#right.. i forgot how tall these kind of stools were

[chikoyama]

continued from this | @opalchoi

The corners of her mouth remained uplifted in her usual gentle smile once Chiyori observed Opal-chan reanimate after her display of affection. Chiyori was aware that Opal-chan had a tendency to disconnect from the world, so seeing her zap back to reality like that wasn’t exactly novel, but watching her become flustered was cute regardless. “Oh, I- okay..” she returned, smiling still, though couldn't help but feel a little rejected once the other turned down her offer to help.

When the pinkette proceeded to tumble down — clumsy as usual — Chiyori instinctively took a step backward to prevent herself from getting tangled in her friend’s fall. Her brows arched in half surprise, half concern, and she was about to extend her hand toward her friend. However, Opal-chan seemed to be up on her feet again before Chiyori could actually offer her any assistance.

Luckily, though, Opal-chan didn’t seem to be badly hurt, and with a smile of relief, Chiyori mirrored the finger heart gesture. "You know, I'm always here to help you, Opal-chan," she returned before her hand fell back to its natural rest at her side.

Casting her eyes downward, Chiyori considered the question about her day for a moment. “It was… okay,” she shrugged, not sure if there was anything new to bring up. Her day had been as per usual — not really bad, but not amazing either. Studying to become a nurse wasn’t exactly a struggleless journey. Like most things in life, it had its own ups and downs.

Amber eyes landed back on the pinkette once Chiyori remembered why she’d come to visit her friend at the coffee bar today. “Ah, Opal-chan, I saw they offered a good deal on clothes at the mall this week." With both hands holding onto the strap of her bag, Chiyori tilted her head sideways. "Would you have time to go shopping with me one of the coming days?”

[darthvashtique93]

A Cosmos In The Sand

Chapter 2

Raven sat at her vanity, dressed and surrounded in luxury, but feeling as depressed as ever. Her top was made from gold and iolite, spun by Slaede's personal magic weavers. It was tight and covered only her breasts. Her skirt was made from the same material. It barely covered her undergarment as there were slits on both sides. A 2-row coin anklet made from gold decorated one foot, while a thin, iolite thigh-ring adorned the opposite leg. A tiny iolite stone decorated her belly button. A finger-to-wrist hand bracelet with five rings weighed down her left hand. An iolite armband with gold chains wrapped around her right arm. The large hoop earrings were surprisingly, thankfully, very light. Raven always forgot she was wearing them until after she moved her head. Her eyes were lined with a dark kohl, bringing out the natural, violet hues. Finally, her hair – black as night but shone violet when either sunlight or moonlight hit it just right – fell straight down her back. She looked every bit the prized jewel Slaede made her to be. She hated it. The soldiers referred to her as Slaede's treasure, and Slaede dressed her as such.

Her traveling tent was just as decorated as her room back at the palace. The most comfortable throws, the softest pillows, and iolite incense burned her lungs. She was even allowed to ride Slaede's favorite horse, something she only did when she felt compelled to do so. And while she enjoyed the finest foods and wines, her family – her sisters – suffered in dungeons. Raven's service to Slaede was the only thing keeping them alive and safe from Slaede's most perverted guards.

Raven closed her eyes and prayed for respite from her burning lungs. Tears gathered behind her closed eyelids. She didn't know how much longer she could continue this…this façade. She loved her family, but she was beginning to wonder if they were worth the pain and agony. The innocent lives lost because of you, her subconscious reminded her. Raven tried not to think of the screams of those dying at the hands of Slaede's army, but they flooded her dreams. She honestly couldn't remember the last good night's sleep she had.

A sob broke through Raven's painted lips. She was so tired – tired of being afraid, tired of feeling worried, tired of being tired.

Opening her eyes, Raven spoke, "I know you're there." She was greeted by silence. Turning on her stool, Raven faced her seemingly empty tent and spoke again, "Don't I deserve to see the face of my would-be assassin?" Scanning the tent, Raven's eyes came to rest on a dark corner, where a shadow seemed to emerge from a shadow. The warrior stepped into the light. He was tall – at least a head taller than Slaede. He was muscular, darkly tanned, and his eyes were a strange mix of green gold. The hatred that burned in his eyes seared her skin "You've been betrayed, Ibn al Xu'ffasch," Raven continued.

The warrior froze, a question marred his handsome face. "You know my name," the warrior stated in disgust.

"And I know why you're here, Damyan," Raven replied. She opened her mouth to say more when she felt a burst of energy in her soul. Colors of every kind swirled in her eyes. Multiple visions of the same event played in her mind. Suddenly, she saw her salvation – multiple ways to freedom that began and ended with him. She needed him. He needed to survive this night. "You-you've been betrayed," Raven repeated while her mind fought to come up with a plan to ensure her assassin's safety. "You-you've…" she paused as she willed her brain to think faster. Confusion swept crossed the face of Ibn al Xu-ffasch. It was quickly replaced by hate. He drew his weapon, but before he could take a single step, soldiers flooded Raven's tent, surrounding him. Shock and anger quickly replaced the hate on his face. But it was too late for him. His momentary lapse in focus allowed 10 of Slaede's finest soldiers the opportunity to rush him. Before Raven could think, Damyan was bound to a beam supporting Raven's tent.

"Well, well, well," Slaede was heard before he was seen. His soldiers parted, making room for Slaede to stride up to Damyan at a leisurely pace. "You look so surprised," Slaede smirked up at the young man. Damyan looked past Slaede. "You!" he spat at the short figure standing behind Slaede. "You betrayed us!"

"I did," the figure, Mara, smiled brightly. "Grandfather really should have listened to you. Alas, the old man was surprised when I slit his throat. I could tell…by the look on his face," she held up the decapitated head of Ra's al Ghul. Raven was surprised to see sorrow fill Damyan's face. He must have really loved the old man. "Here," Mara tossed the head at Slaede's feet. "By my grandfather's head, I pledge my allegiance," she bowed her head.

"I welcome you with open arms," Slaede said.

"Father!" another voice called out. Raven scowled at the sound of the voice. "Look who I found!" Graent dragged a squirming female behind him. Raven had no idea who the female was, but judging by his aesthetics, she was Damyan's mother.

"Ama!" Damyan gasped as the woman was forced to the ground.

"Hello, Talia," Slaede walked to the woman and smirked down at her. "You know, Damyan, in another life, I would have been your birth father. Who knows? Maybe the King of Go-tham would still be alive had Ra's given me your mother as promised," he angrily grabbed Talia's face. "Maybe I'll have her anyway," he smirked evilly.

"I'd rather die," Talia sneered.

"That will be arranged," Slaede marched over to a bound Damyan and searched him. Behind Slaede's back, Raven looked to see Talia staring up at her. Please save my son, Raven heard Talia's voice in her head. Raven looked at her in shock. Save him, Talia spoke again, and he will save you. Raven gave a minute nod.

"Here it is," Slaede pulled a knife from Damyan's ankle. "I'll give you another chance, Talia. Swear allegiance to me."

"Damn you."

"Fine." Grabbing Talia by the hair, he plunged the knife directly into her throat.

"Ama!" Damyan yelled out, and the sound tore at Raven's heartstrings. Talia fell to the ground as a gurgling sound came from her throat as she choked on her own blood. Raven looked away from the macabre sight, but instantly regretted it when she met Damyan's hateful gaze. "I'm going to kill you, sorceress," he growled, and Raven had to step back at the wave of hate she sensed coming from him. Yes, Raven thought, I can use this.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14253019/1/A-Cosmos-In-The-Sand

[princelylove]

Your Highness, I hope that when you read this you’ve had a great day and night too come. I make this request to you asking on your opinion on Yan!Abbacchio with a darling that tends to dwell on death, more specifically themselves dying. They tend to hold hot plates more than necessary, they flip through books quickly as if they *wanted* to get that paper cut. Would Abba recognise that behaviour, would he comment on it out load or would he keep it in his mind for later? As always your opinion is so very nice to hear about, wishing you the best.

Yours Truly,

Sammi

(okay i think i may have gone overboard with how much this ask is like a letter 😭)

You might as well have won the lottery, anon. I'll likely end up answering one of the other anons as well, since this ask is sort of surface level in comparison, we'll see.

Dwelling on death and being suicidal / self-harming are different. You could be obsessed with your own mortality, you could just have an interest in the one thing we all share. There's countless ideas for what happens after death, and some are more anxiety inducing than others.

Leone isn't one for religious talk. If you were curious what he was raised to believe, he'd tell you about it, but he wouldn't dwell on it. A little curiosity is good, he's happy to answer any questions you have, but as most of his manner of speaking is, it's blunt and to the point.

Where do we go when we die?

"Garden of eternity if you're good, eternal punishment if you're bad." Truly, Leone believes it just ends and that's that, but if you're curious he's not going to give such a depressing answer.

What's the criteria?

"Believing and not sinning."

What are considered sins?

"Lots of things."

You may believe that Leone just forgot what's considered haram and what's permissible, and you'd be right. It's been a while since he thought about it.

But, when you're talking about and asking about death, and you're doing odd things... Leone picks it up.

Leone doesn't really have the right to comment on it, even if he notices. He'll notice missing razor blades, misplaced kitchen knives and utensils, your habit of flipping books from front to back and over again, but he isn't quick to go there, surprisingly. It's not something he wants to think- you're so much better than he is, there's no reason for you to feel the same way he does.

Something minor can be excused, but it won't be forgotten. While I think Leone is a little slow in comparison to his teammates, he isn't (entirely) stupid. He's a grown man. He doesn't just forget things, and if he does, he'll remember the next time one of your habits strikes him as odd.

It kind of eats him alive when too many of your habits are indicative of a bigger problem. He's not going to handle it well. Leone just feels worse about himself and the situation he put you in, which, he could be at fault for your behavior. The worst part is he doesn't know how to handle it, is he supposed to bring it up? Is he supposed to just take these things away from you, just not hand you hot plates anymore? Leone doesn't really know what to do with you because he barely knows what to do with himself, but he'll figure something out.

You'll find that Leone only hands you hot bowls and plates with a small towel underneath them. That heating pad he keeps in the living room shuts off after an hour, and you'll be scolded by Guido if it goes up higher than 3. To simplify it, he's babying you before the habit can get any worse. Leone baby proofed the apartment. He doesn't go as far as covering the countertop's corners and locking up sharp things, but medication is suddenly on the top shelf and his wine is up higher as well. No stools, since Leone and Guido never needed them, and the chairs are uncomfortable to stand on. And you look ridiculous standing on them, so it's better not to.

Should his darling also be tall, he'll just proper hide them.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I’m kind of tempted to get an EMF detector and just walk around the neighborhood with it when the outside is deserted because of bad weather, to see what kind of weird shit is happening sonically.

I’ve continually gotten really bad vibes from a nearby street corner… I’ve astral projected there in my sleep past one time (involuntarily) and I saw some black hole of a creature charge after me. I got the distinct feeling it wanted me carnally and carnivorously at the same time. I had to fly as fast as I could back into my body to escape it (it remained on the ground while I flew). I woke up with the after image of my own eyes staring into my soul, behind a white mask I used to own. It wasn’t like looking into a mirror, though; it felt sinister. I could tell I was looking into my own eyes; but there was something off about them. The eyes were completely devoid of any emotion, but extremely intense… almost as if they had a life of their own behind the reflection; or rather, as if I were the reflection in the mirror, and the eyes were the real me. Super fucking freaky.

To add to the bad vibes: There have also been numerous car crashes at that corner since I’ve been alive, at least one resulting in a woman being seriously injured. Many other times there have been near-misses. We could all hear when it happened— screeching tires, honking, cursing, and on especially unlucky days, the deafening bang of two cars ramming into each other at 40 mph on a 25 mph street.

There is also a sewer drain right on that street corner. It may just be a coincidence; but the one time I used an online ouija board, the spirit (assuming online ouija boards aren’t just a programmed gimmick) said they hated me and that they lived in the water. I refreshed the website a few times and it said the same thing. I don’t think this can be considered evidence; but it’s still weird. I’ve seen an entire family of raccoons in that sewer drain before. I have no idea how they got down there.

I also remember numerous experiences from when I was a child playing alone in my room or drawing at the kitchen table when I would be overcome with the feeling that I was being watched. I would usually come to feel so unsafe that I would drop whatever I was doing to sit in the living room or bedroom with my parents. I never told them why; I just went “nope” and moved to an area with people. My room and the kitchen are both on the side of the house that faces that corner. Mind you, I wasn’t doing anything scary like listening to “let’s not meet” stories when this happened. I was just doing normal kid stuff.

I’m by no means afraid of the dark; but I still get that feeling from the basement sometimes. All the basements on our block have flooded several times with water from the sewers during heavy rainfall because someone forgot to flip a switch for the water mains (I don’t know quite how that works). But yeah… basically the basement is connected to the sewers and storm drains… there are two holes in the floor which act as drains (which is where the flood water came from).

I remember one summer day when I was about eight or nine sitting on the can (the bathroom is right next to my room), taking a shit. We have a tiny frosted window above the bath tub; the bath tub is right next to the toilet. I distinctly saw what looked like the fuzzy silhouette of a man with gray hair standing right outside the window (full head and shoulders). He would have had to have been quite tall, or on a step stool, as the window is more than six feet off the ground from the outside. This dude shouts “Hello!” at me and fucking knocks on the window. I, of course, was startled and also mildly pissed at my dad (who is tall, but not quite that tall) for knocking on the window while I was taking a shit. I got out in the living room and asked why he knocked on the window. It wasn’t him. My parents speculated that it could have been our friend Bob who had briefly stopped by the house; but Bob was a short guy, and surely would have more fucking tact than that. Ever since then if I need to use the bathroom, I close the shower curtain.

On top of all this (completely unrelated), I’ve always had horrifying paranormal dreams since I was a kid, despite being raised without any exposure whatsoever to paranormal media. Also, I’ve had recurring dreams of a warped version of my school system, in which the buildings remain the same every time I dream of them. If there is a pool in any dream of mine, no matter how brief; it is ALWAYS haunted by some malevolent spirit… which is very weird because I absolutely love going to water parks. Always have.

Anyway… TLDR: I may have to banish something from that street corner lmfao

[maple-writes]

WHG 20 - The Chariots

WHG tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @pen-of-roses @grailfish @forthesanityofsome @pied-piper-of-hamlet (let me know if I forgot anyone! and no pressure_

--

The escort had to shake me awake when we got to the Capitol. “Wake up, we’re here!”

I sat up, still on the couch. How long had it been since leaving home? Since the dealings with the god inside Ares? I rubbed at my eyes and groaned at the ache in my muscles as I hauled myself to my feet. My head spun as dizziness swirled in my head. I stumbled and the escort caught me by my arm, shimmering glitter covering my shirt as soon as he did.

“Steady steady!” He held onto me a moment longer until I got my balance again. “Follow me, your friend’s already out there.”

Oh, really? I followed him without thinking. My shoulders ached and I reached over to try and massage the stiffness out, not sure if it was from sleeping on an expensive couch, the exorcism, the stress of yesterday, or maybe it was all of it. My stomach growled. How long had I been asleep?

Chatter and noise caught my attention as my escort escorted me out of the train and into a huge, hangar like spaced filled with tributes and stylists and make up and costumes. I stopped, stunned in the doorway. Colours everywhere, bright and glaring against the grey walls the grey floors. Noise and clatter from tools and sewing set ups and teams laughing and cheering over a successful job.

My escort nudged me along. “Most teams are already finishing up. Sorry I didn’t realize you were still sleeping back there but when they told me you weren’t here I knew I had to come find you. Didn’t want you missing out and all.”

He led me out of the train, weaving between groups crowded around unsuspecting tributes, several of them in the stages of arguing, struggling, or otherwise resisting anything their teams tried to do to them. Looking at some of the outfits they were presented with I couldn’t blame them.

The escort presented me to an overdressed team with a wave of his hand. “Here he is! He’s all yours.”

“About time!” The tallest, or maybe just the one with the tallest hat, pulled me forward by my arm. “Come on sit down we have a lot of catching up to do.”

She sat me down on a tall stool and stepped back, face scrunching as she looked me over. The escort vanished off somewhere and one of the styling assistants picked at a strand of my hair. I swallowed and kept still. It wouldn’t do me any good to fight with them about this, and my head still moved slow from sleep.

“You know what, I think we might be able to pull this off.” The head stylist waved to one of her assistants. “Might not even have to chance the colour schemes all that much, maybe just the sleeves.” She turned back to me, grinning. Her canine teeth were all dyed bright pink. “Sounds like our other team had some trouble with your partner so we were worried we’d have to overhaul our side too.”

“What kind of trouble?” I sat up taller, craning to see if I could spot her in the sea of tributes and teams but couldn’t spot her. “Is she okay?”

The stylist shrugged and started gathering her materials. “Well, physically. She’s awfully defiant though. Might be something wrong with her that way.” She clapped her hands together. “Now usually I like to spend more time but with the late start we’re going to have to work pretty fast.”

She and her team jumped straight to work, pouncing on me and their make up and supplies as they had me change from my clothes to theirs. They styled my hair, dyed the front strands a bright fiery orange, trimmed rough edges, rubbed expensive foundation into my face, darkened my eyelids, painted my nails a shimmering black. They dressed me in a tight dark shoulder-less shirt and pants, with some kind of orange and yellow netting running up and down my sleeves, and a thick, shiny leather falconer’s glove with orange stitching on my right hand.

“Sorry, no time for a grand reveal,” The stylist gently shoved me towards the waiting chariots. “Show’s about to start, off you go.”

I stumbled at the push, then wandered stiffly towards the first chariot. The pants were tight on my legs, restricting the movement and making it feel like I was walking with stilts instead of legs. Ares was nowhere to be seen yet as I leaned against the side of the shining chariot. Maybe it wasn’t just the peacekeepers that didn’t like her if she gave trouble to anyone who tried to control her.

Most other tributes were already here and waiting, clustered around their chariots. Most looked out of place. Even without knowing them, almost none of them seemed to be dressed in a way that was anything near natural to them. Except for one. A tall woman with a large-brimmed hat and a long coat stood talking with a man who didn’t look like he had decided yet if he wanted anything to do with her. Right. There was something to making an impression with the others, wasn’t there? I bit at the inside of my cheek. I’d have to decide how I wanted to come off, wouldn’t I? Was there merit to being friendly, or would it be better to come off as a threat?

Ares stormed over, slumping against the chariot beside me hard enough it rocked a moment before stilling. “They figured out I don’t exactly have magic anymore.”

“Already?” I frowned. That was fast. Then again, I hadn’t seen her here while everyone else was getting prepared. Maybe they’d taken her somewhere else, somewhere with a specialist.

“Yeah, they said I had to be a phoenix for the costume, and I refused because I didn’t want to, but they tried to force me to transform, so when that didn’t work, they figured it out.”

I frowned, glancing down at my glove. They wanted to make her out as my bird? They wanted to present her as something that I commanded? I’d heard of situations before where one tribute was presented as the better of the two, the more capable, at the expense of showing the other as weak, as lesser. I swallowed, unease rippling through my gut. Why me? What was going on that I would be slated as the powerful one?

“I…” I frowned deeper, looking her up and down. “I’m not sure they know what birds look like.” They hadn’t even done a good job on her. Was that intentional?

She smiled though. “I wouldn’t stay still for them to actually make me look like a bird.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “That… Makes sense.” I probably should have thought of that first.

A lull fell between us and I eyed the chariot, fidgeting at the cuff of my sleeve sewn tight enough my hand was starting to tingle. Each was tall, with large wheels and not a lot of standing room. “Do you think anyone ever falls off of these?’

Ares shrugged. “I’ll keep you steady. But probably not. Knowing the Capitol, they make some way to keep tributes from doing that.”

“That’s good.” My shoulders fell, relaxed just a little. Maybe I had managed to make one ally at least, if she was so quickly willing to offer me help. “I don’t have particularly good balance.”

“I learned good balance, so I’ll keep you steady.” She smiled. “Showing camaraderie would confuse the Capitol anyway.”

Camaraderie? She must have considered me someone to trust, someone she would side with then. Even if it was only to spite the Capitol having her on my side eased some of the nerves coiling through my body.

I smiled. “It sure would, having the bird direct the,” I raised my hand, air quoting, “falconer.”

The less I had to play into their manufactured imbalance, the better.

“They wanted me in a cage, but I think this works better, don’t you?”

I nodded, laughing a little despite the pounding of my heart as the doors opened at the end of the hall. “I don’t think I could have held a cage up that long anyway.”

“Good I wouldn’t have let you.” She clapped my back hard enough I stumbled, surprised, as she jumped up onto the chariot and offered me a hand up.

I took it gladly, gripping the railings with my gloved hand to haul myself up. “Thanks.” The chariot swayed as I climbed. “Can’t wait until this is over.”

Ares wrapped an arm around my shoulder to steady me as the chariot started to move and rattle. “Me too.”

I gripped the railing with both hands as it lurched into the light, bright and blinding. My stomach knotted and my legs trembled. There were people, crowds of them, standing around us and cheering and shouting and looking. Look at us. At me. At home, were they watching too? Watching me cling to the railings? What were we supposed to do?

“What do you think, wave or no waving?” I glanced at Ares. She seemed to know better how to make an impression.

“Fuck them. I’m not giving them shit.”

“Good call.” I didn’t want to let go of the railings anyway.

The sun burned hot on my back, the air dusty and drying through my nose. The crowd roared, all one sound, loud and inescapable surrounding us. Horses and riders set loose from their chariots raced haphazard around the circle like heralds. I frowned. That woman with the hat again. She raced her stolen horse alongside another tribute with bright green hair. If they were bold enough for this, what would they do in the arena? I didn’t want to find out.

They sped past and I followed them with my eyes until I fixed on someone, familiar in the crowd. Cirrus. He stood front and center in the stands, blending in just a little too well with a sheer white button up and shimmering blue-grey vest. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d even fucked up his hair to fit in, intricately braided with strings of pearls weaved throughout. He met my eyes with a quick nod before the woman next to him laid her hand on his arm and leaned in for his attention.

“Can I ask you a favour?” I turned to Ares, voice soft. “If a bird taps on any of the windows where they keep us, can you open it?”

She nodded eagerly. “If I can turn into a phoenix again by then, can I talk to it first before it goes to see you?”

I shrugged. “You can try. He might be a bit of an ass though.” I almost wished I could be there in the air with them to hear what Cirrus would say. And what Ares would say back.

“I’m a bit of an ass too.”

“Then you should be fine.” I smiled, tension easing from my shoulders as the chariots stopped.

I leaned against the front of the railing, resting my elbows on the brass and finding Cirrus in the crowd again, distracted by the pretty Capitol woman beside him. He said something and she giggled, blushing and leaning up against him and I rolled my eyes when he looked back my way.

Maybe he wouldn’t be up to see me quite so soon, but he was here. Ember must have told him and he must have flown straight over. Even if he couldn’t help me get out of this he was here.

I hadn’t noticed when the speeches ended until the chariots moved once more, taking us back into the hanger.

--

They ushered us quickly from chariot to the tower we would be kept in for the next week. The escort chattered on and on about our performance, surprisingly pleased with our show of solidarity together. When we reached our floor he gave us each a pat on the back, then nudged me towards the living area.

“You’ve got someone waiting for you.”

I frowned. No way Cirrus was here already. I knew him better than to think he would come straight here while that girl was practically pawing at him.

My shoes clicked on the tile floor as I rounded the corner to the living room and found Ginger sitting on one of the couches. She stood as soon as she saw me, blond hair tied back and pink velvet hoodie cast aside on the table. She was here. She was here too.

“What are you doing here?”

She rounded the coffee table, pulling on her white leather gloves before gently gripping my bare shoulders. “I couldn’t let you come here alone. Whoever they assigned to mentor you wouldn’t know enough to help you.”

I melted, leaning into her shoulder careful to avoid the exposed skin on her neck. She didn’t have to do this. Not for me, not for anyone. She didn’t have to get involved. How many things had she needed to postpone, to rearrange, to follow me here?

She continued, quieter. “I don’t know if I can save you, but after all you’ve been through, and all you’ve overcome, I’m not about to let you face this on your own.”

She’d done more than enough already for me. She didn’t need to do this too. I swallowed, tears slipping down my face and soaking into the fabric of her shirt. She could have, maybe should have, given up on me time and time before. She’d sacrificed days, weeks, months working with me, patient as she guided me back to myself.

“Get some rest,” she gently nudged me back. “Take the afternoon easy today. Training starts tomorrow.”

[avatarmerida]

Huntlow height difference from willows pov

If you wanted it written in first person I’m sorry but I simply can’t write that style very well but I hope this is just as good anon

———

“Hey Hunter, can you come get the cake pan off the top shelf for me?” Willow called from the kitchen. Hunter eagerly hopped off the coach and sprang into the next room to assist her.

“Here ya go,” he said as he carefully handed her the glass pan. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Hmm I don’t think so,” said Willow, reading the recipe. “Oh, wait I think the brown sugar is up high as well. If you wouldn’t mind-.”

“On it!” said Hunter effortlessly bringing the bag down to her.

“Thank you,” smiled Willow taking the bag from him and setting it on the counter.

“If you want I could stick around in case there’s anything else you need that’s high up,” said Hunter, leaning against the counter attempting to look as causal as possible. “I could also help chop up the apples.”

“Sounds good to me,” smiled Willow, grateful for the help and the excuse to spend time with Hunter. She got a spare apron from beside the stove and Hunter ducked down so she could place it over his head like a medal. “I can start beating the eggs, just let me know if I’m in your way okay?”

“You could never be in my way,” Hunter assured as he tightened the bow around his waist (trying not to blush at the fact that Willow had given him one that read “Kiss the Cook” on the front) and the two began their work. The kitchen wasn’t big by any means, but the pair didn’t mind the lack of counter space. This had become their routine. By constantly offering to help Willow, Hunter found that he enjoyed the rhythm and method of baking. It was calming.

And the company wasn’t bad either.

They both worked side by side in silence, focused on their task. Willow began to him quietly under her breath, a habit she didn’t notice but Hunter adored.

“I think it needs cinnamon,” Hunter murmured to himself as he slid to the side to reached up into the cupboard above Willow. She was so focused on her own project she didn’t notice he had moved until she went to turn around to check if she had preheated the oven and found Hunter standing over her.

She sometimes forgot how tall he was. Had he gotten taller since they’d gotten here? Maybe his posture had just gotten better. But looking up him now with a view of his jawline highlighted by the kitchen light, Willow was grateful that she always conveniently forgot to remind Mrs. Noceda to pick up a step stool when they were out shopping.

“Oh, here it is,” said Hunter to himself as he found what he was looking for. He placed his other hand back on the counter as the other held the cinnamon as he looked back down to meet Willow’s gaze and realized he was standing over her. “Oh, sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-.”

“Oh it’s totally fine,” Willow squeaked. “Um could you see if the green spatula is up there?”

“Oh yeah of course,” he said as he continued to search, moving jars and cans around. “Hmm, sorry I don’t see it...”

“Oh, silly me it’s right here,” said Willow, as she miraculously found the mentioned spatula sitting beside her hand all along. There was something about having to look up to him made Willow want to reach up pull him down to her level to... help him hear her better.

“Oh, good,” said Hunter with a smile as he went back to his station as he combined Willow’s mixture with his own to send to the oven. “Well, let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Ya know it’s kind of funny,” said Willow as she placed the dishes in the sink. “Mrs. Noceda is barely taller than I am, I don’t understand how these things end up so high.”

“I mean, if you’ve got the storage, might as well use it right?”

“I guess,” chuckled Willow. “But I really appreciate you helping me, I don’t know how I’d do it without you.”

“Well, I know how much you love baking so it’s really no trouble at all,” said Hunter, admiring the way she cleaned her glasses with the end of her apron. “Anything to help, ya know?”

———

“Oh, Mrs. Noceda, please allow me,” said Hunter, swooping in as Camila began emptying to dishwasher. “Let me put those away for you.”

“Oh, why thank you mijo,” she said, allowing Hunter to take the clean baking pan from her. “Do you need a step stool? You don’t need to put them up so high.”

“Well, I figured you have the storage why not use it, right?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Daddy - Bucky Barnes

a/n: so this one is a little more... lighthearted? idk but it was based on THIS request!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

masterlist

You totally forgot Peter would have his friends over for the night, so you’re slightly surprised when you find him with Ned and MJ in the kitchen, but it’s a pleasant one. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, being the youngest of the adults in the tower, you developed a great friendship with the youngster and his friends.

“Oh, hello guys! Good to see you again!” you beam at the three of them, Ned greeting you with a little wave and a stunned smile on his face. Peter has recently revealed that Ned might have a tiny crush on you, which you find cute. Though you’re more than a decade older than him, you find it endearing he is crushing on you out of all the amazing women on the team.

MJ nods in your way as she munches on her sandwich, if you didn’t know her better you’d think she is annoyed by you judging by the look on her face, but you’ve learned by now that this is her default expression, almost a happy one.

“Hi Y/N!” Peter greets you smiling. “How was your day?” he asks lightly. He is such a good kid, knows his manners and cares so much for others. The men in the tower like to tease him about his soft behavior, but you think it’s such a great trait.

“A little tiring. Training kicked my ass today, but it was fine. What are you guys up to?” you ask, grabbing yourself a canned soda from the fridge.

“MJ wants to play truth or dare, but only because she wants to make us do embarrassing stuff,” Peter huffs looking at the girl who just smiles with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that game! Used to play it a lot at parties too!” you smirk, remembering the times you played with your friends in the basement of your mom’s house.

“You want to play with us?” MJ offers.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” Peter smiles, happy to have another person join their little group. Glancing at Ned you see that he is now blushing, the tip of his ears turning red as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Poor kid will have to learn how to function around women sooner or later.

The game starts out quite innocent, it’s not even the wild version where you’re drinking, though it popped into your head to pour yourself some wine. But then you decided to keep it PG rated for the kids’ sake.

But as more and more rounds go down, the tasks and questions are getting a little… spicy. When MJ turns to you and asks you the question of the game and you answer before you could even think about it, you know you are in trouble.

“Dare,” you answer and want to take it back right away, but you don’t want to look like such a pussy. But then MJ smirks at you devilishly and you consider just walking out before she ruins your whole life.

“Alright, text all the other Avengers ‘Hey Daddy’ and read the responses out loud.”

The boys gasp as you press your lips into a thin line, knowing well it won’t end good on your side. Especially because there is one person whose response you would rather not read out loud.

You’ve been close to Bucky since day one and though you both were a little ignorant towards your feelings, a few months ago you finally moved your relationship a little further than just being friends. However you both agreed it’s better kept as a secret, at least until you figure out where you really want to head together as a couple.

Now, if you text that message to Bucky there’s no way he won’t write back something that would bust your asses right away, but you can’t back out now, you can only hope he is busy doing something else and won’t pay attention to his phone.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you lean onto the kitchen island as the kids start cheering for you being a badass and accepting the task.

“Just hey daddy, that’s all?” you ask as you open your contacts.

“Maybe add a winking face,” Ned suggests and you shoot him a glare that immediately turns his face red as he shuts his mouth.

“The winking face is a good idea,” MJ nods.

“Thanks, Ned,” you mumble under your breath as you start opening the text threads, sending them all the same message. Tony, Nat, Steve, Banner, Clint, Sam, Strange, even Rhodey and at the end of the list… Bucky.

“And what, now we wait?” Peter asks.

“Place the phone here so we see when you get a reply and you’ll read them, we can move on until then,” MJ tells you, bossing you around like you’re not even a highly trained special agent who could take her out in a blink of an eye.

The first reply comes from Nat who just asks if you’re drunk. Then comes Banner, who sounds offended that you think he could be your father, totally missing the point of the text. Tony teases you about always knowing you had a thing for him, Steve kindly tells you he only sees you as a sister, Clint just reads the text and doesn’t reply. Sam just sends a simple “control yourself” message back while Strange threatens you to block you if you send another text like this again. Rhodey doesn’t even reads it.

You start to feel relieved when about twenty minutes pass by and no reply comes from Bucky. The game moves on and you almost start to forget about the whole task when your phone lights up again and your breathing hitches when you see Bucky’s name appear on the screen.

“Oh, another reply!” MJ beams as she urges you to unlock the phone and read the reply. When you do so and see his text, you almost just hop off the stool and run out of the kitchen. You consider saying something else, pretending like he didn’t write what he did, but MJ doesn’t take the bullshit and her patience runs short so she simply snatches your phone out of your hand and reads the text herself.

“I specifically remember you saying you’re not into that stuff. What else are you keeping from me about our sex life?”

You let out a long and tired sigh as the room falls silent and they all just stare at you in confusion before MJ slowly slides the phone back to you.

“Our sex life? There’s… there’s a you and Bucky?” Peter asks quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. An anxious chuckle slips from between your lips as you try to find a way to get yourself out of this massive trouble, but nothing comes to your mind. You’ve fought aliens, assassins, you were captured, tortured, went on a hundred mission in your life, yet now three kids defeated you with a game of Truth or Dare.

“Well, um… It’s a funny story, you know—I don’t… fuck,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck.

“Are you like… together or is it just a friends with benefits thing?” MJ question, shooting you a curious look.

You don’t get to answer, because just as you are about to open your mouth, the man in talk walks in, a puzzled look on his face, phone in his hand, probably still dwelling on your latest message. His eyes spot you first, but then he realizes that you’re not alone and he freezes. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Peter or his friends, he just feels so far away from people these days, let alone teenagers who are about a century younger than him.

“Oh,” he breathes out, slowly walking closer to you. “Hello guys,” he murmurs shyly, trying to put the picture together as his eyes fall back to you and he sees how uncomfortable you are. Before he could get another word out, MJ speaks up and just as always, her raw style doesn’t disappoint any of you.

“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is not really into the Daddy stuff.”

You almost choke on your own breath as you turn to shoot her a glare, your hand moving to grab Bucky’s arm gently, sensing him growing more and more anxious with each second.

“MJ, I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is the right person to joke around with,” Ned mumbles, avoiding to even look at Bucky as you let out an airy chuckle.

“G-Girlfriend? We are not—“ Bucky starts, but you cut him off.

“No use to deny, Buck. They know it.”

Bucky huffs, closing his eyes for a moment before he moves closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Despite the absurdity of the situation, this small little gesture makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.

“Is there any chance this could stay between us, kids?” you ask with a charming smile, turning to the three troublemakers.

“I don’t know, what do we get out of keeping it a secret?” Peter purses his lips, pretending to have the higher ground, but you already know what’s about to come.

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaps to the counter top as he shoots a death glare over to the poor kid and though he definitely looks like he is ready to kill any moment, you know that it’s all just an act.

“How about I don’t rip your guts out, kid? That enough?” Bucky growls and while all three of them take a step back with wide eyes and dry throats, you just shake your head chuckling, placing a hand to his hard chest.

“Buck, no need to go all winter soldier on them. They’ll keep our secret, right?” you ask with an innocent smile and all three of them start nodding wildly, as if they just saw a ghost.

Seeing their reaction you realize it’s better if the game ends here and you let them be on their own. You thank for the fun time before grabbing Bucky’s arm and pull him out of the kitchen, heading up to your rooms.

“You shouldn’t have scared them that badly, Buck,” you scold him, but you still actually find it kind of funny, seeing their pale faces and fearful eyes at your boyfriend’s tough guy act.

“Well, they scare me too sometimes,” he mumbles shrugging. “Especially that MJ girl… she is just… weird.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, a six feet tall super soldier with a metal arm being scared of a teenage girl with a big mouth, that’s quite an interesting concept.

“Hey,” you stop him before the two of you would part in the hallway. He turns back and his blue eyes soften on you. “Do you want to… sneak into my room?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip as you smirk up at him, sliding a hand up his chest, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We could have some fun… Daddy.”

“Wait, are you really into the daddy stuff?” he asks with wide eyes, making you cackle with your head falling back.

“Just shut up and come to my room,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his as you pull him into your bedroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[just-some-gt-trash]

Big crush, small lover

I keep being lateeeeeee but here. At this rate I'm going to finish in April ;-;

This is for day 12 of @sanders-spring Moceit

I don't think there's any content warnings, but let me know if you find any!

------------------------------------

Janus rang the doorbell of Patton's house, waiting patiently for them to open.

It had been a long time since he saw his childhood friend, college kept both of them very busy and there was hardly any time to visit each other. But Janus knew he had to be there as soon as possible when he heard Patton had been in some kind of accident while helping their aunt at work.

Patton swore they were okay and there had only been a few side effects from the substances they were exposed to, how could Janus not worry about that?! Patton did ask him to let them know when he arrived… but Janus forgot to do it.

The door opened and Janus smiled at his friend. Patton stood speechless for a moment before smiling widely, their whole face lighting up. God, Janus really loved that smile.

Patton sqealed and threw himself to Janus’ arms before he could say anything else. “I can’t believe you're really here! I’ve missed you!”

Janus chuckled and hugged Patton back, “I’ve missed you too.” With his arms wrapped around Patton, he could noticed it was getting harded to hold them? Janus thought they were pulling apart but no, and Patton's grip on his body felt tighter too.

Patton seemed to notice too, “oh shoot.” With a quick movement they grabbed Janus’ hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind them. “I forgot, I forgot, I forgot,” they mumbled to themselves.

Janus was quite confused now, specially looking around Patton's house. All the curtains were closed, which was weird considering how much Patton loved natural light. There were a bunch of stuff on the floor or in places where they didn't belong, like they’ve been poorly rearranged after bumping on them. And there were several stools and makeshift ladders to reach high and low places, like a kid was living here.

“You forgot about whaaaa?” Janus turned around to see Patton now on his knees, back against the ceiling, and at least twenty feet tall!

Patton chuckled awkwardly and looked down at Janus, “I uh… this is why I wanted you to know when you were here.”

Janus had to back up to actually get a full look on Patton. Something was going to get into his mouth if he didn't close it soon. “Wha… this… how?!”

“The accident at my aunt’s? This is the side effect...” Luckily, Patton's embarrassment was already making them shrink… who knew how much though… “Please don't be scared, we’re still working to understand this.”

Janus noticed the change this time, he stepped closer to Patton. “So… you just grow randomly?"

Patton shrugged, “not really. We know the change is linked to my emotions but it’s not very… consistent. The first explanation the people on the lab gave me was that I grow with positive emotions and shrink with negative ones, but I’ve shrank while being happy too.”

“So it goes the other way around too?” That would be interesting to see, Patton was always the tall one.

Patton nodded, glad his head wasn't reaching the ceiling anymore. The shrinking also stopped for now, but at least he wouldn't be as intimidating.

Janus looked up at Patton “I think this is too tall even for you”

Patton giggled, “but I’ve been dealing with short problems too… sorry I used to make fun of you for that.”

Janus shrugged, “I’d say it's your karma.” He looked at Patton’s hand… just their hand was huge! A couple of feet more and he could sit on it comfortably.

Patton shifted slightly, dropping an inch or two. They knew Janus would be confused and all… but people have been staring at them for days and they were getting tired of it, “you're not… scared, right?”

Janus looked back up, did he stare for too long? “No! Of course not Patt! You're just big and it's shocking but, you're still my Patton.”

Patton blinked and blushed. They didn't know why but Janus calling him “his” made them all shy and flustered.

Janus’ eyes shot open and he blushed darkly, he said that out loud right? He cleared his throat, “well uh… is there anything I could do to help shrink you down?”

“I don't think so…” Apparently being flustered made them shrink too. Patton should write it down somewhere for their next checkup, “Could you move closer so I can stretch my legs? I don't want to hurt you or anything.”

“Sure.” Janus got closer to Patton’s body, he felt like a child on his mother's lap.

Patton extended their legs, instinctively holding Janus against him so he could get comfortable.

Janus couldn't help but blush even darker as Patton pressed him against their body. It was weird being held like this by a giant hand… but Patton was so warm.

Patton's legs were taller than Janus on their own! He used to feel small around them but this was a whole new level! He didn't mind, sure being on the smaller side was annoying, but with Patton… he always felt so protected and cared for.

Patton noticed, “oh I-I’m sorry I didn't mean to hold you like that.” They pulled their hand away, resting it on their thigh.

Janus looked up, he couldn't see Patton's face being this close to their body though. “It's okay Patt, I uh… actually like being this close to you.”

Patton's face turned red again and they started shrinking again, at a much higher pace.

Janus let out a small yelp as he felt Patton's body practically disappear from behind him. He turned around, finding a shrunken Patton sitting on the floor. They were definitely smaller than their normal size, “d-did I cause that?”

Patton looked up, seeing Janus from this angle wasn't helping them at all. He looked so tall and handsome, those thoughts only kept Patton shrinking.

Yeah Janus was getting worried now. Could Patton shrink to nothing? What if they did? How would he grow them back?! Janus kneeled down in front of his dwindling friend, “w-what do I do to stop it?”

Patton looked down at themselves. Okay they had to calm down before they got stuck too small… again, at least Janus would be here to help this time. “I- no, this is on me I’m just being weird about stuff.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. Too weird? About what?

Patton stood up, they weren't shrinking as much as before but they were definitely still getting smaller. Ugh! They weren't prepared to deal with all his fuzzy feelings! They weren't prepared before the accident and now there was no running away from them.

Janus let out a soft sigh as Patton's shrinking seemed to stop. “Is me being here making you… uncomfortable? I could leave if you don't want me to see you like this.”

“No!” Patton didn't want him to leave! Not only because moving around at barely two feet tall wasn't the easiest thing to do, but they didn't want to be alone. “I’m not uncomfortable, not around you. It's been days since they let me be back at home, and technically I can't interact with anyone… But I want you here.”

Janus had a slight blush on his cheeks, “Patt.. ugh I don't know. I don't want you to keep changing because of me.”

Patton shook his head, “I don't care. This size thing has been a pain to deal with, I don't want it to take you away from me.”

Okay, now Janus didn't know how to feel about that. Patton has been a big crush for, Janus even forgot for how long! He kept leaving flirty comments here and yhete to grab Patton's attention but it never worked. Janus thought they didn't have any effect on them but… he could literally see they did now. Has Patton liked him back for all these years.

Patton was getting desperate at not getting a response. Janus was spacing out on his own thoughts, as if they didn't have their own to deal with already. Patton was now closer to one foot but they didn't care, they walked closer to Janus and climbed his legs.

Janus felt Patton’s small body on him and instinctively cupped his hands around them. “Here, I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He helped Patton up his lap and let them sit there.

Was this what Janus felt being against them before? Patton didn't know if he could deal with it much longer. “You do have an effect on me Jan, but not a bad one. At least I think it's not bad.”

Janus was sure Patton was now smaller than he had been to them. “Uh… I affect you? How?”

“Well, it's hard to explain but I… mmm something attracts me to you. I feel safe and loved with you, and I feel like I want to make you feel the same thing.”

“Yeah… I think that's a great way to explain it.” Janus scratched the back of his head, “listen I didn't want it to come out this way. I never imagined it would come out this way, but if it makes you feel better.” Janus took a deep breath, “I feel like that too, I’ve felt like that for so long. Being away from you has been so hard, I just want to stay by your side.”

That stopped Patton’s shrinking, it actually gave them a small growth spurt. “You really mean it?”

Janus smiled at Patton, who was now at eye level with him. “I do, and I promise I’ll be here for you.”

Patton smiled and cupped Janus’ cheek. Their hand looked so small, it only made Patton a lot more flustered. “Can I?”

Janus chuckled a bit and held the back of Patton's head, “go ahead.” This was it, it was really happening! At least if he really understood what Patton meant.

They didn't wait any longer and closed the space between them with a kiss. Patton felt like a hundred butterflies were dancing on their stomach. They could feel the heat coming from Janus’ face merge with their own heat.

Janus felt Patton getting heavier as they leaned on him. He laid down on the floor, letting them lay on top of him. Janus kept going with the kiss, only stopping once Patton grew out of reach.

Patton frowned and looked down at Janus with a chuckle, “guess I got a bit excited.”

Janus chuckled back and nodded, “that's what it looks like.”

“You look adorable when I’m bigger than you.” Patton stroked Janus’ hair as they got off of him to lay on the floor.

Janus blushed, he felt a tingling sensation running through his body but assumed it was just him being flustered. Janus watched Patton as they started growing again… only to find a confused look on his face.

Looking around, Janus realized it wasn't Patton growing. He was shrinking.

Patton sat up and picked Janus up to try and comfort him, “uh… I guess it's contagious after all. I’m so sorry Jan.”

Janus was pretty sure he wasn't even a foot tall now, confusion and fear mixed together weren't good for his situation. He sat on Patton's hand and looked up, shaking his head. “You didn't know, it's not your fault Patt… but, you did say an antidote is being made right?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hi! I saw prompt #196 and damn, I couldn't stop thinking about Andy 🥴

I hope this isn't too out there hahaha.

Work It Out

Warnings: implied noncon, cheating, two faced Andy

You hate everything. It feels like no matter what you do, you can't win. You're starving, you're sore, and exhausted. And the scale hasn't ticked a single number down. You were trying everything those fad diets and fitness guides told you. You just couldn't seem to shed the extra pounds.

Your days at the gym grew no less uncomfortable as you look around and see enviable bodies, younger, older, all of the above. Every body that wasn't yours.

You turn up the belt until you're jogging, almost too fast until you're sure you'll fall on your face. You try to meter your pants and keep from hanging your mouth open, instead puffing through your nose. 

You wipe your forehead and feel a trickle of sweat on your lip as you brace the metal handbars and keep your feet moving. You bat away droplets with your lashes and flick away that on your lip with your tongue. You shakily pull on your shirt to air out the dampness and nearly stumble.

“Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?" The deep voice startles you and you clasp tightly to the machines as your soles crash down clumsily, "Cause if you did, we’re having sex right now.”

You saw the man every day as you went to the same treadmill. You would guess he's 40, maybe older, and in peak shape for one half his age. He leans an elbow on your machine as you gape at him and stammer at how he arches a brow. Your grip slips and you go hurtling back as you fall to your knees and fly off the back of the machine.

"Oh shit," you hear him as you catch yourself on your hands and gasp for air, muscles shaking, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your concentration."

You hear a beep and the belt stills before he nears you. He kneels down and touches your shoulder as you lift your head.

"I think… um, I misread the situation, I thought you were looking at me," he chuckles nervously, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you sit back on your heels and rub your hip, "just mortified."

"I really didn't…" he pauses and drops his hand from your shoulder, "wow, I should be embarrassed. These last two weeks I thought… well I thought you were looking at me and, geez, that guy on the lift machine must have thought I was winking at him."

"I don't know--" you touch your chest as you catch your breath, "what?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugs and stands up, offering his hand, "get a bit carried away watching you… that sounds weird, I'm sorry."

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You nod and smile awkwardly. "I'm flattered," you say thinly, "but… what would your wife think?"

You let go of his hand and look pointedly at his ring. He gives a tight-lipped smile and sucks his teeth, "separated… I just, uh, feel naked without it."

"Oh, sorry," you cringe, "that sounds, uh, complicated."

"Not really, just had to go to a new gym so I didn't see her with the other man," he scoffs, "that's too much information, huh?"

"You know, you just watched me land on my ass, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off, "but uh…" you try not to let your eyes drift but they do. He's fit and fine and you can't imagine any woman cheating on him but that ring was a problem, "look, I do mean it, it's flattering but I'd rather wait until you can take the ring off. It's… not something I wanna step in, you know?"

"Makes sense," his smile fell, "so…" he wiggles the ring off and tucks it into his pocket.

"Um," you look around but no one else seems to notice you or the man.

"Oh uh that was just an awful line," he shakes his head, "we can start with drinks."

You squint at him and bite your lip. His eyes follow and you make yourself stop.

"That's so hot," he says, "you sure you weren't looking at me?"

"You sure you were looking at me?" You counter, "uh, a drink sounds… fine but I might stick to water, as you saw I'm not great on my feet."

"Sure, I gotta finish my cool down but do you know The Frog?"

"Yeah, just down the block," you fill in.

"I'll be there at…" he checks his apple watch, "seven? Can I expect you?"

"Mhmmm," you nod nervously, half disbelieving and half humiliated.

"Andy," he offers his name and his hand. You shake it and give your own. 

He winks and you try to hold a smile. You watch him go back to the weight bench before you retrieve your water bottle and retreat. You could hit the shower before the bsr and at least save a little face.

💪

You walk into the bar before you can lose your nerve. You look around in the dim light, certain this is a cruel trick. That man could not be interested in you. Even if he was halfway a divorce, it was too good to be true. You won't be surprised if you're stood up.

"Hey," you see the wave of the hand and hear the half shout. 

You let out your breath and cross to the tall table in the corner. You smile and climb up on the stool across from Andy. He returns the gesture and looks over as a server approaches.

"Are we finally ready?" She asks sweetly.

"Stella," he orders and nods at you. You order a diet coke and the server smiles at Andy before she walks away. 

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you say. 

"Nope," he says coolly, "you know, one drink couldn't hurt. It might ease the sting a little from earlier too."

"Hmm," you grin sheepishly, "there's not enough gin in the world for that."

"Oh, a gin girl, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks, "so how was the rest of your work out?"

"A work out," you scoff, "I thought exercise was supposed to be relaxing."

"Certain kinds are more effective," he lifts a brow and you roll your eyes at the flirty remark.

"Wow, you're such a cheeseball," you giggle.

"I'll take it," he says, "I usually get meatball, all brawn no brain."

"That's yet to be determined," you jibe and sit back as the server returns with your drinks and you thank her. 

"No pressure," he says dryly, "none at all."

You laugh again. This Is easier than you expect. You've never been the smoothest and he was probably the best looking guy you ever talked to. No guy with his eyes and his jawline saw you past the skinny blondes and stunning insta models.

You lose track of time and finish your drink. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and only then realise how Andy's progressively shifted his stool around so he's right beside you. You need to take a breath. 

You feel lighter when you come out from the bathroom and pass another woman on her way in. You slow as you get to the bar as you find Andy with his phone to his ear. You near quietly, hoping not to disturb his call.

"No, I'm still at the office," he says, "yeah… no I forgot to grab the dry cleaning, Laurie. Tomorrow, okay? Right, bye, hon."

He hangs up and you realise he's lying to the woman on the phone and you. You brush by his seat and grab your purse from the back of the chair where you slung it.  He flinches as you pull out your wallet.

"So Laurie, that your wife?" You pick through your bills, "doesn't sound like you're separated."

"Woah, come on, let me explain," he tries to push your wallet away and you toss a five on the table, the tip would be as much as the drink itself.

"Explain what?" You rolls your eyes and scowl, "I'm so stupid."

You storm away and hear him shuffle before his stool wobbles and his steps follow you out into the night. He catches your arm and pulls you back before you can hail a cab.

"Look, I…" he drops his head, "we may as well be separated okay? She hasn't touched me in over a year, I sleep on the couch in my office… all we do is fight."

"So? Either get counselling or cut ties, but I'm not fucking with a married man--"

"I… I'm waiting until my son goes to college," he says desperately as you shrug him off.

"And in the meantime what? You pick up fat girls at the gym to fill the void--"

"You're the only girl--"

"Besides your wife," you spit, "wow, I feel special."

You turn and try to raise your hand. It's caught in mid air and you're pulled back by the back of your shirt. You look around but you're too far down for the bouncer to see you and there's no one else passing by. 

Andy's thick arm snakes around your neck and his bicep pushes your chin up. He drags you around the corner and forces you toward an SUV. You bring your feet up and hit the side with your soles.

"The fuck?"

"Please, don't act like I'm not doing you a favour, honey," he gropes your ass as you struggle with him.

"Get off," you grunt as his hand slips over your hip and he turns you as he rips the door open. 

"Shhh," he pushes you up into the back seat and you slip down on the floor.

You push yourself up and huff on your stomach. You reach to the other door as he climbs in behind you and the doors click as you grab the handle. He straddles your ass as his hand covers your mouth and he bends over you. 

He presses his cheek to your temple and hushes you again. You see the shadows of pedestrians and their voices as they pass just outside. You murmur into his palm and claw at the door helplessly. Their steps fade into the distance as Andy grinds his crotch against your ass.

"Honey," he growls through his teeth, "I know you were looking at me…"

[seiyasabi]

The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji. 

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc! 

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. ) 

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something. 

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?” 

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?” 

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!” 

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful! 

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!” 

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab. 

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?” 

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?” 

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down. 

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating. 

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him. 

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

-

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired. 

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you. 

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve! 

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off! 

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does! 

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time. 

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab! 

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try. 

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you! 

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to. 

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so. 

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them. 

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances! 

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications. 

-

Saturday night comes far too soon. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside. 

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building. 

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen. 

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar. 

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city. 

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure- 

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you. 

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace. 

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.” 

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.” 

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.” 

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig. 

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting. 

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji. 

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them. 

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool. 

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!” 

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately. 

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji. 

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer. 

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding. 

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee. 

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod. 

“You bet!” 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

-

You spoke too soon. 

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once. 

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people. 

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession. 

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are. 

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you. 

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute. 

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile. 

[oh-for-merlins-sake]

SLOW BURN | gw | golden

summary: y/n, a local florist, stops in weasleys’ wizard wheezes for the first time and finds more than she bargained for. soon, she’ll teach george that there are many reasons to stop and smell the roses.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: alcohol

a/n: AAAAAH you guys i did not want to stop writing this!! i had so much fun, and i’m really happy with how it turned out! it was really challenging for me to write a “slow burn” relationship, but i hope i did it justice! as you’ll see, this is not a “song” fic, but a lyric (in bold and italics) was used. cheers to the first installment of the golden collection!!

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

Blackbirds trilled overhead as you glided over the cobblestone path to work. The sun was finally reemerging from behind the dark, dreary clouds, which had just finished bathing the streets of Diagon Alley in a springtime shower. You admired the lingering smell of fresh rainwater that dripped from the eaves above you.

Today, you were taking a detour from your ordinary route. Your younger brother’s birthday was just around the corner, and you had yet to find a gift worthy of a teenage boy’s microscopic attention span and angst-ridden ennui. You smiled to yourself as you spotted the vibrant shop down the street with its mechanical mascot tipping his hat to you.

It was curious to you that this shop had a natural magnetism to people of all ages. If you hadn’t found a thing yet, this shop should surely hold something that would cater to your brother. You’d seen the troves of young wizards clamoring in a morning or two before.

As you approached the large front doors, you glanced at your watch: half an hour until the start of your shift. You strolled into the whimsical shop, dodging a Fanged Frisbee in the process. You slowly turned in place, eyeing the towering shelves of eccentric gadgets and vivid pyrotechnics. Truthfully, it was a little intimidating; where to start was beyond you.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

Startled by the sudden voice, you spun to face its origin. You were met with a tall, redheaded man with freckles that practically danced across his cheeks as he chuckled at your expression. Suddenly, you felt sheepish. “Sorry?”

“You looked a little...” he pondered the right word, “overwhelmed.”

You laughed, “To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Younger brother’s birthday?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” he shrugged.

You were quite impressed. As he motioned for you to follow him up the stairs to the next floor of the shop, you couldn’t help but notice how familiar he looked. Surely you’d seen him before — perhaps in line at Gringotts or sipping mead in the Leaky Cauldron. You couldn’t quite pin it.

You were relieved to leave the gargantuan fireworks below — on behalf of your mother mostly. You followed him to a wall of massive tubes that were filled to the brim with colorful candies.

“Our full collection of sweets,” he announced.

You eyed the assortment, noticing the words Puking Pastilles on a golden label. “Are these different flavors or...?”

“Yes, but more importantly, they serve different purposes. These, for example,” he pointed to the pastilles, “induce vomiting — perfect for skiving class!”

You chuckled. “Surely these aren’t allowed at Hogwarts?”

“‘Course not! But that’s what makes them so bloody popular — hot commodity,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’ve got a sweet for nearly every malady.”

“Who even thinks of this sort of thing?” you mused — again, thoroughly impressed.

“I guess we do,” he answered, leaning against the counter.

Your jaw dropped. “You made these?”

He shrugged, the faintest smirk on his lips, “I made everything.”

“Get out!” you laughed, pouring some candy into a purple plastic bag.

“Of my own shop?” he teased. “I don’t think so!”

You twist-tied the bag shut and turned to face him. “So you’re Weasley?”

“One of them, at least — George, to be exact.”

“That’s wicked!”

You noticed his freckled cheeks growing rosier by the second. “That’s awfully kind of you,” he said, waving dismissively.

“No, honestly! It’s incredible!”

As you reached for another plastic bag, George rushed over to interrupt. “Here,” he pointed to the display of Skiving Snackboxes. “Take one of these — they’ve got all our best-selling sweets in one box. Your brother’s sure to love it.” He led you over, plucking a box from the top and handing it to you. “On the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“I insist! Consider it an incentive.”

“An incentive?”

He nodded. “To come again.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, George — really! I just know he’ll love it!” As you turned the box in your hands, you caught sight of the time on your wrist: five ‘til. “Merlin!”

George furrowed his brows.

“I’ve got to go!” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “But, perhaps you’ll stop by sometime. I can return the favor — clip you a free dozen roses for your girlfriend or something,” you rushed out.

“I’d have to find one first,” he chuckled, following you as you skipped down the steps towards the doors.

A warm blush flooded your face as you laughed nervously. You spun to face George one last time as he landed at the foot of the stairs. “Well, maybe you’ll stop by anyways.”

“Florist down the road?” he asked, pointing in the general direction.

“That’s exactly the one!” you called, stepping backwards onto the street.

You rushed down the path towards the florist, your step feeling a touch lighter than it did earlier. You noticed the result of the sudden sun after the storm: a rainbow hanging above the grinning man attached to the storefront.

“Aha!” you exclaimed, finally realizing why George had looked so familiar.

When you arrived at work, you swung the screen door into the greenhouse open, announcing your presence, “Sorry I’m late!”

“Not to worry, dear,” Muriel remarked.

Muriel hired you a few months prior, admiring your proclivity to gardening and greenery. She taught you something new every day without ever realizing she was doing so. Her green thumb had a knack for nurturing every flower both under and out of the sun. And her extraordinary eye for piecing together various plants and flowers to create a stunning and elegant arrangement never ceased to amaze you.

“Be a dear, Y/N, won’t you?” Jasmine grunted as she attempted to haul a heavy-bottomed, ceramic pot.

You threw your things onto a nearby stool and rushed over to lift the side closest to you. The two of you managed to hoist the pot just above the dirt floor to carry it to its destination.

“Re-potting the Wiggentree,” Jasmine explained, dusting off her hands. “Pretty soon it’s going to be too big to stay, mum,” she called to Muriel.

“Yes, I know, dear,” Muriel muttered, “That does not change the fact that it must be re-potted.”

Jasmine was less fond of gardening than her mother was. But if something unfortunate were to happen, the shop would fall to Jasmine, so she figured it’d be best to at least try and learn a thing or two.

You walked through the door leading directly from the greenhouse into the shop. “Morning, Candace!”

“Morning, Y/N!” the cheery teenager chirped as she balanced a vase full of violets on the counter.

A set of hooks adorned with various dirt-stained aprons lined the wall just behind it. You reached for the one with your initial embroidered in the upper right corner, quickly throwing it over your head and down your body. You tied a bow behind your back before throwing your hair up and stepping back into the greenhouse. You grabbed a pair of gloves and began heaving soil into the planter with Jasmine.

Beads of sweat were already forming on your forehead as the humidity of the greenhouse settled into your skin.

Re-potting the Wiggentree proved to be a difficult and timely task, taking up most of the morning. By lunchtime, you’d moved on to trimming daisies and de-thorning roses, and come sunset, you were planting hyacinth seeds and watering Flutterby bushes in the garden.

“Y/N,” Jasmine announced, stepping out from the greenhouse. “Someone’s here to see you.”

You wound your way through the garden and the greenhouse, stepping into the shop in search of your guest. Candace giggled as she zipped her coat and nodded towards the front door. You stepped onto the patio, where the outdoor displays danced in the gentlest of breezes. You were shocked to spot George leaning over to smell the roses.

“George?” you laughed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Someone said something about roses,” he teased.

“Well,” you began, walking over and gesturing to the basket of pretty, pink roses, “What do you think?”

“Well worth the walk over here,” he answered, smiling brightly at you as he rocked on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets.

Jasmine rushed onto the patio with her jacket and purse draped over her shoulder and swiftly said, “Y/N, I completely forgot about my mother-in-law’s birthday dinner, and Candace just left! I’m so sorry — would you mind —”  

“Go on!” you hurried, waving her off of the patio, “I’ll close up!”

“Thank you, Y/N!” she called over her shoulder, “You’re an angel!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes in amusement as she disappeared around the corner.

“I’ve got to tidy a few things but... the bar down the street doesn’t close for an hour,” you began, your heart fluttering as your stomach burst with butterflies, “We should take a walk and look at all the flowers down the alley.” You chuckled, feeling your face grow warm, “I planted half of them.”

George smiled, a light laugh gracing his lips, “All right, sounds good then.”

George busied himself with the outdoor displays while you prepared the shop for closing. He brushed his calloused fingers over the delicate flower petals, occasionally indulging in their sweet scents. He imagined how you likely smelled of flowers after a long day of work, and how that would be the perfect antidote to the lingering smell of gunpowder that constantly plagued his pillows.

“Ready?” you asked, stepping back onto the patio.

“More than ever,” he said.

As you walked down the alley together, you pointed out flowerbed after flowerbed resting on the windowsills of various shops and bakeries. Your favorites, he learned, were always the dahlias. He was surprised by the natural beauty that erupted from the brick and stone storefronts, and even more so by the fact that he never once paid attention to any of it. How could he have missed this?

“Merlin!” you gasped, rushing over to Mr. Reilly’s butcher shop. “Mr. Reilly has been doing an absolute lovely job tending to his poppies! You see, when I first popped in, he swore to Godric that he was incapable of keeping anything alive but himself, but look!”

George laughed, racing to keep up with you.

You led him to the pub that had just opened the month prior, Brenda’s Brews, whose owner agreed with your suggestion of keeping a few Fire Seed bushes out front to “really grab the people’s attention!”

Upon entering the pub, Brenda greeted you from behind the bar, “The usual, Y/N?”

“Two please!” you called, sliding a few sickles across the counter faster than George was able to dive into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it,” you winked.

“Okay, but next one’s on me, yeah?”

“No, no, consider it a thank you for earlier,” you said, raising your glass.

George clinked his glass with yours before sipping from the foamy ale. “Good choice,” he nodded.

“Can’t go wrong with a little Dragon Scale,” you remarked, savoring in its tangy, bitter taste.

“I’ve got to ask,” George began, setting his glass down on a coaster with The Weird Sisters plastered on it, “It seems like you know everyone in this bloody part of town. How come we haven’t met? Have you been here long?”

You laughed at his disbelief. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I haven’t quite gotten to everyone yet — for example, Number 93,” you muttered as you fidgeted with your diminishing glass.

“That’s wild,” he paused before snapping his fingers and saying, “Y/N?”

“Y/N,” you confirmed, taking a swig from your glass.

“And you’ve already made that big of an impact on everyone?” he continued.

You blushed, feeling flooded with a sudden warmth. You were quite flattered by the idea that you may mean something to this place; a place that was so new and intimidating not that long ago; somewhere you were certain a florist could never thrive: the middle of the city.

Perhaps the finger pricks from a thorn every now and then was worth it.

You shrugged bashfully, “I don’t know about all that.”

“Y/N,” a bartender called as he raced past, carrying two different mugs with different colored ales, “May loved the mayflowers! She said yes, by the way!”

You clapped, squealing in excitement, “Congratulations, Borden!”

George raised his eyebrows, as if to say, See?

Brenda bellowed, “Last call!”

You checked your watch: half an hour until close.

And despite the short burst of time remaining, it felt as though you’d been laughing and chatting away with George for hours. If someone insisted that they’d magically slowed time, you might have believed them. It felt so familiar to talk to George; it came so naturally. You wondered if he’d been talking since birth, given the way he animatedly told stories and produced witty comebacks within nanoseconds of the original comment.

At last, your glasses had been drained of their contents, and Brenda was shooing the last of the stragglers out the door. George followed behind you as you ducked out, calling goodbye to Brenda and Borden back inside.

Perhaps you’d been imagining it, but it certainly seemed that you and George were walking much closer together than you had been originally. One misstep and you might have brushed his hand.

You were suddenly distracted by the vibrant purple dahlias sitting outside of Rosa Lee’s. You raced over, carefully assessing exactly which flower to pick, explaining, “She won’t mind, I give her a new basket every week.”

George felt suddenly in awe of your natural grace and delight. It seemed so simple to please you: a dainty dahlia was all you needed to feel like the world was a good enough place to live. In a way, he envied your childlike wonder; it was different than the one exhibited in his shop by his products. It paid attention to the smaller things in life, rather than inciting big, booming bangs. It provided a sense of serenity.

You giggled and tucked the flower behind his right ear. He blushed as your hand gently grazed his skin. “How do I look?” he managed.

“Beautiful,” you said sincerely.

You continued walking as George fiddled with the dahlia. “Your favorite, right?” he asked, pointing to it.

“That is correct, sir,” you answered, impressed by his memory.

Once you reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, George leaned against the door and twiddled with the tiny flower between his fingers. He considered asking you inside, despite the lights clearly being off, indicating that the shop was clearly closed, and therefore, indicating that he meant inside his flat.

Likewise, you pondered the same prospect. You wondered if it’d be too forward: to suggest the idea of coming inside. Perhaps, tonight wasn’t the night.

And that was all right.

“Well, George,” you sighed, “I must say I’m really glad I stepped into this wacky shop of yours today.”

“I’d say the same,” he said earnestly.

You paused. “You’ll have to stop by again... you know, to finish off your bouquet,” you said, gesturing towards the dahlia.

He smiled. “You’ll be there tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, a smile growing on your lips. You stepped onto the street and waved.

The sight of George waving back with a lopsided grin on his freckled face was enough to tide you over until next time. You spun in place and apparated home.

Honestly, George liked the idea of taking his time, carefully picking flowers — a few each day — until his bouquet was erupting from its vase.

Maybe then, you’d come in.

[thegingerwriter]

Hello! Sorry to bother but I saw you were doing requests :)) could you do a darkiplier x reader, with he/him pronouns please? Could you write something about the reader helping dark welcome touch? That boy is hella touch starved, if not that's okay! Hope you are well, thank you in advance :))

It started with... a sandwich?

Pairings and or Characters: Darkiplier x he/him reader, with appearances from Illinois and Wilford

Summary: Dark's had a rough couple of days... and he's not exactly sure how to ask for... a hug? But you're there to let him know it's completely okay.

Pronouns: He/him

Warnings: Absolutely none

The book in your hands had completely consumed you for the entirety of your morning. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get so lost in your stories, whether that was an actual book or your own, it was a pastime you greatly enjoyed. So, it should come as no surprise that when a knock came at your door in the early afternoon, you were startled to find Illinois, telling you to come down to eat some lunch.

“I’ll be down in about 15 minutes, Illi. I just want to finish the chapter-. You didn’t look up at him again as you turned your page and continued to read. But the book was soon pulled out of your hands and out of reach above your head. “Request denied,” Illinois said strictly, continuing to hold the book way above your head. Curse him being so tall!

You jumped, trying to make a grab for the book, but the action got you absolutely nowhere. “Illinois! Give me the book back!”

“You haven’t left this room all day. You can take a break for half an hour and eat some food, Y/n.”

Illinois’s voice left no room for argument, and you huffed, frustrated. He seemed pleased at you admitting defeat, choosing to tuck your book under his arm instead of leaving it on your desk as he led you out the door and towards the kitchen.

Truth be told, Illinois did have a bit of a point- you could get so caught up in your own thoughts and activities you completely forgot you needed to fulfil your basic human needs in order to survive. Like eating lunch or going to sleep. Forgetting to come out of your room sounded exactly like another ego you knew-

“Did you convince him to come down?” You heard Wilford’s voice around the corner as Illinois in front of you entered the kitchen.

“Yes…” You grumbled, appearing right behind him.

“I kidnapped his book,” Illinois said proudly, producing it for a moment, but instantly hiding it again when your face lit up at the sight of your book again.

“Pumpkin, you’re as bad as Darky sometimes.” Wilford beckoned you over the kitchen island, gesturing for you to sit down on one of the stools.

“Oh please, no one is bad as Dark.” You shot back, eagerly eyeing the grilled ham and cheese sandwich that Wilford slid across the bench to you. You took a bite, failing to hide the fact that you were obviously very happy that they had dragged you out of your room to come eat some food. If there was anything Wilford could make better than anyone, it was a grilled cheese toasty.

“Hey, can I have a glass-.”

“Orange juice?” Wilford stopped you, sliding the glass gently across the bench into your hand.

“Thanks, Wil.” You smiled. After a few more moments of eating, you looked up at Wilford, slightly frowning. “Hold on, is Dark home today? I thought he was gone with everyone else?”

“To my knowledge.” Wilford nodded. “He’s up in his gloomy little library.”

“Then…why isn’t he down here?”

Wilford and Illinois both chuckled.

“What?” You spoke.

“Kid, if you wanna go and try and give him some food, be our guest.” Illinois laughed, and you rolled your eyes.

They were being dramatic, honestly. Yes, Dark could be a little intimidating at times. He ran the entire household, he was at the top of the food chain, and he was very clearly in charge. But you thought that not enough people were kind to him. There were a few rare occasions that you and Dark had some special moments- bringing each other hot chocolate or coffee on late nights you were both up late working, and him lending you books from his precious library.

“I’ll take him a sandwich.” You said, standing up and grabbing a plate. “God knows he likes me way more than he likes you.”

You made your way out of the kitchen and to the staircase, slowly making your way up the carpeted stairs while holding the plate steady in your hands.

A sudden wave of anxiety shot through your entire body like a bucket of cold water being splashed in your face as you reached the top of the stairs. You had no idea what kind of mood Dark was in today, and that was critical to whether or not you would be welcomed into the room with a reluctant but warm smile, or whether you would be yelled at for interrupting his afternoon and being told not to disturb him again. Though, he didn’t really yell at you often. The most he did when he was agitated (and rarely at you), was grumble and just hide away in his study.

You were also probably nervous because…well. It’s Darkiplier. There was no denying your obvious feelings for him. You knew it, the egos in the house certainly knew it, and Dark probably knew it. But what surprised them most was that you had been told several times by everyone else that Dark liked you. Perhaps it was because they took notice of the times Dark went out of his way to make sure you were okay- often after he yelled at the rest of the household.

It wasn’t necessarily an impossible option, but it still seemed so unlikely that you seemed to dismiss the idea completely and just continue to get Dark used to your blossoming friendship.

You walked down the hallway, soon coming to a stop outside the door you had become familiar with as Dark’s study.

“Here goes nothing.” You said lowly to yourself, taking a deep breath before reaching your hand up to knock on the door.

“Y/n?” You jumped as a deep voice came from behind you, turning to see Dark.

The man was in his more casual clothes (as casual as Dark could get), black pants and his white buttoned shirt, with a few buttons left open. You noted that he had his shoes off, black socks contrasted to the red patterned carpet beneath your feet.

You looked up at his face, taking a second to take in his hair, slightly less groomed than usual. It was kind of… hot.

You noticed you were still blankly staring at him when you watched him raise a curious eyebrow at you.

“Are you alright?” Dark spoke, eyeing your face before letting his eyes drift downwards to the plate in your hands. “You’ve um…” Dark trailed off and looked at the floor and you followed his gaze.

“Oh goddamit.” You huffed, realising that when Dark had appeared before you before, you had jumped enough to drop the very sandwich you came up here to deliver. You leant down to retrieve it, your face burning with embarrassment for the briefest of moments.

When you stood back up, you nearly bumped heads. Dark must have been debating picking it up for you but stopped halfway and just leant over you.

“Did you bring that up for me?” He asked, a genuine look of sympathy and kindness to let you know the previous slip had not made him think any less of you.

“Yea.” You said quietly, watching as Dark reached across you to open the door to his study before turning back to you, and gently taking the plate from your hands.

Your eyes met again, and you watched as he gestured with his head to the study in front of you, welcoming you inside, but also leaving enough room for you to say no.

You gave the slightest of nods, letting your feet catch you as practically fell forward and let Dark follow you into the room. It was dim as the door closed behind you both- but only for a moment- before the fireplace on the far wall roared to life, as well as the other candles placed evenly around the room to give the whole space a nice glow.

Looking at it, with his desk and his large bookshelves and cosy sofa, you could see why it wouldn’t be hard to want to stay in here for hours on end.

You got lost in looking at the books on the shelves, as you did the many times you had the pleasure of briefly being in Dark’s precious study. It was almost your favourite space just as much as it was his.

The gentle clink of the plate being set on the desk snapped you out of it, and you turned back to him.

Dark’s voice was scrunched in thought like he was debating speaking his mind on something, but continuously doubling back.

“Dark?” You spoke, breaking the silence and making him finally meet your eyes. “Is everything alright?”

He leant one hand on the desk, an almost laughable attempt to seem ‘casual’. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He shrugged at you.

You gave him a look, and he sighed deeply, taking a few gentle steps towards you, causing you to look up ever so slightly at him. You tried to convey it was safe for him to tell you anything in only your eyes, but you didn’t think that was the only thing to prompted him to speak. Dark just kind of always…knew.

“When I met you at the door a moment ago, I was actually on my way back from your room.”

“My room?” He nodded. “Why? I didn’t even know you were home today actually.”

Dark shifted in front of you. Was he…nervous?

“It’s been a… I suppose you could call it rough? It’s been a rough couple of days. And I…”

Your face softened at the sight of him, so tongue-tied and struggling to tell you this. Your heart was completely melting at him choosing to be so vulnerable around you though.

“I suppose my brain just went to a few of the times you’ve needed some comfort? Just to sit with someone and…my God this was such a stupid idea to begin with-.” Dark began to ramble, attempting to take a step back from you before he stopped when you grabbed his hand.

“You wanted to come see me because you needed a hug and to sit with someone rather than sitting alone with your own thoughts all the time, didn’t you?” You helped him, gently pulling him back to you with your hand and running your thumb over his knuckles.

“I think so.”

You took a moment to take him in- Dark was so rarely vulnerable, even around you. And this? You needed a second to take it all in.

“Well step one, I think, is to let me hug you for a minute.” You said, watching as Dark stiffened in preparation.

You wrapped your arms around his middle, letting your cheek push against his shoulder, trying to tell him to relax with nothing more than a slight squeeze in your arms. There was silence for a moment, before the sound of rustling fabric, and then his large arms wrapped around you. One of his hands slowly and reluctantly came to the back of your head, holding you to him like he was afraid you would let go too soon.

You shifted from cuddling him to letting Dark hold you close to him, cradling you against his body tightly, but not tightly enough you thought he could actually break you.

You let your fingers gently run over his back, tracing gentle patterns and feeling him breathe steady breaths against you. Within moments, you felt so much of his tension disappear, letting himself be seen by you, to be touched and comforted.

Dark’s hand on the back of your head shifted, and you suddenly felt his fingers push into your hair, like he thought he could possibly pull you any closer.

“Dark?” You spoke, not realising how hard he was squeezing you until you found you had very little breath to even get his name out.

“Hm?” You felt the rumble of his chest pushed against yours, and you had to admit, it was tempting to just say here for the rest of the day instead of your next idea.

“I have another idea.”

Dark pulled back, his hand still on your head, eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s your idea?”

“Read to me? In front of the fire? I know you seem to get cold, but I do, and I’ll tell you what- I could use some cuddles while listening to your beautiful voice.” You said.

The smile you received in return was unexpected, but it warmed you to see it. What was unexpected was his hand finding yours barely a moment later and pulling you gently to the fireplace and the cushions.

He sat down without a word, letting you get comfortable laying amongst the pillows before deciding to rest your head in his lap so he could gently run his fingers through your hair again.

You sat up all of a sudden, suddenly remembering you could go and try and convince Illinois to give you your book back so Dark could read, when you saw the very same book in Dark’s hands.

“Didn’t Illi have-.” You laid back down and Dark’s hand found your hair again.

“You know me.” Dark’s voice came from above you, and you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, as well as the small chuckle. “Don’t tell Illinois.”

“Promise.” You said finally, settling in as Dark began to read.

You listened to his voice, letting his words wash over. You could feel yourself drifting off, but you didn’t think it was particularly important to stay awake. And, truth be told, it would probably be one of the best nights of sleep you would have had in a while.

Dark read to you for a while- you couldn’t tell how long it had been- you didn’t even notice when you discovered the only thing you could hear was his tender breaths and the crackling of the fire in front of you both. You turned your head to the side to find Dark had chosen to lay down next to you, and you had to stop yourself from letting out a small laugh.

If you told the other egos you and Darkiplier had ended up snuggling up in front of the fire in his study, they probably would have laughed, or told you that you were crazy. And yet here you were.

You let yourself enjoy the moment, blindly reaching behind you to find Dark’s arm and pull it around you. Some part of him was a little bit awake, because in an instant you were being pulled against him again, and you laced your fingers together.

You wondered what Illinois and Wilford thought when you left the kitchen to take Dark a sandwich and didn’t return for several hours.

Well, if they hadn’t come looking for you by now, you thought that another few extra hours wouldn’t hurt anyone.

God knows you both needed it.

[ellewords]

And in terms of how the guys will be during a wedding, I already agree with the nonnie that sent the hcs of him! I was gone for somlong I missed a lot omg

Ushijima at a wedding will just be the distracting groomsman because he's all so hot looking all like this 😩. All the old aunts would try to push their neices to talk to him LMAO! Self indulgence scenario coming up:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　🌷　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You're used to girls flocking around Ushijima, and the guy is too much of a gentleman to just ignore them away. He's sitting on a high stool of the side bar, with girls clustered infront of him. So as usual, he politely answers their questions and he scans the reception room looking for you.

His eyes meets yours and your face has a small smirk, being quite entertained by your boyfriend's torture. He locks his eyes on yours and gives you a small nod to come to him. This signals the execution of a plan you both devised whenever girls flock around him and whenever guys are hitting on you.

You come to his direction with a smile. You approach the girls and introduce yourself "Hi ladies! I'm y/n" you say as you put your hand out for a hand shake. They gave you confused forced smiles as they think 'who is this girl, and why is she suddenly talking to us?'

You walk towards Ushijima and he wraps his hands around your waist while giving you a smile. You turn back to the girls with a wide smile, "So how are you enjoying the night?", still wrapped around Ushijima's arms. He takes your hand and gives it a kiss, and places a peck at the side of your head as your fingers are still interwined. "You smell great, baby" he softly tells you while you're looking at each other, but loud enough for the girls to hear.

"Thank you, babe." you respond smilingly, faces close to each other's and you share a small chuckle. You look back at the girls and they were all looking like 🙂😶🙂😳🙂

"You know what, we forgot we still have to take pictures at the photobooth before it closes." says one girl, while the rest of them agree. "Have an amazing night you two!" The girl say while they start walking away.

You wave them goodbye and you look at your boyfriend. You're still standing up, resting your elbows on his thighs, your figure in between his legs as he's still seated at the tall bar stool. He peeks at the side of your head meeting your face, "Works everytime right?" he says.

You giggle, and give him a small nod, "Mmyeah. Works everytime." He pulls you closer for a short but warm peck on the lips. When you both pull away, he looks at you lovingly "I promise, the next wedding will be attending is ours". He once again takes your hand and places a kiss on it. This time on your left ring finger that has a white gold-diamond ring on it that he gave you a couple of weeks ago.

🥺💜🤍💐

The both of you are not into PDA, but if one's in trouble, a little bit of affection in public may save a life 😜😌

-👒

— from elle ! this was so cute, you never miss 👒anon!! i love the idea of yn and ushi having some sort of plan whenever someone hits on the other omg so my lil addition (under the cut as usual) would be the reverse of what you sent in, when someone hits on yn hihi and again if i see ushi in that suit we would never be making it to that wedding thank you sm for this and i hope you are having a lovely day ! <3

notes / warnings : timeskip!ushijima x f!reader, scenario, pure fluff, reader gets hit on and the person is relentless so please don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable, wc: ~0.59k

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

it couldn’t have been more obvious that you were taken, the large rock that shined on your left ring finger certainly proved that. but the man at the open bar just couldn’t take one of the largest hints in existence, leaning in closer every now and then, despite your several attempts to move further and further away. you aren’t exactly being discreet about it either, waving your hand around to make sure he catches sight of your ring, doesn’t seem to bother him though. a sigh escapes you, wondering just how long ushijima would take in the bathroom.

you avoid eye contact with the man, while still trying to be as polite as you can — offering him shaky smiles and vaguely answering questions about yourself. your gaze wanders around the completely filled reception hall, filtering the constant conversations and the distant classical musical, hoping that it would be enough to distract you. finally, you are able to spot ushijima, making his way towards to where you were. a frown crosses his face as soon as soon as he notices the panicked look in your eyes, tilting your head towards the man that sat beside you. ushijima’s steps become quicker, weaving his way through the dancing crowd.

normally, his presence would be enough for people to back off. all ushijima had to do was stand behind you, cross his arms in front of his chest — maybe flex his biceps the slightest bit, just enough to intimidate whoever was hitting on you. his mouth would press into a thin line, or maybe he could raise his brow and let out in a low voice, “so what were the two of you discussing?”

but this guy doesn’t seem even in the least bit fazed or intimidated by ushijima’s presence, continuing your conversation as if he wasn’t even there, shocking both you and ushijima. the man reaches for your hand, “what do you say we get out of here, hmm?”

desperate times call for desperate measures.

without warning, ushijima grabs you by the waist and presses his lips onto yours. eyes growing wide at the suddenness of his actions, you let out a little yelp. after the surprise wears off, your eyes eventually flutter close, smiling when ushijima deepens the kiss.

he pulls away after a few seconds, looking the man directly in the eyes, “i apologize, but my girl already has plans. with me.”

“whatever,” the man rolled his eyes, finally turning to leave, “she wasn’t all that fun to talk to anyways.”

“that is because she isn’t interested in you,” ushijima deadpans, “and when someone says no or they are clearly not interested, just leave them alone.”

the man scoffs, unable to make any sort of comeback, finally leaving you and ushijima alone.

“you know,” you smirk, resting a hand on his chest, “you’re really hot when you’re jealous.”

ushijima raises a brow, an arm still wrapped around your waist, pulling closer, “am i usually not?”

a chuckles escapes you, shaking your head slightly, “my my, what’s gotten into you? you’re not usually this bold, toshi.”

“it’s just you in that dress, and perhaps a couple of glasses of wine,” he smiles before it melts into a look of pure concern, “are you alright, though? i’m sorry i took so long.”

“don’t worry about it,” you reply, waving a hand to dismiss the thought.

“alright. but the next wedding we go to really better be ours.”

“it will be when you finally decide on what kind flowers we should have.”

“fair enough.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what would the hq characters be like at a wedding?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky29 @sakusasimpbot @aoirohi @kokogxddess @livy384 @itachislut @crapimahuman

join my hq taglist here. <3

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that. 

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

ello loves,  part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn 

Part 1

-

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry.  She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

-

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in,  but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have  gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

-

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

-

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”  

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”  

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

[uglypastels]

To the Beat // drummer!Tom 1/2

(a/n) here it is!!! it took about a decade of my life but i think it was worth it  also shoutout to @duskholland​ for hearing out my ideas when i was brainstorming and together with @captainpeggy40​  for getting me through my breakdowns while writing. i got it finished!! <3 I really went all out with this fic, so i hope you guys enjoy it!! part 2 will come... sometime this week ;)

word count: 7939 (unnecessary content GALORE) 

warning: drinking, swearing, crowded spaces, part 2 contains smut 

you can find the band’s setlist here

not all songs are mentioned in the fic but it’s songs that i would really love to see them play haha. if anyone would be interested, i can make a seperate post on how i imagine them playing it (who sings and stuff idk)

Read part 2 here <---> extra headcanons here

With the right stranger, one night can feel like a lifetime.

“Will you please come?” your friend begged you over the phone. “It’s gonna be really fun!” 

“You know, you say that a lot, yet I never have as much fun as you promise.” You sat down on your bed, looking out the window as the rain hit every surface outside. It was not exactly the weather you felt like going out in. 

“Then that’s on your extremely high expectations, not on me.” She stated, “But pleeease.” She kept on whining, and you knew she wouldn’t stop until you gave in. It always went like this. Always. 

“Ugh, fine.” you fell back on the soft mattress, your head only missing the pillow by an inch. “Where is it actually?” There was the question you both dreaded. You, because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. Her, because she knew you wouldn’t either. 

“It’s at Suki’s,” she mumbled, but you could still hear her just fine. 

“That’s where you work right- please don’t tell me you’re working tonight?!” you groaned into the phone. 

“I am, but I’ll be done around 9.30 I think, so there’s still plenty of time for us to hang out! Besides, you already said yes, and NO TAKE BACKSIES!” she said this all extremely fast and screamed the last two words into your ear. Then, on top of that, hung up as soon as she finished, not giving you even a second to fight back. Not sure what happened, you stared at the black screen of your phone in confusion. 

She said the concert started at nine o��clock. Did she really expect you to go to this thing and spend half an hour by yourself? Or did she want you to sit at the bar while she poured drinks for everyone? Either way, none of those options felt appealing. For a solid minute, you contemplated just not going, just… not showing up. Turning off your phone and watching a movie or something at home. 

But at the same time, you hadn’t left the house for a long time. And it was Friday night. Why not go out and see some obscure little band. What was their name again? Your friend had mentioned it, but you already forgot. Maybe it was for the better too. That way, you couldn’t look them up beforehand, and if they were shit, you would just find out there and not have another thing to be dreading as you got ready. Or maybe they would be good. Then it would be a pleasant surprise on the spot. 

You checked the time. 7:27pm. That gave you about an hour to get ready and then some time to actually get to the bar. Should be doable. 

So, you hopped in the shower to get all fresh again. Even if it would all get ruined later on in the night by standing in a sweaty crowd. It’s the effort to look presentable that counts. Then, you picked out an outfit that would be comfortable in the before mentioned crowd. You could never go wrong with the simple jeans and a t-shirt combo. 

Looking in the mirror, the thought of Not Going popped up in your mind again. There was nothing really obliging you to go. And the idea of standing there listening to the loud music, whether it was good or not, sounded slightly exhausting. 

No, you reminded yourself, it would do you good to leave the house once in a while. Have “fun”. You checked the time once more, 8:14. You had done everything a bit quicker than you expected. The Uber you had arranged for yourself would be there in a few minutes. So, you were stuck in that kind of waiting limbo, sitting on your couch, not sure what to do. Eventually, you put on your shoes and got your keys and were ready to head out. 

The drive was quick and thankfully, mostly quiet. It was only a minute or two before you reached your destination that the driver decided to ask you where you were headed. 

“Concert,” you said hesitantly. Why did these people always want to know your business? Thankfully, the man didn’t ask much more. And then it was time for you to get out of the car. The drive actually took much less time than you had expected and there was still some time left before the band would start to perform. 

Suki’s was a bar downtown, in the basement of some kind of law firm. Their whole thing was that they let new bands and artists play each week so they could get some of the public’s interest going. Make themselves known to the world. It was literally and figuratively, an underground following that it had. Many, but at the same time, nobody knew about it. It was a secret amongst music lovers. Considering the bar wanted to stay its own secret, you never understood the bright neon lights above the entrance, going down the staircase all the way to the actual hall. 

The bar itself wasn’t too big. Enough space for a small stage along one wall, a bar on the opposite side, and the rest was space for the crowd to either enjoy or hate the music being played. When you walked in the room was still relatively empty. You saw two guys setting up equipment on stage, you assumed it was the band. Behind them was a black banner with “Winter Solstice” written in scratchy white letters. Between the words, a star that was drawn on in precisely the same rough manner. You had to admit, it was a cool name. 

Considering there weren’t many people there yet, you headed for the bar to get yourself a drink before it would be too crowded to even reach the counter. And there stood your friend, behind the bar talking to some guy. They were both laughing at something as you walked up. 

“y/n! You came!” you squealed out, “what can I get ya?” 

“A beer?” you said it more like a question. 

“Coming right up.” And with that, your friend walked off to the tap to pour you your drink. It was more out of reflex when you sat down on the stool, you leaned your head on your hand, but you understood the question from the stranger when he spoke up. 

“Not looking forward to it?”

Still with your chin on your knuckles, you turned to face him. 

“Huh? Oh no, I mean… she kind of made me come here, but-” you tried not to sound too pessimistic, but the guy saw right through you.

“So, I guess the answer is yes.” He chuckled. Right then, your friend came holding your drink and put it in front of you. 

“I’ll put it on your tap.” She was going to join the conversation but right then a group of tonight’s spectators walked up in need of drinks, so she was soon off again. 

“I’m not not looking forward to it?” nothing in your voice made it sound like you were sure of yourself, but it was enough for him. You took a sip of your beer, which you could feel helping the situation. While doing that you looked over the brim of the tall glass to look at your conversation partner. Like you, he was drinking a beer himself and considering it was almost empty, he had done that either very fast, or he had been there for a while already. 

Next, you took a look at him. From the profile, he looked pretty good. He was wearing a loose tank, showing off his arms. His dark curly hair was held back with a black cap that he wore backwards. What definitely stood out to you was his jawline. It looked like you could cut yourself on it just with the slightest of touches. For everyone’s sake, you quickly turned your gaze over to the extensive liquor collection in front of you. But you could see in the reflection behind the bottles how he was smiling to himself. He definitely saw you stare. This was awkward, and you only got here two minutes ago.

“So, do you know the band?” you asked in the hopes to weed out this weird situation you had created. For some reason, your question made him smile. In that type of way as if you had just mentioned an inside joke. Except you weren’t in on it, so you couldn’t laugh along. 

“Yeah, they’re alright.” He shrugged. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he shot up straight in his seat. “I’m Tom, by the way.” 

“y/n.” Then you remembered how your friend practically screamed out your name when you walked in, “but you already knew that.” Your phone vibrated with a text, so you took it out and immediately saw the time, it was already past nine. You looked over at the stage where the two guys were trying to untangle some chords. Clearly, it wasn’t starting anytime soon. 

“What kind of music do they play?” You asked Tom while still looking at the band trying to get ready. 

“A bit of everything, I suppose.” 

You bit your cheek not to say anything that might come off rude, but he could still read you. 

“I guess that wasn’t the right answer?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I just hoped to get something more specific, but as long as they’re good, I’ll enjoy it.” You took another sip of your beer as an excuse to shut up. He must think you’re such a bitch at this point. You saw him glance over your shoulder at the stage and then smile at you. 

“I like you.” there was that chuckle of his again, “I’ll see you later, then.” And he got up. You were gonna ask why later? Why couldn’t you hang out now? You didn’t like to admit it, but you enjoyed his company, even though it was only brief and most of the time you spent it making yourself look like a moron. As superficial it made you sound, you simply enjoyed the presents of a good looking guy like him.

You were going to ask him, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd that started to form along the foot of the stage. More and more people were coming and joining in. The two guys from the band had finally untangled their chords and were placing their guitars over their shoulders, and plugged them into the amplifiers. That’s when you noticed that a spot was empty on the stage. The big drum set had no occupant yet. 

So, while everyone waited for the drummer to show up, you took this time to look at the other two band members, trying to decide which one was the cuter one. 

That turned out to be slightly more difficult of a task, you quickly realised. Though they were both very different, they were both also extremely good looking. There was the blonde, strumming a few simple chords on his guitar to warm up. Even in the dim light, you could see how perfectly chiselled his face was. He was wearing a slightly oversized button-up shirt with about half of the buttons open. The skinny jeans didn’t seem comfortable to you, but he made them work. The rings on his fingers reflected in the lights as he kept on strumming. 

The other had a bit more of a playful vibe around him. His curly mop of hair bounced with every move he made. You could hear his loud and contagious laugh all the way from the other side of the room without the need for a microphone. His outfit was something completely different compared to the blonde. It consisted of a baggy t-shirt (that you could read the band logo on), with ripped dungarees that were only attached on one side. He had rolled them up, showing off his bright converse. His bass guitar was currently hanging behind his back as he adjusted the mic stand one last time. There was something familiar about him, though you were sure had never seen him before. 

Then finally, a third person joined them. People cheered since it meant that they could finally start playing. You tried to get a good look at him before he hid behind the drum set. Hair was hiding beneath a cap, tank top… wait… was it-

You got up and walked through the audience. There weren’t that many people, so it was reasonably easy to get to the front. Or, almost at the front row, standing right in front of them felt a bit intimidating. Now you could see all three of them much better, and there was no denying it. Your new acquaintance Tom was the drummer. And when you looked over at the curly bassist again, you realised why he looked so familiar. It was not an identical resemblance, but there was enough that made you think they were related somehow. 

You watched Tom spin one of his drumsticks in his hand. He had the biggest smile on his face, then he caught your eye and winked. The cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, you were sure of it. He was waiting for your surprised reaction, and you fell for it completely—hook, line and sinker. 

The curly one got up to his microphone. “Hey everybody, we’re Winter Solstice,” his voice was much deeper than you had expected. Especially, considering that he actually looked younger than the other two, you noticed. “We thought you’d appreciate some more known songs tonight, so join in whenever.” 

Alright, they were gonna do covers. That was not a wrong move at all. A lot of bands want to show off their own music, but most of the time that leaves the audience just swaying awkwardly because they don’t know the lyrics or what to expect. 

“Here’s one you all should know.” 

The blonde started playing his guitar, and it only took a second or two before everyone realised what song it was. Mr Brightside. It sounded a bit different, as their attempt to make the song their own, but the riff was unmistakably Mr Brightside. Everyone around you immediately cheered and started to dance along, waiting to sing the lyrics. You were too, of course, but all you could think about was Tom playing in the back. He looked so focused, but still didn’t let it sit in the way of enjoying the song. 

In the song, the drums probably only started a beat before the lyrics, so you missed out on the first few words, but quickly you were singing too. 

“But she’s touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now. Let me gooo,” the blonde guitarist sang. His voice wasn’t perfect, it was rough, some might have called it cursive, but in that right sort of way. It fit well with the rest of the band and how they played. In just a minute, they had gotten the entire room hyped up. Everyone was into it. Maybe it was because of the song choice, but you doubted it. A song like that can be tricky to sing to a new crowd. If you screwed it up, they’d hate you forever.  

That was definitely not the case here, they had the crowd in the palms of their hands. With each beat, you were pulled in…or, was that just you? 

The second verse started, and it was the bassist that began to sing: “I'm coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine-” There was no clear description of his voice. At least you couldn’t really pinpoint it. There was definitely that playfulness in it that he had been showing through everything he did. He couldn’t stay still, jumping in place, making his curls bump up and down as he went. 

“It was only a kiss” 

It was Tom that said the little interjection in the song. You had only looked his way at the end, while the other was already singing, but you felt as if he had been looking at you directly. No, he wasn’t. Why would he? You shook the thought off and continued enjoying the performance of the three men. You sang along just like everyone else. 

And then the song ended. It was almost unbelievable that it had only been one song that they played, but they moved on to the next quickly. 

The guitar faded out but came straight back, accompanied by a heavy bass line. Some people around you recognised the melody, but it took you a moment or two. Then it went quiet. The blonde leaned into his microphone, whispering the words. 

“I’m the invisible man,” guitar riff “I’m the invisible man,” guitar, “Incredible how you can- see right through me!” His voice got louder as Tom joined in with the drums. Then those few seconds of bass followed which actually sent shivers up your spine. To put it simply, you were a sucker for good bass and beat. But what was it about them that sounded so good? You couldn’t think of anything particular that would have set them apart from all the other artists you had seen perform in the club through the years… 

Still, seeing them have so much fun on stage, it was truly intoxicating, you wanted to join them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen someone jump around on that little stage while playing bass. You couldn’t wait to find out what their names were, but for now, “the curly bassist” didn’t take a second to stand still. The only time he stood in one spot was when he had to sing, and even then he moved around a lot. 

The others didn’t have that same luxury. Of course, Tom did not have a lot of options, sitting behind his drum set. Yet still, he managed to light up the stage with his bright smile and the passion he put into his drumming. Any time you looked at him, you didn’t want to look away- which was hard, considering that the other two were also a great joy to watch. 

The blonde, in his turn, stayed on his side of the stage, being somewhat stuck with his microphone since he had the most vocals. But he still had a great connection with the audience, you felt like. 

Before you knew it, the second song had also come to an end. Cheers and applause erupted in front of the band, with you contributing to it as well, of course. 

“Thank you, thank you,” the bassist took a little bow. Even though they weren’t playing any song, he still slapped one of the strings mindlessly. “Like I said, we’re Winter Solstice. My name’s Harry.” He introduced himself. Finally, you could call him something else than the curly bassist. Even though it was a very catchy nickname, you thought yourself. 

“Here on the guitar,” Harry pointed out, “Is my good friend Harrison.” Harrison waved to the crowd, receiving screams from the audience as if it was filled with banshees. 

“In the back,” Tom immediately started a soft drum roll, but Harry didn’t wait that long, “that’s Tom.” Tom reacted with a face that could only be described as “bruh”, making several people around you laugh. You wondered if it was rehearsed or if this was just how they were. Either way, it was cute. 

Harry talked some more about how they were excited to play tonight, but you were looking at Tom. You watched him grab a water bottle and drink half of it in almost one chug. When he pulled it away from his mouth, you saw that he caught you staring. Even though you were between dozens of people, even though the light that was shining in his face- he saw you. And he winked again. In the next moment, you had to think if the heat burning through your body was an effect of that little gesture or because of how warm it was in the room. For your own sake, you went with the second option. 

“Alright, here’s another song for you all,” it was a voice you hadn’t heard speak before. Harrison. “Here’s: You Oughta Know.” There was a mixed reaction from the audience, including you. Of course, you knew the Alanis Morisette song, but you had never heard it be played by men.  It was definitely an interesting choice for them to play, especially after the Killers and Queen. 

“I want you to know that I am happy for you,” it was Tom that started singing, as he drummed softly. You tried to control your thoughts as he kept on singing. Then the pre-chorus began, and you were shocked at how well they harmonised. 

“Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide.” It actually gave you chills. How were you so excited about listening to three strangers sing? 

At the chorus itself, everyone in the room went wild, singing along loudly. It was clear that the people were sold on this new version of the song. It was all fine. You were enjoying the show. It was actually fun. And then, Tom sang the next line- 

“It was a slap in the face. How quickly I was replaced. And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” It sure was a slap in the face. You had to remind yourself that it was just the lyrics of the song. And he was just a guy on stage that you had only exchanged a few words with prior. Yet, you couldn’t focus on anything from that moment on. You could barely comprehend their version of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl”, not even really understanding that they were playing a different song. It was just a big blur. But maybe it was for the better, because could you really cope with Tom singing the titular phrase of the song in that husky way that he did... debatable. 

When you woke up from your daze, Tom had stood up to show the crowd the beat to clap to. You joined in before anyone noticed how far out of it you indeed were. Harrison finished the song off with a falsetto and then it was already time for the next song. 

This time you knew what to do. You wanted to record at least some part of the show. And when harry started a bass solo, you made sure to get at least a bit of it and continued filming from there, ready to post it on your Instagram later on. Harrison joined in with the guitar, and you actually had no idea what song they were playing. More people didn’t seem to recognise the song immediately, which visibly amused the musicians. They couldn’t hide their grins even behind the microphones. Once again, the harmonies… how did they sound so good? 

As the song continued, the more sure you were that you had heard it before, but it must have been very different from the original. No, actually… How did you not recognise Dua Lipa? It was not hard to forget about the original when you got to listen to this version. How had each song so far been this good, you still didn’t understand. You didn’t want it to end. 

But unfortunately, right after that, they took another break from singing. 

“Alright!” Harrison cheered (more squeals from his side of the audience followed. Apparently he had started to gain quite the following). “The next song is another classic, I like to think.” People whooed. “So we’d like some help from you guys if that’s okay.” The crowd seemed to be into it, so Tom followed with the instructions. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna start playing in a sec, and Harry will sing a little melody. Just copy that, and we’ll be on our way.” In the meantime, Harry had gone off stage to grab a bottle of water, so everyone had to wait for a second. This gave Tom the opportunity to freestyle on his drum set. It was a simple beat, but it progressed into a more complex set. He, however, did it effortlessly. 

Finally, Harry came back running, he threw bottles to the other two, which they both caught without a problem. Tom started to press the bass drum steadily, layering more on top of it. Then Harry joined with the bass, and ultimately, Harrison’s guitar finished it off. Harry leaned into the microphone. 

“Ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, oooo-oo-oo,” he almost whistled, but not quite. He continued a few times, together with Tom and Harrison until everyone in the room was singing along. Then made that kind of gesture to show you had to stop. Harrison sang the verse. Anytime it was your turn, you’d just follow Harry. 

You had been to many concerts, but not many new bands had much luck in getting a full crowd to participate in the song. But by the way they played, everyone just wished they could be in the band, playing along with them. Even if it was just dangling the triangle. You, however, didn’t want that, necessarily. You assumed that it was the fact that you hadn’t been out of the house in so long, that now that you had the chance, everything felt hundred times more great. So a concert that was already amazing, suddenly felt like a euphoric, once in a lifetime, experience… though that might go a bit too far. And it for sure helped that all three band members were hot. Like, really really hot. 

Literally, too, the room was getting really warm at this point, and the guys were visibly hot also. It didn’t stop them from performing at 110% though. A few songs more passed by and Harry was still jumping around the stage. Harrison sang every note perfectly as he slew that guitar of his and Tom… 

You could barely look at Tom. Playing the drums as hectically (in the good sense) as he did, you thought he would be exhausted by now. But he still had that big perfect smile on his face. The sweat was dripping down his arms, but it just highlighted his biceps, making it very hard for you to concentrate on the music. And then, no matter what he was doing, he would find you in the crowd and smirk or wink, making you even more flustered than you were before. The first time, you thought he was doing it to someone else. But then it happened again, and again. And the beat of drums led your heart. You could feel it in your throat as it kept pumping with the loud music. 

It was during their little break which they used to goof around and play the intro of “Chelsea Dagger”, that you decided to go back to the bar. Your friend had said she wouldn’t leave you alone for the entirety of the concert, but you were already quite some songs in and there was still no sign of her. And you quickly realised why that was. Since the show had started, the entire room had filled up with people. You had never seen it be so crowded, in fact. And then the bar was packed with people asking for their drinks. 

Your friend was indeed there, with another bartender, doing her best to pour the drinks quickly. But more and more people got thirsty, so it was easy to assume you would have to spend the rest of the night alone as well.

By that time, the band started on the next song of their setlist, and you really thought they were playing one big joke on you. Or at least this Tom guy was. As he loudly sang Sex on Fire, by Kings of Leon, you decided to sit this one song out from the front row and stay back, near the bar. It actually did you well, because it was much less hot than upfront. You could just stay there for the rest of the show. They had been through around ten songs already, so they must be done soon, either way, you thought. 

And you were right. Ending with Come Together, the applause was bigger than through the entire night. The boys finished with extended solo’s of their respective instruments and a bow, and it was really over. Harry came up to the microphone one last time as the other two were already getting off stage. 

“Thank you! We are Winter Solstice! Buy our merch at the door! GOODNIGHT!” 

The idea of buying a t-shirt was pretty fun. And apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought that. Far from it, actually, The line at the little merch booth quickly exceeded the length of the small concert hall. You wondered if they even had enough things to sell. Would it even be worth it to stand in line? You just waited for the stream of new fans to cool down.

Eventually, it did. Slowly, but surely, the line got shorter. You also noticed that there were a few people that had the exact same idea as you had, so you joined the queue before the rest could. You didn’t even have to wait that long. Before you knew it, you were standing at the little table. There were piles of t-shirts and cd’s, and there were more boxes behind the table too. They really came prepared. Harrison had just been folding up an empty box when you walked up. 

“Hi. Can I get a (your size)” you asked, already pulling out your card to pay, “and a CD?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry grabbed a shirt for you with a smile. Tom had been talking to the girl that had been in line in front of you, but he quickly turned to look at you when he heard your voice. 

“y/n!” He finished the conversation with the other girl before moving over to join his bandmate. 

“Hey,” you wish it hadn’t been so, but a lot changed since the first time you spoke to him, let it only have been about an hour. There was something about him being in the band you just watched perform and buying his merch, that made you feel like a little school girl standing next to him. 

“I thought you had left.” He noticed you leave? Not the point. 

“No, I just went to the back. It was getting a bit hot for me upfront.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “Did you enjoy the show then?” 

“Yes!” you said, a bit too loud, “You guys were great.” You looked at the CD that Harry had just handed you and smiled. “And I was wondering if you could maybe sign this for me?” Out of nowhere, Harrison appeared behind Tom, grabbing the CD from your hands and putting his signature right at the centre of the packaging. Just as quickly as he appeared, he went back to whatever he was doing before. But not without sending you a wink first. What was it with these guys and winking? Not that you really minded it. 

Harry took the slightly more polite approach, waiting for you to hand him the CD and he signed it above Harrison’s signature. Then he handed it over, together with the marker, to Tom. 

“So, we got ourselves a number one fan, huh?” 

“No, I’ll just wait ‘til you guys get famous so I can sell it on the internet and get rich.” That was probably not the response Tom had expected, which you immensely enjoyed. Next to him, Harry erupted in a fit of laughter. 

“Haz, did you hear that? She thinks we’ll be famous.” His laugh was even better close up. While Harry and Harrison kept on laughing, you used the moment to speak to Tom, one on one. 

“So why didn’t you tell me you were in the band?” you asked. 

“What does it matter,” he chuckled.

“You let me ask all those questions about the band, it’s fucking embarrassing, man.” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. 

“Heh, sorry.” he took off his cap to rearrange his hair since some of it had fallen in his eyes through the night. You didn’t know what else to say, so the conversation died down. Then you remembered that there was still a bit of a line behind you of people that wanted to buy the merch as well. 

“Let me just pay for these, and I’ll be off.” 

“No, it’s fine, on the house,” Tom said. You looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.” 

“Yeah, just promise me one thing.” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not sure what to expect. You didn’t want to jump onto that wagon too quickly. 

“Will you stay? I’d really like to hang out.” 

You weren’t sure what to answer at first. You did want to stay and talk to him, but it was getting late, and you had been standing for a long time, and you were kinda gross from how warm it was during the concert… but Tom was really hot. And he asked so nicely. 

“Sure.” you gave in. “I’ll hang out with my friend at the bar and let ya get back to-” you pointed around the table to make your point across. He nodded and waved you goodbye as you walked away, clutching on to your newly bought merchandise.

Just like you thought, your friend was indeed still at the bar, cleaning up leftover glasses from the counter. She saw you walk over and you could tell she saw something different in you. 

“Look at you beaming, girl! What happened?” she put away the half-dried glass to listen to you. 

“Nothing?” you said casually. She saw right through you though, so you just decided to give up the little act. “Tom asked me to wait behind for him.” You bit your lip, expecting to get a lecture from her. But none of that happened. Instead, she squealed out in, what seemed like, excitement. 

“Ooh, Tom is such a great guy!” 

“You know him?” you asked, surprised. 

“Well, he was the one that got their band the gig here, so we talked here and there, mostly planning,” she explained. “And I mean, look at him.” she sighed and her eyes glazed over a bit when she looked in the direction of the merch table. Not sure what else to do, you followed her action and glanced over. Of course, right at that time, Tom decided to look in your direction as well. He smiled and waved lightly, making your cheeks heat up and quickly look away. Your friend, however, waved back enthusiastically. 

“So you think it’s safe for me-” what were you even gonna ask her? 

“Go have fun, I say. But if anything does happen, remember the codeword?” Her tone changed to a more serious one, which you appreciated. You had agreed ages ago on a codeword to use. In case a date turned for the worst, or generally if something felt off. 

“Broccoli, baby. I know.” 

“Broccoli.” She held up her hand for a high five, which you gladly accepted. 

You chatted for a little bit longer. Every few minutes tho, you’d be sure to glance over your shoulder to see if the merch line was getting any shorter. It didn’t seem like it. There was simply no end to it. You felt yourself getting frustrated. To the point that your friend actually pointed it out, snorting from holding in her laughter. 

“He has got you whipped, hasn’t he?” she bumped your shoulder playfully. All you did was roll your eyes. Which, actually, said everything she needed to know. He did, didn’t he? You always had a soft spot for musicians, dated a few. But comparing them to Tom now… it felt like a joke. There was something about this guy that made you want to know more about him. You wanted to see him play and sing again. You wanted- do a lot of things. But you had to get that out of your head. Let the night speak for itself, see where it leads you. If it would be his bedroom… that would be fine. Just fine. 

You knew you were crazy for thinking all of this, but a girl can dream, right? 

You looked across the room and were glad to see that there were only a few people left. Harry had already started packing everything up that would most likely not be sold that night. You watched the three of them make some small chat with the people walking by, but all your real focus was on Tom and his deep stare right at you. It made your heart beat faster. With his arms across his chest, the muscles seemed even more prominent. 

He was suddenly pulled back into the conversation, and it was as if he changed into a different person. All bubbly, none of that- what even was it that he looked at you? You decided to not think about it too much. One does not do well when dwelling about anything. 

Finally, the last person bought their shirt, and they were done. Hoping it didn’t make you look too desperate, you didn’t waste a second to walk over to them. Harrison and Tom were helping Harry pack up the rest of the things that were left on the table. 

“Hey,” you said awkwardly. Tom almost dropped the stack of shirts he was holding. Again, the attention fell to his arms. You had to force yourself to look up at his face, which didn’t help much either, but it made it easier to think thoughts that would not mean a one-way ticket to Hell. 

“Hi! I’m so glad you stayed,” he said after putting those shirts in the box. “I thought we could go grab something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He spoke really fast, just showing how excited he was to talk to you again. To be honest, you weren’t necessarily hungry, but going out to eat with Tom didn’t sound too bad. 

“Don’t you have to pack up?” You pointed back to the stage that still counted all of their equipment. 

“No, we’re playing here tomorrow, again,” Harrison explained. 

“Oh, cool.” Was all you said. It was cool, you just didn’t know how to say anything without sounding dumb. 

“Well, shall we? There’s a diner on the way to my flat. It has the best burgers.” Tom exclaimed. You ignored the little mention of his apartment and focused on the burgers. He wasn’t suggesting for you to come over to his place. It was just a fact… right? 

“Lead the way,” you told him, but before you left, you turned to the other two members of Winter Solstice. “It was nice meeting you guys.” Everyone waved, and so on, and you were off to eat. 

It was almost midnight by the time you got there, but the diner Tom had mentioned did advertise as a 24/7. And it held up. When you walked in, you were practically hit in the face with the delicious smell of pie. You sat down in a booth next to the large window and very soon after a waitress walked up. 

“What can I get ya?” she asked, flipping her little notebook open.  

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Tom asked. Then it was your turn. 

“Just large fries for me, thank you.” The waitress wrote it all down, then continued to ask if you wanted anything to drink. 

“Ooh, do you have milkshakes?” The woman smiled and nodded. “So a chocolate milkshake then.” You ordered. 

“Make it two,” Tom added. Then the waitress went off, Tom leaned on the table toward you, with his hands in front of him. “So, just fries, huh?”

“I’m not super hungry, and I wasn’t going to steal your fries,” you explained, making Tom laugh and shake his head. 

“You’re interesting, you know that?” 

“I like to think so, yeah,” you answered straightforwardly. It was a pity you had not gotten your drinks yet, or you would have taken a very nonchalant sip. You leaned your chin on your hand, just like you did at the bar before the show. Except for this time, there was a smile hiking up the corners of your mouth. Tom mirrored your position. 

“So how did you guys come up with the name?” you had been wondering that ever since you saw that banner hanging on the stage. It was always interesting to find out the thinking process like. 

“You gotta ask Harry, he came up with it one day, and we just went along. He’s the more artistic one of the bunch.” Of course he is. Well, that didn’t answer anything then. But another question popped up in your mind.

“Are you guys related?” 

Tom smiled at that question. “Yeah, Harry is my younger brother. Harrison has been my best mate ever since I can remember. We’ve always been close and messing around. Then one day we decided to grab some old instruments from the attic and- sorry, I’m probably boring you, aren’t I?” He took off his cap again and ruffled his hair. You thought he would put it back on, but he left it on the table. There was pretty good lighting at Suki’s, but the colourful spotlights were no match to the bright LEDs of the diner. 

“I don’t see how you thought that was boring,” you assured him. You truly enjoyed his little story, talking about his friend and brother. You had doubted the choice of going out to eat so late at night with a stranger, but now the reason was apparent. He didn’t want to be strangers-he wanted to get to know you. And you wanted to get to know him.

The waitress came back with two large milkshakes, topped with whipped cream and syrup. She said that the food would be ready in a few more minutes and left you to continue your conversation. You nudged Tom on to go on where he stopped previously. 

 “So yeah,” he cleared his throat, “we played and thought, hey that doesn’t sound shit, and we practised for a few months and decided some time ago, why not try and play.”

“Was this your first gig?” you asked in disbelief. He shook his head, though. 

“We’ve performed a few times, but this was the first one that felt… real, you know. Maybe it was just me, but I felt this great connection with the crowd, and it felt great.” You nodded along with every word, without realising that you had been getting lost in his eyes. He had been looking into yours as he spoke about that connection, and it made you feel that maybe, just maybe, he meant you specifically. 

“y/n?” He eventually asked, waking you up. You almost spilt your milkshake from the abrupt movement you made as you tried to sit up.

“What? Sorry.” You held the glass until it didn’t shake. 

“I asked if you enjoyed it? The show?” 

“Didn’t you ask that already?” Stupid way to answer! “But yeah, I loved it. You were really great- I mean, all of you.” but especially you, you wanted to add on, but that felt like going too far. As you were trying to come up with a normal-sounding answer there, Tom sipped from his milkshake. Something in his eyes told you that he could tell what you wanted to say, and that thought scared you a little bit. All you wanted to do was to give this hot guy a good impression of yourself, was that really that hard? 

But he didn’t say anything about it. Just continued the conversation as you hoped he would.

“Well, I’m glad. Honestly, you had scared me a bit back then, when you left,” he admitted. And there were the heart palpitations again, beating faster and faster. You grabbed the cold milkshake because you could feel yourself getting hotter. 

“How so?” you choked out. 

“Just because I could tell you weren’t exactly looking forward to the show, and then I saw you leave and didn’t come back. I thought you didn’t like us.” Us. He said “us”. Then we did it feel like he just wanted to say “me”? 

“I wanted to check up on my friend, and then I realised that it was much colder in the back, so I stayed there.” you explained again, “But why be worried about me, there were plenty of other people enjoying themselves.” 

He was about to answer when the waitress walked up with two large plates. She put them on the table with a smile, which you noticed was more directed towards Tom than you. He responded with a tight smile himself, but only shortly, turning back to you quickly to respond to your question. 

“No one there was as cute as you.” 

“What?” This time you made sure not to make any sudden movements to save your food and drink on the table. Did he really say that? But he didn’t clarify himself, he just smirked, enjoying your flushed expression a little too much. He put a fry in his mouth and still ate it with that smug smirk. You just went and ate some of your own fries, avoiding eye contact with him. You just needed a second to sort your thoughts. 

That second lasted a little longer, but at least you had the food to use as an excuse to avoid “awkward silence”. 

“So do you play any instruments?” he asked. You looked up to see that he had almost finished his burger. When you saw the dish being brought up, you thanked yourself and any god watching out there that you didn’t choose to order one. It was absolutely massive, meaning you would make a complete mess out of yourself—a sight for no one to see but your tv screen on a lonely night. 

“Uh, I can play a few notes on the piano but all very beginner's level.” You dipped a fry in your milkshake. 

“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested. 

“Uhm.. the Flintstones theme song, for one. There was more, but I haven’t played in ages, so I doubt I remember anything.” 

“Flintstones, huh, nice.” He took the last bite of his burger. Knowing how weird it is to look at someone when they’re eating, you looked out the window for a second. It was dark outside, and the rain had come back, letting all the street lights reflect in the asphalt. 

You both finished the remains of your fries and milkshakes while making some more small talk. You got up simultaneously from the booth. Was it over now? You hoped not. You didn’t want to say goodbye. 

You grabbed your things while Tom paid for the food. Then you realised he had left his cap on the table so grabbed it too. But your hands were already full, so you decided to just put it on. Backwards, just like he had been wearing it through the evening.

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door. 

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.”

To be continued...

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2! 

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[lillian-nator]

The Prince Of The Antarctic Empire Au (PAE AU)

The Prince of the Antarctic Empire

BASIC INFO: Wilbur is 18, Techno is 22, and Philza is 28, Tommy is 5. (At the start).

SO

It all starts when Wilbur finds this kid on NewFoundLand territory, and this kid - who is like 4, mind you - is beating the shit out of some Zombie’s

Like he is using a cobblestone sword - but is just like, messing these Zombie’s shit up.

Wilbur, being the responsible adult he is, goes up to the boy - who is like extremely thin, and seemingly weak - and asks him if he wants to have dinner at his house.

The kid says yes - after a lot of negotiation - and, after Wilbur gives a brief introduction of himself, the blonde boy introduces himself as Tommy.

During this dinner, Wilbur tries to get the boy to open up about himself, but he is extremely untrusting of adults - specifically tall ones who find him in the woods.

A few things Wilbur learns about Tommy:

He is 5 years old, but he knows he looks younger

He doesn’t remember having parents - he was pretty open about it when Wilbur asked him where his Parents were - but he knows that they either left or died, he has been alone for two years.

He doesn’t want to intrude on Wilbur; multiple times he declined the offer to ‘make himself at home’ or to ‘check out the bathroom’ or ‘the guest bedroom’

He is acutely aware of his surroundings. He also has insane reflexes - Wilbur guesses that these two facts are a factor of him being alone from such a young age.

Several times, Tommy caught something that would’ve rolled off the table - Wilbur knew that these things were out of eyesight for Tommy, but he still reached out his hand and caught them without looking away from Wilbur - also, more than once, he moved his leg away just as Wilbur’s dog would’ve ran into the boy. 

Throughout the little chatter that Tommy offers, Wilbur Soot notices one more thing - the kid is funny. Really, really, funny. With the small remarks, and comments, and rebuddles, he can tell that this boy bounces off really well with Wilbur’s sense of humor.

For some reason, he finds himself laughing with this 5-year-old boy more than he had with his brothers mere nights before.

Wilbur Soot notices one more thing during dinner.

He has fallen in love (platonically you fucker) with this boy - and he won't let go.

Between his small giggles, and bright smile, and blue eyes. Tommy’s demeanor, or the way he can make Wilbur laugh, or the way Tommy held Wilbur’s hand when they walked back to his house -

Wilbur had found his little brother. He wanted to take care of and protect this kid for the rest of his life. Wilbur wanted to make Tommy giggle everyday, and teach him everything Wilbur knew about the world, he wanted to keep the boy safe - it seemed like Tommy needed that the most, the kid had been alone since he was 3 -

Wilbur Soot, whether TommyInnit liked it or not, was going to raise this kid.

That night Wilbur sat Tommy down for a small talk, that basically went like this:

“Hey, Tommy?” Wilbur drawled, looking at the blue-eyed boy, who had been sat on the floor next to Wilbur’s dog, Fluffy. (I know that’s Techno’s dog, and I know that Wilbur’s dog is PeeDog - but that’s a bit weirdchamp to put in a story.)

“Yeah, Mr. Wilbur?” Tommy had automatically answered while petting Wilbur’s dog - who had also taken an odd liking to the blonde.

“Would you like to stay the night?” Wilbur stated a small smile growing on his face.

“No - no. It's okay. You don’t have to. Really, Mr. Wilbur -” He had stopped petting Fluffy in favor of looking at the man alarmed

“No, Tommy. I want to help you.” Wilbur started, voice soft. “How about, you stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow morning, we will go from there okay?”

“I - Okay.” Tommy confirmed, looking up at Wilbur with more hope in his eyes than Wilbur thought was humanly possible. Tommy longed for a home for so long. The problem was that every kind adult he met, reminded him of a lost memory of his parents - he was filled with regret, and sorrow everytime someone offered him a home.

Wilbur though, Wilbur was different. Wilbur was young, and rendered all of his abandonment issues useless - Wilbur made Tommy feel safe. Tommy felt as though Wilbur wasn’t going to leave him.

Over the next two weeks, Tommy really warmed up to Wilbur.

He couldn’t tell all at once, but overtime, Tommy really trusted him, and Wilbur caught onto this.

He could tell in the little things Tommy did:

Like how he stopped asking every time he wanted to use the bathroom

He stopped picking around his food before eating it.

He would wait for Wilbur to wake him up at 8, instead of waking himself up at 6 am.

He wanted to start helping around the house - this made Wilbur’s heart melt.

The first time Tommy asked to help doing the dishes, Wilbur almost died right then and there.

Wilbur had to teach Tommy how to dry the dishes while he sat the small blonde on the counter.

If a small step stool appeared in the kitchen the next day - nobody mentioned it.

The most heart-warming:

Tommy had started calling Wilbur “Wil”

It happened a 10 days after Wilbur took Tommy in, the two of them were having dinner when Wilbur asked Tommy to fetch him an extra plate.

Wilbur often forgot that he had built the house to suit a 6’5 man’s needs and not a 3 foot tall child’s. Even with the step stool, Tommy struggled to reach the glassware.

A small “Wil, can you help me reach?” was heard throughout the house.

A large, goofy smile formed on the elder’s face, as he went to go help the younger. Tommy called him Wil - not Mr. Wilbur - not even Wilbur: Wil.

Of course Wilbur did help Tommy, he went over and lifted the boy up by the waist and put him on Wilbur’s shoulders. The boy then grabbed the plate with ease, giggling as Wilbur bounced back to the table.

Two days later Wilbur came up with the nickname “Toms” as it seemed fair. While “Tommy” was technically a nickname, Wilbur wasn’t sure if the boy would answer to Thomas - so it felt right for Wilbur to make up his own nickname.

Tommy secretly, really really, liked the name. It made him feel special - and hey, if it made him really, really happy, to know that someone cared about him enough to give him a nickname, he wasn’t gonna go telling people about it.

And if Wilbur noticed that Tommy smiled a little brighter every time he used that nickname, he never brought it up, he just made sure to use it a little more the next day.

  SO, on the 15th or 16th day of Tommy staying with Wilbur, Wilbur’s brothers happened to stop by.

Wilbur should’ve seen it coming sooner or later - really. He missed the meeting they were supposed to have last week, he hadn’t come by to the Antarctic Empire like he was supposed to, he hadn’t been returning their calls. He was uh - he was busy.

He was with a certain blonde.

Philza, and Technoblade landed the plane on the shore of NewFoundLand - about 40 feet away from Wilbur’s house - that August night, and obviously they were worried for their brother. Wilbur though, Wilbur had other issues at hand:

He had been showing Tommy his guitar. The blonde seemed to have a fascination with musical devices, and Wilbur tried in every way he could to get his eyes to light up, or for Tommy to frantically ask questions about it. It honestly reminded Wilbur of himself - Tommy’s need to learn and soak up the world around him.

“And this Toms,” The older man watched the boys eyes light up in delight with the mention of the nickname. “This is the E-string.” Wilbur had plucked the low-sounding string to Play for Tommy. The blonde stood up from his seated position on the floor to get closer to Wilbur, and examine the guitar strings.

He carefully picked Wilbur’s fingers off the string with a look of pure curiosity on his face. His small fingers plucking the low note his eyes grew wide and slightly startled when the music came out.

“But I thought you said this one was ‘E’ Wil?” Tommy had pointed to the thinnest string on the guitar.

“You’re right Tommy. That one is E. That is High E.” Wilbur pointed out the thinnest string, using Tommy’s finger to pluck it, with an affectionate smile playing on his face. “And this is low E.” He used Tommy’s hand to pluck the other string.

“Why did they name two strings E? That’s stupid.”

Wilbur laughed, “I wish I knew Toms, I wish I knew-” He was cut off by the sound of a plane landing. Wilbur’s smile faltered for a second before standing up from his criss-crossed position on the floor, and holding out his hand.

“We are going to meet some people Tommy, okay?”

Tommy nodded with a weary smile, but he trusted Wilbur wholeheartedly. He took a hold of the brunette's large hand, and headed outside with him.

The two brothers pushed each other over as they got out of the plane, loudly laughing and yelling “Wilbur, you’re not dead are you?”

Before they could see Wilbur coming out of his house they heard a very distinctive voice yell, “No, I’m not dead. I’ve been busy!”

Technoblade spoke up this time, “What could you have been doing that you missed your trip to the greatest Empire in the World?” He snickered - whatever Wilbur had been ‘Wilburing’ for the past few weeks, Phil and Techno would tease him relentlessly over it.

But when Wilbur came out of the small wooden house with a 5 year-old trailing behind him - they were surprised.

Phil’s eyes widened at the small mess of blonde hair that appeared behind his brother. His mouth formed an ‘o’, as he met his brother’s face with knowing eyes/ He automatically kneeled down to the boy’s level. At eye level, Phil’s dark blue eyes were met with bright sky-like ones.

He smiled warmly at the young boy, who had been hiding behind Wilbur, holding onto his hand for dear life.

“Tommy, these are my brothers. Philza Minecraft, and Technoblade - the King of the Antarctic Empire.”

“Your brothers?” Tommy questioned.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said with a soft smile, he net down to get to Tommy’s level leaving only Techno standing. “These are. You wanna say hi?”

Slowly Tommy nodded, going in front of Wilbur, with the ladders hands on his small shoulders.  

Phil spoke up first. “Hey Tommy! Is that right?” Tommy shyly nodded his head. “I’m Phil. I’m Wilbur’s older brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

To Phil, he was seeing a younger Wilbur. Sure, Wilbur had brown hair, and deep doe-like eyes, but they were two in the same. The blonde clearly trusted Wilbur - clinging onto him for dear life. Wilbur was such a cute kid, could probably get away with anything if he wanted to, he was so sweet, and innocent - and anyone wanted to help the poor kid.

Looking at Tommy and Wilbur, it seems that history was repeating itself, as all Philza could see was himself with a younger Wilbur.

“Hey.” Techno had followed Phil’s lead and introduced himself to the kid.

“Hi” Tommy finally said to the pair.

Wilbur looked between Tommy and his brothers, before scooping Tommy up and over his shoulders. Resulting in the former erupting in a fit of giggles and squeals. “Come on guys,” He nodded his head to his brothers. “I have a lot to catch you up on.”

Later that night, Tommy had fallen asleep in Wilbur’s lap. The ladder holding the small boy in a protective grip against his chest, while the other two questioned him.

“So you just found him?” Techno questioned.

“Yes! We’ve been over this - he was fighting Zombies.” Wilbur answered, acting annoyed.

“How many were there?” Techno grilled.

“I don’t know!” Wilbur faked exasperation, but quieted down when he saw Tommy slightly stir. “Like five or six.”

“And he was keeping them off him? All by himself?” Phil asked in a worried tone.

“Yes!” Techno’s eyes widened. “He was beating the shit out of them Phil, and with only a cobblestone sword.”

“This kid? Really? He’s so small.” Techno asked curious, his eyes scanning over the small blonde.

“Yes, really.” Wilbur put a hand in Tommy’s hair, as Tommy buried himself slightly deeper into Wilbur’s neck.

“Why can’t you just give him to the orphanage? You know the ones towards western Canada?” Techno suggested, no emotion playing on his face.

Wilbur had to stifle a gasp, as Phil and him had similar looks of horror on their faces. “Tech” Wilbur scolded.

“Techno, Wilbur’s already grown attached to him, besides, the boy likes it here, we can’t just give him up.” Phil tried to reason with the young king.

“Whatever.” Techno scoffed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

“You didn’t like Wilbur, when I first brought him in, and look where we are now?” Phil reminded the pink-haired man.

“This is different.”

“Sure, sure it is.” Phil laughed, leaving to go get another coffee. “Whether or not you like it. Tommy is a part of our family now Techno.”

Techno just sat there.

“Yeah,” Wilbur sighed, getting up to bring Tommy to bed. “I’m not letting him go.”

SO, guys. Later today I will be putting some shorter stuff on world building. Anyone is free to write in this AU if you want. Otherwise, I think as “(this is home)” is closing, I will be starting up this AU, and I will be writing this and my You Said Family Went to War AU from now on - once I finish the final chapter of “(this is home)”