice, but he can never be sure. 

The night wanes on and Billy begins to yawn. He’s never worked this late before. If he wasn’t here, he’d probably be fast asleep by now. Feldman tries to send him home at half past eleven, but he just shrugs him off. 

“Billy, you’re falling asleep standing up. Go home.”

Billy hums and shakes his head, lifting a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “Can’t go yet.”

“What are you waiting for, Billy? For me to have to carry your ugly mug home because you’ve fallen asleep on the job?” Feldman’s rising annoyance with him makes him blush.

“I…” Billy stares at his feet. “Could you do me a favor, Feldman?”

Fifteen minutes later, Billy is pacing back and forth in the dark restaurant on the opposite end of the hotel from the bar. The chairs have been flipped and placed atop the tables for the night. The silverware sits, polished and ready for the next day. The curtains are drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows, with only the softest light from the street lamps outside filtering through them. Only the sconces on either side of the door offer any real light to the room. 

Billy has removed his bellboy hat and nervously sweeps his palm over his slicked-back hair to ensure that not even a single hair is out of place. In his free hand, he clutches a small, wrapped box with such a vice grip that his knuckles have gone white. And he continues to pace and pace and pace while he waits for the restaurant door to open.

When he sees the small crack of light at the door begin to grow and spread across the carpet, he stands at full attention with his hands behind his back. Somehow, his heart begins to beat more quickly than it already has been when she peers around the door. Her furrowed brow softens the moment she lays eyes on him.

“Billy… hi.” She’s smiling, and the light beside the door hits her face in a way that gives her an angelic glow. “Heard you wanted to see me.”

If only she knew just how badly he’s wanted to see her all night. He drinks in the sight of her, looking her up and down. He notices little details that he didn’t see from across the room earlier. The teardrop earrings she’s wearing that match her necklace. The little curled strands of hair that fall on either side of her face. The pink lipstick that’s different from the red she usually wears. He’s sure to be quick about it, not wanting it to seem like he’s asked her there just to ogle at her. 

“You look…” 

“Exhausted?” She jokes, but the sincerity on his face gives her pause.

“Beautiful.”

The lighting may be a bit rubbish for seeing her properly, but even he can tell that he’s made her blush. Her hand flies to her cheek as if to hide her smile. Her eyes fall to the floor. Surely she’s been complimented dozens of times tonight. He reckons - he hopes - that his has meant the most of them all.

“Thank you, Billy,” she breathes, finally pulling herself together enough to respond. “You look handsome, too.”

He’s caught completely off guard. The very air seems to leave his lungs. At first, all he can do is shake his head and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m… just in me uniform…” 

She takes a step toward him and he swallows hard. It still feels so hard to bloody breathe. “But you always look handsome… doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

It’s by some small miracle that Billy doesn’t fall to the ground unconscious right then and there. He very nearly drops the gift he’s still holding behind his back. It’s only when he has to fumble to catch it so it doesn’t tumble to the ground that he remembers why he had Feldman have her come see him.

“I… I, uh…” he flounders trying to speak again. “Bout to be off for the night, but, uh… didn’t wanna leave til…” He clears his throat. “Til I gave you this.”

“What?” He sees her eyes narrow suspiciously, although she keeps her lips turned up in a smile.  

Billy takes a step toward her, dotting out his tongue to wet his lips. “Close your eyes… and hold out your hands.” 

She does exactly as he asks, letting her eyes fall closed before she extends her perfectly manicured hands. Into her cupped palms, he placed the little box he’s kept in his locker all night. He’s seen the pile of gifts that she’s received tonight, the big boxes with their shiny wrapping paper and bags tied up with perfect bows. The one in her hands is no bigger than a makeup compact, and wrapped in crinkled newspaper with a paltry, crooked bow made out of twine. It’s hardly the most glamorous gift she’s gotten, probably ever. He almost feels embarrassed as he sees it resting atop her hands.

When she opens her eyes and sees what he’s given her, she doesn’t react in disappointment. Rather, Billy watches her face light up in a smile.

“Billy… you didn’t have to–”  

Billy rocks back onto his heels and offers a little shrug. “I know… but I… I had to get you something for your birthday. You only turn seventeen once.”

She’s holding the little gift as though it’s a delicate baby bird. “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Well, I– I mean, you don’t have to…” What if she didn’t like it? She wouldn’t have to pretend to be grateful if he wasn’t there when she unwrapped her gift.

But his words go in one of her ears and out of the other. She carefully plucks the bow open and unveils the ruby red box that’s been hiding beneath the newspaper. Inside it, she finds a delicate rose brooch. The stem is made out of a shiny gold that matches all the gold accents dotted about the hotel lobby. The petals themselves are white. Billy thinks he remembers the shopkeeper say that it’s porcelain. 

“Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Billy…” she whispers as she admires the brooch.

He saved up for months to buy it for her after seeing it in the window of the pawn shop down the road from his house on his way home from work one day. His mum and dad usually expect him to chip in for necessities now that he’s employed. “It’s your money, Billy,” his mum said to him when he asked if he could keep a little more to save for the brooch. He put away every penny he could after that. What should have taken him six months to save up, he saved in only four. 

“I, uh… saw it and thought of you,” Billy says warmly. “I know how you… like roses and all…” 

She delicately lifts the brooch from its box and lays it flat in her palm to see it better in the light. She turns it over and over again, treasuring every last detail. And all the while, the smile in her eyes shimmers brighter than the sun.

“Billy, this is so… incredible. It’s beautiful…” 

“Yeah…?” He feels a sense of pride, hearing her genuine gratitude and seeing her joy. 

“Yeah.” She finally looks up at him and he felt his stomach flip. “Billy, it’s perfect. I love it. I love it so much…” She reaches out to take his hand and wraps her fingers around his. Her touch is soft and warm against the calloused pads of his fingers and palm. Bloody hell, how many times can he nearly faint in front of her in one evening?

For a fleeting moment, there’s a force that draws them closer to one another. His senses are overwhelmed by the smell of her perfume, the warmth of her hand in his, the sight of her face so close to his. But he’s a bloody idiot as always and stands completely frozen in place. He wants to lean down and press his lips to hers, but his muscles won’t move.

He clears his throat. “Can I… put it on for you?” 

He sees disappointment flash across her face before she pulls away. She’s quick to replace it with a sweet grin, but he knows he’s missed his chance. He’ll be kicking himself for weeks for this. Stupid, stupid coward. 

“Please.” 

His hands are shaking as he takes the brooch from her and fumbles to clasp it to the front of her dress, just below her left shoulder. 

“How does it look?” she asks.

Billy can think of a million ways to describe her beauty in this moment. Not just the way the brooch looks on her, but everything about her. In the end, he smiles crookedly and settles on the one he thinks encapsulates her best.

“Exquisite.” 

Their time together is short as always. Her party can’t go on without the guest of honor and he can finally allow Feldman to send him home now that he’s given her her gift. His mum’s probably waiting up to make sure he gets home safe and it’s nearing midnight, now.

“Billy, we’re leaving for home in the morning,” she tells him as if he doesn’t already know that. “I guess… you’re off tomorrow.”

In any other situation, he’d be glad that Feldman wasn’t making him come in first thing after working such a late shift. But now it means that he won’t be there to see her off like he did the last time. 

“Can I write to you again, Billy? After I get home?” 

“Of course.” His earlier embarrassment at having denied her a kiss is somewhat dulled by the assurance that she wants to keep in touch. “But my handwriting’s a bit rubbish…”

She laughs. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’d… like to see it. Be sure to write back. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Satisfied, she pulls open the door but stops in the doorway. “Thank you again, Billy. For my present. It’s the best one I’ve gotten tonight.” She chews on her bottom lip, lingering on the boundary between the restaurant and the lobby for just a moment longer. She presses her cheek to the edge of the mahogany door, staring at him as though she doesn’t want to go. But eventually she relents as calls of her name echo through the lobby and she is beckoned back to the party.

And Billy watches dreamily until long after the bar door shuts behind her. 

Tag list:

@sepherinaspoppies

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Okay I'm gonna rant about my mum now, cuz I need to. Don't read under the cut if you don't wanna be dumped on!

This woman-- oh my God. Can I just list some of the things that have hurt me or frustrated me?? Okay. Yeah. Let's do that.

Never comforting me (or my brother) when we were little and scared. We were scared of dogs, which was 'inconvenient' to her since it meant we couldn't go to parks. I would literally bite my nail and skin down until I bled when we did and she'd just get annoyed with me like I ruined the day. (Dad did the same thing but has since sincerely apologised. I'm very inclined to think that it was her influence entirely- she has never apologised and when i brought it up one time she laughed it off like i'm being silly)

Constantly makes me feel dependent. And that is the worst thing to be in her mind-- but she won't change her opinion of me that I am?? Like??? The most recent example of this is that I decided I wanted to go back to school (**I** decided)... and then she made the whole thing about her 'pushing' me to do it. Like it was so hard to get me on track. How the fuck did she get to that? This was my decision!! I brought it up first!!

Also on that 'dependent' thing- I am independent to a f a u l t now because of her. For example, I don't care if it's hailing outside with gail force winds, something in me feels disgusted with myself if I accept a ride home.

Oh, more on that dependent thing! I remember going to an evening job interview one time and it was dark when I got out. I thought I could get home on my own so I started walking... turns out it was the wrong direction and I ended up in a very bad area, at night, crying uncontrollably outside a 7-11. She still wouldn't come get me (she was at her boyfriends place) and sent me an uber. There was a random goddam lady getting petrol who was kinder to me, asking if I was okay and offering me a ride home.

A very similar thing happened when I was even younger, 14-16. I got myself stranded in a bushy area and had to walk my ass home- in 35 degree heat, without shoes (cuz mine were so worn out the soles killed), with no water, back to the motherfucking suburbs.

OH! Another thing about her. After she and my dad split up, you know what I noticed??? My brother, sister and I got along so much better when we were with our dad and so much *worse* with mum. You know why?? Cuz she nutures catty behaviour, which is probably why she can't get along with her sister's or her mum. She's always talking to us about eachother behind our backs (I know she talks to me and my sister about my brother, and I know she talks to me about my sister, so I assume she's doing the same with our brother), she gibes us ugly little Looks when one of the others does something she doesn't like and that we 'talked about', and she gives away secrets we told her in confidence??? Like recently my brother was really sad so I asked HIM (I asked *him*) what was up and he said it was nothing- so clearly he didn't wanna talk about it. That's fine. And mum piped up saying pointedly to me that he doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to (True, mum, thanks. I know that)... before telling me his girlfriend broke up with him as soon as he left the room. She did the same thing the last time he had a break up. And then she's also telling me shit about my sister I k n o w she wouldn't want me to know. This is why I don't tell her anything anymore.

And, of course, the pitting us against eachother. Just today she and I had a little argument (argument on her side. I was actually trying my fucking hardest to keep my voice soft and figure out the problem), and my sister comes up to her to give her money for her belly button piercing today. Mum snaps at her, like 'Why do I have to carry that??'. My sister gets defensive, because she's a teenage girl and I mean??? Wouldn't you??? Then my mum 'apologised' by saying '*sigh* sorry, your sister was just snapping at me for no reason'.

And ohhhhh. The guilt tripping. Especially about not getting to move in with her 'love' (This dude, Mark, who works with her. Everyone including my dad and her mother, my grandma, are pretty damn sure she was cheating on my dad with him). She always tells me 'it's because of you that I can't live with him.'.

And the whole thing with Mark is wierd on general??! She got with this man while he was in the middle of a very terrible divorce with his ex wife, who was saying he abused her and their 2 kids. FIRST of fucking all, I understand innocent until proven guilty... but she seemed immediately sure that the e x w i f e was a liar and was manipulating their daughter (who, by the way, has some very deep issues) into saying he did stuff to her? I don't understand why the hell you would jump to that conclusion.

P l u s- she's always taking my sister (the youngest of us. It goes Me (22), then my Brother (20 in June), then Her (16)) on trips with Mark without even telling my Dad?? Surely Dad should have been notified and given Vito power in a situation like this!??

(Luckily I think Mark is actually indeed pretty harmless. But still, none of this is really okay even so)

Small thing, but she has never ever asked me about my writing. She doesn't give a fuck, though she knows it's my Biggest Thing.

Oh, another small thing that gets under my nails. Her thinking I'm so fucking Silly for liking things. And not the good kinda silly- like I'm so dumb and ridiculous for my interests. Like, I'm sorry?? I'm sorry you have no hobbies, you horrible little woman?? I don't need to be patronised cuz I find a little joy in something.

Ughhhhhh she always disapproved of my sister, brother or I ever thinking about us being 'american' at all. Which is??? So ridiculous?? We're not, but our Dad is, and maybe he wanted to share some of his culture, his home, with us??? He moved all the way to the other side of the globe to be with her and this is how she repays it??? We also don't really know our family on that side, we never got phone calls or anything. And I feel like my mum should have encouraged that. So should my Dad have, yes definitely (he's not perfect), but I have a feeling she never supported it. She doesn't even support us seeing her family.

Ohhhh my God. The cleaning. She goes into these hours long Outbursts where she has to clean e v e r y t h i n g in the house, and she's mad at us for letting it get untidy, and if she sees you you're in danger because she's gonna snap at you and make you feel terrible. I now go into the same state every now and then- though I just put my earplugs in and don't speak to anyone.

Ah. And the fat shaming. That's always fun 🙄😒 My sister is so skinny without trying, which is not her fault and good for her- but I have my grandma's hips and larger breasts (I know it's immature to go ha ha mum you're flat chested and I have tits but lool honestly it's cathartic), and that comes with a little belly and wider thighs. That doesn't mean I'm fat. I'm goddamn beautiful, shut up. And I'm tired of feeling terrible about how I look because of her.

... There's more, but I'm losing steam and just getting sad. So I think my job is done for now, thank you for listening.

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

The story of how Mordred called Merlin mom and then proceeded to call Arthur dad and now he's adopted into the family – part 2

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"Sire, the outer walls need repairs but I believe a new design for better structure and materials..."

Mordred had stopped listening an hour ago, he noticed he wasn't the only one as he saw Sir Gwaine wiggling his eyebrows at Sir Elyan who was trying not to snort at Sir Gwaine's ridiculous facial; Sir Lancelot seemed to be one of the few attentively listening when the conversation was interrupted by the King.

"Sir Mordred, what are your thoughts of bridging the gap between Camelot and the druids?"

'What...? When did the topic change?! I should've paid attention!'

King Arthur stared expectantly at him, they all did even Merlin which at this moment made him nervous and just a tiny bit giddy of receiving his Lord's attention that he was bound to say something stupid.

He did in fact, said something stupid.

And utterly embarrassing that he yearned for a hole to magically appear and swallow him up.

"I believe Momlin, I mean mum, er no, uh Merlin can help because we druids would follow Emrys...did I say I'm a druid?"

King Arthur's eyes widened in surprise and as Mordred took a quick peek at Merlin, he saw how much paler his lord looked.

'Oh Goddess this is my fault! I've ruined everything!'

"Mom I'm so sorry. I meant Merlin, I didn't mean to say mom but it's a habit now, an internal one." He nervously chuckled.

Mordred could hear Sir Gwaine laughing probably, maybe he could help Sir Leon tomorrow provided he doesn't die from embarrassment or thrown in the dungeons perhaps.

Of course he's digging his own grave.

Hands clenching he blurted out more treasonous words.

"Forgive me mum—Merlin—Emrys my lord! It's just your magic is beautiful—"

Percival the gentle giant whispered sincerely to Gwaine, "I never knew Mordred was Merlin's son, Merlin must've had him at a young age."

Gwaine loving the drama added his own to it.

"I knew Merlin had experience in being a mother. How else would he have survived years being Arthur's manservant? Aren't mothers great!"

Gwaine grinned and relaxed in his chair, this roundtable meeting has turned out to be unbelievably interesting and enjoyable.

Elyan pitched forward, voice soft and curious.

"Since when did Merlin have magic? Is that how he gave birth to Mordred?"

Mordred prayed for a miracle or for something to shut himself up from blurting out more ridiculous sentences; he would also appreciate it if someone could stop the knights from theorising whether Merlin was his mother or not.

Because that would be impossible. Maybe. Who knows? Magic is natural and weird.

"—which in turn brings out your ethereal beauty, not that I'm flirting with you because that would wrong when I see you as a mom and uh..."

'ABORT! ABORT! STOP!' His brain tries to tell him however his mouth is running on automatic.

"Sir Mordred—" Arthur began to speak when Mordred turned to look stiffly at his King before words rushed out of his unreliable lips.

"Sorry dad...Er I meant—"

'WHAT IN THE AVALON POSSESSED HIM TO SAY THAT!?'

Mordred felt sick.

Literally he wanted to vomit out his guts because first he called Emrys his mother than outed himself as a druid and pretty much told everyone at the roundtable about Merlin's magic! Then he called the King, Arthur Pendragon, his father...in what realm of unfortunate situations and unbelievable events made him call the King his dad!?

He has to do something to salvage the situation and hopefully in Emrys eyes he could be forgiven, maybe King Arthur would forgive both of them.

'Think Mordred, think! What can I do to change this around!?'

For obvious reasons, Mordred's brain refused to think, therefore it spewed out whatever thought was in his mind at that very moment and vocalised it to the world, or at least to just everyone sitting round the table.

"I AM A SORCERER!"

♤To be continued♤

Part 1

[beautifulhigh]

“And that is why Alex says he loves Henry on purpose. Because he is making the active choice to be with Henry, to forge a forever with him…”

All of it is beautifully persuasive and on point. But this section in particular convinced. You reminded me of Alex and Bea’s conversation and it all makes sense now. I should reread the book 😌Thank you for answering my ask so eloquently. Sincere apology to Alex, that sweet, romantic little shithead.

I'm glad my ramblings made sense! But yeah, Alex is actively choosing Henry - especially in that moment - and it's the first time that someone outside of Bea and Pez (and Shaan but the dynamics there are different) is putting him first.

I think it matters that Alex goes to Henry in that moment. Because outing is shitty enough to begin with but it's a whole other storm for Henry. It would have therefore been easy for Henry to have wanted to escape that, to run away to the 'Land of the free' and hole up in the White House as he threatened to do once.

I should have just packed a bag like I said. I could be in your bed, languishing away until I perish, fat and sexually conquered, snuffed out in the spring of my youth.

Instead he's trapped in Kensington, trapped in the palace and the institution, and Alex doesn't come to save him or rescue him, despite the quip about being "Bit short for a stormtrooper". (hashtag #imtaller)

The moment that stands out for me in that scene is this:

but they meet in the middle of the room

They meet in the middle. Alex has come to Henry, he has stepped beyond the wall that separates them, but here they meet in the middle.

“And I said, ‘That’s great, Mum, but as long as you’re letting Gran keep me trapped, it doesn’t mean a fucking thing,’” Henry says. Alex stares down at him, shocked and a little impressed.

Henry is trapped in his circumstances, the palace, the family he's been born into, but when he's with Alex he's freer than he could ever be. Alex gives him that space, carves it out. (it's like the fireside scene from the movie where Henry has the line about the prince's heart "did beat freely once more" and I cried over that because Alex gives Henry freedom.)

Alex loves Henry, deeply and fiercely and forever, and so the next step is logical to him:

“Can you explain?” he attempts lamely. “What [Henry's grief over Arthur is] like? What I can do?”

He wants to know because he wants to know what he can do. He wants to understand so he can act, even if it means doing nothing. If that's what Henry needs then that is what he will do. I've read some beautiful fics that show Alex actively caring for Henry during a depressive or grief-filled episode, and I've read fics where all Alex does is be there with him. And both of those choices are valid and perfect because Bea tells Alex what he needs to do.

“Do you understand?” she asks him, looking right into his eyes. “You need to understand this to be with Henry. He is the most loving, nurturing, selfless person you could hope to meet, but there is a sadness and a hurt in him that is tremendous, and you may very well never truly understand it, but you need to love it as much as you love the rest of him, because that’s him. That is him, part and parcel. And he is prepared to give it all to you, which is far more than I ever, in a thousand years, thought I would see him do.”

My brother will love you to the ends of the earth but there will be days when he will struggle to love himself. And you need to know that you are getting both Henrys.

There is a reason why "for better or for worse" is a traditional wedding vow. It's because you are promising to be with that person, to love that person, to support them through the shittiest times just as much as you will celebrate the best of times with them.

Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

To use the Bard's words, love is not love if it fucks off the second things get too hard. Love is not love if it decides that "nah, I liked the person you were yesterday more, please stop growing and changing even if it is just happening because I understand and know more about you". Every single one of us is altering with every single day. We get a little older, a little wiser. Things happen and we have to change and adapt. We reveal a little bit more about ourselves.

Love is not love if it decides that something is too ugly or depressing.

The more Alex comes to know and understand Henry, the more he loves him. And even when he finds out about Henry's depression he's not noping out of there. He's turning up - literally and metaphorically - and we had the foreshadowing that he would do this long before this awful moment:

Listen: I’ll fly to London right now and pull you out of whatever pointless meeting you’re in and make you admit how much you love it when I call you “baby.” I’ll take you apart with my teeth, sweetheart.

If you want out of the meeting then I will do that. If you want to be taken apart then I will do that. If you want to be held then I will do that. Tell me what to do, let me do the things that I know you love because I know you and I want to show you that I know you.

Henry subjected himself to the mortifying experience of being known and it results in them getting married. Because Alex fell in love and he made the choice to see it through. He could have bailed at any time - hell, Henry himself even gave him an out. And what was Alex's response to that?

He wrote him a list and ended with this:

20. The fact that you loved me all along I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry. Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.

(Emphasis is mine. Obvs.)

Alex knows that he has been loved since the Olympics, and the way that Henry has loved him has changed (which is different to altering) because to begin with Henry denied himself Alex to protect himself, and then after the DNC he offered to deny himself Alex to protect Alex. To give Alex a shot at his dream and life plans, all the things that Henry didn't think he could be a part of.

That moment, that offer Henry made, is before the storming of Kensington when everything is laid bare for Alex - how Henry thought he could have something, a small piece of Alex until Alex got bored or frustrated and then left him. (The infererence that other people have done that to Henry in the past will never leave me or not break my heart.) But now Henry knows that Alex is all in, will wait for however long it takes for them to work this out, and so that email is Alex's promise and reminder of that. The stream of "I miss you" without pause going straight into "I love you" makes it clear - Alex isn't even pausing for breath to let Henry know this and he will speak to Henry before he reads this but Alex knows him. Knows he likes to "have these things written down".

Here is my promise to you. Here is that reminder. Here is my choice.

So when Bea tells Alex that he needs to love and accept all the parts of Henry because Henry is willing to give Alex all of those pieces of him, Alex's response is instant. He's already made that choice, even if he didn't consciously realise it. So much of his relationship with Henry has been unconscious and he's caught up with his brain weeks, months, years later down the line.

“But I’ve always felt it, in him. There’s this side of him that’s … unknowable.” He takes a breath. “But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

Alex knows that he will never fully understand what it was like for Henry to lose his father in the way that he did. He can be told the story and he can see the effect of it but he cannot understand it. Not fully. His love-as-a-noun is looking on the tempest of Henry's emotions and he's not moving.

He is choosing to stand on the cliff and he is choosing to jump off it. He loves Henry. He loves the Henry who has depression and grief so visceral it incapacitates him. He loves the Henry who crafts words so carefully to express more than the words themselves ever could. He loves the Henry who is funny and smart and cutting with his wit. He loves the Henry who gives himself up so completely and loves so deeply.

Alex loves Henry all the more because he sees just how strong and brilliant he is behind the polished veneer of the Prince of Wales. (For this I could copy in the entire maps email, or the scene after the LA hotel night when Alex watches Henry transform himself into the Prince.) Alex loves Henry all the more because he is let in on those dark moments, that Henry trusts him and wants him there when he is at his most vulnerable.

Alex loves Henry for who he is, and Henry is who he is because he's been through all the things he's been through. The perfect version of the prince that Alex sneered at at the beginning of the book, the one that he was enamoured with but didn't have the words or the emotional intelligence to understand why, has been altered with each new revelation. Alex has discovered more and more about who Henry is behind that front he puts on to the world and he's still here, standing in Kensington, telling Bea he's not going anywhere. Even if he never fully understands it, even if this part of Henry remains slightly shrouded to him because he can understand the concept but not the reality.

Alex's love did not alter when it alteration found.

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Twenty-Seven

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 6987

Harry stared at me, waiting for me to continue. I sat there with my mouth open, unable to speak.

“Baby...please?” He took my hands and rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs, but his eyes never left mine.

“I’m scared, Harry,” I finally admitted.

“About what?”

“That if...if I tell you the truth...how I really feel...you won’t want me anymore.”

“How could I not want you, Stacey? I mean, unless you’re gonna tell me you don’t love me-”

“No,” I shook my head. “No, I love you. I most certainly love you, Harry.”

“Then what is it, baby? Please, don’t be scared with me. Whatever it is, we can work through it together.”

I looked down at our joined hands and felt a tear drop from my eye. I felt another coming and went to wipe it, but Harry held onto me, so the tear fell on my arm. When the third dropped however, Harry let go of one of my hands and wiped my cheek with his thumb.

“Talk to me,” he urged again, his green eyes so sincere.

“I guess I...I didn’t exactly realize how we were living in a bubble until it burst.”

Harry blinked, trying to understand my words. “You mean after the paps and the press got word of you?”

“Not just that,” I shrugged. “Although that’s part of it.”

“I tried to explain, love, that’s part of who I am. It’s not going away as long as I’m...doing what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and I understand that,” I sniffled with a nod. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. It might take some getting used to, but I think I could handle it.”

“Then...I don’t get it. What’s the matter?”

I felt the tears threatening to fall again, but I blinked several times and swallowed them back. With a shaky breath, I continued.

“Do you like kids, Harry?”

Harry raised his brows. “What?”

“I mean...I know I’ve seen photos of you with kids. Some younger fans, friends’ babies. You’ve met mine and were really sweet to them. But...do you really truly like kids?”

Harry shifted his gaze away from me, then gave an incredulous nod and shrug. “Yeah. I do. Kids are great. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I have kids, Harry. I have two. And they are everything to me.”

“Of course they are,” he agreed. “They’re wonderful, and you’re a wonderful mum.”

Letting a deep breath out through my nose, I hesitated. “I’m afraid I wasn’t completely honest before.”

“When?” asked Harry.

“When I had that heart-to-heart talk with your mother.”

Harry frowned. “The baggage comment? She told me she apologized, that she hadn’t meant it the way you took it.”

“I know,” I nodded. “At first, I was hurt by the comment. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.”

“Stacey…” he said, reaching for me, but I resisted.

“Please. Hear me out. You wanted me to talk.”

With a sigh, Harry sat back in his chair, his expression different from when we’d started the conversation. He looked worried, but also a bit perturbed.

“I agree, maybe the baggage comment was a bad choice of words,” I continued. “But what she told me later made a lot of sense to me. She mentioned how when you and your sister were young and she was single, it was important to find someone willing to accept the fact that she was a mother. My kids and me, we’re a package deal, Harry.”

“I get that,” he held out his arms as though to show defeat.

“As far as that bubble goes,” I said, “I was happy floating along in it with you. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t really worrying about my kids. That sounds shitty hearing it out loud, but it’s true. It’s not that I didn’t care, but I was being selfish. Now…”

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. Harry fidgeted in his seat.

“Now?” he asked.

“Now that the bubble has burst, I’m scared. Like I said, it’s not just you and me anymore. And it’s not just the paparazzi or Jeff or your band or any of your friends. My kids are my life, and you are my life. But I don’t know if…”

I trailed off again when I felt my body tremble. I started to sob, my shoulders shaking. I held my face in my hands, unable to look at Harry. I was afraid of his reaction. I couldn’t face him if he decided he didn’t want me anymore.

“Baby…” I heard him say. He’d leaned forward again and was rubbing my arms. “You don’t know if, what?”

“If…” I sniffed. “If I can do this. I don’t even know if...you want that part of me. I feel like...like I have two lives and…”

“Hey…” he cooed, pulling me by my waist. “C’mere.”

He pulled me onto his lap and rubbed my back, looking up at me with those sincere eyes again. Reaching behind him on the desk, he grabbed the tissue box and handed it to me. I mumbled a thanks as I took a tissue and blew my nose.

“Baby,” he said again. “You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re living two lives. I don’t want that.”

Sniffling, I kept my head down as he kissed the top of it, his arms around me making me feel safe.

“Then what do you want, Harry?” I asked quietly.

I heard him let out a short chortle before he said, “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I replied, lifting my head with tear-stained cheeks.

“I want you. I want us.”

“On what terms?” I choked.

“What do you mean, Stacey? There are no terms.”

He appeared to be on the verge of anger now, his brows knitted and a huge scowl on his face. I felt a sourness in my stomach like I used to get when Tod was angry with me. His arms, however, remained around me and I was reminded once again he was nothing like my ex-husband.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked. “That I don’t have conditions?”

I nodded, my eyes on his chest.

“I mean that, a hundred percent. I have a crazy life; I know I do. But I also know I love you unconditionally. I’m in this for real. I want you. I want you in my life, and I wanna be in yours.”

I sighed, placing my hand on his chest and raising my gaze to his beautiful face, which had now returned to the look of sincerity, though his brows were still furrowed.

“You’re so young, Harry,” I commented.

He rolled his eyes. “Are we going back to that again? I thought we agreed, the age thing doesn’t-”

“But it does matter, Harry,” I interrupted. “It matters more than we wanted to admit. When we’re talking about our connection, our chemistry...no it doesn’t matter at all. We make perfect sense. But when we’re talking about real life…”

“This is real life, baby,” Harry insisted, his hands on my arms as his eyes burned into mine. “It’s not the ideal life perhaps, but it’s ours.”

I pursed my lips and nodded again. He just didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure he was going to. I didn’t want to fight. And I knew that if I said what I really wanted to - what was really in my head, I’d start one. One thing I hated was when I was the reason for a quarrel. My personality made me always want to have my say, to be heard before trying to resolve a situation. But sometimes it was easier to just let it go. I’d learned that in my marriage, or perhaps in spite of it.

“I guess I’m just scared,” I repeated. It was the truth. I was scared of so much, it made me sick to my stomach.

“I know, my love,” he said softly with a sigh as he petted my hair. “But I’m here. I love you. And I believe in us. Don’t you?”

Biting my lip, I ran my hands up to his neck and pulled him closer.

“Yes,” I whispered against his mouth before placing a kiss upon it.

I wanted to believe. And because Harry believed, I felt like I should too. It broke my heart to think otherwise. So, it wasn’t really a lie, I told myself. Not really.

“Wow!” Harry whistled when I descended the stairs.

While I was finishing my hair and makeup, Harry had gotten a phone call, so he’d told me he’d meet me downstairs.

“You look delicious,” he added as I stepped up to him in the living room.

I beamed. “You said that last time.”

“Did I?” he smirked, wounding his arms around my waist, his gaze on my lips. “Can’t help if my girlfriend looks better than dessert.”

I got tingles from the sound of him saying girlfriend. It still felt new, or perhaps renew, because others were now aware of me. But I quickly came up with a witty reply to his comment.

“Good, because I might have to skip dessert if I want to fit into this dress all night.”

“All night?” Harry quipped. “I sincerely hope you don’t.”

I giggled, pinching his bicep. “You’re naughty.”

He countered with a pinch of his own on my ass. I sniffed his intoxicating cologne and told him he looked delicious too before he grabbed his keys, and we left for adventure number two.

I tried my best not to have the car ride be too filled with awkward silence. Despite my uneasiness about our previous conversation, I was determined to have a good time. I would be leaving in the morning, and I didn’t want to fly home to Texas with a heavy heart.

Harry smiled at me and asked if I wanted to choose the music. Scrolling through his phone, I found a playlist titled Dinner.

“What’s this for?” I questioned.

“What do you think?” he quirked a brow.

“Well, either it’s for dinner parties or you’ve listened to it in the car while taking other women to fancy restaurants.”

Harry let out a loud guffaw. “Or perhaps I just made it ten minutes ago.”

I glared at him before opening the playlist to see the tracks included. It was all music I liked, some of the songs I’d introduced him to like Melody Gardot, some Stevie, Adele, the beautiful songs we’d danced to on the yacht in New York, even some of his own work. All of it was on the mellow side, perfect for a romantic car ride to a romantic dinner.

I threaded my fingers through his and sat back as the music began to play through the speakers. The Buble tune was just about over when Harry turned a corner and pulled up into a circular drive, in front of a stunning building. From first glance it looked like a fancy hotel, but when we stopped and the valet walked around to Harry’s side, I soon realized it was a restaurant.

“Holy crap,” I muttered under my breath as I climbed out of the car and looked up at the building which seemed to shimmer, though I wasn’t sure how.

“What was that, love?” Harry asked with a grin when he met me on my side and reached for my hand.

“Uh...just thinking it’s a good thing I went with the blue dress,” I replied.

Most likely sensing the hesitation in my tone (Harry was good at that), he released my hand and placed his on the small of my back, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

I looked up at him then, his eyes dancing, and I immediately felt myself relax. With a light push of his hand, I stepped forward and smiled at the door man who greeted us before we walked into a large lobby. Again, I was reminded of a hotel, or perhaps a concert hall, complete with a staircase in the back. A second man greeted us, recognizing Harry and he pointed us to a room to the left. We were seated quickly at a table near the back and to the right. And just like clockwork, a third man switched places with the second and took our drink order.

“Wow, that was fast!” I exclaimed in awe.

Harry shrugged with a smirk. I knew he recognized it to be one of the perks of being...well, him. Never in my life had I been seated at a restaurant so quickly, let alone given the best table in the joint.

I gazed around the room the best I could, without appearing obvious. It was a gorgeous place. The tables were adorned with candles, and there was an overall candlelight-type glow in the room, yet it didn’t seem so dark I couldn’t read the menu. Something to do with the lighting, I supposed.

I perused the menu, choosing a couple things that sounded appetizing to me, but then wondered if I should just get whatever Harry was getting. I quickly laughed at myself though, dismissing the idea because it wasn’t like it was our first date, or even our first meal together. I was letting my nerves get the better of me.

“What sounds good to you?”

Lifting my eyes from the menu, I saw Harry leaning forward. I almost caught a lump in my throat. His face glowed in the candlelight, his eyes a sparkling green, his lips red as cherries. He was definitely the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

“Um…” I took a breath and gazed down at the list again just as the waiter returned with our cocktails.

“Are we ready to order?” he sang, his hands behind his back. I noticed he had nothing to write with or on, and I had to hold back a laugh as I recalled a stand-up bit with Ellen Degeneres about that very thing.

“Pardon me!” I coughed, taking a sip of water. I eyed Harry over my glass who came to my aid, bless his heart.

“I think we’ll both have the salmon and the mango salad,” he told the waiter.

“Ah, very good,” he bounced on his heels, took our menus and left with a smile.

“Thank you,” I said after I’d managed to get the cough subsided, but not my embarrassment.

Harry chuckled. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I waved my hand away. “Just got tickled.”

“Someone under your dress?” he quirked a brow. “Under the table?”

I laughed harder when he pretended to search for the culprit underneath the table.

“I’ve heard of ants in your pants, but…”

Suddenly, I reached over and grabbed his wrist. “Stop! I can’t breathe!”

Harry laughed with me then, seeing as he’d made me feel at ease once again. I hastily wiped the moisture from underneath my eyes before taking a few sips of my gin and tonic. He watched me with a grin as he lifted his own glass, taking a slow sip of tequila. Then he just as gradually lowered the glass, his eyes still on me.

“I love you,” he declared plainly.

I almost wished I had a tape recorder, or my phone out so I could have snapped a video of him saying it. Not that I didn’t believe it, mind you. Just the opposite in fact. I believed him with all my heart and soul. I just wished I could have captured that moment in time to hold on to forever.

“I love you, too,” I smiled.

The waiter came by again as soon as my glass had emptied with a fresh refill, even though I hadn’t ordered one. Halfway through it, however, I could tell it was already having an effect on me, so I excused myself to the ladies' room.

As I made my way back to the table, I rush came over me. As I unobtrusively scanned the room, other than a couple people who smiled, I made hardly any eye contact. No one was gawking at me, as if to wonder who the redhead having dinner with Harry Styles was. I realized then that I had been unknowingly afraid they would. Once again, I scolded myself for being so paranoid.

My dinner had arrived by the time I sat down, as had a third gin and tonic, despite the fact that I hadn’t finished the second.

“Is the waiter trying to get me drunk, or is that you?” I joked, lifting my half empty glass.

“Well, the intention was mine,” remarked Harry, raising his tequila, “but I reckon he’s helping.”

We clinked glasses as I giggled, clearly already reaping the benefits of the alcohol. Although I wasn’t looking forward to making multiple trips to the bathroom, I felt good.

Dinner was divine, both the food and the company. Harry and I continued to tease each other, both above and under the table. I had just finished my last bite of salad and was almost through my third cocktail when I noticed Harry looking just past me, his eyes focus on something over my shoulder.

“Something wrong?” I asked him, not daring to turn my head to see for myself.

He exhaled and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just someone with their phone out, and I can tell they’re taking pictures.”

“Oh no,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s always bound to happen,” Harry remarked. “I’m used to it, honestly. It would just be nice to have complete privacy for once. Just a meal to ourselves.”

I blushed at the sound of “our”, meaning he included me. It was a small thing, but it meant more to me.

“Well, we are still in public,” I commented, “even if it is an upscale restaurant.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly with his jaw set. Then he shifted his gaze back to me. “No worries. Do you want dessert?”

“Not unless you want this dress to pop off right here at this table,” I quipped.

Harry laughed, and I smiled, happy that I’d lightened the mood.

“I actually wouldn’t mind that one bit,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“God, you’re so...what’s the word? Cheeky?”

With a smirk, that was indeed cheeky, he leaned forward. “I believe the word you’re looking for is horny.”

My face flushed as I giggled again and covered my eyes with my hand. “That too.”

I’d expected Harry to take me home after dinner, especially after that horny remark. And the way his fingertips played on my back when I rose from my chair gave me another hint. But when he led me out of the restaurant and we made it back to the large lobby area, he turned to the left and pulled me toward the massive staircase.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we climbed the steps.

“You’ll see,” he said nonchalantly. “Something I thought you might like.”

At the top of the stairs, Harry guided me through another set of doors and into a large room. I gasped when I realized what it was. Several tables were scattered throughout the room where couples and groups sipped on wine and cocktails. Along the left wall was a long bar, and in the back was a stage where a complete jazz band played. In the center was a dancefloor, more couples swaying to the old standard I recognized.

“They still have places like this?” was my immediate reaction. I had dreamed of being taken dancing at a ballroom, the scene vivid in my mind from watching so many old movies and episodes of The Golden Girls.

I felt Harry shake with a chuckle beside me as he held my hand and gave it a squeeze. The band finished the song they were playing and everyone clapped. Letting go of Harry’s hand, I applauded as well. Then just as they began the next song, Harry leaned over with his hand on my back again and whispered in my ear.

“May I have this dance?”

I realized then that his other hand was held out in front of me, awaiting mine when I accepted, which of course I did. Following him to the dancefloor, I slid my left hand up his arm and let him lead me. Despite seeing this scene unfold in many a late-night movie, I felt somewhat awkward at first, not sure how to move my feet. But Harry swiftly took the reins, pulling me to him and swaying like a tall tree in the breeze. The singer sang low, his deep voice warm like honey as he seemed to be singing just for us, the bass plucking just at the right points, the brass instruments whining to accentuate the emotions rolling through my brain and down my body.

Turning me slightly, I took a gander around the room before my eyes locked with Harry’s. He seemed to be watching me intently, waiting for my words, or perhaps trying to read them on my face.

“This is a wonderful surprise,” I finally said.

His mouth twitched as he began to smile. “I knew you’d like it. Reckoned it was better than going to a nightclub.”

I smiled. “Well, that would’ve been fun, too. But a lot more crowded.”

“No, I prefer this,” Harry commented.

“It’s very romantic,” I agreed.

“Didn’t know I had it in me, did you?” he quipped.

“No, I did.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me. His hand brushing my back as he held me close, I could tell he wanted to kiss me but was hesitant. We were still in public after all, and regardless of how open he wanted to be about our relationship, I suspected he was still cautious of who benefitted from getting the goods. However, we were in a half-empty ballroom, and my guess was that everyone in it was even older than I was.

The band stopped then, and Harry released me as we clapped. When they announced they would be taking five, we made our way to the bar.

As Harry handed me my gin and tonic, I made a mental note that it was cocktail number four of the evening. If we kept this up, I was going to have to pace myself if I planned to make it to the car without wobbly knees, or worse, Harry having to carry me with a sick bucket.

We sat at the bar while we nursed our drinks. I felt Harry glide his hand down my thigh to my knee, pushing up the hem of my dress. He rested his hand there, just above my knee while his fingers continued to play on my skin. I watched him as he lifted his glass to his plump lips, taking a generous sip, the rings on his fingers glistening in the candlelight. I was sure it was partially due to the effects of the alcohol, but I found every single thing about him incredibly sexy. Every movement. Every touch. I wanted him to take me home, but at the same time I was enjoying our evening out along with the anticipation.

Harry continued to flirt with me, making me laugh as well as the bartender who had begun to refer to him as “son”. When the band started up again, he lead me back to the dancefloor.

“You know what this makes me think of?” I mused, my fingers tangling in his curls that brushed his shoulders.

“Hmm?” he sounded, his eyelids heavy.

“Italy,” I replied. “Rome or Venice, some romantic film from the forties where the couples dance all night.”

“Does the man take the woman home after and ravage her?”

“They didn’t have smut in forties movies!” I scoffed. “It was only implied. It had to be classy.”

Harry chuckled, the lowered his head to nuzzle my neck, lightly brushing his lips across it.

“Anyway, I just always wanted to go there,” I said with a sigh.

“Mmm, we should go sometime,” he whispered in my ear.

“Italy in the forties?” I teased, knowing what he meant.

“No, now. Well...not right now...but…” he looked me in the eye then, “maybe after I get back from tour. We could take a holiday to Rome or Venice.”

My legs began to feel like butter at the sound of his voice and his words. Quickly, however, I was brought back to reality.

“Next trip I take will have to be with Jaz and Em,” I remarked. “I worry that I’ve spent too much time away from them as it is. And I promised them Disney World forever ago.”

“That sounds fun, too,” Harry grinned.

I must have given him a look then that made him question.

“What? I like Jaz and Em. And I certainly like Disney.”

With another sigh, I looked down at his chest and back up. “Harry…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really prepared for that?”

“Prepare for what?” he asked incredulously.

“For...Disney World. For taking your girlfriend and her kids on vacation. For being part of that kind of life.”

Harry stared at me for a moment, seeming to conjure up the right words for his response. Truth was, I shouldn’t have asked him. I shouldn’t have had to put him in that situation where he even had to think about it. He was so young. It wasn’t fair to him.

The band finished then, giving us both a narrow escape. As the room applauded, I put my hand on his arm.

“I’m going to the ladies' room,” I said.

“Stacey…” he began, but I shook my head.

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as I was in the stall, I locked the door and leaned my head against it. I could feel the tears coming so I just let them fall as they may, my shoulders shaking.

I hated myself. I hated myself for wanting more, when there was nothing more to get. I’d been having the most wonderful night, my last night with Harry for a long time and I had to go and ruin it. All I wanted was to enjoy our time together before I had to leave. Why did I have to make a mess of it?

I loved him. I loved him so much my heart ached. I loved him so much I was making my own heart break. I was an idiot.

I heard the bathroom door open and a woman took the stall next to mine. Hastily, I wiped my tears and blew my nose. After relieving myself, I washed my hands in the sink and touched up my lipstick.

“Oh, my dear, you looked wonderful!” exclaimed the older woman who’d stepped out of her stall.

“Excuse me?”

“On the dancefloor,” she beamed as she turned on the faucet next to me. “You and that handsome young man with his arms around you.”

“Oh,” I smiled timidly. “Thank you.”

“I was telling my husband, Steven, that it’s nice to see the young couples come out to dance. We don’t see it as often as we used to.”

I grinned wider, quickly remembering Harold and Millicent in England.

“It’s a lot of fun,” I said. “And I enjoy the music.”

“Oh yes. Now, that was my parents’ music, you know. But I grew up listening to it myself. And nothing like a live band to dance to. It’s very romantic.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” I chuckled.

“What’s his name?” the woman asked me as she dried her hands, throwing me for a loop.

“Um...Harry,” I replied.

“Are you married?”

“No, I’m-”

“Oh, there’s time yet,” she giggled. “How long have you been together?”

I bit my lip and thought for a moment. “Not long.”

“Well…” she patted my shoulder, “not to hurry things along, but that Harry’s a keeper if I do say so myself. I was watching the way he looks at you.”

My cheeks blushed pink.

“Of course,” she added, “you did your share of looking at him, too.” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “And I don’t blame you one bit!”

I laughed again as she held the bathroom door open for me. We walked back to the ballroom together where she waved over her husband, Steven and introduced us. Catching his eye at the bar, I grinned at Harry who weaved through the tables to get to us.

“Harry, this is...oh, I’m sorry, I don’t believe I got your name,” I addressed the woman.

“Joanne!” she beamed. “And this is my husband, Steven!”

Harry graciously shook both of their hands before placing his on my back once again, like a magnet snapping into place. I realized then that it was a safe place. As long as we had physical contact, I felt okay.

“And what is your name, dear?” Joanne asked me.

“Stacey.”

“Well, Stacey and Harry,” she sang, taking a hand from each of us and joining them together inside her own, “I wish you nothing but happiness!”

“Thank you,” we said in unison.

Joanne turned to her beloved Steven and they gave one last wave before leaving the ballroom. Harry raised a brow and looked at me.

“We met in the ladies' room,” I shrugged.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” he commented. “What happened in there?”

I giggled. “Nothing. She was just friendly. She said we looked wonderful dancing together. Made me feel good.”

A smile spread across Harry’s face just as the band began to play “Stardust”. I put my hand over my heart and Harry held his out for me.

“Last dance?” he asked.

I nodded, taking his hand. Once on the dancefloor, I laid my head on his shoulder, taking in a deep breath of his cologne. I could feel his heartbeat underneath my palm as I placed it on his chest, my other arm around his neck. His hands tickled my back as he ran them up and down before deciding to rest them on my waist.

“Stacey,” I heard him murmur, “about earlier…”

“Shh,” I sounded. “Forget about it.”

“But see...baby, that’s our problem. We don’t finish our thoughts. We just let them go and forget about it until something comes up again. You asked me a question.”

“Harry…” I lifted my head.

“No, let me answer,” he insisted, his face stern.

I opened my mouth, but quickly shut it. “Okay.”

“Maybe…” he began, our bodies still swaying to the music, “maybe I’m not fully prepared. Not in the way you’re asking.”

I swallowed hard, looking back down at his chest.

“But I am prepared,” he added, lifting my chin with his finger, “to love you the best I can. And whatever that includes to prove to you that I do.”

“Harry,” I said, “I don’t want you to have to prove anything to me. I know you love me.”

“Then why do I sometimes feel like you doubt me?”

I let out a deep breath. “Oh, sugar, I don’t doubt you. I do believe you. It’s just...my crazy mind being stupid and I...seriously, let’s just forget it. At least for tonight. It’s not important. All that’s important is that we have this time together now.”

“Yeah?” he asked, returning his hands to my waist.

“Mmhm. And I don’t want tonight to end. I’m having the most wonderful time with you. You’re so amazing, I feel so in love. I-”

With a slight tilt of his head, Harry interrupted me with a kiss. It was soft at first, a light touch of his lips on mine. But he soon deepened it, our lips intertwined like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. I felt my entire body ignite when his tongue entered my mouth, and I grabbed hold of his curls on the back of his neck. The song had probably changed by then, but I barely even noticed.

“We um...should probably…” he breathed when he released my lips.

I only nodded.

The car ride home was quiet sans for the music playing at a low volume. Harry’s hand had returned to my knee, tracing non-existent patterns while he drove with the other. I began to play with his fingers and rings, making him smile. I felt chills all over from both his touch and that sexy grin. Lifting his hand, I brought his first digit to my lips. I kissed it lightly at first, then gave it a sweet kitten-like lick before putting it in my mouth. When Harry chuckled low, I shifted in my seat, so I was facing him and did the same to the second finger.

“God, that’s hot,” he groaned.

I continued my finger seduction with each remaining digit. When I made it to his thumb, he cupped my chin.

“We’re almost home, baby,” he announced. “And I’m so hard. Let’s finish this in bed.”

My mouth watered at the idea of his erection, and part of me wanted to reach over to his lap and feel it for myself, but I kept my restraint and sat back in my seat. Besides, I didn’t want to make him drive off the road, though I did giggle to myself at the thought.

“What?” he asked with a smirk.

“Nothing,” I said, my tongue grazing my top lip.

“Now who’s being cheeky?”

“You mean horny?” I teased.

Harry was nearly biting through his bottom lip by the time we pulled into his garage. I hastily unbuckled my seatbelt and hopped out of the car, not waiting for him to fully turn it off. Meeting him at the door, I watched as he unlocked it. My first instinct was to race to the stairs, but then I remembered the full art of seduction is to take one’s time.

Backing into the kitchen as he turned on the light, I leaned against the counter to remove my shoes. Dangling them from my finger by the strap, I eyed Harry who took off his jacket and draped it across a chair. With hungry eyes, he came towards me and pulled me to him.

“Shall we go upstairs?” I inquired as he stared at me. I could tell he was good at this game too.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.

Neither of us made a move, for the stairs nor anywhere else. I was about to pry myself out of his grip and make a run for it when I came to my senses. As much as I loved the idea of a sexy cat and mouse game, this night was supposed to be special. I didn’t want to get emotional right then and start crying, but this could quite possibly be...my last night with Harry. I didn’t want to think that; that we’d never see each other again in this way. But I still didn’t know what the future was going to hold for us. I wanted this night to count.

“Make love to me, Harry,” I said.

He seemed to search my face for a moment, trying to read my eyes until he simply nodded and said, “Yes.”

He guided me to the stairs, turning out the lights on his way. I took his hand again as he led me to the bedroom. He walked around the bed and opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a lighter. He lit the candle there, then came back around and lit the candle on the other side.

“Is that enough?” he asked as he flipped the light switch.

I nodded, reaching behind me for the zipper of my dress.

“No, let me,” he insisted.

His amazing hands wound around my waist before they reached the zipper and pulled it down. As my dress fell to my feet, Harry leaned down and kissed my shoulder, his lips sliding up slowly to my neck. My breath caught in my throat when his soft lips met my ear and his fingers found the fastener of my bra. Pushing the straps off my shoulders, Harry let it drop next to my dress.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled when his hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing over my already erect nipples.

Up until then I was reveling in his touch, his eagerness to undress me. But now I was needing to touch his naked skin too.

Tugging on his shirt, I unbuttoned it with determination. Harry grinned at me when I’d finished, my hands quickly roaming up his tattooed torso. Shrugging out of the sleeves, he dropped the shirt on top of my dress.

“Why does it always seem like you have on way more clothes?” I quipped as I pulled on his belt.

“To torture you, obviously,” he smirked.

I chuckled lightly as I finally got his slacks unfastened and he stepped out of his shoes. Then to give me a hand, he removed his own pants while I shimmied out of my panties.

“C’mere, baby,” he beckoned, guiding me to the bed.

The candlelight bounced off the walls as we lay together, side by side. The smell of lavender and something else I couldn’t pinpoint relaxed me, filling my senses. Harry looked into my eyes as his fingers delicately grazed my back.

“I wanna make you feel how much I love you,” he declared. “I don’t want you to ever forget.”

He kissed me then, not waiting for my response which was just as well. I probably would have said something stupid. Rolling me onto my back, he kissed me harder and deeper. I wrapped my legs around him, needing to feel him as closely as possible.

We kissed for a long time until he lifted his head and said, “I love you so much, Stacey.”

“I love you, Harry.”

Then he shifted his weight and slipped himself inside me, completely, my head reeling. I could feel him deep, so deep already. My toes curled as he pulled back and did it again, hitting that spot.

“Holy shit,” I cursed, swallowing hard when he did it a third time.

“You feel me?” he whispered.

I shut my eyes and nodded, the only response I could manage at that moment. I braced myself for another thrust, but instead, Harry began to move inside me more gently and fluidly. I opened my eyes then and saw his looking back at me. He grabbed my thigh and lifted it as he licked his lips. I held onto his arms that were on either side of my head and watched him as he fucked me.

Yes, he was making love to me, because he loved me. But he was also trying to prove something, which I didn’t mind at all. He was an astounding lover, and we both knew it.

When he sped up his movements, I could feel myself getting close to the edge. A moan escaped my lips which only seemed to fuel him. He held my hands down as he kissed me hard, his hips pumping. I moaned again into his mouth before he made his way down my neck.

He pulled out for a little bit, only to bring his lips to my breasts, his tongue swirling over my nipples. I bucked my hips, needing to feel the friction again. Harry sensed my discomfort and chuckled under his breath.

“Missing something, baby?” he teased, gliding his finger across my slit.

“Please,” I begged.

“You want my finger? Or my mouth?”

“Neither,” I shook my head.

Harry raised his brows. “Really? Nothing?”

“Just you,” I whined, reaching for his hips.

With another cheeky laugh, he returned to his post. “God, you’re so sexy,” he said as he took hold of my thighs.

He slid in with ease again, only this time he was the one who shut his eyes. He stalled for a moment before letting a breath out through his nose. Then he began to find a steady rhythm, gliding in and out. Just as I reached the same point I’d reached earlier, his face began to change. He let out a deep groan, and I knew he was close too.

“Harry…” I breathed.

I locked my legs around him again so that he only had a small area of movement to make. He moaned in my ear, and I thought I would come undone.

“Oh my God!” I screamed.

“Fuck yeah, baby, I’m so close.”

We came together after a few more thrusts, my legs shaking and my entire body on fire. With a delicate whine and a final breath of exhaustion, Harry collapsed on top of me.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That was...amazing.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It felt...different,” he added.

I froze. “Um...bad different?”

“Fuck no. Just...different somehow.” He lifted his head to look at me. “Did it to you?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Um... I guess so.”

“Maybe because...you’re leaving.”

“Maybe so.”

He rolled off of me then and onto his pillow. We both stared at the ceiling, catching our breath and watching the flicker of the candles dancing.

“Harry, I’m gonna miss you so-”

“Shh!” he interrupted. “Don’t say it. Not right now. Please.”

I turned my head to look at him. He continued his focus on the ceiling. My eyes began to water, and I blamed it on my fatigue. But when I began to tremble and I sniffled a few times, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Hey,” Harry cooed, turning onto his side and taking me in his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry, baby. It’ll be okay.”

I buried my face in his chest as he soothed me, rubbing my back.

“I love you, Stacey,” he declared with a promise underneath. “We’ll be fine.”

I believed him when he said he loved me. It was the other part I wasn’t so sure about.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[braveclementine]

Chapter 6

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝔖𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡ℑ apparated to dad's garden and he turned into a dog immediately. He ran around the garden a couple of times and then followed me through the house and out the front door. Trang was sitting on the front step.

"Hi!" I said brightly, smiling, clutching my broom in my hand.

Trang got up and turned around and my smile dropped. "What's wrong?" I asked immediately.

She wasn't crying, no. She looked, lost, confused, and hurt. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again and said, "Can we go inside for- for a moment?"

"Yeah, of course." I said, opening the front door back open. Sirius trotted back inside and I told him he could go out to the garden if he wanted to, but he laid down at our feet as we sat down on the couch.

I watched Trang hesitantly as she pulled two envelopes out of her pocket. "So. . . I told you mum and dad were going on vacation, right?"

"Yes. . ." I said slowly.

"And I said I was going to search their house?"

"Yes."

"Well. . . I found something." She said, clutching the envelopes.

"Are your parents. . . criminals?" I asked hesitantly.

"Only in my mind." She said and laughed bitterly. I wondered what she had found. "These were postmarked five years ago. For me. They never gave them to me." She handed me the envelopes. They were both opened. I flipped over one and it read: Mahoutokoro institute of magical studies. The other read Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

"No." I whispered. With trembling fingers, I opened the Hogwarts one and opened up the folded parchment slips.

Dear Ms. Nyguen, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. We are aware that you may have also been accepted to Mahoutokoro Institute of Magical Studies and will need your owl by 31 July to know if you will be coming to Hogwarts or not. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

"You're a. . . you're a. . ." I said, trying to find the words I was looking for and Trang burst into tears.

"I was a witch all along and mum and dad never told me!" Trang said. "All the things I did as a kid. . . sometimes I thought it was you. . . and you always reacted as though it was you, you know? The floating table? I thought. . . I thought maybe these letters were a joke but I was so angry when I read them. . . cause I thought maybe they were real. . . and all the vases in mum and dad's room exploded. . . and. . ."

She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "I dug further, went into the basement. You know I've never been allowed in the basement. Dad was a wizard. He went to Mahoutokoro Institute of Magical Studies. Mums also a witch. But she went to a school in Russia, I can't pronounce the name."

"You're a pureblood?" I asked in amazement.

"I guess so." Trang said, her eyes and face blotchy but she wasn't crying anymore. "Anyways, looking at the newspapers and things dad has locked in the basement, they believe Voldemort's back. They want to flee to Australia. When I told them before I left I wanted to stay the summers in America they were ecstatic. Now I know why."

I kept rereading the Hogwarts letter as though it really was a joke. "Did you- Did you confront them yet?"

Trang shook her head. "I'm afraid that if I tell them they'll whisk me off to Australia with them."

I bit my bottom lip.

"It's too late, isn't it?" Trang asked, her voice cracking. "It's too late for me to learn magic, isn't it?"

"No." I said fiercely. "You just need a wand, that's all."

"But- I won't know anything." Trang said softly. "And I can't practice, I'll be breaking the underage wizarding law."

I ignored her. "Come on. Sirius, you can either stay, go in the garden, or go back to 12 Grimmauld Place. It's completely up to you. I'm sure you'll stay here. I'm going to take Trang to Diagon Alley. We'll be less than an hour, I promise."

"Elizabeth. . ." Trang pretested weakly and I turned on her.

"Trang, I'm going to make sure you can defend yourself. You're my best friend and I'm going to teach you as much as I can in a short amount of time. Now come on."

I pushed her into the fireplace and she reluctantly took floo powder and disappeared.

Sirius nudged me with his nose. "I'll be careful." I promised, kissing his head. "Be back soon." I stepped into the fireplace and disappeared as well.

Trang was waiting in the Leaky Cauldron, looking at it through new eyes. I led the way to Ollivander's shop.

"This is where I get a wand?" Trang asked, stepping in.

I just nodded. Ollivander was nowhere to be seen but that didn't perturb me. Then, from somewhere in the bookshelves a soft mysterious voices said, "Ah Miss Nyguen. I wondered if you would ever show up."

Trang gave me a look and I shrugged and she took another step forward. "Er-"

Ollivander came out from behind the shelves. His electric blue eyes were wide, his white hair an afro around his head.

"Which arm is your wand arm?"

"Right."

"Ah yes, hold it out please."

I sat down in the chair. It creaked. I looked out the windows in interest, watching witches and wizards I didn't know walk by without a care in the world. None of them- or most of them for that matter- thought Voldemort was back.

"You seem preoccupied, Miss Kane." Ollivander said somewhere far away from the back of the shelves.

"I was just wondering how many people out there believe You-Know-Who was back." I murmured.

"Ah." Ollivander said, coming back with a wand box. "Yes, many of them are quite ignorant, aren't they?"

I gave a start and looked at him as he took the box cover off of the wand. "You believe-"

"Of course I do." Ollivander said impatiently, taking the wand out of the box and handing it to Trang, "9 inches, Vine Wood, Unicorn tail hair, not very flexible. Give it a wave."

Trang waved it and nothing happened but Ollivander smiled. "Perfect, first try. 8 Galleons."

I gave her the money and she paid. Meanwhile, Ollivander said, "When you become as old as I am, you know to trust Dumbledore's word. Besides, I always knew he'd rise again."

Trang put her wand back in the box and and we headed out the door. "So you're having trouble convincing people he's back?"

I nodded. "More difficult than you'd think." I said in disgust. "All because the Minister doesn't want to deal with it."

Trang made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "Can we stop in the pet shop real quick? I need more treats for Carter. He doesn't like the Muggle ones."

"Picky owl." I said lightly as we headed into the shop. She found the treats that she wanted and bought them. We went to the bookstore and bought a couple spell books for her and then we headed back home.

Sirius wasn't in the living room and when I looked out the window, I saw he was running circles in the yard, trying to catch a rabbit.

"Sirius." I scolded him. "Leave the poor rabbit alone."

He barked happily, wagging his tail as the rabbit dashed into the bushes. I grinned.

Trang and I stood in the kitchen while we practiced spells. We worked on first and second year stuff. It came easily to her because she was older and had the mental capacity that she wouldn't have had at eleven.

As it got dark though, she debated about whether she even wanted to go home or not.

"It's just. . . I don't know how to face them, knowing that they kept an entire world from me. . ." she said sadly. "The world I should've grown up in considering they were both wizards."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to confront them. Just make sure you keep your wand and remember your spells. The Ministry knows this is a magic house so come on in whenever you want and practice. But make sure not to do magic at your house or you can get in trouble. I don't know if your parents have their house under magical law or not." I hugged her. "This is probably the last time I'm going to see you- I'm not coming back tomorrow."

Trang's eyes filled with tears but she nodded determinedly. "I'll see you in three years then."

I hugged her as tightly as was possible and I knew from the pain in my shoulders that she was hugging back just as tightly. Sirius whined softly, a warning that we had to go.

"Be safe, okay?" I whispered, pulling away.

"You too." she said with a nod. We parted ways. My heart was ripping in my chest and I felt like I had just lost another friend.

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𝕴 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖞 really. I just laid on my bed with my face in my pillow and tried not to cry. Some tears leaked over the edges and I didn't brush them away. I blamed it on the fact that I was just at that time of the month so I was naturally going to be more emotional.

Sirius, at least, was happy. He'd gotten out of the house and run around. I wasn't going to see Trang for three whole years.

She was my best friend- my only friend- I thought at some points in time. With Harry, Ron, and Hermione, I'd foreseen them, so I'd made friends with them. I'd forced a triangle to become a square and though we got along well, and usually were able to do it, the other three always felt a bit closer together than with me.

Of course, both Harry and Hermione had come out and fully said they didn't care that I'd only joined them as friends because I'd foreseen it. To them, we were true friends and I was glad that they felt that way.

But Trang. . . Trang I didn't have to see before we were friends. Hell, I didn't remember anything except dad before Trang. We'd been joined at the hip since I'd been living with dad. Losing her. . . but I wasn't really losing her, was I? Maybe it was the knowledge that three years is a long time. Maybe it was the knowledge that one of us could potentially die. Or maybe it was the shocking knowledge that she was a witch and neither of us had known it.

There was a knock at the door and for a fleeting moment, I hoped it was dad even though I knew it wasn't.

"Come in." I said.

It was Kingsley.

"Oh, hi." I said, getting up off the bed and blushing.

"Sirius said you were upset." Kingsley said in his slow, deep voice.

"I'm. . . I'm just. . ." I hesitated. "My best friend. . . well let's just say there were a lot of surprises today."

"Trang? Right?" Kingsley asked, closing the door behind him and sitting down properly in a chair.

"Yes, you met her at the bookstore." I said, sighing, slumping into a chair nearby. "Well, she goes to America every year and that doesn't bother me, ya know? Cause I'm at Hogwarts. Well, I told her, to keep her safe so Voldemort couldn't use her against me, to stay in America until everything was over. So I may not see her for a long time. And today, she showed me letters she found in her parents house showing that she's actually a pureblood wizard." I laughed bitterly. "Shock for both of us, considering we both thought she was a Muggle. According to other things she found in her parents basement, they believe Voldemort's back. They're making plans to flee to Australia."

"I'm sorry." Kingsley said. I loved his voice. It was simple yet conveyed the feelings you needed.

I shook my head, looking out the window, "It's what's for the best, I know that. . . it's just. . ." I chewed on my bottom lip, looking for the right words, "hard." I finished.

Kingsley leaned forward and put a calm hand on my shoulder. I smiled at him. "So what's with the Order?" I asked with a mischievous smile.

He chuckled. "Nice try."

I grinned as he stood up and was about to leave and then said, "Hey Kingsley? Do you. . . do you see me like a little girl the way Sirius and Dad do?"

Kingsley turned and looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I've always been protective of women. But no, I don't see you as a child. Rather, I believe you are a young woman becoming an adult. But you shouldn't be upset with Sirius and Remus. They really are just trying to protect you."

I nodded, my throat constricting and watched him leave the room, closing the door again, and leaving me in darkness. I should turn on the lights, I thought though I didn't get up to do it.

There was another knock on the door and it opened. I realized I was still sitting where I had been and got up. It was Severus and my heart lightened a bit.

"Hey Sev." I said with a smile.

He grinned. "I thought you might be wallowing in sorrow in here."

I glared at him as he shut the door. He flung his traveling cloak on the chair Kingsley had been occupying and then pulled me in for a kiss.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

𝖂𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 cleaning for the next couple of days. We finished the drawing room and moved on to other sections of the house. There was the dining room first. I opened the top drawer of the dresser, took one look in it, screamed, and ran away from it.

Sirius and Mrs. Weasley hurried towards it and the other crowded around it. Ron quickly said he was going to go make a cup of tea and I followed. We both sat in the kitchen and drank tea. I hated spiders. I'd never hated spiders before. But I hated them now.

The spiders had been huge- as big as saucers. They reminded me of the spiders in the Forbbiden forest- urgh.

When Ron and I went back, Sirius was throwing china into the sack. I was a bit amused and mentioned to Sirius that Mundungus could probably get money for the dishes. Sirius shrugged and continued to throw the china in the sack. It made satisfying crackling noises when it broke. The picture frames met the same fate.

Throughout our cleaning, the doorbell kept ringing and we'd sneak out to try and listen to snatches of conversation. I was best at this because I had the house down flat and Mrs. Weasley was more busy about Harry and her own kids than me.

Severus came in multiple times and whenever no one was around, we'd slip into the empty and completed drawing room for a few moments. I had also seen Professor McGonagall who briefly chatted with me for a few moments- though not about Order things- and then went off to make a report to whoever was in the kitchen.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick were also in the order and those were the only teachers. I had seen Professor Sprout at one point but not Flitwick. I hadn't seen her since. I'd barely been able to talk to her either without choking up. She too, seemed grieved about Cedric.

Tonks stayed one day to help clean. We'd found a murderous ghoul in the larger bathroom upstairs. It kept swinging its chains around. George, Ginny, Hermione, and I all got hit by a chain upside the head and somehow ended up in the bathtub, all of on top of each other.

Sirius and Tonks managed to get it and then Sirius ushered us downstairs to the kitchen and gave us ice to put on our foreheads. George had a huge welt on his forehead and I hoped mine didn't look as bad. It shouldn't- George got hit first.

Against my wishes, Severus ended up coming that night and though I tried hiding my face from him, eventually he saw it.

"Stop looking at it" I muttered, putting my hand over the welt.

He pulled my hand away, pining it down to the bed. He brushed it with his thumb and I winced.

"What happened?" He asked.

"There was a ghoul we had to take care of in the bathroom." I muttered. I wanted to roll over onto the left side of my face but he had my arms pinned. "Let's just say it had some wicked chains."

He bent down and kissed me. "Maybe- you should- stop cleaning- the house." he murmured between kisses.

"Yes well." I said, losing my train of thought. "It's not cleaning at this point. Feels like a war we're fighting. The house seems to fight back too."

This didn't turn out to be more true the next day when Dad stayed to help us take care a grandfather clock that had developed a habit of shooting heavy bolts at passerby's. Ginny got hit in the forehead again. Ron got hit in the back and Harry got hit in the arm. They left huge welts wherever they hit. One hit my glasses and on instinct, I shut my eyes.

I stumbled backwards, still not opening my eyes and nearly fell down the stairs before Dad caught my arm. I pulled my glasses off- my eye still closed. I felt something sharp sticking in my cheek. Dad pulled it out and after a moment said I could open my eyes.

Dad repaired my broken glasses and then went to repair the grandfather clock, telling the rest of us to stay out of the room for the time being. When he emerged, he said that the clock was fixed and he had huge welts in the back of his leg and the side of his neck.

Severus came that night as well. Luckily, the only mark was the small cut that the glass from my glasses had made. I told him the story, amused. He wasn't amused at all. "Your eye could've been cut open." he muttered.

"You sound like a mum." I muttered back.

He rolled over on top of me, pressing his lips to my throat. "Take that back." he growled.

"Not- a- mum." I gasped, my heart beating like a butterfly.

There were other dangers of course. Mundungus saved Ron from purple robes that tried strangling him when Ron'd taken them out of the cupboard.

Or in a room that hadn't been opened in years where some sort of magical pests leapt on Fred's pants and started eating them and he kicked them off so he was standing in just his underwear. We let Sirius and Kingsley take care of that room. They'd both come out completely naked and Hermione and Ginny clapped their hands over their eyes. I grinned, looking at the ceiling. Fred and George had roared in laughter.

Tuesday was a full moon and I was glad Mundungus had gotten me the mandrake leaf a few days ago or else I would've had to wait a full month before I could've used one. I was going to try and become an Animagus and the first step was putting the mandrake leaf under my tongue. I'd have to worry about kissing Severus later.

On Wednesday while we were eating- Dad was out- Mrs. Weasley mentioned that she'd laid out Harry's clothes for him. This made everyone stop talking and look at him.

"How am I getting there?" Harry asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him." She answered.

"You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing." Mr. Weasley said.

Harry looked over at where Sirius was sitting but Mrs. Weasley said, "Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I-"

"- think he's quite right." Sirius said through clenched teeth.

Harry looked at me. "What about you?"

"I don't see any reason why I couldn't go." I said with a shrug. "Might even be a good idea for me to-"

"No." But this time Sirius was the one who said it. I looked at him. Neither Dad or Sirius had said anything about Severus' report yet.

"Why not?" I asked, not angry yet, but hopeful. Sirius pursed his lips and I frowned. "Alright, since there's no legitimate reason, I'll be going with you Harry."

"No you won't." Sirius said through gritted teeth and stabbed his potato moodily.

"Why not?" I asked for a second time, looking into his eyes. Sirius had was still clenched around the fork.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and said, "Sirius, I don't see any reason why she can't go..." but he drifted off as Mrs. Weasley glared at him.

I was extremely annoyed. "Someone ought to give me a good, legitimate reason for not going."

"It's not safe." Sirius said.

"Okay. . . and are you going to tell me why Harry can walk through the Ministry but I can't walk through the Ministry?" I asked and Sirius slammed his fork down on his plate and stormed out of the room. "It's not fair!" I shouted after him angrily.

I threw my fork down and left the room too. I was going to hunt Sirius down and make him tell me.

Sirius was in Buckbeak's room. I slammed the door behind me. "Give me some answers Sirius." I said through gritted teeth.

"It's not safe for you to go."

"Oh! But it would've been perfectly fine for you to go?"

"It's different, Eilís. I would've been disguised, you aren't."

"And why do I need to be disguised?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought." I said in disgust. "You won't give me an answer, even if it's about me. Is my life in danger? Don't you think I should know? Do I have a ten thousand Galleon reward on my head now? You know," I said much softer after some silence, "I should just ask Professor Snape."

And I turned and walked out the door, closing it behind me and headed off down the stairs back to my room.

I slammed the door angrily behind me and saw that Severus was already sitting on my bed. "Answers!" I snapped at him, yanking my hair down out of the ponytail.

"To what?" He asked, looking taken aback.

"I want to know why Sirius thinks it wouldn't be safe for me to go with Harry to his trial." I said, throwing the rubber band on the dresser.

"Probably because of my report the other day." He said, laying back down on the pillows.

"Which was?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Your father didn't tell you?" He sounded legitimately surprised.

"Obviously not if I'm asking you." I said heatedly, throwing off my clothes and putting on my pajamas.

"The Dark Lord is no longer after Harry." Severus said, standing up and walking over to where I was putting on my shirt. "At least, not his priority right now. He wants you more."

"Okay." I said and he furrowed his brow. "I already knew that, I overheard it when Mrs. Weasley left the door open I was just seeing how long it would take someone to tell me my life was in danger. But still, Harry's just as much of a target. And It's not like I'm going to be wandering by myself, I'll be with Mr. Weasley."

"Well you also forget that Sirius also isn't your dad." Severus said, slipping his hands onto my waist. His long hair tickled my cheek and I reached up and put a hand against his head. I loved his hair so much.

"Maybe dad won't be back by tomorrow!" I said brightly.

Severus chuckled. "Come to bed."

I followed him, turning off the light and climbed in next to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I snuggled up next to him.

"I will warn you." he whispered against my lips, "I can't stay the whole night."

"Just wait for me to fall asleep." I whispered back and then pressed my lips to his, "and then you can leave."

I don't know when I fell asleep but I know he didn't leave until I did. I fell into happy dreams and didn't wake up until I had a nightmare. 

⬅️➡️

[pink-lighter]

chicken feet: what is your emotional "flaw"?

red cheeks: what makes you nervous?

sunflower: what do you love and cherish?

bells: what sounds are your favorite or calm you the most? turnip: what is a food you could eat everyday?

spit: do you get jealous easily?

hiiii i love you sm!!!!

chicken feet: for me, it always boils down to fear. i have a desire to maintain a distance between myself and my emotions, especially as it pertains to communication. it’s so hard for me to express my emotions verbally, and it’s so hard to articulate them in a way that captures their breadth; the only way i can ever do my emotions justice is through writing and written language. writing creates the perfect amount of distance between myself and what i am saying — traces of my soul linger, but only if you look, like the writing stands in for my presence. i guess all of that is the say that honesty scares me, and to express my emotions verbally puts me at the centre of that sincerity.

i’m also afraid that the way i think and feel and think about how i feel is inherently pretentious. sometimes, i feel like i’m so far disconnected from reality that nobody else could possibly relate to my thoughts or feelings. the things i have to say are preposterous, or worse yet, they are clichéd and unoriginal, as if the depths of my emotional undercurrents are that of a stock character. this might also be a driving force in my fear of vulnerability. i’m considerably less scared of this now than i have been in the past, especially after a conversation i had which a friend: he said that making music felt essential for his life, and immediately made a joke that it sounded douchey. i quoted the idiot by elif batuman, and said that saying things you know to be true always sounds a little pretentious.

as mentioned before, i have a very deep-rooted fear of vulnerability. i’m afraid that if i am not constantly performing, or brightening other people’s worlds, they will leave me. i’m learning to accept that in order to meaningfully let someone in, i have to allow them to see the worst parts of me, shine a light on parts that i am scared and ashamed of, and choose to stay. moreover, arguably the worst part of myself — my fear of vulnerability and sincerity — will never go away unless i continually confront it by letting the people i love confront it too.

red cheeks: a lot! i get really flustered in the people i perceive to be very intelligent, or look up to in some way, because i want them to like me and think i’m smart. i get nervous around crushes. i get nervous when i’m ordering food at a place i don’t normally go to, and i’m afraid of asking for something in a stupid way. i’m afraid of asking for my medication at a pharmacy because i never know what to say. “i’m here to pick up my medication.” no shit. it’s a pharmacy.

sunflower: i am filled with so much love, so it’s hard to keep this answer concise! i really love all my friends, and i’d do anything for them. i just feel so incredibly known when i talk to them. my friend was helping me with my homework today, and while she was on call with her mum, her mum said “tell [name redacted] that i love her!” human interaction and connection is just so beautiful. i love when i’m walking and the sun is shining. i love the curve of my lips. i love listening to music and feeling it make a permanent home in my heart. i love existing in the world and seeing all my love and care for other people reflected back at me. i’m listening to elliott smith’s cover of thirteen, and thinking about someone i love and care about dearly. i love writing and reading. i love studying, and i’m so grateful that i’m getting an education. i love architecture, especially architecture that makes you feel like inhabiting it is a perpetual act of discovery. a building on my campus has very decorative vents. i love tea, all the different and enticing flavours i can choose from. i love smiling, and being smiled at. i love fresh fruits and vegetables, and cooking them. i love the sound of laughter. i love learning, and i never wish to stop. i love my eyes. i love curling up underneath my blanket. i love love.

bells: oooh, i love the sound of rain! the sound of a really thunderous rain in the morning or early afternoon on a day when you have nothing to do and nowhere to go is particularly delightful.

turnip: right now, it’s this tomato and aubergine spaghetti i made last night. i think this might just be because i had it so recently. in general, i don’t really want to only have one food for the rest of my life. anyways, here’s how i made the pasta: i cubed the aubergine, salted it to extract the bitterness, and roasted it with olive oil. i semi-caramelised some onions, then added garlic and cubed tomatoes. i salted the tomatoes to extract some water from them, and then i added some pasta water and let them boil in that until the tomatoes softened and i crushed them a bit with the back of the wooden spoon. i added chilli flakes, chilli powder, black pepper, and dried basil. then, i added the boiled spaghetti and roasted aubergine. below is a phot of said tomato-aubergine pasta

spit: i hate feeling jealous, but, yeah, i think i do get jealous easily. i think the thing i get most jealous of is when my friends have parents that treat them like adults. my friend and his girlfriend took a trip a few years back, and i could help but feel so jealous that he could just…go? i know it’s unfair, but i just wished i could also go places without asking for permission.