#then they did it and I'm glad it ended that way

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialist)

Chapter 2: Cinderella

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: You didn't expect things to turn out this way when you agreed to go on a second date with Harry. You can’t deny your feelings for him, but now you have a tough choice to make. His great personality makes every moment feel like a fairytale, but deep down, you know it has to end eventually. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, piv sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance Chapter Word Count: 7k, oops (next chapter will be intense one) authors note: I'm so glad you all showed so much love and interest in this story! Thanks a ton, everyone!

In the morning—just like every other morning—you put on your housekeeper's uniform and got yourself ready for the day. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you let out a sigh. The fancy dress you wore last night was tossed over the chair behind you, a total contrast to the outfit you had on now. You smiled at your reflection, thinking about how nice it was to wear something elegant, even if it was just for a little while. But then, reality hit you, and you sighed again, remembering what had happened the night before.

Your phone buzzed as you pulled your hair back to put it in a bun. But before you could grab your phone, there was a knock on the door. One of the other housekeeper girls peeked in and gave you a look. You could tell right away that Melanie had sent her.

“She wants to see you,” she said with a nervous grin.

“Of course she does,” you muttered, walking over to your bedside table to get your phone. Before stepping out, you unlocked it to check the latest message. You usually kept in touch with your cousin Zoe, who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn. She was the only one who reached out from time to time. It had been months since you last saw her, and it had been three years since you saw your parents, who lived in the countryside of Atlanta. However, that was okay; you and your dad had never really gotten along after your mom passed away. 

But the message wasn’t from Zoe; it came from a random number. You opened the notification and saw:

“Morning, kitty. Starting my day by hoping yours goes well.” 

It took a second for it to click who it was. 

Harry. 

Seriously? “Kitty?” He was something else, alright.

Just then, you heard Melanie’s voice squeaking out your name—like always. You weren’t in the mood to deal with Harry's message anyway, so you stuck your phone in your pocket and left the room.

Harry held his phone in one hand while sipping his morning coffee in his penthouse apartment, which offered a glorious view of New York. He was so eager for your message that he hadn’t even noticed his personal assistant, Oliver, had arrived.

“Earth to Harry,” Oliver said, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

Harry looked up, set his cup down on the counter, and leaned back in his chair. “Hey, Ollie.”

“Is there a problem? Is it bad news from the market?” Oliver asked.

Harry took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “Never mind.”

"Looks like you haven't had time to settle in yet, huh?" Oliver commented, glancing around the flat. "Some cleaning staff from the company will be here this afternoon. I've also arranged for you to see Hudson before lunch, as you requested."

“Great, thanks,” Harry muttered, still focused on his phone, a frown on his face.

“Oh, by the way, the matchmaker called me. She wants to know how last night’s date went.”

Harry checked his watch, clearly disinterested. “Nineteen minutes. She must’ve seen my message but still hasn’t replied.”

“What did you even say? Harry Castillo waiting for a text back from a girl? Someone pinch me,” Oliver mocked, widening his eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Was your date really that amazing? You weren’t so hyped about it before you left.”

He knew Oliver was right. This was only his second date since coming back from France, and he was starting to feel a bit desperate.

“So I guess miracles do happen,” Harry said with a grin.

Oliver folded his arms and leaned against the counter, looking bewildered. “Are you serious? You didn’t even like that girl’s résumé. You said, if I remember correctly, ‘It seems like a waste of time, but I’ll give it a shot.’”

“Even great Harry Castillo can be wrong sometimes,” Harry replied, grinning as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Wow, that’s definitely not like you, man. What did she do to you?”

Harry smiled. “I don’t know, but whatever she did, I want her to do more.”

“You’ll see her again, then. Should I cancel the other dates, or do you still want to give them a shot?” he asked.

Harry stood up, took his jacket off the chair, and put it on. “Cancel them all. In fact, I want you to clear my schedule for the next three days.”

Oliver knew what that meant. It was the same way Harry had acted the last time he had a crush on someone—clearing his entire schedule for a few days for that special girl. But, in the end, she wasn't the one. He just hoped this wouldn’t end the same way this time; he didn’t want to see him heartbroken again.

"He wants to go on a second date?" Melanie's voice echoed through the room—no, the entire mansion.

"For the fifth time, I'm answering your question. Yes, he does," you said with a grunt.

She stared at you. "Oh wow, look at her. She can joke too!"

"It wasn't a joke, but whatever," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Stop it and tell me how to get out of this," she barked.

"Should I tell you? It wasn't even my plan."

"My plan was solid until you messed it up," Melanie complained as she paced around the room.

"Is it my fault the guy likes me? I told you, this was a risky game from the start."

Melanie stopped and squinted at you. "Do you like him or something? Maybe you were flirting with him."

You laughed hysterically. "Flirting? Believe me, what I did was far from flirting."

Melanie took a moment to think before starting to pace again. "Ugh! Why then? Is it because of my name? Yeah, gotta be. He’s smart; he knows my dad is a big deal. Maybe he’s just after a marriage of convenience."

For some reason, that sounded ridiculous to you. If Harry was like that, he would have married another businessman's daughter a long time ago. He wasn’t the type to be rejected, both for financial reasons and due to his personality. He was a wonderful person. Wait a minute—why were you suddenly thinking that? Did you really hold feelings for him? No, that couldn’t be right. Besides, you needed to focus on solving the problem at hand. But then you suddenly recalled the moment he kissed you; the way his lips brushed against yours, the warmth of his hand on your skin—it was an unforgettable feeling and—

"Aren't you listening to me?" Melanie's squeal pulled you back to reality. 

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about how to get out of this," you lied. 

"There’s only one way out, and we have to do it fast, or this is going to get out of hand. Dad will be leaving for Europe this afternoon and will be away for a few days. We need to sort this out while he's gone."

That was good news, but you were still uncertain about when Harry would take you on a second date. You hoped it would be this week. Melanie picked up her phone and dialed someone. "Nate, I need you to do something for me. Meet me tonight."

Nate. 

He was Melanie's friend who always cleaned up after her, another guy with a wealthy father. Nate's father was a media mogul, and thanks to him, Melanie's dad, Jack, had managed to keep his daughter's many scandals away from the paparazzi and out of the press—that's how powerful Nate's father was. However, you really didn't like Nate. He was a wild card, the type who would hit on anything that moved. You definitely didn't want to meet him.

Fortunately, Melanie was meeting him at the club tonight, as she often did. Before she left, she warned you to find out when Harry was taking you on your next date.

You might have thought that Jack leaving the mansion would give you a sigh of relief, but his wife was even harder to deal with. She was hardly ever around, typically ignoring her daughter, yet they shared a strange closeness. They seemed more like friends than mother and daughter. Melanie had adopted all her mother’s habits. However, what her mother wanted from you was different.

“Shouldn't you be the one convincing Melanie to meet that guy? Do you have any idea who Harry Castillo is? Ugh, who am I talking to? Of course, you don't. I would love for him to be my son-in-law; it would be so good for our family. Just imagine the look on those snooty society women’s faces when they find out he’s marrying Melanie!"

She went on and on. You had to nod in response to her accusatory speeches; if you said anything negative or, heaven forbid, argued with her, she would start insulting you. Yes, this woman seemed to be aware of everything her daughter did, yet she never found fault with her. You were always the one to blame. Normally, she wouldn’t have engaged in such a long conversation with you, and you were usually thankful for that, but it seemed she was taking advantage of her husband’s absence to be bossy. It stung your pride, and in moments like those, all you wanted was to quit and leave without looking back. But you endured it patiently, surprising even yourself. Over time, you developed a method to pretend you had imaginary headphones in your ears, listening to your favorite music while this woman scolded you. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with you.

When you finally got to your room, hoping for some peace, you undid your hair bun, letting your hair fall over your shoulders, and lay down on your bed. You took your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it. Another text was sent from Harry’s number at 5:09 PM.

"Gosh, Melanie, so you do like to talk.”

You could almost hear his voice in your head as you read the message and grinned to yourself. But then you decided to call him—not because you missed his voice -of course you did- but because you thought it wasn’t fair to leave him hanging. You needed to find out when he was planning to ask you out again.

It rang a few times, and Harry answered. "The person you're calling is unavailable at the moment, perhaps because you didn't answer his morning message." he sounded mocking and a little offended.

You couldn’t help but giggle and decided to keep it fun. “Should I just hang up then—”

“No, no, no! Please don’t hang up,” he quickly replied, his tone softening. You giggled again and heard him let out a sigh. “I heard your beautiful laugh, so I’m not upset anymore.”

You didn’t respond, but you were smiling. “Well, I didn’t reply because you called me ‘kitty.’ It sounded like you were talking to your cat.”

"That's what I was doing, kitty." He laughed.

“Seriously? Still?” you groaned playfully. “I have a name,” you said, wishing he actually knew your real name.

“But you looked just like a kitten when you were devouring that dessert, licking your lips and fingers.”

Ugh, did he really have to remind you of that? 

“And I can’t forget the way your sweet tongue touched mine.”

You swallowed, and you knew he could probably hear it on the other end of the line.

“Anyway, get ready Wednesday morning; I’ll come pick you up,” he said after a pause.

“Oh, wow. Thanks for the heads-up, Mr. Castillo.”

You heard him chuckle. “Did that sound a little bossy to you?”

“A little,” you admitted, smirking, feeling like he was right there with you instead of on the phone.

“Alright, let me give it another shot,” he said, clearing his throat. “Miss. Johnson, I was thinking of coming to pick you up Wednesday morning if you're free.” His sarcasm was so endearing, you couldn’t help but crack up.

“I know, fail on my part, right? What can I say? I don’t usually talk like that.” You were still laughing, and Harry was smiling along, enjoying your laughter. “If you’re going to laugh like that, then I should talk like this all the time.”

But then your smile faded; every time he complimented you, it hit you with guilt and embarrassment. The reason you met him, your whole situation, was a reminder that knocked you hard each time.

“Anyway, it’s probably time for you to sleep. Be a good girl and get to bed early.”

“Oh, are you gonna give me candy too, mister?” you teased back.

“I can give you all the candy in the world, just say the word, sweet girl.” His tone felt really sincere, and something inside you believed he could actually do it. 

Why was your heart racing all of a sudden?

"Good night, Melanie," he said, and another truth came to the surface that hit you like a slap in the face.

You just mumbled as you hung up the phone, "Good night Harry.”

You lay in bed for a while, phone in hand. This was not a time for dreaming or getting excited. This was not your life; you weren’t Melanie, the rich girl with a millionaire father living in luxury. When Harry discovered the truth, you knew you would be worthless in his eyes. You couldn't blame him; you wanted this and had to face the consequences. You only wished you hadn’t fallen in love with him; otherwise, you knew you would be the one hurt the most at the end of this story. 

You had never been in love before. In fact, you always thought love was something exaggerated. The relationship between your mom and dad was based on respect and loyalty—always had been. Years ago, before starting this job, you had ended a toxic relationship and moved to New York. You felt free and happy to have escaped it. You promised yourself that when you came to New York, you would shed your southern accent, improve yourself, find a proper job, and start saving money to fulfill your dreams. You were determined not to let any man into your life for a while, but you never anticipated things would unfold like this.

Rolling over in bed, you buried your face in the pillow and moaned. Why did it have to be here and not at some other rich family’s place on the Upper East Side? Just then, something happened to justify your misery: your phone rang. You instinctively knew that only one thing could call you at this hour—trouble. Melanie was out again, and you knew she was in trouble before you even answered the phone.

“Melanie?” you said.

“It’s Nate. Babe, I need you to get over here ASAP. Melanie’s totally wasted, and we had a fight. You’ve gotta pick her up and take her home.”

Babe? 

Of course, it was Nate. You sighed and pressed the phone to your forehead. “Fine, I’m on my way,” you grumbled through clenched teeth.

This was nothing new; you’d picked her up from clubs, rescued her after fights, and kept her out of the paparazzi’s sight. You’d gotten pretty good at all of it.

You quickly opened your wardrobe to change, slipping on some jeans and a blouse, fixing your hair, and leaving your room while muttering and swearing under your breath.

When the driver brought you to the club, you felt a wave of nervousness upon seeing the paparazzi gathered at the entrance. Fortunately, you were accustomed to entering through the back door of such venues, where security was stationed, and you had often seen many famous faces. The driver was familiar with the routine, so you told him to wait with the engine running while you stepped out of the car. After explaining the situation to security, you headed inside. The moment you entered, the volume of the music surged, making it difficult to hear your own voice.

As soon as you spotted Nate, you made your way over to him, pushing a few people aside in the process. You noticed Melanie was barely conscious, her head bobbing from side to side. Nate was struggling to hold her up, so you slipped under her other arm to help.

“Why'd you let her drink so much?” you whispered, trying to keep Melanie steady.

Nate shot you a confused look. “Seriously, babe? Don't act like you don't know her.”

“Whatever, the car's waiting outside,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, let’s get this wasted girl out of here,” he replied.

You both managed to get outside, but your heart nearly stopped when you spotted Harry across the street by his car.

“Crap, let’s turn around,” you said, quickly pulling Melanie to the other side of the street.

“What the hell is going on?” Nate asked, annoyed.

“Harry's here,” you explained.

He glanced over and swore. “What’s he doing here?”

“Hell if I know,” you muttered.

A moment later, a guy and a girl stepped out of the same door you had come through and walked over to Harry. The girl looked just as drunk as Melanie, and to your shock, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck.

What the hell?

Harry said something to her, helped her into his car, and then hopped in beside her. The guy must’ve been his driver; he got in the front, started the car, and they sped off.

Nate snickered. “Looks like Harry Castillo’s on the prowl. Nice. I envy him.”

You shot him a glare. Just then, Melanie threw her head back, moaned, and violently vomited on Nate. 

Nate screamed in disgust, “Damn it, Mel! Ugh, that's disgusting!”

“Good riddance,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your other arm around Melanie's waist while you ignored Nate’s curses as you led her to the car.

You woke up feeling a bit down. You’d stayed up way too late the night before dealing with Melanie, and seeing Harry with another woman was really bothering you. It kinda sucked, but shouldn’t you feel relieved? After all, things weren’t serious between you two. Harry was a good-looking guy, and of course, there would always be women around—that was just how it went. But how could he tell you to hit the sack early and then go out to a nightclub? It didn’t seem fair. 

But who were you to judge him, right? Maybe you should’ve just taken it as a sign to end things for good after that second date. That way, you wouldn’t have felt so sympathetic toward him, and you could have ended it decisively. Yeah, you definitely should’ve done that.

You got out of bed, put on your uniform, and styled your hair. Just as you were putting your shoes on, your phone buzzed with a message. Like yesterday, it was from Harry:  

“Wish I could be holding you this morning.” 

You sighed, whispering to yourself, “Oh, I bet you held someone else last night, didn’t you, Harry?”

You tucked the phone into your pocket, but another message arrived:

“Are you missing me? Yes or yes.”  

You couldn’t help but smile and decided to tease him back.  

“You know there are letters N and O in the alphabet.”  

A few minutes later, came his reply:  

“I’ll erase them from today.”  

How could he flirt with you while he was with another woman? Could there have been a misunderstanding? 

When you heard your name called, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket and headed out. After giving Melanie's mom the scoop on last night, you jumped into your usual tasks. You were called to help the cook in the kitchen. This happened a lot; Danilo, the Italian chef, was an amateur, but he knew his way around food.

"I'm telling you, girl, you should quit this job and start that bakery of yours. You have natural talent," he said as you sat at the counter, enjoying the sesame bread you had just baked.  

"Soon, Danilo, very soon," you replied with a smile.  

One of the girls walked into the kitchen. “Danilo, Mrs. Johnson says her eggs are too greasy. She’s watching her calories and wants them cooked low fat again.” 

Danilo sighed and muttered something in his native language. “Maybe you can take me with you when you open that bakery restaurant? Please?” he suggested, looking at you.  

You nodded, “With pleasure, chef.” You gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and helped him prepare the eggs. 

After you took a tray to the mother and daughter having breakfast outside, your phone buzzed again. Just as you came back inside and picked it up, you heard the elevator ding downstairs. One of the housekeepers was taking a big black box with a red ribbon from a delivery guy—it was probably another delivery for Melanie or her mom, like always. But then you checked your phone and saw Harry’s message:  

“Can’t wait to see it on you.”  

You paused for a moment, then turned around and stopped the housekeeper. 

“Let me see it for a minute,” you said, examining the box. It was labeled Ralph Lauren, and a card was pinned under the ribbon. You gasped as you read the carefully written words on the card: 

For my kitty. 

“I'll take this,” you said, reaching for the box. 

The girl shrugged and handed it to you. She was accustomed to this kind of situation, but what she didn’t know was that this box had been sent to you. You felt a thrill of excitement as you walked to your room, cradling the box in your arms. There had to be an elegant dress inside. 

“Hey, stop right there!” 

That was Melanie. You did what she said and turned around, feeling a bit annoyed. Her eyes went wide when she saw the box. 

“Where do you think you’re taking that? Bring it here!” 

“It’s from Mr. Castillo; he must have sent it for the date tomorrow,” you mumbled. 

Ignoring your tone, Melanie quickly tugged at the ribbon and opened the box. 

“Oh my God! This is from the new season! It's part of the special collection! It was in the fashion show in Paris just a few weeks ago!” She pulled out the stunning black dress and held it up. “This is amazing! I have to try it on right now!” 

“But he sent it for me,” you said, frowning. 

“So?” 

“It would be rude not to wear the dress meant for me.” 

“That’s exactly what we’re looking for, silly, let it be,” she said, zipping the dress up and slipping it on. “Oh, the fabric feels incredible.” 

You couldn’t remember a time when her words or actions had hurt you this much. You swallowed hard, trying to keep all the nasty things you wanted to say to her. “So what am I supposed to wear? The great Melanie needs to wear something elegant, right?” 

She narrowed her eyes at you, looking slightly annoyed. The dress was a little loose on her. You definitely had a fuller figure than she did, and you knew you’d look way better in that dress. Maybe that was why she seemed upset. 

“I’ll let you borrow one of the Pradas I got for my birthday last month,” she said before heading over to show her mom the dress. You just stared at her, and then your gaze dropped to the card in your hand, reading again the words that Harry wrote for you. 

For my kitty. 

Wednesday morning rolled around, and you were feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. The dress Melanie had given you after swiping yours wasn’t as bad as the other one he sent, but it wasn’t great either. It was strapless, a bit tight, and super long, making it tricky to walk comfortably—you could totally see why Melanie had tossed it aside. After getting yourself ready, you checked your bag and saw a text from Harry: 

"I’m outside. Don’t keep me waiting too long, beautiful."

Your heart began to race, and you could practically hear it thumping in your ears. Before you left the house, Melanie handed you a fancy jacket and reminded you, "When you get back, make sure to get rid of him for good." Her words echoed in your mind as you stepped out of the lift. This time, it would definitely be over—but not in the way she intended. You needed to act mature and honest, like a responsible woman. Regardless of what happened, you had to keep your guard up and not let your emotions show.

When you walked out the door, you froze. Harry was leaning against his car, holding a bouquet of pink roses. The moment he saw you, a huge smile lit up his face. When he spotted you, a huge smile spread across his handsome face. So much for not letting your guard down. All the resolutions you had made moments ago felt fragile, carried away by a light breeze.

As you approached him, you felt those promises fading one by one. Your heart raced to the point that it overshadowed your thoughts. When you reached him, his smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. "Hi, beautiful," he said, handing you the flowers. You smiled and accepted them. 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet,” you replied, enjoying their scent.

Harry paused for a moment, checking you out. His expression changed a bit. “You know, you look fantastic just the way you are, but I have to ask—did you not like the dress I sent you?”

There it was—the question you had been expecting. It was tough to lie when you had so much on your mind. You wanted to say everything to him, everything, but you just couldn't, and you hated that.

“Harry, the dress was really pretty, and I liked it a lot, but I’m so clumsy. I spilled coffee on it, and I'm really sorry.” You looked down, feeling embarrassed.

Harry frowned when he saw the look on your face and grabbed your hand. With his other hand, he opened the car door for you. 

“Get in, kitty; we’ll grab you a new one,” he said, helping you in and shutting the door behind you. He quickly walked around to the driver’s seat, buckled up, and started the engine. 

“Honestly, you don’t need to do that,” you said as you put your seatbelt on. 

“The most important thing you should know about me, sweet girl,” he said, grinning as he began to drive, “is that I always follow through with what I promise.” He winked at you, pressing the gas pedal and speeding down the road. 

“So where are you taking me?” you asked. 

“I’d rather hear your guesses,” he replied with a grin. 

“Considering how fancy the dress was, it has to be the nicest brunch spot in New York,” you guessed. 

He chuckled. “Nope, wrong answer, sweetheart. Want to try again?” 

“Sure, but I want a hint.” 

“Not without a price. Come a little closer.” 

When the car came to a stop at a red light, you leaned in. He leaned over and kissed you on the cheek, right where you felt yourself blush. 

“Now, what’s your guess?” he asked. 

You thought for a moment. When you think of what rich people usually do for dates, a fancy restaurant comes to mind, but you had another idea. 

“Are you taking me out on your private yacht or something for breakfast?” 

He laughed. “Oh, close, but you’re off again.” 

You made a face and pouted. “Fine, I’m out of guesses.” 

“I see you gave up pretty quick.” 

“That’s not true! I just didn’t want to ruin your fun by getting it right,” you teased. 

He raised his eyebrows sarcastically, smirking as he laughed. You shrugged and shot him a cool smile. 

“Anyway, we’re almost there,” he said, looking pretty pleased with himself.

A moment later, your jaw dropped as you realized where you were. "Harry, wait, this is the airport. Why are we here?" 

He just kept grinning and drove away from the area with regular flights. Soon, he stopped the car in front of a private jet. A couple of attendants came over and opened the doors for you both. 

“Mr. Castillo, welcome! Everything’s ready for your flight, sir,” one of them said, then turned to you. “Welcome, Miss Johnson. This way, please.” 

Suddenly, you felt really nervous looking at that private jet. This was something you never saw coming. Harry walked over, putting his hand on your waist. “Come on, let’s not waste time. We’ve got dinner in Paris to get to.” 

You stared at him wide-eyed. “Did you say Paris? I didn’t even bring my passport, and I’m not sure if I'm ready for that.” 

He chuckled as he pulled you toward the plane. “Don’t worry, just trust me.” 

As you stepped towards the jet, you recognized the guy from the other night—you thought he was Harry’s driver. He smiled at you. “Miss Johnson.” 

Harry wrapped his arm around you as you climbed the airstairs and stepped into the jet. You looked around, completely in awe. You had been on a jet before, but that was just to meet Melanie when she came back from abroad. You’d never actually flown in one like this. This jet looked way more luxurious, with seats for ten or fifteen people that looked super comfy. Harry sat you in the window seat and took the one next to you. Once the door closed, the pilot reminded everyone to fasten their seatbelts, and Harry helped you with yours. 

“Feeling nervous?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you lied. It wasn’t the flying that made you nervous; you had been on scheduled planes countless times. It was just that you had never left the States before. But you couldn’t let him know that. 

The jet soon took off, and breakfast was served. It was like a meal from the fanciest restaurant. 

“Dinner, you mentioned earlier. Is it because we’ll be arriving in the evening?”

Harry glanced at his watch. “Yep. The flight’s about seven hours, and Paris is five hours ahead of New York, so we’ll get there just in time for dinner.” He smiled at you. “But enjoy your breakfast now. Try this,” he said, handing you a piece of lemon-flavored poppy seed muffin. You recognized it from Danilo and realized it was just as good. 

With seven hours to kill, you had plenty of time to chat. You also met Oliver, who turned out to be Harry’s assistant. He was nice and friendly, but to you, he was just another guy you had to keep secrets from. 

Even though you were excited to visit one of the cities you’d always wanted to see, the whole situation felt a bit sour. You were scared—scared of getting too caught up in everything and of things possibly getting out of control. The deeper your relationship with Harry got, the harder it would be for either of you to break things off, especially for you. 

You didn’t realize you had dozed off in your thoughts. You were awakened by the pilot’s gentle announcement, and when you looked up, Harry was staring at you. Was he actually watching you sleep?

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We've arrived."

You quickly turned your head and looked down at the magical city below, shining in all its splendor. Then you looked at Harry. “We really are in Paris,” you said cheerfully.

“Yes, we are,” he replied with a smile.

As the jet touched down on the runway, you jolted slightly. When it came to a complete stop, Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, followed by Oliver, who came to stand beside him.

“Dinner's ready; they're waiting for you,” Oliver informed him.

"Good," Harry replied, holding out his hand to you. "Come on, gorgeous."

You smiled a little and took his hand as you both stepped out into the stunning city.

“How hungry are you now?” Harry asked as the car drove you through the streets of Paris.

“Hmm, a little. Why?”

“Firstly, I promised you a dress, and I have to fulfill that promise.”

You looked at him. “You're not one to give up easily, are you?”

Harry grinned. “You're starting to get to know me; that’s good. But I still don’t really know you, and I don’t like that. We should fix that, don’t you think?”

You sighed and turned your head to look out over the city. As much as you wanted to, how were you going to share your story with him?

The car pulled up to a street full of famous brand-name shops. Harry got out first, and then you followed. The shop that was supposed to be closed at this hour had opened up just for you. Honestly, you should have stopped being surprised by everything when you were with Harry.

Two assistants came over to help and took you to the ladies' department, bringing you a bunch of dresses to try on. You picked out a couple and modeled them one after the other in the fitting room, showing them off to Harry. After a bit, you started to complain about how tired you were of putting them on and taking them off. Harry suggested you just keep the one you were wearing since he liked it best.

“The black one is awesome,” he said. “But honestly, they all look great on you, so I’m getting them all,” he told the shop assistant. 

“Wait, all of them? But—”

Harry put a finger to his lips and gave you a playful smile, silencing you in a way that surprised you. How could he be so incredible? 

Oliver tossed the bags into the trunk, Harry glanced at your shoes. “We would’ve looked for shoes and bags too, but it’s getting late.” 

“Oh, please, I’m so tired,” you whined. 

“Alright, we’ll look tomorrow. Let’s go,” he said, opening the car door for you.

“Man, I really respect models,” you said as you hopped into the car. “They must be wiped out after those fashion shows.”  

“You’d make a great model; you know,” Harry replied.

“I’ll pass,” you sighed.

"That’s a total bummer for the fashion world," he joked, making you giggle.

The restaurant where Harry brought you for dinner was a breathtaking oasis, with the Eiffel Tower standing proudly before you like a sentinel of romance, shimmering under the glow of the city lights. A soft, warm breeze danced around you, carrying with it the sweet notes of a gentle melody that intertwined with the clinking of fine glassware. The table was adorned with exquisite dishes and velvety wine, while a charming gentleman sat across from you, creating an enchanting atmosphere that felt plucked straight from a fairy tale. In that moment, you felt like a princess swept away by magic, but deep down you were aware that when the clock struck midnight, the spell would be broken, and you would return to being Cinderella. Embracing the fleeting beauty of the evening, you allowed yourself to savor every second.

After the meal, you strolled hand in hand to the Eiffel Tower, embarking on an adventure that lovers had cherished for centuries. As you climbed higher, the city below unfolded like a magnificent tapestry, alive and vibrant, each twinkling light telling a story of its own. You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the breathtaking view, and Harry, equally entranced, seemed to find the beauty in you as well. Every gentle touch of his hand against yours sent a thrill through you, and whenever you noticed his intense gaze, you instinctively looked away, each moment thick with unspoken words. You sensed he was waiting for your decision, yet uncertainty clung to your heart.

"Have you made up your mind yet?” Harry asked as he surveyed the expansive cityscape laid out before you.

You turned to face him, your heart racing as you searched for the right words. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, intertwining your thoughts and emotions.

"There's something you haven't told me, isn't there?”

You met his gaze again. "What will you do if my answer is no?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry offered a troubled smile and sighed deeply. "I’ll be hurt for sure, but you know me—I won’t give up easily. Still, I'm desperately hoping you won’t reject me," he replied, his voice trembling. Your heart ached as you looked into his eyes. For a moment, you simply stared at each other; time seemed to slow, and the city below blurred into the background.

“So what's the matter? Is there something you've heard about me that's holding you back? What happened in the past is really in the past. I'm not that foolish playboy anymore.”

Now that he had brought it up, it was time to confront what was bothering you inside. “Is that so? I bet you never go to nightclubs either.”

He frowned at the tone in your voice for a moment. 

“You were at he club the other night with a woman—only a few minutes after you told me to go to bed early.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, I never even set foot in that club... Besides,  she was an old friend, not what you think. Now tell me, what were you doing there after you said goodnight to me? After you promised me you’d go to bed early?”

Oh, you were in trouble.

It was a complete misunderstanding, and you wanted to kick yourself. “I didn’t promise anything...” you responded evasively.

He pinched your chin and forced you to look straight at him. "So you've been a bad girl? I should punish you." He said in a husky voice, his fingers tangled in your hair, going for your neck, drawing you close and kissing you.

The kiss was passionate, irresistible, overwhelming; you were about to lose yourself in his hot breath but were able to stop yourself somehow. He noticed your lips remained still, and instinctively, he paused, pulling back just enough to create a breath of space between you. “There you go again,” he said, his voice deep. “You're holding yourself back, but I can see it in your eyes—you want me too.” 

You turned your head, feeling the warmth of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, your heart racing as the battle within you intensified. 

“Don’t even try to convince me you don’t want this. What we have is real, special.”

"You are right," you said after a moment of silence. "There’s something I didn’t tell you, and it’s really tough to say. Once I open up, how you respond will really shape what comes next, and I’ve got to admit, that makes me a little nervous, Harry.”

He thought about it for a second, and then he gave you a teasing look. "Did you, like, kill someone and bury them in your backyard or something?"

You stared at him in disbelief but couldn't help smiling; he always knew how to make you laugh. After you both shared a chuckle, you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

Harry took your hand and looked you in the eyes. "Look, whatever it is you're hiding doesn’t really matter."

"But—" 

"No, really. When I said you were different, it may sound a bit cheesy, but I truly mean it. I really don’t want to lose you, and I know you feel the same way. So why don’t we just enjoy these next three days together? We can talk about everything when we get back to New York. And if you really did kill someone, I can arrange for a good lawyer for you.” He chuckled, and you covered your face with your hand, suppressing your smile.

“For now, just let it all out." He gently brushed your cheek with his knuckles. "All I want is to see you smile.”

You huffed, “Alright if that’s how you want to do it.”

“Yes. Now give me that cute smile of yours.”

You smiled at him, and he returned it with a bright smile. “Perfect. Now let’s head to the hotel; you must be exhausted.” He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.  

“Okay, thank you,” you whispered, looking at him. “For everything.”  

He drew you in even tighter, brushing his lips gently against the crown of your head. The intoxicating aroma of his perfume enveloped you, weaving an invisible bond between you. The warmth of his skin radiated against your cheek, a comforting heat that seeped through the soft fabric of his shirt, like a hidden treasure waiting to be uncovered.

After Oliver dropped you off at the hotel, he helped you with the check-in before finally answering his phone, which had been ringing for ages. “Go for Oliver."

“Can I talk to Mr. Castillo? It's urgent!”

Oliver glanced at you as you two headed for the elevator. “He's kinda busy right now,” he said. “Honestly, it seems like he might’ve finally found what he’s been looking for,” he added with a smirk, admiring the two of you from afar. “We won’t be needing your services anymore.”

“You’re not getting it—our system has been hacked. I have been trying to contact you. He needs to know about this. The woman he’s with isn’t Melanie Johnson.”

Oliver’s face shifted immediately, and he froze. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”  

"I wish I were kidding! I'm not sure how it happened, and we're still figuring it out. If he can contact me ASAP, I can fill him in on all the details. Please reach out as soon as you can."

“Tell me everything first. I’ll let him know.” He said, starting to listen to what the matchmaking agency person was saying.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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lots of love

[butterflys-corner]

You went too far (pt.2!)

Part one here: pt. 1!

Summary: The monster trio finally track you down and apologize for the dumb fight you had. Warnings/Tags: swearing, mention of fighting, slight violence, fluff and apologies

Note: I'm so sorry this is super late! I hope you like it!

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy spent time on the island with the crew to figure out what was even here to no avail. It was a hunk of rock just sitting in the way of more land ahead.

He scratched his head, the feeling of something being off stirring an unfamiliar knot in his chest. He wasn't hungry so it wasn't that.

All of the crew was here, and you were watching the ship, so clearly everything was fine on that end of things too.

But, then that tightness in his chest got worse as he looked across the island to where the Sunny was supposed to be docked. The ship was gone. And you with it.

"Huh?" Luffy's eyes darted around the coast for any sign of the ship, but there was nothing but ocean.

You would have told him you were leaving- even if you were that upset with him.

Now that he thought about it.. what were you upset at him for? He called himself the captain, sure, but he always did.

The little- albeit cobwebbed- wheels start turning in his brain as he sits cross legged on the ground.

It wasn't your birthday. It wasn't your anniversary. No one recently passed away. He didn't eat your food.

The captain sighed out, instantly understanding that you were upset that he used such a serious tone toward you.

"Hey. Nami," he calls over to the redhead and she turns on her heels, arms folded over her chest as she undoubtedly searched for the ship as well.

"The ship can't be far. We would have seen it by now. Was there anything suspicious or something around here?" He was deadly serious, voice full of confidence as his eyes glanced around the desolate rock they were standing on.

"That's Monkey D. Luffy's woman!"

"Yeah? So-"

Your captors spoke, pretty loudly at that, as you leaned against the ancient cell they stuck you inside. The bars lightly dug into your forearms as you held your hands together outside of them.

"You guys are so fucked." Your voice echoed against the spacious prison, the guys jolting in place.

"You shut your damn mouth! We ain't scared of that kid-"

"He's going to break me out of here and beat the hell out of you." You were firm in your words, even through the anger you held over your boyfriend being a jerk earlier.

It was a wonder how he wasn't here yet, but you know he makes it to where he needs to be eventually. Especially when you or the crew were involved. Your captain would come through for you, just like he did every time.

And as you pressed your face against those uncomfortable bars, you heard him.

"Gum gum, pistol!" And those chumps were done. Knocked out cold on the ground in front of the cell from the impact.

"Took you long enough," you were still upset with him, he in turn just glad to see your face after the few hours apart. The door to your cell gets blown open courtesy of Usopp's exploding stars and you cough on the shaken clay dust.

You take no more than three paces out of the cell before familiar rubber limbs coil around you. You stand still and take the impact of his limber body with a few stumbles backward.

"Lu, hey, come on-" you teeter to stay upright, your goofy captain just laughing.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk and saying I didn't care. I'm just glad you're okay." He made your upset melt away with his infectious laughter, your chest rumbling with chuckles of your own.

"Yeah, okay. I forgive you. Get me out of this stuffy cave already."

Roronoa Zoro

"Oh, you'll miss me so bad, Roronoa. I'm going into the village. Stay here with your precious swords."

Those three sentences haunted his thoughts as he felt the night grow later and later.

"You'll miss me so bad-"

You never came back from the brisk adventure into the village. He knew he shouldn't blame himself for it, but he was responsible for you. He felt responsible for you.

He'd never admit it to you, but your words stung the more he waited for you to come back. Why weren't you back yet?

"Luffy," his rough voice hid his concern well, it came with practice he supposed. "I'm heading into the village. Be back soon." And he was met with a quick wave as the captain was occupied in a game of tag.

The swordsman obviously didn't know where you were, just that he needed to find you. He had that stupid mistake to apologize for. Damn, his poor sense of direction! This was the third right he'd taken into a dead end.

The village wasn't particularly a maze, but Zoro was so determined to find you in this sea of people that he'd taken to asking around now. Him! Asking for help!

Much to his misfortune, you were already walking up the gangplank with a rare bottle of sake for the idiot. You returned from the village after painstakingly picking out, haggling, and paying (less than half price, lucky you!) for it. And this was after handling those shitty pirates who bothered trying to kidnap you for a couple Beri.

The fight left you with bloody knuckles and a sore wrist, but that was all. The precious bottle of Sake was worth it. You didn't even pay with your own money. You used those morons' money.

You knew the fight was dumb, really just wanting him to apologize for it so that you could get on with your night. It wasn't fun going to sleep mad at each other.

So when you looked around the Sunny in his usual spots and found him gone, you asked around to find he left.

"Idiot," you sighed out and left the ship to retrieve the green-haired musclehead.

It took you hours to find the directionally blind man, the poor guy covered in a thin sweat from the worry he worked up. You tap his shoulder and easily avoid a sword handle to the gut.

"There you are." You smile at Mosshead and his alerted face melts into a much more relieved, ever so slight smile.

"There you are, troublemaker." He shot back, just glad he finally found you. Or you him, he didn't pay attention to the details as you receive a nearly bonecrushing hug.

"Ah! No, Z, you're all sweaty!" You squirm under his arms to no avail, but the hug was short lived anyway. He rested his left over his hip, the right on his swords as always.

"C'mon. I'm tired of being in this village."

And you left with him, eventually having his arm over your shoulder as he usually rested it.

He didn't verbally apologize until much later when you were alone in your cabin. He always did it that way, not needing the others to overhear his vulnerability with you.

Even then, it was enough for you. He apologized in his own way after by doing some extra lifting when you needed it- with much less complaints- and even scoring you an expensive bottle of your drink of choice. And of course he tended to your bruised knuckles and cleaned up your face.

You wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. He was your stubborn as a bull swordsman and you loved him that way.

Sanji Vinsmoke

Sanji had immediately jumped into action when he found that you never made it to the ship. He searched high and low, in different bars and restaurants and shops, but you were nowhere to be found.

He screwed up- he knew that. He screwed up horribly by letting his tendency to fawn over women get in the way of the most important person to him. You.

Curly brows lit a cigarette to calm himself down, his blue eyes looking around for anything that stood out.

There.

Long strides to the alleyway he hadn't spotted before and he finally found you at knife-point. Who did these bastards think they were?

"Back off." He grumbled with a puff of smoke, hands snaking into his suit pant pockets like they always did during serious fights.

"Hah, what're you gonna do, pretty boy?"

"I should fillet you for even thinking about hurting that woman right there. You're deplorable for such an atrocity. I'm teaching you a lesson, but first-" Your hopeless romantic jumps from his spot, your assailants looking around in absolute confusion. You knew better however, expecting the sweet embrace of his arms underneath your knees and behind your back.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Dearest. I won't ever do it again. Wait here," Sanji sets you down delicately nearby and you take the chance to lean against a wall to watch him kick ass. Literally.

Those three guys were no match for the cook's speed, being thoroughly punished by his flaming kicks in record time. You could swear it was a personal best of his now.

When the other men fell to the ground, your lover spun on his heels and checked on you intently. He circled you, held each of your arms up to his eyes to be sure, put your cheeks in his hands to tilt your head how he needed to-

Oh. He just wanted to kiss you.

"I'm so sorry, Mon tresor," he tested his forehead against yours, his soft eyes closed in shame. "I should have left with you. I just wanted to get you a few more things before we left the island. Will you ever forgive me?"

"How could I not, you silly cook?"

Credits:

Taglist: @siraxealot, @kyllium, @exoticrasin, @mrharringtonsbae, @penguinsravioli, @cousinconnie, @ellisaworld, @xcriaturex, @bluevenus19, @augghhgghhh, @silentscream2022, I hope I didn't miss anyone!!

[1982grapejuiceblues]

The Mistake II

Official Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 1 here

Summary:

They weren’t supposed to see each other again. But when they do, everything they tried to walk away from is still there — unspoken, unresolved. This is what happens after the silence. When one person reaches out. When the other hesitates. And when two people try to move on from a moment that never really ended.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part 1! I've wanted to post my little story for so long and I'm so glad that I'm finally doing it! I hope you guys love this one as much as the last. Be on the look out for more to come from these two! <3

Warnings:

• Emotional vulnerability and self-doubt

• Delayed communication / left-on-read anxiety

• Fear of rejection / avoidance of intimacy

• Mentions of overthinking, perfectionism, and emotional burnout

• A lot of yearning

• A lot of silence

• A lot of almosts

Word Count: 7.3k

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

12:06 p.m. — Milk & Honey Café

The door jingled.

Not in the casual, background way it usually did — not for either of them.

Y/N stepped in just as Harry stepped back, like the weight of her presence knocked the air out of him slightly. She wasn’t rushing this time. She wasn’t apologizing. And she wasn’t late.

He looked exactly the same.

Black jumper. Curls a bit messier than yesterday. Notebook in hand. Like he’d walked straight out of the memory.

She blinked. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed. His voice was lower than she remembered, like he hadn’t spoken yet today and she was the first word.

They stood in the entryway, just… looking at each other. Two people blinking at something that shouldn’t be happening, but is.

Then, without planning it, without even talking about it, they both turned and drifted toward the same booth.

Same seats. Same angle of sunlight. Same quiet hum of music in the background.

Like no time had passed. And somehow, like too much had.

12:08 p.m.

He sat first this time.

She set her bag down. Smoothed her sleeve. Glanced at the coffee cup already on the table and raised a brow.

“Back for round two?”

Harry shrugged, smiling gently. “Didn’t feel finished.”

She blinked. That one sentence landed harder than it should’ve.

“Did you…” she started, then hesitated. “Come here hoping I’d be here?”

He met her gaze evenly. “I came here hoping I’d want to stay, even if you weren’t.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “That’s a very emotionally intelligent answer.”

“I’m a professional,” he said, mouth twitching into a smirk.

She laughed — short and genuine — and suddenly the air between them softened.

12:14 p.m.

“I thought about you,” she said, then immediately winced. “Sorry, that was blunt.”

“I’m glad,” Harry said, steady. “I thought about you too.”

There was something about the way he said it. Not eager. Not shy. Just honest. Like he wasn’t scared of the truth if she wasn’t.

Y/N fiddled with the edge of a napkin. “It felt weird, yesterday. How easy it was to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It really did.”

They fell into a comfortable silence — the kind that stretched, not sagged. They weren’t rushing this. Maybe because it had already rushed them once, and now they wanted to take their time.

“I didn’t ask what you were doing here,” she said eventually.

“You didn’t,” he agreed.

She tilted her head. “So?”

“I write here sometimes,” he said. “Well — I procrastinate here. Scribble a sentence. Drink a flat white. Lie to myself about how productive I’m being.”

“You had me convinced.”

“That’s because you assumed I was a tortured genius.”

She smiled. “I assumed you were Brody.”

“And now you’ve met the real Brody.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

He grinned. “Still think I looked like him?”

“You’re much less pretentious.”

Harry raised a brow. “You said I looked broody.”

“Broody is fine. Pretentious is a red flag.”

“Duly noted.”

12:24 p.m.

The conversation drifted after that. They ordered coffee. She got a croissant she didn’t really want. He asked her about literary agents (“Is it actually like You’ve Got Mail, or have I romanticized your entire industry?”), and she asked him about speechwriting.

They talked about books. About weird client requests. About the time he had to ghostwrite a breakup text for a guy who wanted to end things “with grace but also dominance.”

They laughed. A lot.

But underneath all of it, something deeper simmered. A current neither of them acknowledged yet. The sense that they’d already skipped a few steps — and weren’t entirely sure what came next.

Y/N glanced at him as he stirred sugar into his second cup. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making things feel like they’re supposed to happen.”

Harry looked at her for a long beat.

Then said, quietly, “You’re good at staying even when you want to bolt.”

She stared at him.

And for a second, something unspoken hovered in the air between them.

And neither of them moved to break it.

12:42 p.m.

Y/N tucked one leg beneath her in the booth and watched him trace the rim of his cup with his thumb.

She wasn’t sure when they’d stopped pretending this was casual.

Maybe it was somewhere between his second coffee and her third laugh. Maybe it was the way his eyes never drifted to his phone, or the way he kept asking her questions like he was cataloguing her for safekeeping.

Or maybe it was that moment — five minutes ago — when they both stopped talking for a beat too long, and didn’t fill the silence.

And still, it hadn’t felt awkward.

Just… full.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

He looked up. “You’ve been asking me things all morning.”

“This one’s more personal.”

He didn’t move. “Go ahead.”

Y/N hesitated, then leaned back a little, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Why didn’t you stay yesterday?”

Harry blinked.

She didn’t say it accusingly. It wasn’t a complaint. Just a quiet inquiry — like she was asking about a weather pattern. Something she couldn’t control but maybe understood.

He exhaled. “I don’t know.”

Y/N waited.

“I think…” he said slowly, “I told myself it was nothing. And that it was easier to leave nothing than risk it becoming something.”

Her eyes didn’t move from his.

“But then I walked away,” he added, “and it didn’t feel like nothing anymore.”

Y/N's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something. But she didn’t.

Just nodded once.

“I thought about coming back,” she said. “But I didn’t want to be wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

She looked at him.

He meant it.

He didn’t say it to be nice. Or clever. Or to score points.

He just meant it.

12:54 p.m.

Harry stared at the half-empty cup between them, then said, “I almost left before you sat down.”

“What?”

“That first morning. I was going to pack up and head out. I didn’t even want to be there. But I stayed. Just… couldn’t get myself to move.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. “Why?”

He shrugged a little. “Couldn’t tell you. But if I had left, we never would’ve had this conversation.”

She gave a half-smile. “Sliding doors.”

“Sliding coffee shops.”

She laughed. He smiled at the sound.

Then, softer: “I keep thinking about how random it was. How weirdly easy it was to talk to you. Like we skipped the part where people pretend they’re not afraid of being seen.”

He said it so plainly. Like it wasn’t terrifying.

Y/N swallowed. “That’s a hard thing to come back from.”

Harry tilted his head. “Coming back’s the good part, isn’t it?”

1:08 p.m.

They sat with it — the kind of openness that usually came hours, days, weeks into knowing someone. But here it was. Laid out in front of them. All their almosts and maybes and unsaids, crowding the small space between their coffee cups.

“I’m scared,” she said suddenly, softly.

Harry didn’t flinch. “Of what?”

“That this feels like a beginning and I don’t know the rules.”

He considered that.

Then, with the smallest smile: “What if we don’t need any?”

She let out a shaky breath. “That’s worse.”

“Why?”

“Because it means we’re making them up as we go.”

Harry leaned forward slightly. “Maybe that’s the point.”

Their eyes locked.

Something clicked — not loudly, but firmly. Like a door closing gently behind them.

And neither of them moved.

1:17 p.m.

They didn’t leave.

They could have. The booth was getting uncomfortable. Their mugs were long empty. The lunch crowd was starting to creep in, soft chatter and clinking cutlery replacing the calm from earlier.

But they stayed.

Because the table between them wasn’t a table anymore.

It was a line.

Thin. Invisible. Teetering.

And neither of them wanted to be the first to cross it — but neither wanted to leave it untouched.

Y/N traced the edge of her saucer with a fingertip, eyes flicking up to find Harry already looking at her.

Again.

She smirked. “Do you always stare like that?”

He didn’t even pretend to look away. “Only when I’m trying to remember something.”

“Remember what?”

“What this felt like.”

Her throat went tight. Too tight. She blinked and looked down, heart thudding a little too hard.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured.

“Do what?”

“Say things that sound like lines when you probably mean them.”

Harry tilted his head. “Would it be better if I didn’t mean them?”

She looked up.

Their eyes locked.

Held.

Neither smiled.

1:24 p.m.

He didn’t mean to reach for her hand.

Not fully. Not directly.

He just shifted, and the back of his hand brushed hers — so lightly it could’ve been an accident, if they’d both decided to lie.

They didn’t.

Y/N stilled.

Harry froze.

But neither pulled away.

Instead, she slowly turned her hand over, and their fingers didn’t interlace, but hovered — barely touching. Close enough to feel the tremble. Far enough to pretend it didn’t mean anything.

It did.

This is dangerous,

she thought.

This is inevitable,

he thought.

1:32 p.m.

“Tell me something real,” she said.

Harry didn’t hesitate.

“I haven’t written anything for myself in over a year.”

She blinked. “You’re a writer.”

“I’m a ghostwriter. For weddings. Toasts. Breakups. Anniversaries. Apologies. Everyone else’s feelings.”

“And yours?”

“Buried.”

Her lips parted, breath caught between a response and a reaction.

“I tried,” he said. “I started something. But it never sounded like me.”

“What did it sound like?”

“Noise.”

Y/N exhaled. “You should try again.”

Harry looked at her. Really looked.

“You think I’d sound like myself now?”

She nodded. “You do when you’re with me.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy — it was reverent.

And somewhere inside it, they both understood that something had shifted.

1:46 p.m.

“I should get back soon,” she said, finally.

“Me too,” he replied, even though he had nowhere urgent to be.

But neither of them moved.

“I don’t want to lose this,” she said.

“You won’t.”

“That’s a risky promise.”

“I’m not making promises,” Harry said. “I’m asking for something.”

“What?”

“More.”

She swallowed. “More what?”

“Time. Space. Pages. Whatever this is.”

He held her gaze, unflinching.

“Okay,” she whispered. “More.”

And that was it.

The beginning that came after the almost.

The moment that wasn’t a mistake.

2:03 p.m. — Outside Milk & Honey

The door swung shut behind them with a familiar chime, but this time, it felt different.

Not final.

Not like last time.

This wasn’t an exit — it was an intermission.

They walked side by side without speaking at first. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the silence between them had changed. It had weight now. Warmth. Like it was doing its own kind of talking.

The city moved around them, ordinary and indifferent — buses rolling past, people on their phones, a teenager speed-walking while eating a wrap. But none of it touched the air between them.

Harry’s hands stayed in his pockets.

Y/N’s stayed tucked into her coat sleeves.

But their shoulders… stayed close.

Close enough to notice.

Close enough to feel the presence of something blooming.

“Are you going to write today?” she asked eventually.

He glanced over. “I already did.”

Her brows lifted. “What’d you write?”

“A sentence,” he said.

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “But it’s mine.”

She smiled. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s said to me all year.”

“Tragic,” he deadpanned.

“Deeply.”

They both laughed. But it faded slower this time. Left something tender in its place.

2:12 p.m. — The Corner Where They’ll Split

They stopped without saying it.

Y/N turned slightly, toeing the edge of the pavement, the next step already pulling her toward a different direction. She didn’t take it yet.

“This is where I pretend I wasn’t hoping you’d ask for my number yesterday,” she said.

Harry smiled, slow and sure. “This is where I pretend I haven’t already written your name in my notes five times.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning.

He pulled out his phone. “Do you want mine first, or—”

She gently took it from his hand. Typed her number. Then added:

Y/N (the mistake you’re glad happened)

He blinked.

“You don’t have to save it like that,” she said quickly. “That was a joke.”

“I’m going to,” he said.

There was a pause.

The kind that asked if this was it. The kind that teetered on the edge of more.

“I’m really glad I sat at the wrong table,” she said softly.

“I’m really glad you stayed,” he said.

“I almost didn’t.”

“I almost left before you got there.”

They both smiled. Quiet, a little stunned by the timing.

She took a step back.

And so did he.

But neither turned around right away.

“See you soon?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her like she was a sentence he wanted to memorize.

Then said, “You will.”

Thursday — 5:02 p.m. — Y/N’s Office

The day after was normal.

Annoyingly normal.

Emails. Coffee. More emails. Brody had replied to her notes with a twelve-line rant about “editorial overreach” and a screenshot of a Tweet he liked that said “plot is a prison.” She hadn’t even opened it fully. She just sighed, closed the tab, and reached for her phone.

No new messages.

Not from Harry, anyway.

And that — that — was what threw her.

She didn’t want to be the kind of person who expected immediate follow-up. Who got spun out over someone not texting within 24 hours of an emotionally seismic coffee. But there was something… missing.

Or rather, not missing.

Present.

Lingering.

Every time her phone buzzed, her heart skipped before her logic caught up.

It was never him.

And that stung in a way she couldn’t name.

They’d shared something. They had.

So why did she feel like she was the only one still holding it?

5:18 p.m. — Harry's Flat

Harry hadn’t written back because he didn’t know what to say.

He’d saved her number. Immediately. He’d read her contact name — “the mistake you’re glad happened” — at least twelve times.

And he’d started a text. Four, actually.

But none of them said what he wanted.

Hey, want to meet up again?

Too casual.

Still thinking about yesterday.

Too intense.

Do you want to come with me to this gallery thing Saturday?

Too forward.

I don’t know what this is, but I want to keep finding out.

Too much.

So he didn’t send anything.

Which, ironically, said way more than any of those messages would have.

6:01 p.m.

She told herself not to care.

She’d had intense connections before. She’d felt things quickly, built them up too fast. Maybe that’s all this was.

A spark. A moment. An almost.

But it didn’t feel like almost when it was happening. It felt like something had cracked open — and now, the silence was echoing through the space it left behind.

Her phone buzzed.

She grabbed it.

Not him.

Of course.

She dropped it onto her desk with more force than necessary and muttered, “Coward.”

Then she picked it back up, opened her messages, and stared at the empty thread.

Just send something.

Make it simple. Make it light.

Don’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you’re waiting.

She typed:

Hey. Hope your ghostwriting’s going better than Brody’s editing.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Typed:

Coffee again soon?

Paused.

Deleted it.

Typed:

I keep replaying that moment where we almost held hands.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Threw her phone across the desk and buried her face in her hands.

6:29 p.m.

Harry opened her contact one more time and just stared at her name.

He hadn’t meant for it to get this loud in his head.

He thought giving it a day would help. Give them space. Give him time to figure out what he actually wanted to say.

But all it had done was make the silence louder.

He typed:

You’re still in my head.

Paused.

Backspaced.

Typed:

I can’t stop thinking about what you said. About skipping the pretending.

Paused.

Backspaced.

Typed:

Are you free this weekend?

He stared at it.

Didn’t send it.

Closed his phone.

Ran both hands down his face like that might shake it off.

It didn’t.

Friday — 8:07 a.m. — Y/N’s Flat

The second her alarm went off, she grabbed her phone.

Still nothing.

She stared at the screen in disbelief. Not anger. Not quite sadness.

Just… hollow confusion.

She wasn’t even sure what she wanted from him. A check-in? A joke? Something small and dumb that reminded her it wasn’t in her head?

Because that’s what she was afraid of most — that it was.

That all the energy in that booth, all the sparks and almost-touches and “more,” had only felt real on her side.

She opened Notes again.

Typed:

You asked for more.

Then you disappeared.

Deleted it.

Typed:

I don’t like silence when it comes from someone who made me feel seen.

Deleted it.

Typed:

I shouldn’t be the first to reach out.

Stared at that one.

Didn’t delete it.

But didn’t send it, either.

9:12 a.m. — Harry’s Flat

He’d stared at her number for ten minutes.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at him right before she walked away — like she wanted to stay but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

He was afraid if he reached out now, it’d feel forced. Like too much time had passed.

But not reaching out felt worse.

So he opened the thread. Typed:

Morning. Hope your week wasn’t a complete disaster.

Paused.

Then added:

I’ve rewritten this message six times, so I’m just going to send it.

I keep thinking about that moment at the café.

The almost.

Do you want to finish it?

He stared at the message for five full seconds.

Then hit send.

Immediately regretted it.

Put his phone face down and left the room.

9:14 a.m. - Y/N's Office

She saw the message come in before the notification lit up her phone.

She didn’t open it.

Her breath hitched just from seeing his name.

She waited a minute — because she was stubborn, and scared, and still not sure what she wanted.

Then she unlocked her phone.

And read it.

The almost.

Do you want to finish it?

She stared at it for a long time.

Then did something she didn’t expect.

She closed the app.

And didn’t reply.

Not yet.

Because right now, she didn’t want to fall into something that might vanish again.

She needed him to mean it.

And she needed a minute.

Friday — 9:48 a.m.

Ten minutes.

Then fifteen.

Then thirty.

No reply.

Harry checked his phone more times than he was proud of. Each time, his chest pulled tighter.

Maybe she was busy.

Maybe she needed time.

Maybe she was playing it cool. Or maybe she didn’t feel it the same way.

He told himself it was fine. Told himself not everyone replies immediately. It’s not personal.

But it felt personal.

It felt like a conversation left hanging in mid-air.

And he didn’t know how to breathe through that.

10:31 a.m.

She reread the message six times.

Do you want to finish it?

God, she did.

But also?

She didn’t know what “it” was.

And she wasn’t ready to find out that maybe he didn’t either.

Something in her felt wobbly. Raw.

She wasn’t in the mood for almosts anymore.

And what if he wasn’t serious?

What if this was just another soft-spoken moment from a man who knew how to say the right thing but didn’t know how to follow through?

She’d been there before.

And she didn’t want to do it again.

Not with him.

Not when it had felt real.

So she waited.

Let the message sit there.

Didn’t reply.

Didn’t delete it.

Just… froze.

1:14 p.m.

He was pacing now.

Not a lot. Not fast. Just that quiet, agitated kind of pacing that looks like moving but feels like unraveling.

He’d sent one message.

That was it.

It wasn’t a declaration. Wasn’t a plea. Just a truth. A door half-open.

And she hadn’t walked through it.

It was fine.

It was fine.

But he’d opened something soft, and the silence was starting to bruise.

1:37 p.m.

She opened the message again.

Still no response from her.

Her own.

She typed:

I want to.

Paused.

Typed:

I’m not sure yet.

Paused.

Typed:

I don’t want to be something you forget when it’s inconvenient.

Stared.

Deleted it.

Locked her phone.

Rubbed her forehead with both hands.

Whispered to herself, “Get it together.”

But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

3:12 p.m.

Harry gave up checking his phone.

Not because he didn’t care — because he cared too much.

Because every time the screen lit up and it wasn’t her, it made his chest tighten.

And every time it didn’t light up at all, it felt worse.

He set it face down on the table, walked to the window, leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even disappointed.

He was… quiet. Inside.

Because something had shifted.

He’d put his heart in a sentence and hit send. And now it was floating out there, alone.

And that hurt more than he wanted to admit.

3:49 p.m.

She felt like a coward.

Not because she hadn’t responded — but because she didn’t know how to.

She wanted to reply. Desperately. But she wanted to be sure. Of him. Of herself. Of whatever this was trying to be.

And the more she sat with it, the more unsure she became.

It would be easier if he hadn’t said anything at all.

But he had.

And she’d asked for a man who could say what he meant.

And now she was… freezing.

She hated that.

She hated the tightness in her chest and the way the message just sat there like it was waiting for her to become braver.

She didn’t feel brave.

She just felt tired.

4:07 p.m. - Outside Harry's Flat

He went for a walk.

Not because he wanted to — but because the flat felt like it was closing in on him.

He didn’t go anywhere in particular. Just wandered. Hands deep in his pockets. Head low. Letting the afternoon stretch out ahead of him like a question with no ending.

I shouldn’t have sent it.

I should’ve waited.

I should’ve known better.

It looped in his head, quiet and cruel.

He walked past Milk & Honey.

Didn’t go in.

Didn’t even slow down.

He didn’t want to see the table empty again.

He didn’t want to hope.

4:33 p.m.

She finally opened the message again.

Reread it slowly.

The almost.

Do you want to finish it?

She closed her eyes.

Imagined what it would feel like to say yes.

To let it happen.

To go back to that booth and sit with him again and not be afraid.

She smiled.

Soft. Small. Sad.

Then whispered, “God, I wish I could.”

But she didn’t type it.

Didn’t send anything.

Not yet.

6:08 p.m. — Y/N’s Flat

She got home and didn’t even take off her coat.

Just dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and stood in the middle of the living room like she didn’t recognize her own space.

Everything looked the same.

But everything felt different.

She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, closed it again.

Sat on the couch.

Checked her phone.

Still him. Still there.

Still unread. Still waiting.

The silence now felt like a choice — hers.

And it was louder than anything she could’ve said.

6:39 p.m. — Harry’s Flat

He didn’t turn on the lights.

The flat was dark now, grey-blue with early dusk, but he sat on the floor beside his sofa, back pressed against it, phone in his lap.

He’d stopped opening the thread.

He already knew what it said.

He also knew what it didn’t.

No “yes.”

No “no.”

Just a space where a heartbeat used to be.

He rested his head back and whispered to no one, “I thought she felt it too.”

And the part that hurt was — she had.

7:21 p.m.

She lay on her side, staring at the wall. The phone buzzed once — a group chat. She ignored it.

She should say something.

Anything.

But now it had been almost twelve hours.

And every second that passed made it harder.

You waited too long.

He’s probably writing you off already.

Maybe you made it all up.

She flipped over and grabbed the pillow beside her.

Buried her face in it and exhaled hard.

“God, what am I doing?”

She didn’t have an answer.

Only the ache.

8:03 p.m.

He wrote a sentence in his notebook.

Then crossed it out.

Wrote another.

Crossed that one out too.

He wasn’t trying to write anymore. He was just trying to feel normal.

But nothing felt right when the thread sat open and silent. When the thing he almost believed in didn’t echo back.

He thought maybe he’d go out. Distract himself.

He didn’t.

He sat there.

And missed her.

Quietly.

Fully.

Without permission.

9:17 p.m. — Y/N’s Notes App

I think I messed it up.

I think I waited too long.

I think I wanted him to prove something.

And now I don’t know what there is left to say.

9:32 p.m.

She locked her phone.

Turned off the light.

Lay in bed and whispered:

“Please still mean it.”

But she didn’t send anything.

Not yet.

Saturday — 8:14 a.m. — Y/N’s Flat

She woke up with guilt in her throat.

Thick and bitter. Not the kind that made you cry — the kind that made you still.

It had been nearly 24 hours.

She should’ve answered.

She wanted to. But wanting wasn’t enough when you were afraid.

And now?

Now she wasn’t even sure if the door was still open.

She sat up. Reached for her phone.

It was still there.

The almost.

Do you want to finish it?

Her chest squeezed.

She tapped into the message.

She stared at it.

And then — slowly — she started typing.

I haven’t been fair.

I got scared.

I thought if I said yes, it would be real.

And if it was real, you could leave.

And if you left, I’d feel stupid for believing in something that started with a mistake.

She paused.

Then added:

But it didn’t feel like a mistake.

It felt like the first thing that made sense in a long time.

Her thumb hovered.

She shook her head.

Closed the app.

Opened it again.

Reread the message.

And this time?

She hit send.

8:17 a.m. — Harry’s Flat

His phone buzzed on the bedside table.

He didn’t look at it right away — didn’t want to get his hopes up again. But when he finally reached for it, groggy and resigned, the screen said one thing:

Y/N.

His heart stopped.

He opened it.

Read it once.

Then again.

Then sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders as the words actually landed.

But it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like the first thing that made sense in a long time.

He didn’t smile.

He exhaled.

Hard.

Like something had been sitting on his chest for a day and finally lifted.

Then he typed:

Thank you for saying that.

I was scared too.

Still am.

But I’d rather be scared with you than wonder if we missed it.

He sent it before he could overthink it.

And for the first time in 24 hours, the ache eased.

Just a little.

Saturday — 10:02 a.m. — Milk & Honey

It wasn’t planned.

No set time. No “see you then.”

Just a message.

Then another.

Then:

Are you there now? Her.

Just sat down. Him.

Okay. On my way. Her.

And now they were sitting across from each other again — same booth. Same light.

But nothing felt the same.

Not because anything was wrong.

Because everything had changed.

They both looked at each other like they were seeing the other for the first time — not because they hadn’t before, but because now they knew what it meant.

The silence was comfortable.

Then Harry smiled, soft and a little tired. “Hi.”

Y/N let out a breath that sounded like relief. “Hi.”

It didn’t matter that they’d already said it.

It felt different now.

Like an apology and a beginning at the same time.

10:09 a.m.

She wrapped her hands around her cup, not drinking. Just holding.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I am, though.”

He nodded. Let the words settle.

“I got in my own head,” she added. “Told myself too many things before you had the chance to say anything at all.”

“I was afraid to follow up,” he admitted. “Didn’t want to come on too strong.”

“We’re a mess,” she said, almost smiling.

“A very self-aware mess,” he said.

She laughed then. A real one. It cracked the last of the tension.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“I almost didn’t.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad I did.”

They both sat with that — the weight of what didn’t happen and the miracle of what still could.

10:24 a.m.

“You said something in your message,” Harry said after a while, “about it feeling real.”

Y/N nodded.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

He looked down for a second. Then back at her.

“Do you think we’re writing the same story?”

She froze. In the best way.

Because she knew exactly what he meant.

They hadn’t even kissed.

Hadn’t crossed any physical line.

But this — this — felt like a page they were both holding from opposite ends.

She answered without flinching. “I hope so.”

He smiled. This time it reached his eyes.

“Then let’s not skip ahead.”

“No fast-forwards,” she agreed.

“Just… next lines.”

They didn’t rush the coffee.

Didn’t talk about the future.

Didn’t fill every silence.

But when she reached for the sugar, her fingers brushed his.

And this time?

They didn’t pull away.

10:37 a.m.

Y/N didn’t mean to stay.

She told herself she was just stopping by. Just answering the message. Just giving closure to something that had hung between them too long.

But then he looked at her like she’d come back from war.

Like she was something brave and beautiful and unrepeatable.

And she knew.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

They hadn’t touched — not really. Not beyond the brush of fingers and the echo of a maybe.

But she could feel it.

Underneath the quiet.

Beneath the coffee and soft laughter.

A current.

They were building something.

They were staying.

11:12 a.m.

Harry was the first to shift.

He pushed his mug aside, leaned forward, arms resting on the table, gaze soft but searching.

“Can I ask something?”

Y/N smiled, small. “You ask a lot of things.”

He tilted his head. “You keep answering.”

She gave a half shrug. “Fair.”

He looked down for a second, then back up.

“What would’ve happened if you sat at the right table that day?”

She blinked. “What?”

He kept his voice low. Steady. Like he wasn’t trying to shake her, just… hold something up to the light.

“If you hadn’t sat across from me,” he said, “what would your day have looked like?”

Y/N thought about it.

Really thought.

She pictured Brody’s frown, the rushed notes, the cold espresso, the tension headache. She pictured the way she would’ve walked home — alone, unaffected, unchanged.

Then she said, “I probably wouldn’t remember it.”

Harry nodded.

Then he said, “I think about that a lot.”

11:24 a.m.

They talked more. About small things.

Weird facts.

Favorite cities.

Songs they listened to on trains.

The last time they cried (her: at a commercial involving a dog and a deployed soldier, him: rereading the final page of A Little Life, again).

It wasn’t a first date.

It wasn’t a catch-up.

It wasn’t even anything definable.

It was… staying.

Choosing not to leave.

12:03 p.m. — Soft Shift

Y/N said, “I don’t usually do this.”

Harry said, “Me either.”

She said, “I mean it.”

He said, “I do too.”

She stared at her cup.

Then said, barely above a whisper, “I feel safe with you.”

Harry’s heart clenched.

He didn’t make it dramatic. Didn’t say anything flowery.

He just nodded and said:

“I’ve been waiting for that to matter to someone.”

12:44 p.m.

They ordered lunch without deciding to.

She moved her bag to the floor like she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. He peeled off his jumper like he was settling in. They shared a pastry. Argued about whether almond croissants were superior (they were, he insisted; she refused to concede).

And somewhere between that and a second refill, the tension shifted.

They weren’t circling anymore.

They were sitting inside it.

Comfortable. Unafraid.

1:26 p.m.

Harry said something funny — not even that funny — and Y/N laughed.

Not just politely.

Not softly.

Really, really laughed.

Head back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut kind of laugh.

And when she looked up, he was already staring.

Not in a weird way.

In a ruined way.

Like, God help me, I’m already gone.

And she knew.

Because the feeling hit her back just as hard.

1:49 p.m.

The café was louder now.

No longer quiet and cozy. The lunch crowd had arrived — the kind of people who linger in scarves and say things like “I’ll just have the oat cortado” like it’s a spell.

But Harry and Y/N were still in the corner. Still in their booth. Still orbiting each other like the world hadn’t turned since they sat down.

Y/N pulled the sleeve of her jumper over her wrist. “It’s getting noisy.”

“Want to leave?” Harry asked, like it wasn’t the most loaded question of the day.

She looked up.

He held her gaze.

It wasn’t a throwaway offer.

Not just “let’s leave the café.”

It was:

Let’s not let this end here.

Let’s keep going.

Let’s see where this leads.

She swallowed. “Where would we go?”

He smiled — small, almost sheepish. “My place is close.”

She blinked.

Not because she didn’t trust him.

Not because she thought he meant something he didn’t.

But because of how gentle it was.

He wasn’t asking her to cross a line.

He was asking if she wanted to keep the conversation going without the noise. Without the crowd.

Just them.

Still them.

“Okay,” she said softly.

And that was it.

2:12 p.m. — Harry’s Flat

It was clean.

Not neat — lived in. Books stacked two deep on shelves and record sleeves leaning against the wall. A candle flickered faintly near the windowsill. Soft jazz hummed from a speaker in the corner.

It was warm in a way that felt like him.

She stepped inside, quiet at first.

Harry closed the door behind her, slow, careful. Like he didn’t want the sound to startle whatever they’d built between them.

“Shoes off?” she asked.

“If you want.”

She did.

She walked into his space like she’d been invited into something private — not just his flat, but his mind. His rhythm.

Harry watched her. Let her move without narrating.

It wasn’t awkward.

It was… unspoken understanding.

2:18 p.m.

They sat on the couch, side by side, still talking, still orbiting.

She pointed to a photo on his shelf — two kids holding a plastic trophy, one clearly him. “Is that a bowl cut?”

“Tragically, yes.”

“Please tell me there’s a matching yearbook photo.”

“There is,” he groaned. “And I will never show you.”

“You say that now.”

Harry grinned.

Their knees touched lightly.

Neither pulled away.

2:41 p.m.

They weren’t talking as much now.

But the silence wasn’t heavy. Just… warm. Easy. The kind that happened between two people who didn’t need to prove they belonged in the same room.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her. Harry stretched his arm along the back of the couch — not touching her, but close.

So close.

Her head tilted slightly toward his shoulder.

Not resting.

Just… near.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

3:03 p.m.

They were still on the couch.

The conversation had drifted. Now it was music. The soft kind — jazz, low and layered — the sort that fills a space without taking it over.

Y/N’s head had slowly, almost imperceptibly, leaned closer to Harry’s shoulder.

She hadn’t meant to.

She just… settled there.

And he didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe too hard.

Didn’t dare speak.

Because this — this exact second — was the most delicate thing he’d ever held.

And he wasn’t even touching her.

She could feel the heat of his arm beside hers.

Could feel the tension in the air.

Not anxious. Not unsure.

Just… alive.

Her hand rested lightly against her leg, fingers grazing the hem of her jeans.

His hand was just inches away.

If she moved even slightly, they’d touch.

She didn’t.

But she didn’t pull away either.

Harry turned his head slowly. Looked at her.

Y/N felt the gaze before she met it.

When she did — God.

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t smiling.

Wasn’t trying to charm her.

Just looking at her like she was the kind of sentence he didn’t want to rush through.

She felt it in her spine.

She turned slightly toward him.

Just a few degrees.

Their faces… closer now.

Not close enough to kiss.

But close enough to consider it.

His voice, when it came, was low. Careful.

“Y/N.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

He hesitated.

Her eyes were wide. Her lips slightly parted. The moment hanging between them like a held breath.

Then he said, quietly:

“I’m not going to do anything unless you want me to.”

She didn’t move for a second.

Then:

“I know.”

Her voice was steady.

Small. But sure.

And still… neither of them moved.

3:19 p.m.

The moment passed.

Not with regret.

With reverence.

They pulled back just enough to breathe again, but stayed close. Still curled on opposite ends of the couch, knees almost touching, tension replaced with something even quieter.

Something like trust.

Y/N picked up a small, leather-bound notebook from the edge of the coffee table. “This yours?”

Harry blinked. “Yeah. Old one.”

She ran her fingers along the edges. “Can I—?”

He didn’t answer right away.

That book hadn’t been opened in months. Maybe longer. It wasn’t the kind of thing he usually shared — not with clients, not with friends, not with people who might ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

But he nodded.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

She opened to a random page. Read silently.

He watched her — every flick of her eyes, every small inhale, every tilt of her head.

Then she said, voice soft, “This one’s about me.”

Harry didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

She looked up.

He held her gaze.

“You wrote this the first day,” she said.

He nodded.

“I hadn’t even left yet.”

“I know.”

Her lips parted. “You were already writing about me.”

“I couldn’t not.”

There was a silence after that. Heavy, but not uncomfortable.

She closed the book slowly and held it in her lap.

“I haven’t written anything in years,” she admitted.

Harry tilted his head. “You used to?”

“Poetry. Short stuff. Before I started working with other people’s stories all the time. Eventually I just… forgot how to listen to myself.”

“That’s not true,” he said, without hesitation.

She blinked. “You don’t even know what I used to sound like.”

“I know what you sound like now.”

Y/N’s throat tightened.

She didn’t have a response for that.

So she did the only thing that felt natural.

She reached out — not for his hand, not for his face — but for the notebook.

Opened to a blank page.

And handed it to him.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Always,” he said.

She looked down at her hands. Picked at the seam of her sleeve. Didn’t say anything for a beat.

Then:

“I’m used to being the person who listens. Not the one who talks.

Most people just… fill the silence and move on.

I think I forgot what it feels like to actually say something and have someone wait.

And today—

I don’t know.

It felt like there was space for me to be a person instead of a function.

And I didn’t realize how much I missed that until it happened.”

She exhaled through her nose.

Didn’t look up right away.

Harry didn’t rush to fill the space. He let it exist.

Then, gently:

“You’re allowed to take up space, Y/N.

Not just here. Everywhere.”

And she believed him.

Because he said it like he wasn’t trying to reassure her —

He said it like it was just a fact.

5:48 p.m.

They hadn’t moved much.

The day had slowed into honey — warm and viscous, stretching without asking for anything in return.

No big moments.

No kiss.

No grand declarations.

Just stillness. Shared space.

A kind of quiet neither of them had been able to find anywhere else.

Eventually, Y/N looked at the clock.

Her smile wilted slightly. “I should go.”

Harry nodded, like he’d already prepared for that truth. “Yeah.”

But he didn’t move.

Neither did she.

They stayed on the couch another few minutes — the kind of minutes that say: this mattered. This wasn’t nothing.

6:02 p.m. — The Walk Back

They walked together.

Not touching.

Just next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, their pace slow enough to mean something. The air was cooler now, the late-afternoon kind that feels like it could turn into evening if you blink too slowly.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N said.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” she said, glancing up at him. “You made space. For everything.”

Harry looked over.

“You filled it,” he said.

She exhaled — not like she was relieved. Like she was feeling something too big to name.

6:19 p.m. — Outside Her Building

They stopped at the edge of her steps.

The quiet wrapped around them like a held breath.

She turned to him, hands in her pockets. “I’ll text you.”

“You don’t have to wait this time,” he said.

She smiled. “I won’t.”

He nodded, looked down at the pavement, then back up.

“I know this is early. And fragile. And maybe too soon to say anything definitive.”

Y/N tilted her head.

Harry continued, slowly. “But I want to see what this turns into. I want to show up for it. For you. Even if we go slow.”

She stepped closer — not much. Just enough.

“You already are,” she said.

He didn’t ask to come up.

She didn’t ask him to stay.

But the pause before goodbye held more weight than a hundred promises.

When she opened her door, she looked back.

He was still there.

And when she stepped inside, she left the porch light on.

Not because it was dark.

But because she wanted him to find his way back.

[teaguehq]

Hey, I wouldn't have judged you if that were the case, for the record. I mean, some of the apes in that film are rather dapper, so you know! But jokes aside, you totally would crush it as an ape. Whether you end up in the new one or not, I'm definitely starting rumors that you were in the background or something like that, just to see how people react. I appreciate that, and I hope I'm lucky enough to work with you one of these days! It was a lot of fun watching you guys film on set together, too. I'm sorry you hear about your mom passing away, though I'm glad you've got your dad and stepmom to be supportive and keep you on your toes too. Even with the full-naming! I don't think I'm moving around like a chimp anyway, though I'm sure some small mannerisms have stuck around. I'm sure a lot of people feel that way about Oberyn though, without question! I know it'll be fun seeing Mister Fantastic on screen, along with the rest of the cast! It's wild when those connections end up feeling so real when you work with someone every day, right? The trailer for the next season of The Last of Us looked amazing, so I'm all the more hyped to see it! I mean, it'll have sad moments of course, though I'm sure I'll love it all the same. I'm thankfully all finished with filming and have had some time off, which has been nice! And of course the travel to Norway to go along with it is nice, too. I'm glad you've gotten to do some traveling yourself! Where'd you head off to with your siblings? Oh, I had a feeling, though you must have so many offers, so it likely won't be a challenge getting back to work, I bet. And I did, I loved it and of course tease Joseph about his role since I couldn't help myself. Though his role even got imitated on SNL and that's when you know you've made it, right? Our Christmas was amazing, and we ended up celebrating both that and New Year's in New York, Times Square, in fact! So that was amazing. How about you, what'd you get up to for the holidays? I hope they were fun! | @josepedro

we're not going to talk about the fact that i didn't have my readers on -- and i thought you said i had a crush on an ape. which hey, maybe i do? but now that my readers are on, thank you for saying i'd crush it as an ape! i can't wait until i hear it is official, because i know it's going to be an amazing film, and even if i'm just some background chimp, i'd love to be apart of it! though i would laugh if i wasn't in it, but you started rumors that i was so everyone was like trying to figure out which chimp was pedro! hey, i would love to work with you someday -- and ditto that you seem like you'd be amazing to work with as well. just having you on set when you were there for joseph was fun for me! it really is like movie magic, and i've watched it a few more times, i'll admit, and it still blows me away each time! and right? though i only have my dad and my stepmom to keep on their toes, since my real mom passed a while ago. but i feel like my stepmom channels my real mom because when she's really annoyed with me, the josé pedro balmaceda comes out, and i would swear it's my mom's voice. though she's usually trying not to smile while she says it. i can imagine that breaking the ape mannerisms is hard, but i'll say that i'm happy you're not moving around like a chimp anymore! now you're just making me like you more by saying that oberyn was such an amazing character! oh gosh, i loved playing mister fantastic so much, and it's safe to say i can't wait to dress up as him again because he was so much fun! and part of me still feels like vanessa is my wife too, which makes me laugh. i know a lot of people are waiting for the last of us, and honestly, i can't wait for it to be out! oh, i don't think a lot of people are looking forward to those certain spoilers, but i know people are going to love the season for sure regardless! i'm so glad the new project is going well, and believe me, we've all hit that stage where it feels like filming has gone on forever! are you still filming? and i've been fortunate enough to finally have some free time! so i've done some traveling with my siblings! i'm sure i'll pick up another project soon enough though -- you know i got to work! and i'm so glad that you liked gladiator ii! how did you like joseph playing such a little shit? how did your guys christmas end up going? and did you do anything fun for new years? || @teaguehq

[duhhpadfoot]

Frustratingly Yours

Remus x Reader | Academic Rivals to Lovers

A/N: so it's been a hot minute since I've written any fanfiction... and this is my first time writing for the marauders fandom!! I've been working on this for a while, it was supposed to be a poly!marauders + lily huge one shot but I ended up getting stuck on it and decided to only make it about moony (even though the poly one was 100% moony centered) and with more than one part. I hope you love this! and I'm still considering posting the poly!version to it too

[2.4k words]

CW: childhood acquaintences to academic rivals to...lovers, cursing, it'll be a reaaal slowburn, rem and reader at each others throat, remus might seem a bit ooc but you'll understand why

stunning witchy dividers by @saradika-graphics

Part 2 (to come)

Remus liked to believe he enjoyed keeping his head down, ignoring the fact that he himself was a part of the infamous marauders and did participate in pranks from time-to-time. He still liked to believe he kept out of trouble (for the most part and the right reasons). He liked to believe it, it didn't mean it was true. If someone asked him to describe some of his traits, he'd be certain to tell them he was a calm and… a somewhat responsible guy, definitely not the first one to lose his temper. He liked to think he was above childish provocations. Unlike his friends.

He laughed at Sirius and James' antics, despite being the butt of the joke. Patiently listened to Lily's rants. Explained coursework to his fellow classmates even when it seemed like the most mind numbing of subjects. And was always the last one to raise his voice during discussions. 

Now if someone were to ask him to describe himself after interacting with you?

He'd answer the same. Because, well, he was a prideful lion was he not?

And then those around him would raise their eyebrows in utter bewilderment. 

You were the only one who made him feel like he was a breath away from self admitting himself into St. Mungo's. The one who made him raise his voice at the littlest things, resort to childish antics and drive Lily mad with his rants about you. 

Y/N Y/LN.

One of his best mates' closest friend. And his —he'd never admit this to her, give her the dignity of acknowledging her as someone respectable enough to be competing with him— academic rival. 

Yes, Lily sometimes did get better scores than they both did. James got the handle on a charm quicker than anybody in his house. And Sirius did achieve O's on his schoolwork without much effort. 

But that did not matter because they weren't you. The one who plagued his mind. Whose name was always on the tip of his tongue.

He was proud of them, encouraged them and commemorated them. 

The same could not be said about you. 

You were friends during your first year at Hogwarts… and then things got to the point in which they were now.

"I did not cheat!" You whisper harshly across from one of the library's tables. 

A dark chuckle comes out from his lips as his eyes narrow to slits and focus on you. "I think I recall our Defence Against Dark Arts Professor rather clearly, we weren't supposed to use curses on one another."

The rest of your group don't even lift their heads from their work, as this is normal when it comes to you two. It became so common they could probably dedicate a time in their schedule for whenever you'd bicker, argue or shout at each other. It would be weird for a day to go by without some type of exchange between the two. "I'm glad to know your stupidity hasn't affected your memory loss seeing as our lesson was a couple of hours ago. And as I've said" You drawl lazily, although the tightening of your fingers around your quill betrays the way you actually feel. "I didn't use curses." 

You hear more than see him scoff since you won't lift your head to meet his eyes. 

"I did not curse you, if you'd get your head out of your arse you'd have heard me when I said I created a—" Remus doesn't even blink at the aggression. "Also known as cheating." He sneers. "Or you're just barking mad and have great difficulty admitting that I'm better at duelling than you are." That causes Sirius and James to abruptly stop their whispering and Lily to put down her book, all of them now tensely keeping their eyes on you both.

The banter was normal, once one of you mentioned you were better than the other at anything? Specifically a subject, an intellectual subject? All hell broke loose, there was no knowing where things would go. 

"Well of course, when one uses means that aren't following the rules then obviously it's much easier to defeat their opponent." "How many times am I supposed to tell you that I used a jinx that I've created?" Your voice finally starts to rise in volume. Really, actually quite shocking that you've been able to control yourself for so long. "The same one you won't let me explain since you always end up interrupting-"

"I suppose until you admit that what you've done was against the rules." He raises his voice to meet yours in volume. 

The other three students' heads turn, following your banter as if they were watching a really intense quidditch match, not trying to diffuse the situation already knowing the outcome would be the same. 

"Shhh!" Madam Pince whispers fall on deaf ears as both of you only seem to get more and more agitated with your argument. 

"Just because I best you does not mean I cheated." "I'll remember that for future reference." "Please do! Are you finally admitting that you already expect me to win our next duels?" 

"Oh, please, this is embarrassing." He scoffs

"Okay, you know what, let's do a redo right now, and I'll be nice and not even use my jinx since you're so put off by it." You stand up abruptly, push your chair out, letting it topple to the floor in your haste to prove him wrong. Causing Madam Pince to yell in shock. "And will probably never be able to shield it." 

Remus barks out a condescending laugh, quickly standing up to meet you. "Yes. Let's." Escapes his gritted teeth.

James' eyes widen in shock that Remus, kind, put together Remus, would actually pull out his wand in the middle of the library, his sacred place. Sirius just grins at the situation, even after years of this kind of interaction, still highly amused that two of the calmest people he knows could get so violent when together. "Remus, love—" Lily tries to reason. "Expelliarmus." He smugly says quickly as you were going off about something. Your wand flying across the table and into the palm of his waiting hand. 

"You were saying?" He lifts his eyebrow at you. 

You don't even think before hurling your tome right at his head. 

That's how two of Hogwarts' brightest were forbidden to study in the library at the same time. 

And how Remus ended up with a purple eye. 

McGonagall strides across the classroom returning her student's latest graded parchment. She could just use the locomoter spell to retrieve all of them at once, but Y/N along a few of her housemates suspect the professor enjoys the suspense. Some groan or silently cheer as they receive their work back, while others anxiously await for theirs. McGonagall hands Lily's with a small smile on her face. 

The witch beams at her parchment. The one that took her a while to put together and feels the need, the pride of showing it off to her friends. Wishing to be a part of a little healthy competition.

“I told you guys this was an easy subject.” She says smugly while showing off the O on the top corner of her parchment. 

“Well done love, congrats!” Remus murmurs half distractedly, pressing a quick peck to the crown of her head, while keeping an eye and straightening as the Professor makes her way towards your side of the classroom. 

Lily, a bit miffed at the lack of competition or ambition, brags, a bit out of character, but still “I bet I've done better than you did.” “Wouldn't be surprised, a bright witch as yourself” Remus gives her a bright smile, the words weren't even out of his mouth when he turned his head back to the front, eyes already back to tracking their professor. 

Not getting the reaction she'd wished for, she heads toward the other witch always competing with her scarred friend when it comes to grades. Practically skipping towards you, she doesn’t even get the chance to come up with a remark as you already interrupt her with a blinding smile. “Another O Lily?” “Yes.” The redhead huffs and her shoulders slump with disappointment, really not the reaction you'd expect from someone that just got the perfect grade on an assignment that took them some time to put together. 

“Congrats dove, wouldn't expect anything less from you.” Lily just turns around and goes back to her seat next to James, who squeezes her shoulders trying to hold back his laughter at the situation, but being betrayed by his shaking shoulders. Which only angers his girlfriend even more. 

Professor McGonagall (along with any other Hogwarts instructor) already knows what to expect from a certain pair of gryffindors, purposely dragging out their bickering and anxiety leaving their scrolls towards the end of the pile. 

Lily, Sirius and James all sit in attention along with the rest of the class –well except for you as you try to pretend you don't care what his grade might be–  as their professor hands out Remus' parchment back to him. 

He beams smugly, eyes immediately finding yours –which seem to have gone against your orders and fixed themselves towards the lanky boy– he simply rests his head on the palm of his hands and with the other hand, joins his index finger to his thumb, forming the circular shape of an “O”. Knowing you were watching, which just aggravates you more. McGonagall distributes a couple more parchments and finally (actually) heads towards you, already letting out a small sigh, knowing the chaos that might descend her classroom like a storm. 

Your knees won’t stop bouncing, I mean, of course you know you did well, you just hope you did better than he did. That’s all that really matters. 

The Professor returns your scroll, trying to hold back her smile. Your eyes quickly scan the parchment. Your entire posture shifts as if you were sitting on a throne and not an old squeaky chair. Remus shoulders' already tensing, having come to learn your body language. And Lily rolls her eyes at the fact that you didn't even open your mouth and have already garnered a bigger reaction than she did with her arrogant words. You don't even need to try hard to make eye contact with Remus, already expecting his eyes to be on you, the same way yours were upon him. 

You know your scroll got less adjustments from the Transfiguration Professor than his did, having heard him (purposely and) loudly commenting to his fellow Marauders'. Your mouth forms your well practised Remus irking condescending smirk, sprawled on your chair you lazily imitate his earlier actions, joining you index finger to your thumb. 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, while muttering a “Well played". 

Lily was watching the interaction like every other student and professor in their class, and against her wishes a small smile crept onto her face, she slightly shook her head, quite glad that either of you took her up on her teasing. This was your game, your competition, even if either of you would never verbally acknowledge it, you still acted upon it.  

She had always had a soft spot for you, the two of you had been inseparable since you'd sat at the same train compartment on your first trip to Hogwarts and later on placed in the same room. You'd heard her complain about James' teasing back in their second year, and later on about James' outrageously embarrassing advances. Which only got worse when she started developing a small crush on the bespectacled boy.

You'd helped her come to terms with her feelings for the loud wizard.

You always fought her battles even when she said there was no need, you fitted right in with the marauders never missing a joke or the possibility of teasing one of them. You cheered for the people you cared for and went out of your way to be there for them. You always tried to ensure people only saw the best version of yourself.

Remus had gotten much better with his insecurity, caused by his furry problem, but there were times that it still dominated the way he acted. Mostly keeping to himself, needing to prove that he was just as good as any wizard without his affliction, he sometimes took himself too seriously. You helped with that, you pushed him, made him lose some of the obsessive hold he had over having to control everything. Which somehow, just made you even more special to Lily. 

It saddened her, James and Sirius that the both of you couldn't see past this rivalry of yours that the both of you would get along.

So if this competition of yours made the two of you interact, come truly alive and lose the control that both of you tried so hard to prove to everyone that you had a handle on everything, she was happy. 

Maybe this would be the way that the both of you would finally stop being prats and would realise that you and Remus were destined to be together, to love each other and to push each other. 

It was so obvious this was all a farce for how you actually felt for one another. And she was full of it.

You guys were each other's drive to not settle. So she wouldn't get in the middle of this. 

A small smirk grows on her face as the both of you (predictably) fell into a small battle of wits. She nods to herself, now deciding she'd even help provoking two of her dearest friends into these situations. It's not her fault this was the only way you'd interact for more than a couple of minutes. James, who was sitting next to her, was looking at her with an arched brow, recognising the scheming look on his lover's face. Which only made Lily smile more. 

She couldn't wait for when their well practised restraint finally snapped. 

[part 2]

A/N eeek I'm so happy I finally posted this! it's been sitting on my computer for months, I just posted up to the part in which I was happiest with... so I think I'll be able to post the next part soon enough! hope you guys enjoyed this first glimpse of these two idiots and are ready to get as frustrated as they do with how much of a slowburn this will be :) feedbacks are much appreciated 🤍

[jtl07]

Hahaha, loved the start of this shenanigans-round! What a fun prompt and your answer to it 🤣 Okay, here is one for you: meet cute and lots of bad (funny?) pick up lines

lolol oh anon, this prompt made me giggle a bunch but also stressed me out bc being funny is *so* hard D: hopefully this works??? 

"Why don't I trust stairs? Because they're always up to something."

Beatrice shakes her head, half of her attention on the latte she's in the middle of preparing while the other half is on the bright voice at the table nearest the register, as it has been for the past hour now. 

A section of the cafe has been cordoned off for a "Donuts and Dates" event hosted by a queer speed dating group. Camila had befriended the owners a few months ago, had insisted that the business would be worth the work. Now several events in, Beatrice grudgingly agrees. Certainly isn't complaining today. 

Beatrice finishes her latest order and lets her eyes follow her attention. Ava's nametag is slightly askew on the shirt pocket, her energetic wiggling having dislodged it early on. The unbuttoned overshirt is overshadowed by the neon splotched crop top with an orange circled by the words "orange you glad to see me?" - it's as loud as Ava herself is and Beatrice can't help but find herself endeared. 

"Oh, you're a photographer? Can you picture us together?" 

Beatrice barely holds back a laugh, biting back her reaction as a customer steps up to the register. She has to give it to her: Ava has been the most enthusiastic and creative participants she's seen at these events by far. Part of her hopes Ava will be back but at the same time, she wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't - is surprised that Ava's here at all, that she doesn't already have a line of suitors at her beck and call. It helps that she's pretty, that she listens so intently, that her laugh seems to light up the whole room. 

For a moment, Beatrice wonders what would happen if she were to ask Camila to cover for her behind the counter, to take a turn at Ava's table. Almost considers it for real but by the time she actually thinks to call out to Camila, the organizers are announcing the end of the event. 

Beatrice sighs, pulls her customer service smile over her face as she tends to the last minute orders from the attendees. The cafe is finally quieting down when she looks up to greet the last person in line: Ava. 

"So which one did you like best?" 

Beatrice blinks at the mischievous grin, can only answer with a half-intelligent, "Pardon?" 

Ava's expression doesn't change as she leans forward on the counter. "Which joke? I know you were listening." 

Beatrice can feel a blush rising up her neck. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop -"

Ava shrugs and waves Beatrice's words away. "I'm loud - I get enough noise complaints from my neighbors to know."

Beatrice swallows down a sudden urge to choke. 

"It was the Fanta sea one, wasn't it?" Ava's shoulders wiggle, her grin as wide as it's ever been. "I saw you almost drop that drink." 

Beatrice straightens, ignoring the blush now creeping up her cheeks. "I was merely adjusting my hold," her tone bordering more on flustered than indignant. She hadn't realized that having a view of Ava had meant that she'd also have a view of her; that Ava had been looking at all. 

Ava hums, a teasing sound that Beatrice pretends not to file away along with the other sounds Ava's made that evening. When Beatrice hands Ava her drink, there's an intent look on Ava's face. She braces herself for whatever Ava's about to say next, tries not to get lost in the way Ava's mouth is already curling into a smirk. 

"Have you ever thought about working at a museum?" 

Beatrice groans softly. "Oh dear." 

Ava's grin is blinding as she continues. "Because you're a work of art." 

Beatrice shakes her head, about to dismiss the line for the joke that it is but makes the mistake of meeting Ava's gaze; finds herself caught in a softness she didn't expect. "Really, Bea. What you are is beautiful." 

Beatrice finds herself unable to laugh it off, feels herself wanting to respond in kind; wants to try. "You're one to talk," she says shyly. 

It's not much but it's enough to make Ava literally bounce on her toes. "Then it's a date then?" Beatrice is sure her confusion is on her face when Ava explains, "We'll go visit where we belong!"

Beatrice does laugh then, helpless in the face of Ava's enthusiasm. "Well, there is a new exhibit at the museum near here." She'd been planning to go by herself - none of her friends are much interested, but she's pleasantly surprised when Ava's eyes light up in recognition. 

"I know exactly what you're talking about! I saw a flyer last week, there's supposed to be -"

Someone loudly clears their throat next to them. 

Beatrice turns, sheepish, and finds Camila looking amusedly between the two of them. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we really need to start closing up." 

Ava sputters an apology and starts grabbing her things - drink in one hand, phone and cane in the other - and Beatrice knows she has to think fast. In her panic, she grabs a stray napkin and writes down her phone number. Then, seeing that Ava's hands are full, takes a breath and musters up all the courage she can: reaches out and tucks the napkin into Ava's shirt pocket. 

Pink flushes over Ava's cheeks, frozen for a moment before she laughs, delighted.  "I guess I'll see you later," she says as she backs up to the cafe's front door, Camila helpfully holding it open for her. 

Beatrice bites at her lip, decides to give her one last parting gift. "Hopefully not too much later - the tide can only wait for so long." 

Ava gapes at her, the door nearly crashing into her face as it closes. Camila gives her an impressed look, to which Beatrice can only shrug, though she can't fight the grin overtaking her face, her mind already looking forward to the next time they'll meet.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Istg C@tra stans are cry babies

Aint no way Cat's hate bigger than HORDAK'S, like my brother in christ did you forgot 2020?

They can't handle someone saying that C@tra sucks (with reason) and they start crying and whining and "ooOohh liking C@tra's character is so haaardd" dude you have 90% of them fandom on your side what are you even talking about.

Meanwhile Hordak's stans r just there 🧍‍♂️<- them

like they know their fav character is an ass and they just accept that and live on lmao (there's at least 1 person saying that hordak did nothing wrong on a C@tra like vibe but idk?? Never seen 1 of them lmao?) They most of the time just:

A) Ignore the hate

B) debunk some of the arguments

C) "cool" *walks away*

Plus the way people presents their hate is so diff, most of the C@tra's hate ive seen is actually very logical and have good points, you can easily make a post on that vibe with Hordak, BUT NOOoooOOo

Is easier to harass anyone who likes the character 😀

And Im basically glad that a lot of Hordak and Entrapdak fans are older/adults bcuz Im sure SOMEONE would come off of the fandom mentally scarred for life with the scary amount of hate Spop fandom managed to summon.

it's so funny to me when spop stans are like "catra is overhated! unpopular opinion but catra is actually innocent" like no babes, that's a very popular opinion. catra is loved by 99.9% of the fandom. sure, hordak has fans and apologists too but catra is definitely the fan favorite.

and it's even funnier that they call hordak "abusive" or entrapdak "toxic" but then refuse to elaborate. like i'm willing to hear them out if they have something to support their argument. but no, it's just "hordak is a villain so he's an abuser".

and i agree that hordak is not some innocent little baby. he is, just like catra, a sympathetic villain, with emphasis on villain. but it should be acknowledged that while he was a shitty person in general, he was a good partner to entrapta.

“y'all are contributing to romanticizing colonization, g3nocide and abuse” right, because catra was not a part of any of that. she only tried to end the entire world, that's not genocide! /s

i would have agreed with that particular fan if they were talking about the spop fandom as a whole, and not just hordak and entrapdak fans. like how are you this hypocritical?

i am personally desensitized to the death threats and shit but you're right, if any of the younger audience had seen this, they would have been traumatized.

[fandomgeeknerd]

eps of sonic boom agent stone can be in the offical fan-made list s1 part 1

s1 ep2- the ep stone is introduced along with orbot and cubot the ep goes the same way just with stone there too

s1 ep3- he shows up to the party along with eggman

s1 ep4- he's there in the moments where eggman is just trying to watch tv and fix his remote

s1 ep5- helps eggman to try and steal the cc comic for sale

s1 ep6- is in the training exercise but not with the doctor but with the bots and of course he's being safe abt it

s1 ep7- is out with eggman trying to destroy sonic and friends and ends up helping with getting out eggman and sonic out of the temple (and no he doesn't celebrate like orbot and cubot did when he finds out eggman is stuck in the temple)

s1 ep9- is there when eggman finds out abt UT as well as while it's in the lair, the ep plays out the same but there's an added scene where stone talks to UT too when UT first gets there

s1 ep11- at the start he's there comically shaking holding orbot and cubot before he knew they're just evil cookies, is there for evil lessons, also protects eggman when the clones attack each other and defeats them too and lastly instead of tails throwing the evil cookie at eggman stone does

s1 ep13- feels bad for orbot and cubot all ep and tries to convince them to stay at the start but can't (angsty alternative stone leaves with them), helps fight off the hacked bots

s1 ep14- didn't like dave and only tolerated him for eggman, is also worried about eggman and is there for with orbot when they find cubot disassembled, leaves very upset with orbot to get cubot reassembled by tails and also obviously comes back with them too

s1 ep15- helps orbot and cubot clean the lair, when eggman has to outsource help sprucing up the lair the twist for here is he thinks of stone first and then amy and gets them both to help

s1 ep16- is there when they all find out abt the giant, i'd like to think stone is seen in the background taking care of the garden in that scene in the ep before the giant ruins it

s1 ep18- even tho i want to replace soar with stone for this one i'm keeping it canon compliant and saying stone would try to help eggman feel better but it only kind of works cus stone supports and compliments him all the time and tells him to leave him be for a while and yes stone doesn't like soar, we see him again in the middle of the ep when soar gets fired and again when sonic goes to check up on eggman and finds him like that and finds stone comforting him as best he can in the moment, the little change here is instead of amy, tails, knuckles and sticks figuring out that they have to remotivate eggman on their own stone comes to them for help and tells them they have to remotivate eggman (his heart aches most for eggman in this part bc he doesn't like seeing the doctor so down in the dumps) and stone's glad it all works in the end

s1 ep20- helps out with upgrading eggman's defenses, and of course is going to fight cowbot with tails, sonic and eggman and spends time with the three of them while they wait for cowbot to arrive

s1 ep21- is the first one to believe the doctor when he says he's not the doctor and is in fact sonic

s1 ep22- shows up at the end of the ep at orbot and cubot's surprise party

s1 ep23- instead of orbot saying his line stone says it instead, said line being "it appears to be a status update from the lightning bolt society"

s1 ep24- the ep goes on as normal but stone is there supporting and playing along with the scheme eggman the entire time

s1 ep28- he comforts eggman when his particle accelerator goes missing

s1 ep29- he's only there at the end where he's sitting next to eggman to watch his movie even when everyone else is kicked out

[anaxibiaclark]

I've had a lot of time to sit and ruminate about Anne Rice's The Vampire Armand. It's a book that I came close to abandoning because some of her writing made me very uncomfortable. (I actually sat and wrote out all the horrors, but I don't think I'll be including too many of them here.) Let's just say Andre (Arun,) Amadeo, Armand has been through some shit. From a kidnapping by slavers to being bought by a man who he unfortunately sees as a savior of sorts, even though he's done some horrible things to him. One action that cemented my disdain for Marius was him sending Armand to a brothel as well as sharing him with his male friends so that Armand could learn how to "properly pleasure a man." (I will say, Armand and Daniel share some interesting parallels too. I may write about these in a separate post. I have too much bouncing around my head right now to do that here.)

Then, we have the Children of Darkness who end up rewriting Armand's way of thinking. I believe this is how Armand's gremlin side becomes more prevalent in the catacombs of Paris. Well, until Lestat comes a long and pushes him towards a more neutral path? The theater is born. Not too long after, Louis and Claudia come to Paris and we all know what happens there. (I will say I'm glad the show left out the experiments that Armand performed on Claudia.)

We get a brief mention of Louis and Armand's relationship and how they drifted apart. Armand also speaks fondly of Daniel and shows some remorse for their failed relationship. He speaks of his immolation by the sun, because of Veronica's Vail, and how dying in front of the church will prove to himself that God still exists.

Finally, we learn about his surrogate children Sybelle (a brilliant pianist) and Benji (the one person who can bring Sybelle out of her trance.) I adore them, because they both know how to get into Armand's head without manipulation. They love him unconditionally, even when he eviscerates the drug dealer Benji bring to him. Also, they did kind of help prevent his death from immolation. The three form a strong bond and Armand has no desire to turn them. He wants them to live their mortal lives. Well, until Marius throws a wrench in that, by turning Benji and Sybelle. (Again, I dislike this man.) Yes, I know both kids wanted to spend eternity with Armand, but it was still done without Armand consenting to it.

All in All, even with the uncomfortable points in the story, I actually really enjoyed the book. It gave me a new perspective on Armand. I don't expect readers of Anne's books, hell even the show watchers, to agree with me and that's understandable. Armand is a tough character to pin down because his trauma dictates his undead life. He's done some horrible shit, but all the other vampires have too, which is why I don't hate or dislike any of them, with one exception.

This was me trying to slog through all of Armand's trauma by putting it to words.

[bekaterrier]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I did a separate post earlier this week with my notes on the first part of my listen through of S3 of The Ways We Haunt Now, and the Pasithea Pandemonium bracket tournament of all the Pasithea Powder episodes is still ongoing! It's been so fun getting to gush about all their fantastic episodes!

@hinaypod Episode 52.1 - Winter Market: Okay that was too cute! Mari and Danny bonding time was so nice, and I'm sure such a relief for Danny. Finally someone he can talk to about all this! "He didn't know before but he understood now." And then the ring on the straw angel!! The emotions Mari could feel coming off of it! I'm a little scared for upcoming episodes because we have gotten so much sweetness and there's no way this can last... ✨

@vestaclinicpod Episode 20 - Haemohalter: Oh no, someone got bodily fluids on the special boy! That whole situation sounds like a nightmare to clean up. Rai is GETTING IT. Dang, Xael is a pro at not answering questions! I'm very suspicious about those lab alarms now though...do we think it has anything to do with the prof? Is his consciousness somehow hidden within the lab or something? I'm also worried about the clinic, with so many things in need of repair. Glad the engineer was able to come in to service everything (also you know she's gonna burn a hole in her nose sometime in the future while trying to self-cauterize). ⚕️

@kingmakerpod Chapter Twenty-Nine - Diminishing Returns: Ohhhh boy, there's no way this shrinking business is going to end well, right? Oh lord, those bonedrinker shrews sound horrifying. Okay, new horrifying thing, Culver and Crowley together. They are too well suited for each other...good for them. Giant bonedrinker shrews?! Wait, those instead of Corgis at the palace?! The Titanic?! Contact with the Kehrseite! Three Good Neighbour spies... So much was happening this episode! And the sound design was spot-on. Incredible. 💎

@monkeymanproductions' Waiting For October S1 Episode 6 - To The Mountain: Solo adventure time for Yvonne! The banter between her and Grey, and then with Bergen is great. Yvonne's full backstory is heartbreaking. The sound design of the mountain, the Bolter, Bergen, and the Kaiju are all fantastic. And hearing Bergen's perspective on living in a story world was so interesting. It's becoming clear that Karo is a very important part of October and I'm looking forward to finding out why. 🎃

[callalillywrites]

Love and Karaoke

Here it is. My final entry in the Bucky Barnes Birthday Bingo. I can't believe I completed this before the end of the month. Had my doubts there for a little bit. Thank you, @avengers-assemble-bingo for hosting such an amazing event.

This one is a twist on the Singer AU in that both sing at a karaoke with Reader being the famous singer over Bucky. Not that Bucky can't hold his own as we'll soon see.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Reader

Other characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson

Summary: Tony has declared another night for team bonding, dragging everyone to a karaoke bar. It's here that Bucky meets you and possibly finds a real connection with someone he's been missing for a while.

Word Count: ~3900

Warnings: mostly fluff; Bucky can sing; Tony's a menace; flirty Sam and Nat; wingman Steve

A/N: This was the story I'd been thinking about ever since I got my bingo card. I wrote this in a flurry of typing, so any and all mistakes are my own. I do hope you enjoy this fluffy piece that will hopefully make up for the angst I wrote last time.

A/N2: Songs used in this are Anastasia's (movie) At the Beginning and Frank Sinatra's All or Nothing at All.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Bucky scowled as another overly drunk patron knocked into him while trying to escape the crowded bar.

He'd taken up residence in that corner as soon as the Avengers group arrived, not wanting to partake in this evening's festivities but not having much choice. At least, they hadn't tried to pry him from his spot since they'd settled in the booth across the way. If he tried hard enough, he could make out their various conversations over the loudness of the bar.

Several screens sat high on the bar's walls.

While one might've expected sports to be playing, that wasn't the case here. No, they each displayed in perfect sync the words of some song being butchered from one person or another. Well, not all of them, but a decent number of them.

Bucky had learned from his years under HYDRA's thumb to tune out the background noise. It helped when a particularly pitchy or off-key singer made their way to the stage. He could ignore their poor attempts to sing whatever Top 40 hit they fancied at the moment.

It was just as well, too.

He had no interest in participating in this latest team bonding exercise that Tony had thought up.

No, he wouldn't be here at all if Steve hadn't asked him to consider trying something new with the team. Just once, his best friend had asked. It was those blasted puppy eyes Steve tossed his way that did Bucky in, and his best friend knew it. The punk!

Applause rose up around him, drowning out the last notes the singer belted in a high screech.

"Is it terrible that I'm glad that's over?"

Bucky glanced up and met your sheepish expression. He couldn't say when you'd moved onto the stool next to his, but he wished he had. Your eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief even though your expression retained a slight grimace. He had no doubt it was the result of the last singer who'd tried their hand at some song he couldn't begin to name.

His silence didn't seem to bother you as you added, "Journey deserves better than that, especially such a classic as Don't Stop Believin'."

"I'll take your word for it. First time hearing it that I can recall."

You studied him then. Your eyes seemed to miss nothing as you started at the top of his shortened hair to the leather jacket that he'd finally broken in to accommodate his prosthetic and the gloved covering it up. They didn't linger there too long but instead continued down to his worn jeans and well-scuffed boots.

His breath caught as he waited your judgment, sensing you weren't the type to hold back.

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't what you said next.

"I can see that. So, what do think you'll sing tonight?"

He couldn't help it. His jaw dropped open for a moment before he managed to snap it shut, scowling and scoffing as he sputtered, "Who said I would be singing anything?"

"Well, three things actually," you said with a smirk sliding across your lips. With a nod of your head, you motioned toward his group of friends. "One, I overheard them. They're not leaving until they get you on that stage. I think the large blonde is trying to talk them out of it, but he's being quickly overruled."

Bucky dared a glance in that direction where he found Tony and Sam arguing with Steve. The others lounged around them with varying degrees of amusement on their face. At one point, he caught Nat's eye, who had the audacity to wink at him.

Gulping, he turned back to you and asked, "What's the second?"

"Two, it's a tradition for all newcomers to sing at least one song before last call. I'm friends with the owner, so I have it on good authority that you and your group have never been here before. After all, it's not every day that the Avengers go somewhere without being noticed."

Well, that certainly regained his attention. It couldn't help crossing his mind that Tony had known this tradition before even suggesting this place for the group. In fact, he had no doubts that Tony had done this deliberately to put Bucky and the others outside their comfort zone. It would be amusing for the billionaire who had little shame when it came to making spectacles.

As if to prove Bucky right, the emcee's voice came over the sound system. "All right, all you lovelies. Time for another potential to take their turn. Let's give it up for Steve and Natasha. They'll be singing…"

Bucky tuned out the rest as a horrible feeling settled in his middle. Knots twisted and turned. He feared he might embarrass himself in front of you, relieving himself of the two beers he'd been sipping the past hour.

Your hand came to rest over his. Light but there. The sensation sparked something within him that he hadn't felt in so many years, so many decades. An electric zap that reminded him he was alive, that he was human.

His gaze shot up to meet yours.

A sweet smile rested on your lips instead of your earlier smirk. Your fingers rubbed soft, soothing patterns against his until he unclenched the fist he'd made.

"Breathe in," you said in the softest tone, simulating your words until he did what you said. Smiling wider, you nodded, saying, "Good. Now, breathe out."

The air whooshed out of him faster than it probably should've, but you didn't stop smiling or whispering praise. You kept it instead until his breathing evened out once more.

"You okay?"

It took him a moment before he managed to nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

"It's not a problem." You spared a glance at the table where his friends sat. A slight frown took over your smile, but it disappeared as soon as you turned back to him. "You don't have to do this if you really don't want to. The owners made the tradition to push people out of their comfort zones, but it's only for those who truly want to. It's not meant to be a 'do or die' kind of thing."

The sincerity in your voice made it easier for Bucky to admit, "I haven't sang since my sister was little. She's the only one who ever heard me. It was the only way she'd go to sleep for a time."

There went your smile lighting you up again. It reached your eyes, too, giving them a sparkle that just drew him in. It made him want to keep telling you secrets. He couldn't say he liked that you already had this power over him, but he couldn't say that he disliked it, either.

"You must've been really good then. Kids can be the most brutal critics."

Something between a huff and a laugh escaped him as he regarded you. It would've been enough to embarrass him if you hadn't looked at him with a hint of triumph for getting him to make such a sound. He almost wanted to do it again if it meant he kept your attention a little longer.

*****

Oh, you were having too much fun with your new seatmate.

It wasn't like you hadn't recognized him the moment he'd walked into the karaoke bar that your friends ran. No, he'd captivated you since that first moment, and you'd been seeking out a chance to talk to him. That moment had come when the seat next to him opened up. It certainly helped that any other hopefuls for his attention had been turned off by his deep scowl and clear body language to back off.

Not you though.

You'd seen the sadness and discomfort that kept him so rigid. All you'd wanted was a way to ease some of that from him. Even if you only succeeded for a moment. It helped that you hadn't lied about overhearing his group of friends. That had been your way in, and you'd taken it.

Now, you sat and watched as he nearly laughed at the small joke you made. A part of you preened at being able to get that noise from him. You wanted to do it again and again. The only thing that could possibly top it would be a real laugh from him. Though, you'd take what you could get.

Hoots and hollers for an encore followed the closing notes of the song Captain America and Black Widow had just sang.

Glancing at the stage, you couldn't help but chuckle at the bright red flush that lit up the poor Captain's face even as Widow took her bow. She had quite the confidence that most would envy. A confidence that had taken you years to master yourself.

"Maybe once Steve's cheeks return to a natural color, we can sing you another song," Natasha promised even as she led said Steve from the stage area.

So many tipsy ladies made inappropriate comments as he passed by, but then you couldn't blame them. He was quite handsome. If only you preferred blondes, then you might've joined them.

But no, you preferred them tall, dark, and broody. Much like the man seated next to you who'd just begun to relax. It was enough to keep you glued to your own seat. You wanted to see him fully relaxed and enjoying himself, even if the setting wasn't ideal for him.

"What's the third thing?" he asked as the emcee called up the next singer.

You sipped your drink, savoring the sweetness before you turned your best coy smile on him. "Well, three is you have me. It's a known fact that duets are easier than solo acts. If you'll sing with me, it'll be a win-win for you."

"How so?"

There was that upturned curve again at his mouth. Oh, what you wouldn't give to make sure he did that and more every day you could.

Schooling your features to ensure the coyness wasn't overshadowed by your eagerness, you continued, "Well, for one, it'll get your more enthusiastic friends off your back. For the other, if you do decide to sing with you, I'll make sure to sing a solo just for you. I'll even make sure it's a song I know you've heard before. Do we have a deal?"

You held out your hand for him to shake, even arching a brow to go with your challenge.

He studied your hand for a moment before he met your gaze again. He met your brow with one of his own as he asked, "How do I know you're any good? How do I know you're not setting me up?"

"Guess you'll have to trust me enough to sing with me," you countered.

"Trust doesn't come easy for me."

What you'd learned about Bucky Barnes from the media and your own bit of rabbit hole diving one evening was enough to sober you. Softening your voice, you said, "You can trust me. It's not my style to make others look bad. At least, not someone who doesn't deserve it."

His gaze studied you another long moment before his hand slid into yours. Only the slightest hesitation remained in the smallest tremor that no one but you would've ever noticed. It took everything in you not to beam at him. His willingness to trust you had butterflies taking wing within you.

"Don't make me regret this," he mumbled.

You shook your head. "I won't."

*****

Bucky figured he'd have a few more minutes, but the emcee called his name. So much for working himself up into a braver version of himself.

Hoots and hollers came from the table behind him. Tony and Sam catcalled and teased in their respective ways. They would've been grating if your hand hadn't slipped into his, walking at his side to the stage. Their jeers and catcalls ended on gasps even as Steve gave an encouraging shout. Nat's wolf whistle had heat blazing across his cheeks.

The emcee shot you an amused glance as he amended his introduction to include you.

"Well, I couldn't let my new friend do this all on his lonesome, now could I?" you teased the emcee, taking the microphone he offered you. Leaning in, you whispered your song choice in the emcee's ear, earning you a head shake, soft laughter shaking the man's shoulders.

In moments, another one was set in Bucky's hand, and he was stood facing the large crowd.

His hand tensed in yours. He knew it. The soft gasp you let out because of the increased pressure overrode the pounding in his ears. His own breathing picked up though he did his best to stopper it, to not make a spectacle of himself.

A hand. Your hand, warm and soft, grazed his cheek.

His gaze slammed into yours. He met your soft smile and your softer voice as you encouraged him to breathe.

"Eyes on me, gorgeous. Just keep your eyes on me or the screen. We'll get through this together."

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, his breath shuddering through him.

It took him another moment before he nodded.

You beamed at him, which made it all the more worth it.

He could do this. He'd do this. For you.

"Alright, everyone. I hope you're having a great evening so far," you said to the crowd, earning several cheers. "My new friend here was kind enough to let me sing with him. We're going to be singing a song I've been holding close to my heart for a while now. Never found the right partner to sing it until tonight. I hope you'll all enjoy."

The beginning notes started to play.

You met his gaze with a steadiness that made him stand a little taller. Your soft smile had him wanting to prove himself worthy in ways he hadn't thought about since before the war.

"Ready?" you whispered as the first words appeared on the screen. Pink slowly rolled over them as you sang, "We were strangers, starting out on a journey…"

Bucky stalled, staring at you as your sweet voice rang clear. Nothing could've prepared for your sweet voice, perfectly on key and so melodious, that he could almost envision wrapping it around himself. He never wanted to not hear you sing again. It filled him with a longing and an acceptance that he didn't frankly know what to do with.

It took you nudging him to realize the color on the screen had switched to blue.

His voice came out softer than he intended, searching for that cadence he'd long forgotten yet remained a part of him despite everything. He tried not to stare too hard at you as he sang, "No one told me, I was going to find you / Unexpected, what you did to my heart…"

Your soft gasp grabbed his attention and held it. While your eyes had widened with some surprise, they soon shifted, crinkling at the sides as you grinned at him. Your surprise was evident, but it didn't seem like you were in the least upset. No, you seemed almost pleased with his voice. It took everything in him to keep paying attention to the words on the screen, not on you.

That was never more true when your voice blended with his as you both sang, "And life is a road that I wanna keep going / Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing…"

Everything wrong in his world righted itself as you two made your way through the song.

He hadn't a clue where the song came from, but he wanted to. He wanted to know everything about you and what made you tick. Your likes and dislikes. What's made you smile and what's made you cry. He wanted to know it all, and he wanted you to know him. At least, the parts of him that he could recall clearly.

More than anything, he really wanted to make sure you kept beaming at him as you two sang the final lines of the song, "In the end I wanna be standing / At the beginning with you."

The cheers and applause that followed could never measure up to the proud smile you gave him. They could never compare to the quick press of your lips to his cheek as you whispered, "Thank you for trusting me."

*****

If anyone would've asked you if you believed in love at first sight, you would've laughed in their face.

Now though, you couldn't help wondering if it were possible for someone to fall in love at first note.

You'd had a sneaking suspicion that Bucky Barnes could sing based on his minute reactions to the others that got up on stage that night. Nothing, and you meant nothing, could've prepared you for how well he could actually sing. His voice blended with yours in ways that you'd always hoped to find in someone. It was the voice you'd heard in your dreams for so many years, but you'd never dared to hope you might actually find.

Now, here he was standing in front of you.

Everything in you begged him not to go, even as he led you from the stage and back towards his friends.

"Where did that come from, Terminator?" Tony asked, obviously shell-shocked. No doubt he'd been hoping to rib on Bucky, but that had been thwarted. "I feel like critical information has been missing from your file. That needs to rectified immediately."

You bit back a snort when his glare shifted to Steve Rogers.

"I blame you for keeping yet another secret from us," Tony accused, confirming your suspicions about his new target.

Steve shook his head. "I had no idea myself. He's kept that under his hat, even from me."

"Ah, man, who cares if the man can sing?" Sam shouted over the crowd. "I'm more upset he got such a superstar to sing with him. She's a real beauty, too. It's so unfair."

You laughed. "I'm not a superstar."

"Not a superstar, yeah, okay," Sam scoffed while the others stared at you. "You've got almost a million subscribers on YouTube, and you were runner-up on the last season of American Idol. Not a superstar. She's got jokes, this one."

The way Bucky's hand tightened on yours had you almost afraid to see his reaction.

You just knew it would break you if he looked at you with anything like disdain or betrayal. It wasn't that you meant to tease him or keep your status a secret, but it'd been nice to simply be yourself with someone. You couldn't recall the last time someone didn't want something from you.

Bucky leaned into your space so his voice wouldn't carry as he said, "You really meant it when you said you weren't setting me up. Thank you."

"Anytime, gorgeous," you whispered back.

"Enough of this mushy stuff you two are doing," Tony called out when you and Bucky had been staring at each other for several long moments. "Time for another round. Join us, superstar. We must hear more about you and how you knew Tin Man would be a good singing partner."

"Only if it's okay with Bucky here. I'm not about to invade his space more than I already have."

Bucky tugged you closer to his side before he offered you the seat closest to Steve before taking the one next to it. "Invade my space all you'd like, doll."

The nickname had your cheeks heating up. It wasn't one you heard all that often nowadays, but it suited Bucky in a way that the modern ones wouldn't. Hearing it from him, it made you almost giddy. You could only hope that he'd continue to call you that should you see him again after that night.

*****

The night out had turned out far better than Bucky ever thought it would. He had you to thank for that.

His friends had welcomed you. It helped that you quickly learned how to handle each of them.

You joked with Sam in a flirtatious way that left no doubt you were merely having fun. The same flirting went on between you and Nat as well. Or it did until Sam begged you both to quit for fear Steve's face would actually catch fire. Bucky had been more than amused at his friend's state. To see Steve so flustered but clearly enjoying himself was something Bucky always wished for his best friend.

Barbs flew between you and Tony that nearly always hit their marks. To see Tony concede to you after your latest lob had Bucky's eyes widening. Never had he thought to see such a thing.

Even with all the attention you showed his friends, you never failed to keep most of it on him and making sure he stayed involved in the conversation in some way or another. It didn't matter if it dropped to a private level or remained a public one. You just had some innate way to make him feel included and important. He didn't know anyone had ever done that with him before. Pre-war maybe, but he couldn't recall a single girl back then that held a candle to you.

He'd almost forgotten about your other part of the deal until the emcee said, "All right, ladies and gents. It's time for our last song of the night. Please, give it up to our lovely Meadowlark as she sings us out of here."

"Guess that's my cue." You pushed to your feet and made your way towards the stage.

Bucky watched you go, doing his best not to follow you. He couldn't quite say why he felt such a need for someone he barely knew. But then, he felt like he'd gotten to know you more than he'd known anyone else in the past couple of hours. You'd certainly brought a light to his life that evening that he didn't want to see dimmed.

When you'd reached the stage and picked up the microphone, your gaze moved over the crowd until it landed on him. A soft smile spread over your features as you spoke. "I made a promise earlier tonight to my new friend. He's literally made my evening one of the best I've had in a while. I can only hope this won't be the last night I see him."

Oh, that had his heartrate kicking up. To hear you wanted more time with him was everything. He'd hoped you would as he'd been working up the courage to ask for your number. With your declaration, he might just find it.

"This is for you," you said sweetly, humming the first few notes.

Nostalgia hit him smack in the chest as your first words confirmed the song you'd chosen.

"All or nothing at all…"

Frank Sinatra.

You'd chosen a song that had come out mere months before he'd been drafted. It'd been a song he'd listened to as often as he could. A song that he'd always envisioned for the woman of his dreams despite not yet finding her.

Beneath his breath, he joined you in singing.

He didn't even realize he had until Steve leaned close enough to whisper, "You better make a move, jerk, or I will."

"Hands off, punk," Bucky groused back with no real malice, adding, "That's my future wife you're talking about."

[azaharinflames]

I was genuinely shocked to see the scene in 811 where the two characters kissed and took off their clothes. OS and Lou's acting was great, but more than that, I was surprised that such a scene appeared in 9-1-1.

Did any couple in the OG version have a scene like that? I always thought 9-1-1 portrayed such moments in a rather subtle way. But the way they presented it this time felt confusing. If they are broken up and not a couple that will eventually reunite, was it really necessary to frame it like that?

Since 806, I've been watching with a cautious and skeptical perspective. But for a GA who doesn’t follow any interviews, just based on the story being told right now, it seems obvious that these two will end up together. Of course, the fact that this is 9-1-1 under Tim’s direction is the tricky part.

Hi, Nonnie!

Same, ngl. I fully expected an insinuation and perhaps a fade-to-black, and then the morning after. But I am very glad with what we've got, and the episode's ratings have, thankfully, been very positive, so maybe ABC takes some notes.

Also, it's been a long time since we had anything close to that. Athena had some steamy scenes in the first season, and Henren had a really great scene as well, but since then? Not that I recall. Madney hooking up in Season 6 had the fakest kiss of all time, and they didn't even kiss when getting engaged. This was definitely the first time in a while that we got a hot scene like this.

Was this necessary? Well, let me ask you - was 805 necessary? When they were breaking up an episode later? Well, Nonnie - the answer is: not necessary, unless it has a specific use.

And by this I mean - it wouldn't have been necessary, and in my opinion, wouldn't have existed, if they didn't want the GA to care about Bucktommy. As it is, people are now invested and want to see if these two crazy kids can finally figure things out.

So - do the other couples need scenes like we got in 811? Not really. Because they have already been established, therefore the audience knows the implication of a fade-to-black or an insinuation. With Bucktommy sure, they knew, but now they have something that further proves it and makes them care. Do I make sense?

If I was a member of the GA I would fully expect for Buck and Tommy to get back together. Writing's on the wall and all that. We're all (understandably) skeptic and untrustful about it because of Tim, but, objetciely? Unless they pull a 180 - this is couple on the road to reconciliation 1.0.

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving your opinion (unpopular or popular, I'm happy to receive and discuss both), and even confessions! Though if you don't want yours posted, please make sure to say :)

Take care <3

[lilly-does-stuff]

Dp Oc Parade Event - Draw Someone Else's Oc Part 2

Howdy.

Okay, so I know this event has ended, and that's fine and all... but I got a thing I worked on and that is others ocs.

I noticed that in the event, for the 7th day, a lot of people ended up not getting their ocs drawn by someone else. So I combed through the blog to figure out who didn't get their ocs drawn and, well I drew them.

I do know about half of the participants haven't made posts for the 7th day yet, and I would have waited until that got through so I'd know for sure, but I'm on Spring Break rn (well today's the last day) and I had the time to do this, so I went ahead and did it.

Hey, it could give inspirations to others on who to draw, or not. There were tons of awesome ocs in this event, I know it's hard to choose.

But, without futher ado (this is gonna be a long post, sorry) here are the ocs in no particular order 🙃

(And I have a little what I like about the oc bit underneath, I am tired when making this post so I am terribly sorry if these segments read odd).

Dionysia Nova - @corrupted-inkwell

I love the aspect of Dionysia's core being a water core, that is so freaking cool. I also love her ghost forms design, she's just a pretty awesome character in general.

Nyreena Dark - @misshvariety1307

Nyreena's sword is the coolest thing I have ever seen, the phoenix hilt is epic. Her backstory is very intriguing as well, being the daughter of the Ghost King and all.

Carnie - @zombfearer

Jesters are awesome, can never go wrong with them and I think Carnie makes a perfect Danny Phantom jester oc. I love their design, with the split colors and shapes. They seem like pretty fun ghost.

Vivian Masters - @hithisiszooz

Vlad having a sister is the best thing ever, it's clicks so well. I love Vivians design, and the backstory that came with her (Vlad and hers parents being ex hippies is the funniest thing to me).

Aviatrix Iris Minoso Flint - @videodromeda

Iris was fun to draw considering no actual pictures of her exist, just the description. I loved the life and personality put in her through her master post you made of her, and I really hope I caught her character well. (And if there is anything you'd like me to tweek, let me know I will be glad to do so).

Aubrey Webber - @saschagemruler

Aubrey is such a fun character, I love her personality and design so much. And the backstory she has with Vlad? Chefs kiss. And that is exactly why I drew her bursting into Vlads mansions doors.

Archie, the Master of Records and Memory - @forestfairyunicorn

Archie is a awesome character. Being the Master of Recorfs and Memory is a very interesting concept, and you know? It really does answer the question of what happens to ghosts memories and records when they die. And his bats Flipnote and Page are absolutely adorable.

Cassiopeia (Cassy) - @timelessdp

Cassy is so fun. I love the idea of her being the daughter of Danny and Valerie if they had gotten together. I love the detail of her having vitiligo and her powers being light based is amazing.

Ares Masters/Plasmius - @agitatedghost

The amount that Ares reminds me of my irl best friend is insane. Ares has a wonderful personality and awesome design. She seems like she'd be a awesome person to hang around.

Supervisor Fich - @theillustraitor

Here's the Gen-Z in me coming out but Supervisor Fich gives girl boss. Her being a GIW agent is so fricking cool and I absolutely love her design.

Cap'N Rattague - @invaderjjdraws

Rats, who can go wrong with rats? Rats are awesome, and I love how Cap'N Rattague is based around them, and pirates. So a added bonus. To me he seems chaotic, but in the best way.

Maverick Selphine - @tridentrans

Maverick is such a cool looking character. The firery hair is awesome and I love the aspect that he was a very dedicated paper boy. I am actually very curious about his backstory, he's a very interesting character.

Andy - @voided-peach

Andy is a really cool looking character, I love how his skin is translucent allowing one to see his bones. And the fact that he’s a young kid is tragic, he is developed very well.

Hannah Black/Haunter - @katharos-arts

Hannah seems pretty chill, and that is awesome. I always love the chill and calm characters. Her getting her powers at the Axiom labs due to ghostly insects is a very cool idea, something I would have never thought of but it makes perfect sense. Makes you wonder how those bugs worked in a sense.

Callie (Calcifer) - @ellascreams

Callie's powers are so cool. Being able to control candles is such a beautiful aspect, and I love the idea that she's just a ghost who owns a candle shop. That is so fitting, and I can imagine the shop is a pretty neat place to hang.

Lesli Adelura - @theleslistuff

Lesli is a pretty cool character. Her being 1/4 Wendigo and a sociopath is a awesome combination. She seems like such a badass and I'm here for it.

Blood Blossom Ghost - @papiliomame

Even tho she isn't technically a oc, just a character made from a doodle challenge, she is amazing. I thought the design of the Blood Blossom character was beautiful and just wanted to draw it. (And yes, I realize the mirror isn't mirroring properly, we just gonna ignore that 💀).

And so, that ends that. I hope I did all these ocs well, and I hope y'all enjoy them.

Now, I should probably go get some sleep because ya know, sleep is important.

(Oh, and if anyone had entered the event, didn't get their oc drawn, and I missed that and they want me to take that stab, definitely let me know and I will happily get onto drawing said oc).

[deepspacenova]

I'm so glad you're bringing this up because I'm literally in the middle of a dissertation post about the order of events in this trailer but since it plays perfectly into this I'm adding it here instead...

[disclaimer: some of you Big Brain geniuses might've already clocked this but my brain takes approximately 22 business hours to fully process what it's seen so bear with me]

My assumption/conviction up until this point has been 'Caleb can't kill MC' kindled scene → 'Caleb and MC are falling' kindled scene

but the more I'm watching this the more I'm certain that's not the proper order because of THIS

"No matter what... Please wake me up"

This is a request, a plea from Caleb to MC and this is said AS they're falling. Which means this is a precaution, a preparation. ...for what? For when they... meet again?

SO i was like, how would they meet again after the literal explosion of the world?! And then I realized... we don't know which world is ending right?! AND THEN i saw these lines:

"Seeking me out... That's dangerous." // "You didn't want to be woken up?"

Which are said right after MC unplugs the wire from Caleb. And I feel like it would be HIGHLY unlikely if the reuse of the word "awake or woken" was a coincidence, so it feels like this is MC literally following Caleb's request from when they fell.

Her question also seems confused, surprised. Not only because this is the opposite of what he'd asked of her, but because of the words he'd just said, the words that were warning her away from him?? Which begs the question: why/where was he plugged in and…

who controls that access to him??

ALL OF THIS TO SAY:

What if their kiss was the beginning and NOT the end?! What if MC and Caleb fell first?! What if Caleb was cast out to his death and MC went with him!?

WHAT IFFF that was so unexpected for 'Them' that they have to put Caleb back together, reprogram him, restructure him (metal DNA?):

while they wait for MC to resurrect/come to?!

And what if "Seeking me out… That's dangerous." is a warning from Caleb in the same way that he warned MC about the Toring Chip?! What if it's his way of telling us that us being near him, seeking him out, unplugging him, unrestraining him might lead to him hurting us without being able to help it?!

Cue: "TARGET ACQUIRED... ACTIVATING ELIMINATION PROTOCOL... EXECUTE... NO... COMMAND REJECTED."

AND THUS

CALEB IS ONCE AGAIN IMMEDIATELY FIGHTING THE VERY NATURE OF HIMSELF WITHIN ONLY A FEW MOMENTS OF BEING "REBORN"

JUST like he did in Farspace Bloomfall with the Toring Chip

JUST like he’s destined to in EVERY LIFE TIME.

Rewatched the trailer for the 500th time because I am not normal, not calm, not stable, and I love him so much 🥺

But I got to thinking.

This would be a kindled scene, and kindled scenes don't typically appear until a few chapters into the myth. Before that, the LI and MC would obviously have some initial interactions and bonding moments.

What if by this point, they are bonded already, but whoever is controlling him had, so to speak, "factory reset" him to follow his original programming and eliminate her. We do get these voiceovers early in the trailer shortly before this kindled scene:

Note it says "repair A-01". It's highly probable that his memories of her were "extracted" and wiped clean. Any feelings he had for her up to this moment are gone, and even any personality traits he developed would be gone. He's been reset to literally a machine that only knows its programming and has lost all sentience.

She tries to speak to him and break him out of this state even if in her mind, it might seem impossible. And then, somehow, he does remember her enough to consciously try to override his own programming, hence: "Command rejected."

The last shot of them sitting side-by-side could just be them comforting one another after that intense traumatizing moment. The voiceover: "I always wanted to be in the same world as you... Instead of just watching you... And imagining you..." could be something he had said earlier in the myth before this scene; possibly even during an initial meeting in a nonhostile environment.

[Anyway....trailers are never as they seem. Scenes can be manipulated and rearranged in order. And significant lines can also be used over other scenes, so this is why I don't want to take the scenes as they are. All of Sylus' trailers have taught me this lmaooo 🙂]

[epickiya722]

*sighs* I'm not surprised to see this...

Look at this ask for context.

I thought we already went over how it isn't BakuDeku shippers doing the harassing to Horikoshi? As I mentioned in my ask, canon was not going to matter to BakuDeku shippers because they're still going ship it.

Did it for years before the manga ended and even now there's people just getting into the ship when giving MHA a try because of all the context Horikoshi put in the story.

Why would BakuDeku shippers harass the mangaka, the one for giving more than enough for the ship? BakuDeku shippers live off the covers for 29 and 37 still! (That's 8 volumes in between, by the way. You know how 8 is like a recurring number for MHA.)

The reason why other gay ships don't get bashed as much is because BakuDeku is an easy target. Something I even mentioned here in the ask I answered before this one.

It's the most popular ship of MHA.

There's a lot of shippers so there's a lot of people for others to harass.

Easy targets.

Not saying all BakuDeku are good people (some I had to block myself here and there for getting on my nerves), but does that call for harassment of any kind? Let alone to anybody?

NO.

It's like this person wants to dismiss how bad harassment has gotten. Let alone that harassment exists towards shippers at all because some people feel that shipping is a competition.

If people didn't think that at all, the "gays/BakuDeku shippers" will go away after their ship doesn't become canon then why do they still go in those spaces and harass people?

If the BakuDeku shippers "lost" because of canon, then why do they still feel the need to post hate about the ship in the spaces for the ship?

To drive them out!

By the way, the other ships mentioned here also gets hate from time to time, let's not act as if they don't so bringing them up was pointless. I have seen those shippers get criticized, too. Just not as much because again hating BakuDeku is the easiest ship for haters to hate on.

Let's be real, BakuDeku haters did think "I'm glad that gay ship sunk".

[doyoulikethis-vocaloid-song]

hihi!! tondemo wonders anti-voter here again!! regarding the person asking why I did that -- yeah, you were right that it's pretty much that I think it's overly well known/overhyped and I wanted something more obscure for the polls. I use the polls for artist/music discovery and think it's more fun that way!! but more than that, I sent that ask because (despite its popularity) I don't think tondemo is a great representation of sasakure.uk as an artist overall? its fun peppy vibe is part of what makes it popular, but it's also not something you see a ton of in his work -- the closest comparison I can think of is maybe puppet theater of twee box? or maybe weekend is coming, but that has far more serious/darker lyrics. most songs are just slightly emotional in a different direction (too melancholy, too angsty, too atmospheric, hopeful/uplifting in a different way, etc). but either way -- most of his other fast upbeat songs don't quite have the same Peppy Happy Fun Silly vibe tondemo has. for this reason I've met a handful of people who Only like tondemo and don't explore sasakure.uk's discography beyond it because most of his other top songs dont really fit that vibe, which is a shame because sasakure's discography is MASSIVE?? like I'm sure there's something else in there you'd like if you liked tondemo wonders!! and for this reason I'm happy xeno was what ended up getting polled -- that atmospheric experimental slightly chiptune synthesized style is way more prevalent in sasakure's work and therefore anyone who explores sasakure.uk's work beyond the poll is more likely to find similar songs they like. xeno is well know enough that people recognized it, but also not SO well known that it'd be an easy "yes, heard before" for the average vocaloid fan. fantastic pick!! thank you other askers for having good taste!! anyways, hope you don't mind receiving another essay from me -- I don't even really remember what I wrote in the first. feel free to post either of these ones the titles go live idrc im just very passionate about sasakure.uk LMAO

If I included your ask, xeno was actually submitted 3 separate times! So it's nice to see there is an appreciation for sasakure's work outside of tondemo wonders. And I do hope there is at least one person who wasn't familiar with xeno before who checked it and the rest of sasakure's songs out! Again I am very glad to be a place for finding new artists, hehe