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harrygoeswest · 1 year

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Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

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A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

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Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place.

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for.

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal.

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan.

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.”

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake.

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it.

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you.

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console.

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that.

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor.

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?”

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles ou #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagines

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dianadiaries · 3 months

Note

ateez’s reaction to you wearing waist chain. bet theyre going crazy over it as if they hadnt been obsessed with your waist already 🤪

-- mono diana ask!!

aa I love this idea soooo much, so I don't have an idea for all of ateez but for yunho!!

You have been scrolling for quite sometime, till you saw this cute swimsuit idea! You decided to text Yunho to come to the beach with you! After doing so you find out everyone is coming, not that it bothers you they are your friends to! You find your swimsuit that matches your skin perfectly. But you were missing one thing, what was it that the girl had in the video. After your mind pondered for a while you figured it out again, waist beads! You had a couple only around three, two were a pearly look-a-like and other matched the color of your swimsuit.

★

You look in your lengthy mirror, and smile. You had the looks of a mermaid in her own little lagoon. Ethereal. After finding a cute cover up to put over your swimsuit, you decided to make a picnic basket. You looked in the fridge, and packed up watermelon, bubbly soda, and some sandwiches. But you being you, you brought some other snacks for the members! After a while you got a ding from Yunho, he was here with all the boys for the beach! You giggled and put on your sandals, and walked out your house. "Hi /your name!!" Wooyoung says happily as you enter the car with your cute little strawberry basket. "Hi woo!!" You say plopping down next to him.

★

"what is that basket for?" A husky voice questions, "o—oh uhh it's food I got it for everyone!" You say a tad bit startled from Mingi's rather deep voice. You all have a bit till yall get to the beach so you sleep with wooyoung while Seonghwa is helping yunho with directions. Yeosang and Jongho are talking. Hongjoong, San, and Mingi are arguing about what flavor of cheetos are better. But sooner or later yall get to the beach. "/your name, wooyoung! Wake up we are here!" Seonghwa says. While everyone is still getting out the car, Yunho stares at you a bit while your sleeping before waking you up. After your little sleepy haze you are walking to the beach with everyone. Yunho is holding on to your waist while you have the basket in your hand.

★

finally that ocean breeze, you place everything down as Seonghwa is starting to cook, a nice barbecue. Everyone else except you, Yunho, and Mingi are playing volleyball. You, Yunho and Mingi are about to swim, as you take your cover up off you can feel a certain someones eyes on you. That someone being Yunho. Your waistbeads falling ever so gently on your curves, making them shine even more. "Is there a problem?" You say making sure he is okay. "Uh uh no no don't worry!" He says stuttering a bit. He really is like a wondering puppy, you relish in your mind. As you finish up that conversation, Mingi groans and yall head to the ocean. It was so pretty, and clear. Until Mingi started to splash water on you. Yunho watched from a tad bit a far. Watching the way when you jumped the waist beads would to. They just fit you so well, how can he not look.

★

After you and Mingi's interference, you walked back to Yunho. Yunho looked at the way when you walked the beads would go up down up down. He was in love or something. But he would never tell. You examine his face, very close. "Are you okay? You seem hot." You question him once again. "Uh—uh... I'm fine!!" Yunho brushes it off. You shrugged and walked away. Yet he stilled, and turned to watch that effortlessly gorgeous waist, and the of course pretty beads on it.

-----> author note : aaaa I love summer what about you guys!!

#ateez smut #yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x reader smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #atz smut #yunho fluff #ateez drabbles #song mingi #seonghwa #hongjoong #yeosang #san ateez #jongho #wooyoung

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soap-ify · 9 months

Note

hi ruru! thank you for your kind words on my post today 🫶🏼 can i please get a little something about soap x reader who’s been working really hard lately (to the point where she can’t pull herself away from her laptop at the end of the day)? how would johnny boy help her relax/ take her mind off work?? could be fluffy or smutty 💛

CHERRY!! reader is just like me... i overworked myself so much yesterday and aa we should take more care of ourselves!

cw — fluff, praises !! he is so in love, fingering and lots of smooches.

johnny had experienced it all before too numerous times, being overworked to the point where one just loses themselves in their work.

he tried to catch your attention throughout the day, either by poking your sides or just sitting beside you on the couch, earning nothing but dismissive huffs from you while your fingers furiously typed on the keyboard, glazed eyes frantically reading the stuff on your screen while your brain constantly thought about all the other work you still had to finish.

“ye need to leave tha’ shite alone for a minute, hen.” his voice was quiet, laced with concern while his hands acted more firmly, snatching your laptop from you and saving the file, ignoring all your protests. he didn’t care if you’d be mad at him, the only thing he cared about at this moment was you and your health.

after making you drink a glass of water, considering you didn’t drink one at all throughout the day, he gently led you to the bedroom and eased you on the bed, your muscles starting to ache as soon as you collapsed on the bed, head feeling dizzy and too active.

“johnny…” a weary groan left your lips, watching him get on top of you, his callused hands gently cupping your face, pressing sweet little kisses on your temple, easing the tension beneath your brows. you hadn’t even realised how tired you were, and all this attention from him was making your heart heavy with emotion.

“ssh, i know…” he nuzzled his nose against yours, your eyes getting all droopy while your hands lazily tugged on his sleeves.

“ye work so much. nae takin’ care of yerself at all. hurts my poor heart.” he mumbled in a playful manner despite his words being very much true, his stubble tickling your skin as he peppered kisses on your cheeks before finally meeting your lips, kissing you in such a sickeningly gently manner that it made your heart ache in a good way, eyes fluttering shut as you relished the way he comforted you, strong hands rubbing your hips soothingly while he lightly nipped on your bottom lip, his blue eyes half-open, filled with undying affection.

“lemme help ye.” he cooed softly, his hand sliding down in between your bodies, caressing your stomach before going down to gently tug down your trousers and panties. you shuddered at the sudden contact of his skin against your skin, goosebumps forming quickly while your hands gently held onto the back of his neck, wanting him as close as possible.

“gonna make ye stop thinkin’ so much.” his hand slowly caressed the plush of your thighs, coaxing your legs apart.

his fingers made contact with your puffy folds, gently gathering some slick before beginning to rub up and down your slit, loving the way you were starting to get wetter, slowly moving over to focus on your clit that was basically begging for attention, your body aching for a release. his fingers begin drawing soft circles over your clit, causing a broken whimper to leave your lips, your hips bucking forward to somehow get a bit more pressure.

“so perfect and so smart… always doin’ great in everything ye do.” his face was so close to yours, lips repeatedly pressing soft kisses on your temple, whispering soft praises into your ears. “m’so proud of ye, y’know.”

his words made your insides warm up with love, blood rushing to your cheeks as you leaned your head forward slightly to nuzzle it against his neck, breathless noises leaving you while his fingers continued to give your clit the attention it deserved, rubbing and tugging it gently.. “i love you so much johnny, love you so much…” you repeated over and over as if it was forever ingrained in your brain, which it probably was.

johnny didn’t pull any of his playful stunts this time, his actions full of tenderness and care he craved to give you, his other hand gently holding onto the side of your hip. “ah, i love ye too.” he chuckled under her breath, his blue eyes softening up even more.

heat pooled between your legs while his wet fingers continued to glide on your slit occasionally before focusing back on your twitchy and hard clit, loving the way it slid so easily across your cunt.

“ye close, hen?” he asked once he felt the tremble of your thighs, your breathing quickening up while your lips were parted in awe, head nodding.

“s-so close… need to cum so bad, johnny.” you voice was quivering and laced with need, your chest rising and falling gently.

he gently eased a finger in your tight cunt, and then another, given how you were already soaking wet, curling them up inside you while looking for any signs of discomfort on your face. when he found none, he gently began to thrust his fingers inside your weeping cunt, finding all your spongy sweet spots with ease. it was insane how his fingers were enough to quickly push you over the edge.

your eyes rolled back once his thumb begin rubbing your puffy clit once more, your walls tightening around his fingers while your legs tried to wrap themselves around his hips, the pleasure getting sweetly overwhelming with each thrust of his fingers until you finally came apart, your orgasm hitting you in waves that lasted for a good few seconds, your body trembling underneath him as you moaned shakily and hid your face against his shoulders, fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt tight while he helped you ride your orgasm, fingers gently sliding out of your fluttering cunt, giving your clit a few more rubs before he stopped and pulled his hand back, looking at the way your slick coated his fingers, his mouth cheekily wrapping around his fingers to taste you. a satisfied hum left him before he began pressing repeated little pecks on your lips, causing you to whine and squirm.

“did so good f’me, hen. feelin’ better?” he asked softly, earning a nod from you, a blissful smile adorning your lips while your brain felt all fuzzy and dreamy.

he definitely didn’t stop at that, fully intent on making you forget about all your work. his fingers were quick to stuff inside you again, determined to pull a few more orgasms out of you.

the night ended up with you fast asleep in his embrace, head craddled against his chest, his heartbeat soothing your nerves.

#you overworking yourself is a crime in johnny's eyes #like how dare you!!#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic #ruru mail

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thewastes-clangen · 8 months

Text

Plagueclan Founders

Before the infection, 3 clans filled the valley; Shoreclan dominated the beaches by the ocean, Peakclan teetered on the edge of the mountains that shadowed the valley, and Meadowclan populated the flower fields in between. When the infection began, it started in Shoreclan. As the survivors moved into Meadowclan territory, they brought the illness with them and it spread further and further, even making its way up the mountains to Peakclan where the survivors made their last stand. When the dust settled, only a handful of cats remained. Battered and bruised they headed back into the valley and created a camp, hoping to find a cure to fight the disease and survive.

The Survivors:

Hailstar-A medium-furred black tabby and white she-cat with pale green eyes.

She/Her;106 moons;Insecure, Incredible Runner, Steady Paws

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:10,INS:13

Originally from Peakclan, Hailstar was once an average senior warrior. That is, until the infection began and swept through the other clans like a wildfire. When Peakclan finally faced the plague, Hailstar, then Hailheart, ran in fear and left her clan to defend itself without her. Now, Starclan has chosen her to lead the survivors to the confusion of not only her new clanmates but herself as well.

Tigershadow-A medium-furred dark ginger and black tortie she-cat with yellow eyes.

She/Her;78 moons;Wise,Valuable Insight

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:8,INS:16

Tigershadow was once a warrior of Shoreclan. She was a well-loved cat amongst all three clans and thankfully survived the initial outbreak. She lost many loved ones and as the first clan to fall, she watched the entire first wave play out in horror. She survived through it all, though, and while many others think she should've been made leader of the survivors, she is thankful to not have the heavy weight of their survival on her shoulders as Hailstar does. She supports the other she-cat loyally and backs her up on every decision.

Nettlebloom-A medium-furred light brown and dark ginger tortie she-cat with green eyes.

She/Her;96 moons;Bloodthirsty,Trusted Advisor

aa (immune);CHA:14,INS:17

Nettlebloom was once the medicine cat of Meadowclan and served them loyally for many years. However, once the plague began something inside her seemed to change. She became colder and didn't seem to have the same fight for helping her clanmates survive as she once did. Through the protection of her clanmates due to her status, however, she managed to survive the initial outbreak. Now she is intent to find a cure, no matter who she must experiment on to do so.

Tawnystripe-A short-furred gray and golden brown mottled she-cat with hazel eyes.

She/Her;56 moons;Thoughtful,Fast Runner,Talented Swimmer

aa (immune);CHA:8,INS:14

Tawnystripe was a warrior of Shoreclan alongside Tigershadow. She found Cricketkit on the way to Meadowclan after Shoreclan had been defeated and decided to take care of the kit herself. She followed the survivors all the way up the mountains to Peakclan, however she was horrified when they were attacked and Cricketkit was bit. She was not going to sit back and let anyone harm the kit, though, and stood over her with her claws and teeth bared at the ready for days, waiting for a sign that it was the end and vowing to finish her off herself if it came to that. But it never happened, and Cricketkit recovered, proof that there was some sort of defense against the infection. She tends lovingly to the kit still, treating her as a child while giving any cat who comes too close a vicious glare.

Icequill-A long-furred dorsal-striped silver she-cat with blue eyes.

She/Her;54 moons;Playful,Unusually Strong Fighter,Great Kitsitter

Aa (susceptible carrier);CHA:13,INS:7

Icequill was a strong and well-liked warrior of Peakclan. When Peakclan was attacked, she watched in horror as Hailheart ran away, leaving only her and two other warriors to protect the survivors. She fought viciously and was the last one of Peakclan standing. Once she saw that Cricketkit was bitten, she decided she would take the heavy burden of killing the poor kit, a merciful task. However, she was viciously attacked by Tawnystripe and was strangely beaten by the maternal she-cat, something that had never happened to her before. She was shocked when Hailstar was made leader, and angry that Starclan would choose a coward to protect the survivors, however she does respect Tigershadow and hopes Hailstar gets what's coming to her quickly.

Goldenrose-A long-furred white and speckled pale ginger she-cat with gold eyes.

She/Her;27 moons;Calm,Talented Swimmer

AA (susceptible);CHA:9,INS:11

Goldenrose and her brother, Daisypaw, are the last survivors of Meadowclan other than Nettlebloom. Goldenrose is terrified of the she-cat, knowing what her goals are and what she would do to any of the survivors if she had the chance. She stays far away from the medicine cat and quietly tends to her brother, who has been traumatized from the plague and the loss of the rest of his clan. She is uncomfortable amongst so many strangers but knows if she strikes off alone with Daisypaw there is little to no guarantee they would both survive.

Daisypaw-A short-furred white and speckled cream tom with green-yellow eyes.

He/Him;10 moons;Compassionate,Formidable Fighter

aa (immune);CHA:16,INS:11

Daisypaw sticks close to his sister, Goldenrose, who also forced her way into being his mentor. He is a bleeding heart and is overly attached to anyone who shows him any kindness due to the loss of his clan. He has a great interest in Nettlebloom due to her familiar face but is constantly dragged away from her by a terrified Goldenrose. He keeps to himself unless speaking to Goldenrose, but Cricketkit seems to be one of the only other cats to be able to get him to crack a smile.

Cricketkit-A short-furred white and masked silver tabby she-cat with pale yellow eyes and a bite scar on her neck.

She/They;3 moons;Compassionate

aa (immune)

Cricketkit was abandoned at the start of the plague. Tawnystripe found her and took care of her as the remainder of the clans gathered in Peakclan. However, during the attack on the last fortress she was bitten. Sure the worse was about to happen, Icequill stepped forwards to do the sorrowful task of killing the young kit. Tawnystripe defended her brutally, however, wrestling Icequill to the ground until the she-cat and all the rest of the clan agreed to wait. How much damage could an infected kit do, anyways? It was a miracle and surprise when nothing happened and Cricketkit recovered from the bite. Tawnystripe tends lovingly to the kit, defending her from any attempts by Nettlebloom to use her for "experiments".

#clangen #warriors #warriorcats #plagueclan #Hailstar #Cricketkit #Daisypaw #Goldenrose #Tigershadow #Icequill #Tawnystripe #Nettlebloom

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elf-osamu · 2 years

Text

“WOW, I REALLY CAN’T SPEAK, HUH? MUST BE BECAUSE OF HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK”

[ masterlist ] [ event ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

fluff, romantic relationship, lucifer, mammon, barbatos x gn!reader

warning(s) : mammon’s one is kinda sad at first ?? mostly bc he’s overthinking things ☹️ probably he’s a bit ooc but idc he’s gorgeous regardless (let’s say you two are at the start of your relationship in this one-shot).

words count : 2587 words

request: “howdy may i rq an obey me scenario with this prompt —> “wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look.” gn! mc says it ! would like it to be with lucifer, mammon and barbatos. maybe something like them rambling and asking if mc is listening and they drop that line ^ thank youu”

a/n : AA FINALLY AN OBEY ME REQUEST 🫶🏻 i love those characters with all of my heart, aND THIS PROMPT IS SO GOOD, it’s one of my favorites !! thank you for requesting btw <33 and i apologize for the long wait :( i had no time to write between school and personal matters. anyway, just so you know, lucifer’s and mammon’s ones are soooo long while barbato’s is auite short, i kinda rushed it because i felt bad since i’ve been neglecting requests lately 😭😭 (yeah this is the second time i’m posting this)

LUCIFER :

as the student council vice president, lucifer is well known among the royal academy of diavolo’s demons and angels: although being a composed individual most of the time, he has also an intimidating and almost cruel side to him because of his status, hence why many demons fear him. his fierce, self-assured demeanour is somewhat entrancing, capturing everyone’s gaze in an unbreakable trance, plus his aura of pride is something inevitable in everyday life.

this is not to mention his complicated past and the authority he possesses thanks to lord diavolo, which — according to many demons and a few angels — give more might to his persona.

although sometimes you were the main cause of many troubles in the past, now you can consider yourself quite privileged to be in his good graces. as his partner you have access to a vulnerable part of him that not everyone has a chance to see, where his pride comes off and his insecurities and annoyances emerge, and you can afford to be bold with him.

this very day, he is complaining about a bunch of ‘inferior’ demons who have caused a rather bothersome fuss during curses and hexes class, knocking out a student, giving a headache to your beloved: lucifer knows perfectly well how to put someone in their place, even forcefully if necessary, however it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel pressured and tired after doing his duty.

the stress derived from all of his responsibilities, and from the piles of paperwork stubbornly sitting on his desk nearly every day, highly increases over time.

now the two of you are in his study, lucifer is rereading the report about today’s incident he just finished to write while you intently watch him work, helping him here and there. frowing in displeasure, he keeps changing a few sentences, wondering how the hell he’s going to survive this afternoon.

however, you can’t help but admire his handsome features: his black eyes shine with a reddish light, they are a little jaded but also alive; his rosy lips form a straight line, emphasizing his concentration, but no less beautiful; his cheeks are covered with a slight sheen of blush, probably due to his weariness; what to say, his demonic beauty is undoubtedly striking.

being too busy with your thoughts, you don’t realize he’s trying to get your attention to what he has been saying for the past few minutes.

“[name], are you listening to me?” he asks, lips slightly parted at your silence.

it’s almost funny, the fact that he completely ignores the reason of your quietness.

“[name].” at this point, lucifer’s voice is filled more with worry than irritation. why aren’t you responding to him? is something the matter?

as he’s about to ask another question, you snap back to reality, slowly turning to your senses.

you try to say something to seem completely nonchalant, but your voice — hoarse from nervousness — betrays you, and you can’t help but observe again your partner, who is frowing even more than before. if that’s possible.

you sigh, in defeat with yourself, and a genuine grin makes its way onto your face. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look”.

at first, he doesn’t really process those words.

although his gaze is fixed on your figure, his mind is fuzzy from all the work he’s currently doing, almost as if he were in a dream-like state, not at all focused on the present world. there’s silence for a few seconds in the room you two are in, and you’re asking yourself if you need to bring lucifer back to reality. but when you’re about to talk to him, you shift slightly on your sit, and his brain registers the movement.

so, suddenly, realization hits him. perhaps, too suddenly.

if it weren’t for his majestic pride, he’d cover his face, now completely red — but, doing so would be admitting his confused (but contented) mood derived from the sound of your words, which is inadmissible to him. so, all he can do is pretend that he’s not impressed by what you have said, even if his body is betraying him: in addition to the blush on his face and neck, his eyes are filled with astonishment and his lips, slightly parted again, form a small circle, defining his astonishment.

finally, he glares at you — taking back a part of his self-control — and seems to be lost in thought, probably wondering how he should face the situation without feeling too embarrassed; you can almost see the gears of his brain working wildly, desperately trying to find a simple solution.

and then, his eyes sparkle.

never underestimate a demon, especially if it’s lucifer. have you flustered him? well, be prepared, because he’ll pay you back in the same coin.

he adjusts himself on his scarlet armchair, which highlights his shimmering eyes, and leans towards you, over his desk. you can tell by his look that, if you let him speak, his words will be the death of you. and there’s no way you’ll allow it.

“too bad i need to be in another a class in, like, five minutes,” you blatantly lie, checking your wristwatch, and getting up. you lean just a little to give lucifer a quick peck on the lips. “well, see you later, pretty boy”, you wink at him and leave the room in a hurry, without giving him enough time to process what has happened.

yet again, he’s stunned by how you’ve called him.

the avatar of pride may be confident and assertive, but his heart can only flutter when someone is genuinely complimenting him. especially if it’s you.

MAMMON :

“… and so he blamed me! me, do ya understand? he, without hesitation, cursed the great mammon in front of the whole class! what an outrageous thing to do, don’t ya think!?”.

one interesting thing about the avatar of greed is that, despite his attempts to play it cool, he’s not confident about himself. thinking about it, it can’t but make sense: he’s driven by his multiple desires — money, for example — and craves them every time there’s a minimal absence of those, including external approval; he needs to be seen and accepted by everyone.

admitting it out loud would probably never be an option, considering his stubborn nature, but mammon would do anything to make you smile or laugh at his jokes — anything. he wants to be worthy of your attention — because in his mind he’s not deserving of love, particularly yours. of course, if you asked him something about this matter, he’d say the opposite — he’s everything but good at communicating his needs.

getting to know the demon hasn’t been an easy task, but with time you’ve managed to discover that there’s a soft side to him — a kind, warm heart behind his usual carefree mask.

despite all these thoughts spinning in your head, in this moment you are still fascinated by mammon’s temper and gestures: his hands, shaken, are moving quickly in the air, a slight pout is adorning his face, and his eyes are glimmering in bitter frustration — the sky of the devildom is reaching his darkest shade of colour while he looks vigorous yet ethereal.

“… handsome”, you murmur, as if talking to yourself.

mammon suddenly stops in his tracks, a slight embarassed expression appearing on his face.

“oh? what did ya say?” he asks, confused yet hopeful, thinking that maybe he has misheard you — because how could someone like you view him as nothing but that? sure, you’re his partner, however the fear of not being seen and loved for who he really is… is always present.

you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? ah, must be because of how pretty you look…”.

the noises of the night fill the atmosphere between you two in this moment; mammon’s brain has stopped working and, honestly, you can’t blame him: saying that he’s taken aback by your remark would be a great understatement to describe the current situation.

the avatar of greed is feeling so many emotions in so little time — his heart is pounding stronger than ever, you can almost hear its soft sound, and a reassurance which he has never felt so intensely is hugging his chest. these sensations are something he would gladly immerse himself into, a new type of greed to add to his long and interminable list, a new need.

unfortunately, the clock is ticking and mammon doesn’t want you to see his true self, not in a moment so embarassing for him, not like this — though he would love to indulge in this sweet pleasure for a while longer.

“you— human! what are ya thinking, speaking like that to your first demon? ya sure are bold! i’ll close one eye for this time, so consider yourself lucky tonight, because the great mammon won’t be so gentle in the future!”

a quick laugh escapes from your lips and, before he can question it, you grab his jaw with one of your hands, so his eyes can only be directed towards you.

“mammon, sweetheart, drop the act. you are making a fool of yourself and, although you’d be so entertaining to watch right now, you need to realise that i love you, truly.”, your gaze softens and you smile at him, making his heart melt. “it’s okay to not understand why you are cared about — but i want you to know that you are important to me, so, so fcking much. we’re in this together — aren’t we? then, will you allow me to show why and how i’m going to love and take care of you, mh?”.

mammon remains still as you finish your speech; his unsteady breath, however, betrays him.

“[name], i… thank you”, he says, unsure on how to continue his response.

“talk your feelings out, if you feel like it. i’m not a judge here,” you reassure him.

his gaze shifts for a moment, symbolising his indecision, but then it returns to yours. “i’m… i am glad to have ya in my life, [name]. but, well, i suppose i have one request to make”.

your smile turns suddenly into a smirk, finally happy to see your boyfriend taking courage to express his feelings.

“yes, dear?”.

“be greedy with me,” he pauses, slowly breathing in and out to not mess up his next words. “indulge in my sin whenever you can, day by day, and don’t leave anything behind. spare nothing, let the greed take control over you, like i’ll do with you from now on”.

“oh now, now, who is the bold one?” you murmur, getting closer to him. “you’re extremely covetous, mammon, and this is one of the many things which i appreciate about you. i already made a pact with you, so i don’t see a problem with your request. i accept it”, and you kiss him, as if you’re sealing the deal.

who would have thought that one of the greatest demons of all the realms could feel such things for a human?

BARBATOS :

despite being barbatos’s partner, it’s not quite often that you’re invited over lord diavolo’s castle to spend time with two of the most powerful demons in the devildom. the reason why is actually pretty simple: your lover’s life is full of events to attend and favors to give. his presence is requested by every kind of beings, alongside his trusted services to the devildom’s prince, resulting in little to no space left for your meetings. the same can be said for you, since your school life isn’t exactly giving you energy to talk to him either — so you could say you two are fair.

this evening is different from the usual, since you were invited for dinner — a rare, but pleasant occasion to find yourself in. the one who has arranged it all is, nevertheless, lord diavolo himself: though he often acts oblivious of his requests, he has a keen eye for his butler’s mental state — so it would have been only a matter of time before he found out about barbatos’ single desire to relieve his stress… you.

using the “celebration” of your school achievements as an excuse, diavolo set up these hours in his magnificent mansion just for the two of you — saying that he’s attended elsewhere and oh so unfortunately he won’t be able to remain with you even for a while longer.

this is the premise of the current moment — you are quite literally squeezing your boyfriend, hugging him from behind, while he prepares his nightly skincare routine. he’s looking at himself in the mirror, dark green eyes are inspecting his state: his hands are on both sides of the sink, slightly supporting his robust and elegant figure; his torso is covered by a black tank top — something you’d rarely have the chance to see, considering barbatos’ extreme care for a professional appearance; his cold but soft skin seems bright, almost shining, under the tender lamp’s light.

his lips are smartly moving, giving life to his thoughts, however you are too focused on him to pay attention to his words.

“[name]?”

the sudden call of your name wakes you up, but only for a second.

“mh?”

his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “are you listening to me?”.

“mmh mh”, you nod, not registering his question at all, and continue to admire him in silence.

obviously, he’s completely aware of it — after all, he’s the demon who can see through both the past and future.

with a swift movement of his body, he turns to face you, making you cling to his waist.

with his right hand, he gently holds your chin between his fingers. “would you like, my love, to share your thoughts on the matter? you seem rather unfocused tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”.

you swallow, waiting for your confidence to come back. then, you try to give back the same energy of his — since you wouldn’t like to lose to his antics, not again.

“damn, i really can’t speak right now, huh? must be because of how pretty you look, barbatos. it’s actually not fair”.

although you don’t look nearly as self-assured as him, you regain a bit of your control when you notice a hint of hesitation and bewilderment on his face.

he scoffs, looking away from your eyes — and doing so makes it evident that his ears are bright red. you catch the opportunity right away, moving his hair away from the sensitive skin.

“ah! if only the others saw you, the formidable barbatos, right now! you wouldn’t be feared so much,” you teasingly comment, preparing for his next move.

“i wouldn’t be so daring if i were in your place, [name]”, barbatos remarks jokingly — but you can never be so sure when it comes to him: as proof you have his piercing gaze fixated on your face, which conveys a message that you couldn’t otherwise pick up.

“well- i guess i’ll make it up tomorrow! aren’t you tired? it’s been an exhausting day — let’s watch a movie!” you suddenly suggest, not resisting to his towering yet fascinating aura.

he sighs as you quickly evade from his arms, though he’s suppressing a smile.

barbatos supposes he can let one person to make fun of him.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #gn!reader #x gn reader #x gn!reader #mammon x you #lucifer x gender neutral reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #barbatos x reader

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littlejuicebox · 7 months

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Midwinter Carol 7 / The Interrogation

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.3K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago. Her arm is still deteriorating. Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion's past trauma

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

A/N: And here comes AA with some absolutely unhinged behavior.

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At first, Astarion hires Delilah for several hours at a time. Typically, a half day, but sometimes more.

It’s always the same experience.

He pays her to morph into a likeness of Eirianwen, based on sketches from the Baldur’s Gate Gazette and his own descriptions. She never gets the vitiligo quite right, but the Ascendant, in his desperation, will take what he can get.

In the beginning, he simply lays in bed as Delilah runs her fingers through his silver curls and hums. Sometimes he trances, sometimes he watches her without saying much at all.

For the first time since Ani left, he experiences uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep.

And the woman is smart enough to simply follow instructions and not pry. At least at the start..

Eventually, Astarion has Delilah make private calls to the Palace. He pays a ridiculous amount of gold for this, but it’s no matter.

Most nights, she’s still a glorified sleep aid; other nights, he becomes more physical. But the voice and the vitiligo are wrong every time, and it takes weeks before he’s able to fully commit to the act. Even then, something feels not quite right. But it’s as close as he can get.

And then finally, several months after their peculiar agreement first began, Astarion, after far too many bottles of wine, reveals he’s a vampire to the shapeshifter.

“As in a true, blood-sucking vampire?” Delilah asks, eyebrows furrowed as she assesses the Lord. It’s a rare moment in which she’s in her own chosen form, rather than the likeness of Ani that he pays her for.

“Something like that,” He laughs, though it comes out quite wry, “I can drink blood; I no longer need to for survival.”

“Show me,” She responds, her curiosity getting the better of her. Delilah is wholly aware she is flirting with danger, but she’s never been one to shy away from an opportunity, especially one that comes with the allure of money or power.

Astarion stares at her for a long while, finishing off the final bits of his goblet, his thoughts entirely imperceptible. He taps his cup with his index finger as he tilts his head and watches the woman. She thinks he’s going to reject her request.

And then, surprisingly, he nods, “Very well. But you must morph, first.”

Delilah obliges, and at first the Lord brushes her hair from her neck and moves to sink his fangs there. But he retracts at the last moment, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

It’s not really Ani, he reminds himself.

After a brief pause and a sharp inhale, Astarion takes her hand and turns it, finding the pulse point on her wrist. He keeps his eyes locked onto the distorted appearance of his ex-lover as he bites into the changeling’s flesh.

And what a terrible decision that was. He’d just invited a devil onto his shoulder and a snake into his bed.

The constant bashing of Astarion’s fists sounds like a poorly played drum as he repeatedly swings into Edmund’s hanging body. The human is strung up by his arms in the office, dangling so that his toes barely brush the white marble floor.

The bastard is annoyingly sturdy, and manages to stifle most of his grunts as the Ascendant continues his torment. This only angers Astarion further, and he begins to hit harder, now intentionally aiming for the man’s face every time and splattering dots of crimson around the room.

Great. He will have to call the servants into his private office to scrub the floor and walls. He might have to replace the curtains.

It’s clear that whoever turned this vampire has conditioned him quite well. It’s been an hour of repeated strikes and the human seems nowhere near his breaking point.

Between the physical exertion of pummeling Edmund and the draining effects of his ring as Eirianwen continues to burn the poison through her system in the next room over, Astarion is beginning to tire. He is sure he must escalate his methods to rip any information from Edmund, but he refuses to give the spawn a single break in his torment.

So he barks an order at one of his own spawn standing guard not far behind him, “Thrak! Continue where I’ve left off. I have more important things to attend to than beating this disgusting vermin.”

A final blow to Edmund’s face and then Astarion spins on his heels with a sneer, flicking his hand up to examine his cracked knuckles and bloodied nails in distaste.

Thrak is a large half-orc with slashes running vertically down his chin. The marks are an intentional, cultural scarification, Astarion is told; his sister, Melga, has the same ones.

Astarion focuses his eyes on Melga, where she is now watching her brother assault Edmund with mild interest. A few gestures of his hands, and the Vampire Lord communicates to the female orc that he wants to be informed if Edmund breaks.

Melga quickly gestures her understanding. Astarion is not fluent in the sign language Thrak and Melga speak; it appears to be a mixture of Thieves Speak and something else he does not recognize. Perhaps they made it up themselves. But over the years, he has learned enough to get by and Thrak has always willingly worked as the translator.

When the Ascendant first offered immortality to Thrak, the half-orc indicated he and his sister were a two for one deal. He would change with his sister or not at all; he hoped vampirism would restore the hearing she lost as a child. And the Ascendant, still thinking himself better than Cazador in that he did not change people against their will, agreed.

Unfortunately, there are some conditions vampirism cannot fix.

Jaheira took leave to return home and check in on her wards. The druid indicated she needed to delve into her medicinal stores and confer with Halsin on the matter of Eirianwen’s affliction.

Mention of the wood elf’s name instantly caused Astarion to bristle. If Halsin had a solution, it would not be the first time the oversized elf helped Eirianwen in a way the vampire could not. The Ascendant is quite sure he loathes that man more than any of his other former campmates; he idly thinks it’s a bit of a shame it’s Edmund instead of Halsin strung up next door.

Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night.

Thrak continues to pound his massive fists into the foreign spawn next door, and now the Ascendant can hear the sounds of Edmund's resilience breaking. The pained grunts and sobs are music to his ears, and he smiles in sadistic delight at the spawn’s suffering as he simply lounges in his chair, continuing to watch the sorceress breathe.

“We’ll figure this out, little love.” He whispers before he brings his hands together as if in prayer and analyzes the cries of agony from the next room.

Not long now.

He’s on the freezing marble floor. Cazador is straddled over him, pinning Astarion’s arms down with his knees. They’re in the spawn dormitory, in front of all his brothers and sisters. No one steps in to help him.

In the end, it’s all about self-preservation, isn’t it?

His master yanks at his silver curls and bends so close to Astarion’s face he can feel Cazador’s hot, disgusting breath on his skin.

“Where is it?!” The older vampire questions, pulling Astarion’s hair with vitriol and forcing a pained wail out of the spawn, “Where did you hide it?!”

“H-hide what? Master! Please, I don’t know what you’re–”

A solid strike to Astarion’s face causes him to stop his defenses mid-sentence.

“Petras! Leon! Bring me a barrel of water, rags, and a pillow case.” Cazador orders coolly, as his eyes briefly flicker to the elf’s siblings. The two other spawn quickly run to retrieve the requested items for their enraged Master.

“You traitorous leech. Where is it?” Cazador asks through gritted teeth, gripping Astarion’s chin so tightly he is convinced the bones in his jaw are cracking under the force.

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know where it is. If Astarion knew, he would’ve already spilled all his secrets. It never takes this much to rip a confession out of the elf nowadays.

He’s stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at the older vampire, unsure what to do or say to make this interrogation stop.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can do or say. Astarion knows it and the thought fills him with dread.

Cazador growls and spits in the elf’s face before shoving a cloth in Astarion’s mouth and completely shrouding him in darkness with the pillowcase. Leon and Petras are instructed to hold the elf’s limbs as he emits gagged screams of anguish. He tries to break away from his brothers, but it’s to no avail.

He was always one of the weaker spawn.

Astarion’s screaming is stifled by a shock of icy water filling his nose and throat as Cazador begins to waterboard him. He doesn’t need to breathe, but the sensation alone is terrifying. The silver-haired spawn continues to thrash against his siblings as their Master enacts his violent punishment. It feels like it goes on forever. The entire barrel is emptied over him before Cazador stops.

Astarion knew it was mostly for show. Cazador often made an example out of him to deter anyone else from committing the same act he was blamed for.

In the end, Astarion was thrown into the kennels for further torture. He never truly knew what it was, though he suspects he found it much later.

The Ascendant is straddled over Edmund as Thrak and Melga hold onto the foreign spawn’s bound limbs. Long, pale fingers grip the vermin’s jaw, prying it open with nearly enough force to rip the mandible from its joint.

“Last chance. Who is your master?” Astarion asks, tone low and coming across as far too bored for the violence that has recently ensued within this room. He’s watching Edmund with expectant, cold eyes.

“Fuck you!” Edmund responds in a venomous hiss, glaring up at the Vampire Lord with what little expression in his face he has left after the hours of repeated blows.

“Wrong answer.” The elf sighs, and then he procures a spoon from his pocket and forces it into the spawn’s mouth.

Astarion chuckles sadistically as Edmund begins to thrash and twist against the half-orcs. The spoon is quickly wedged underneath the spawn’s gumline, and the Ascendant begins to slowly pry out the traitor’s left fang, grinning all the while.

He could do this much faster, of course, but what’s the fun in that? The bastard deserves to suffer.

The bastard deserves to die. And he will. Just not yet.

First, Astarion gets to have his fun. A chance for him to make someone bleed was a rare, delectable thing nowadays. The temptation was difficult for the Ascendant to resist.

Edmund is screaming now, flailing around in agony and fighting for an out. But it isn’t going to work; three on one is never truly a fair fight.

Especially as a starved spawn.

“WHO. IS. YOUR. MASTER?” Astarion bellows over the tortured, terrified wails of the spawn. His curls are falling out of place, dangling in front of his narrowed scarlet eyes and obscuring parts of his vision as he continues to slowly peel fang from flesh, undeterred by the useless, pitiful crying and bucking underneath him.

Eventually the left fang pops out with a spatter of blood across Astarion’s hand and he scoffs in disdain before cleaning his hand on Edmund’s barely recognizable, heavily swollen face.

Disgusting vermin.

“FUCK YOU!” Edmund screams, but his voice cracks at the end and he is no longer able to hold in the tears rolling out of two swollen sockets.

Astarion tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if disappointed. Then he sighs a long, belabored breath as he rolls his eyes at the spawn, “You are strong, Edmund, I must admit. But what you have in brawn, you certainly lack in brains, don’t you?”

And then the Ascendant abruptly plunges the spoon into the human’s gum line just above his right fang. Edmund jerks his head at the last moment and the dull instrument slices against his mouth and tongue, still causing a laceration due to the amount of force Astarion is using on the manufactured weapon.

Blood quickly pools in Edmund’s mouth and he spits it at the silver-haired elf in a final act of defiance.

The switch is instantly flipped.

Astarion’s face contorts with pure, unfiltered hate. His heart starts pounding in rapid fire. Whatever modicum of control he had over his violent desires instantly slips from his hands as his grip around the spoon tightens.

He doesn’t realize he’s wrapping his hand around the spawn’s neck and crushing it with the full force of his Ascendant power. He cannot think past his red, blinding rage as he’s stabbing into Edmund’s chest with the blunted instrument.

He pierces through the spawn’s flesh over and over and over and over.

When the Ascendant finally gains control of his senses, the first thing he sees is Edmund’s mangled body beneath him and his hands coated in scarlet. The first thing he hears, however, is a woman’s scream ripping through the office.

When Astarion jerks his head toward the source, he sees Ani standing in the doorway, both hands clasped over her mouth.

He hates what he sees.

Terror. Pure terror.

She’s terrified of him. And she runs.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

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layton-heritage-posts · 8 months

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I’ve finished the brackets! (And the Name!)

Man, there are already a bunch of though decisions to be made… this is going to be hard. Well start the first round tomorrow! Kinda! More like a prologue to the first round. I’m gonna post only the four battles that are on the side at first, and then the actual round one will begin after that.

Each poll will last for a week, with a two day break between them.

And with that, it officially means that my Heritage Work is shut down for the remaining time of this tournament. Archive closed. Door Locked. You know how it is.

In case you have a hard time reading what’s up against what, which is fair, I wrote them all again under the cut.

Professor Laytons theme vs the winner of The Plot Thickens vs The Toy Robot

Theme of the Specters flute vs Time Travel

London Streets vs PL vs AA Opening

Guilded 7 Casino vs The Great Don Paolo

Emmy‘s Effort‘s - Emmy‘s Theme vs the winner of Conclusion vs Chinatown

Main Theme - Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy vs Folsense

Theme of the last time travel vs Folsense

The eternal diva vs iris

Norwell vs the winner of Misthallery vs A tragic Fate

Pursuit vs Black Market

Descoles theme vs theme of the diabolical box

Main theme - Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask vs Puzzle Battle

Mobile Fortress vs the winner of Toy Car vs Pursuit - Spellbreaker

Monte‘Dor Carnival Night vs The Final Battle

Future British Gentleman vs Puzzle (Specters Call)

The feelings will always be close vs The veil of night

#Professor Layton and the Golden Melody #do you like the Name btw?#i had some joke ideas at first but at the end I thought let’s make it sound like it could be an actual Layton game

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pokemonheritageposts · 1 year

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I have finally finished my complete pokedex run of Pokemon Crystal, capping off by catching Celebi in Ilex Forest.

This is such a weirdly emotional moment for me. Ignoring that this is the culmination of hundreds of hours of effort, requiring me to play through Gold and Silver as well as two seperate playthroughs of Yellow just to get everything not available in Crystal proper, I have a very personal attachment to Generation 2. I'm pretty sure that it's the game I've spent the most time playing across my life.

I've been here since the beginning, Red was my first game and I loved it to bits. But Gold version is infinitely more nostalgic to me. It's the first game I was ever excited for. There was almost a mysticism about seeing all the new details in magazines, about Togepi, about Marill, about Donphan, about the new starters, as more details started to trickle in.

Then one day in 2000, I got a gift. A pirated gameboy cartridge with 20 games on it - including the Japanese version of Pokemon Gold. I couldn't understand any of it, and it couldn't save, so I could only play through as much of it as could be done in one sitting, since the Game Boy Colour ran off of AA batteries and couldn't be left running indefinitely.

I must have played that almost every single day for like a year.

The furthest I could ever get in one go was Ice Path, so everything after that was no man's land to me until the English game dropped. April 6th, 2001 - I remember that date clearer than I remember most of my family's birthdays. I got it, and I played the hell out of it. And nothing could have prepared me for what would happen after I finally beat the Pokemon League - getting to play through Kanto again. Getting to fight Red.

I loved it to pieces. Later, I even bought Pokemon Silver and Pokemon Crystal, despite that I grew up poor and could only afford about two new games a year. I hold these games so dear to me. Even with HeartGold and SoulSilver offering many QoL improvements and additional content, I still find myself more drawn to them. (Also, Crystal actually has some improvements that were left out in HGSS - I'd still say it holds some significant merit even with the remakes as they are).

Sadly, my original copies of all the Gen 2 games mysteriously vanished (presumably stolen by my dipshit childhood friend), so I wasn't able to play them for a long time. But coming back to it as an adult, playing it all again, reliving everything I loved about them the first time - it's all been incredible. And finally having done the last thing that's left to do in it, seeing the last piece of content from these games that was never available until the Virtual Console release? It feels like the end to a grand journey for me.

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misalpav · 11 months

Note

ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.

also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?

anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)

yemito ee maya

Two years after Governor Scott's death

Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.

“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)

He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.

“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)

As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.

“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)

The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.

The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him.

At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night.

Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.

The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him.

“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.

Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading.

“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)

That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went.

Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”

---

(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿

open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena

I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3

#rrr #rrr fics #rrr movie #ram charan #ss rajamouli #alluri sitarama raju #ntr jr #jr ntr #komaram bheem #desiblr #rrr fanfic #yemito ee maya #shri writes #shri's fics #shri's posts

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surfclangen · 7 months

Text

Good and Bad news

Howdy guys! I don't talk to y'all one on one too much, but I want to keep you in the loop.

To start off, I am so super thankful for the support this comic has received!! This is my first real venture into comic making, I am so incredibly grateful to have such a positive reception.

Onto the bad news, y'all may have noticed my posting speed has slowed. I'm very busy in college (graduating with my AA this summer!) between a radio show, being president of the creative writing club, and keeping up with homework, which means I don't have a ton of time to work on personal projects, and when I do, I try to chase what gives me the most dopamine. This isn't super relevant, however, just a peek into my creative process.

The Bad News

Surfclan is going to go onto hiatus after the next two posts so I can work on the overarching story I want to portray. These two posts will finish Arc 1 of Surfclan, which I am happy with and have ironed out, but the draft I have for the rest of the series is kind of cobbled together and not satisfying, certainly not work I'm proud of. If I'm going to dedicate so much time to something, I want it to be work that I am proud of. As a writing student too, it's not right to put so little effort into the writing.

I went into Surfclan without a plan. I wanted a coastal set of clans to worldbuild with, but I had no idea for plot. I let the generator decide what that plot would be, which is fine! But I wasn't given much besides a clan that grew at a decently steady rate and got into occasional shenanigans. I need to put those pieces together properly and figure out how to best portray the themes I want in a respectful manner (right now, there's a heavy theme of colonialism that I just don't think I'm quite ready to handle tactfully.)

If you aren't using Surfclan, can I?

Absolutely! Please feel free to use Surfclan as background characters or cats to fill out gatherings. I am always happy to organize plots in DMs and weave it into Surfclan's eventual finalized script. As long as my babies are kept relatively in character, I have no issues with making it canon. If they aren't, no worries! It just won't be canon to Surfclan. Think of it like an AU!

When will you be back?

I'm not sure, but I'm always happy to answer DMs if you want to chit chat, and I will make a post announcing Surfclan's return when I am ready.

What's the good news then?

Surfclan was always designed to be a "for fun" project that I didn't put too much effort into, hence the scattered upload schedule and art styles, but now that I've experimented a bit, I'm ready to get into comic making more seriously. While I brainstorm ideas for Surfclan I will be shifting focus towards a new Clangen blog loosely based on marshmallow_cat3's Dark Forest challenge and @gray-thistleclan .

Cottonmouth Clan has distinct win and lose conditions and a solidified plot with mysteries to discover. I'm currently working on world building and character design that will be posted to my main blog, @antlermoss. I will have a post up there when I have my details organized with the rules for the challenge, of which you are welcome to use in your own games and comics!

I will reblog Cottonmouth's starter post here when I am ready.

I appreciate your patience and understanding, and hope you guys enjoy the new project (:

#warriors cats ocs #clangen #warriors cats #clangen comic #surfclan #ooc

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pearbunny · 1 year

Text

the bucket list ✘ [three]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~3.4k

chapter content: Flirting, mentions of self-image insecurities, mentions blood, bad sleeping habits, Jisung is aa dork and we love him. author's note: still got a couple of fluffy chapters before we get a lil serious, but hey at least m/c is starting to realize she's physically attracted to him, right?

Early in the morning, you sneak out of the front door, taking Jisung’s keys to the apartment that he always left on the kitchen counter. Your sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up because of the jetlag, so you figured that since you were awake so early, you might as well grab coffee for the both of you.

You werequick to come back and you thought you had successfully snuck in and out of the apartment without Jisung waking up, but when you opened the door, Jisung was at the kitchen island, replacing the water to the bouquet you had bought him two days ago.

You place the drinks down and lock the door behind you. “Good morning, I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

Jisung shakes his head and puts the vase of flowers by the window sill. “No. Not at all.” He comes back towards the kitchen to grab his iced americano. “But you could let me know you were awake so that I could have gone with you.”

“What time did you wake up?” You finally take your shoes off by the door, then head towards the couch to get comfy.

He sits next to you and takes his phone out to check the time. “Three hours ago? I don’t know, I didn’t really check the time.”

“What?! Do you even sleep?”

“Yeah, I do, but... I don’t know; sometimes it’s hard. I just end up laying in bed thinking.”

You frowned at him, “Have you tried Sleepy Time Tea?”

He laughs a little, he thinks the name is a little silly. “I haven’t, but I honestly just have a messed up sleep schedule. On the weekdays I will usually work the night shift, and then on weekends I work until 3am.”

“Oh, so you’re usually asleep during the day?”

“You know, now that I think about it.. I don’t think I sleep much, but I do take naps in between whenever I can.” He laughs at himself. “Uh, hm…” He hesitates, unsure about the next sentence. “I used to go to the gym a lot after shifts, but I stopped going so it’s been a struggle finding a different routine.”

“Ooo, buff Han Jisung era?” You jokingly raised your brows up and down in a suggestive manner. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

Jisung looks offended for a moment as he rolled up his t-shirt sleeve over his shoulder and flexed his bicep right in front of your eyes. “I’m still buff!”

You blinked, long and hard, then stood up, clearing your throat. “Get ready. We’ve got a bucket list to finish.” You walked away into the guest room and closed the door behind you, only to lean on it and slide yourself down into a sitting position on the floor.

“Why are we here?” Jisung asks over your shoulder, waiting patiently while you stare at a shelf at the art store.

“Well,” You sigh in defeat and spin around to face him. There's a slight frown on your face. “I’m trying to find the appropriate materials for the next bucket list adventure, but I’m not quite sure what I’m… looking for.” You turn back around to the items on the shelf.

Jisung stands beside you and follows your lead. It's obvious he was just as clueless. There's a moment of silence before he turns his head towards you. “So... what are we doing?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. “Next up on the list is "Draw a Portrait of Someone'” You make your way to another aisle, deciding to stay away from the paints and brushes. “But everything is so expensive.”

Jisung follows behind you. “Oh. Is this another one of those go up to a stranger and draw a portrait kind of thing?”

You stop in front of some fancy sketchbooks. You open one up and feel the quality of the paper; it was hardstock with a rough texture to it. You turned the book and looked at the price and quickly put it back, shaking your head. You glance your eyes to Jisung who had a playful pout on his lips. “I was thinking we could do each other, but I can find so–”

“No!” He cut you off, “I don’t think I could handle you falling for another stranger!” He feigns being hurt, a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

You rolled your eyes, “Jisung, you think too highly of yourself.”

“I’m kidding,” He emphasizes. He walks down the aisle and picks up a notebook. “Do we really need this stuff? We could just use some old notebook paper I have back at the apartment and some crappy pencils.”

You raised a brow, “You have notebooks?”

He looked at you, deadpanned. “Yes.”

“And pencils?”

“Yes?” He was looking at you weird now.

“Oh… I guess I just didn’t realize people still wrote things down on paper.” You shift your weight, feeling a little awkward. “Figured everyone just used their phone.”

Jisung leads the way out of the art store, shaking his head with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, but what happens if I lose my phone?”

You follow behind him, quickly catching up to his longer strides to walk beside him. "Well, it would be saved into the cloud I would hope."

"Well yeah, that's true," He nods as he continues to walk in the direction of the apartment. "But at what point does the cloud just stop working?"

You raise an inquiring brow at him.

He laughs gently and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm just saying that eventually, years and years and years down the line, there won't be physical copies of anything. Maybe I want something to be remembered like that."

"I never thought you'd be so sentimental."

As he turns into the building, he walks backwards into the door to hold it open for you. "Oh, so you think of me often?" He smirks at you.

You walk past him and roll your eyes hard, making sure he saw you. "You think you're so funny."

Jisung opens the door to his room, stepping aside to let you in first. “This is where I spend… most of my time. If I’m not at work.”

“Where do you work by the way?” You step into the room, looking around at your surroundings.

"I'll take you there sometime."

"Ooo," You look at him playfully, "Is it a host bar?"

He laughs, "Do you think I'd be a good fit for a host bar?"

You decide not to answer and instead, take a look at his room. It wasn’t exactly the way you had thought it would be. You thought it would be like every other guy’s room, extremely minimal with very little personality. To your surprise, he had a lot of belongings. You couldn’t help but smile at the small pile of plushies on his bed.

He sees you looking at them and cleared his throat. “They’re from when I was younger.”

You reached out to pick up one specific plush and patted its head. “This Pikachu didn’t come out until last year. I would know, I couldn't find a seller that still had it for months after it released.” You laugh at his embarrassed expression and place the Pikachu back down on his bed, moving on to the rest of his room.

You walk towards a keyboard, fingers grazing over its keys. “Do you play?”

“Yeah. Since I was 6.” Jisung watches you in the middle of his room with his eyes following you as you make your way around it.

You nod silently and move on towards the corner that had an instrument cased propped up between a wall and a bookshelf. “Guitar too?”

“I dabble.”

You look through the books on his bookshelf, surprised to find numerous genres. Some manga, some horror stories, even a book about blue whales. There are a couple of textbooks as well, history and language specifically.

"Oh, you really do like physical copies of things, huh?" Your fingers touch over the spine of some CD cases. "Do you carry around a walkman too for your burned CDs?"

"No, of course not, I just like to buy my favorite albums is all."

Looking into Jisung’s room was like getting a look into who he truly was. If you're being honest with yourself, you're a little relieved that he was kind of a nerd. You find it dorky, cute, and very endearing. It was very much a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn't really care about what other people thought.

Finally, up against the wall adjacent to the window, is Jisung’s desk. He's got multiple monitors set up. There's the one in the center, curved, and to the left of it was a monitor that is turned vertical. Above the both, looked to be a large TV screen. There are little trinkets under the monitors: a cat shaped stress ball, a small figurine of what looked to be an anime girl, and a smaller metal figurine of a wolf. Next to the desk was a pretty substantial mic recording set up.

“You make music?”

“Uh. Sometimes.” He chuckles nervously, hurriedly going towards the bookshelf. He pulls out two notebooks, trying to change the subject. You find it really cute how shy he was being.

“Can I listen one day?”

Jisung grabs a couple of pencils from a cup on his desk and bites on his lower lip, finally looking you in the eyes. “That seems like a third date kind of thing.”

Subconsciously, you hold your breath at the thought, a weird feeling in your stomach, akin to butterflies.

For a dork, he was pretty smooth.

“Wanna go to Hangang Park?”

You sit on top of Jisung’s coat that he had brought specifically for you to sit on so your jeans wouldn’t get any grass stains on them. The both of you had found a spot that was shaded under a large tree, near a pedestrian pathway, on a slight hill to give you both the view of the Han River.

While Han makes sure there were no ant hills around, you take a moment to look through the notebook he had given you. The margins are filled with doodles and comics, but its contents are of what seem like notes from a language class.

“Okay. No bugs. No ants. We should be okay.” Jisung sits next to you and you shuffle your weight around to sit facing him.

You hand him the other notebook and a pencil. “Okay, please don’t judge me if I can’t draw very well.”

Jisung scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, “I’m sure I’ll like it either way:” He opens the notebook up and bends his knees towards his chest, using his legs as a makeshift drawing table. He holds the pencil in between his middle finger and thumb delicately, sketching very lightly on the paper. He glances back and forth between the paper and you. “How serious are we taking this? Can I just draw a stick figure?”

You shake your head no with a small giggle and give a huff shortly afterwards, feigning annoyance. “Give it your best! I know I will, I want you to look at it and be amazed at how good of an artist I am. You're going to wanna frame this.”

“Even if it wasn’t a Picasso, I’d still hang it up on the kitchen fridge.”

“Gee, thanks mom.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Jisung gives you one last smile over his notebook before he focuses on sketching.

The silence between you too is comfortable. Instead of idle chit chat, it is the sounds of pencils sketching on paper, birds chirping, the soft hum of cars on the road, people playing together by the river, the sound of a couple of bikes and the little ringing of their bells off in the distance.

It's nice.

You look up from your sketch momentarily. You took a drawing class back in high school, which lead you to taking more art classes in college, but you were never too serious about it; you just like sketching. Especially people. It was always fun to learn about a person just by studying their features so closely.

You draw out his brow bone that protrudes out from his forehead in a soft manner. His high cheekbones match in height, and his cheeks, even in concentration, rounds out to his sharp jawline. You sketched out his general features, starting with his nose and how it sloped downward at the tip. The shape of his lips: the bottom fuller than the top.

“Look up at me?”

He does as told and once you nod to signal that you had gotten what you needed, you both went back to sketching.

His eyes are wider in the inner corners and came together in a slight point upwards, his lashes are long and pointed straight down; you momentarily have a thought about how guys always had better lashes than you.

You look back up at him, staring at his lips to make sure you had gotten the overall shape right. You frown when you weren’t getting it right. You glance back and forth between the sketch and Jisung, making minute adjustments. The corners of his lips naturally has a soft curve upwards, and although his top lip is thinner than his bottom, he has a decently pronounced cupid’s bow, which probably adds to the natural way his lips look like he was pouting most of the time.

You squint at your drawing. You were so fixated on his lips. It was probably your favorite feature of his, but there was something off about it. You look back up at him, brows furrowing as you concentrate on his lips, dead set on getting it right. You sigh in frustration.

“You okay?”

The lips you had been staring at move and the deep voice behind it startle you, not expecting it at all. You were so lost in the task at hand, you forgot that he was actually there in front of you.

“Sorry, I just…” Your voice trails off. Admitting that you were staring at his lips, even if it were for the drawing, is embarrassing.

He laughs and smiles at you for just a moment before he goes back to sketching, his lips falling back to a concentrated state.

That movement was enough to give you what you needed. His bottom lip casted a shadow onto his chin, which you shade in to give that full pouty effect.

“I think I’m almost done…” Jisung’s pencil strokes grow heavy as he finishes. “M’hm, done!” He exclaims, then turns his back to you before laying down in the grass. He looks up at you, his notebook against his chest, drawing face down so you wouldn’t be able to see it.

He tries to sneak a peek from his position on the ground by your legs, but you quickly turn your drawing away from him. “Not until I’m finished.”

“You’re taking so long, you better be getting every little detail of my handsome face.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, only catching glimpses of the smug look on his face through your peripherals. You notice a scar on the outer corner of his right eye. “What happened here?” You place the pad of your finger on your own face.

“Ah,” He raises a hand in the air above his face to shield himself from the bright rays of sun. “When I was younger, I was running around in my classroom and I fell and hit my head on a desk and well…” He pauses his story momentarily to laugh at the memory, “I didn’t even notice it was bleeding until my teacher made a big deal about it. On the bright side, I got to go home early that day.”

You couldn’t help but to smile fondly at the idea of Han Jisung as a child. “Were you a good kid?”

He scoffs and turns on his side to look at you. “Definitely not. My dad called me a naughty kid. Always had to take me to the hospital because I was just so clumsy.” He points at a scar in the center of his forehead. “I got this one because I was riding my tricycle around a parking lot. I was doing laps like I was a racecar driver or something and when I crossed the imaginary finish line, I threw my hands up in the air and crashed into a garden.” He rolls his eyes, recounting that specific memory and sighed. “I was such a dumb kid.”

Silence overtakes you again as you go back to your drawing and you add the scar on his forehead.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” You don’t look away from your drawing, trying to hurry up and finish.

“Your eyebrow,” Jisung is looking up at you, his eyes examining your features as you had done to him. “It looks like you have a scar.”

“Oh,” You kept sketching. “When I was a baby and just starting to learn how to walk, I busted it when I tried to stand up right under a table.” You rub at your brow where the scar was. “Actually, my mom used to tell me all the time that I was perfectly fine. I wasn’t crying at all! Then she picked me up and started babying me and that's when I started crying.” The smallest smile plays on your lips. “She called me her little actress.”

“Have you ever tried acting?”

“No. God, no. I’m horrible at acting. I’m so easily read”.

“Okay!” You hold the notebook away from you, admiring your work. “I’m ready to share mine.”

Jisung sits up and turns to face you again. “Don’t expect too much from me, I am not an artist at all.” He turns his notebook over to show you his drawing.

You tilt your head with a smile, reaching out so you can bring the sketch closer for inspection. If he hadn’t told you he wasn’t an artist, you wouldn’t have believed him. He was definitely being modest, or maybe he just pays attention to all the small things on your face that made you you.

You weren’t immune to comparison and insecurities. Everyday was a battle. It could be as simple as the way your jeans felt on you that day, the way your hair refused to cooperate, maybe even the fact that you had to try an extra five times to get your eyeliner right. But the way Jisung had drawn you, it wasn’t about the way you looked; it was about what he had chose to emphasize: the kindness in your eyes, the concentration of your lips, the passion in your furrowed brows while you drew the portrait of him.

To see yourself through someone else’s eyes was amazing, and to see yourself through Jisung’s eyes…

Well, it was bringing a sort of warmth to your cheeks, a dizzying feeling in your head.

You exhale deeply and close your eyes, a little overwhelmed. When you open your eyes again, Jisung was looking up at you, brows together in concern. “Wait, are you okay? Is it ugly? Because I’m sorry if it is, I told you I wasn’t good at drawing! You’re not ugly, I promise. I just suc–”

“No, it’s great, Jisung. Really. Thank you.” You smile and place a hand over his, gently squeezing it to convey your gratitude.

The look of concern on his face melted away to a bright smile.

“Here.” You flip your notebook over to show him your drawing.

“Wow, Y/N. I didn’t know you could draw.”

You shrug your shoulders casually, like it was no big deal. “I took a couple of classes.”

Jisung’s smile widens as he admires your work, then suddenly, he points at a spot on the notebook. “You forgot something.”

“I did?” You lean over, looking at where his finger was. He's pointing at his cheek. You look up quickly and notice that you did miss something. You quickly dot your pencil on the sketch to correct your mistake.

“I call it my chocolate chip.” He says above you, over your head.

Slowly, you look up, nervous at your proximity.

You weren’t looking him in the eyes. You couldn’t do that for a couple of reasons: 1) complete embarrassment. You are very much up in his personal space. 2) You absolutely 100% did not want to see if he was looking at you.

So instead, you’re looking at his mole on his right cheek which was dangerously close to his lips.

His lips parted slightly and it takes everything you have to stare at the mole.

You felt so dumb. What was he talking about? Chocolate chips?

“I– I like chocolate.” You said.

Out loud.

You said that out loud.

His lips are pulled apart now as he laughs loudly, leaning so far back he eventually falls.

You take the opportunity to straighten your posture and glance over at his form: laying back down on the grass, arms crossed over his stomach clutching his sides as he laughs.

You cover your face, absolutely mortified.

After a while, Jisung catches his breath and places a hand on the crown of your head, ruffling your hair in the process.

“Y/N, it’s okay!” He's trying to comfort you, but it only makes you more embarrassed.

You drag your hands down your face and groan out loud. “No! It’s not! I’m so embarrased.” You start to gather your things, closing your notebook and placing the pencils back in your bag.

“I like chocolate?” You repeat yourself. “I like chocolate?!” At this point, you're just mocking yourself.

Jisung tries to hold back his laughter, standing up before you could. He offers you a hand to help you up and you take it. You’re about to say thank you, when instead he says, “Hey, a lot of people like chocolate.”

The smirk on his face is too too much.

“Ugh, Han Jisung, stop making fun of me!” Your face is beat red, You stomp off, trying to create space between you two so you could calm down from all the embarrassment.

Jisung follows after you, laughing.

ending author's notes: Was talking to my friend Nikki about how these two are so incredibly wholesome. Was also talking about how this fic does have a warning of eventual smut. Also mentioned that I couldn't wait to ruin that wholesome image. :)

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