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meg-moira · 4 years ago

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The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

Text

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ��H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,�� she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

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winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years ago

Text

Reason to Come Back (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Reason to come back

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3574

Request: "can you do something where seb(or one of his characters)and reader used to date and one day he broke up with her and after a short time he comes up with a new girl(not cheating)and the reader thinks that she’s worthless and not beautiful or good enough and that’s why he broke up with her and tries to be better(you know what to do•_-) and silently suffering etc. and with a happy ending where they get back together"

Warnings: mentions of a breakup, angst, depression, very slight mentions of disordered eating and exercise (very slight, not like most of my other fics), general feelings of worthlessness, angst

Tags: @buckys2thicc @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @babyboibucky

A/N: I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON THAT REQUESTED THIS SO LONG AGO AND THAT IT TOOK SO LONG! I don’t even know if they’re still here, I feel so bad. I got an anon request for this fic and I did not know about the inbox for Tumblr accounts until just recently because I’m incompetent. There’s no excuse for me taking so long to write it, but I wanted to even though it’s been 9 months since they sent it. If you’re still here anon, thank you for sticking with me!

NEW NOTE 06/04/21: I rewrote this to be for Bucky as opposed to Sebastian. It is still mostly the same, just reworded in some places. This is meant to take place in reference to the timeline of tfatws and mentions moments from the show. I am referencing “the time he was gone” as the series episode 1-6. I don’t know how much time passed but I assume it was at least a few weeks if not longer (especially between episodes 5 and 6). That’s how I wrote it.

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

It was a quiet night, you under some blankets on the couch watching a movie. There was an empty bowl aside from a few popcorn kernels on the coffee table in front of you, the movie more for background noise than entertainment. You were scrolling through your phone mindlessly, looking for a distraction that would keep you occupied.

Not that it was working too well. There wasn’t much that could distract you from the fact that you were alone.

9 months. You had dated for 9 months. Not that he had been around for much of it. He had been with Sam on an extended mission, and he had been gone for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about the mission, Bucky wasn’t allowed to tell you. For your safety. You understood. It was his job, you knew that, but it could be lonely most of the time. He would call or text you if he could, but he couldn’t compromise his location. You were always happy to hear from him, but it wasn’t the same as when he was around.

You knew this would happen, and you had accepted that. It was hard, but you could manage.

You hadn’t heard from him in a weeks, but you didn’t think much of it. He and Sam must have gotten closer to the answers they had been looking for. You could only hope that he was safe. it took a toll on you, worrying about him, but you had been so happy when he had said he was coming home. But when he walked through the door, he didn’t seem excited at all.

You had wrapped your arms around him, and he had hesitantly hugged you back gently. You had known something was wrong almost immediately, pulling back and trying to meet his eyes. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“We should talk,” he said, struggling to meet your eyes.

You pulled your eyes together with concern. “Yeah, yeah what’s wrong?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if this is gonna work out.”

You shook your head, surprised. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I just don’t think you and I work with 1,000 miles between us.”

“What?” you said in disbelief. “You’re the one who has to leave and I told you that I’m okay with it, and I am. I never thought you’d be the one with the problem with it.”

“Y/n -”

“We can work this out, Buck. You said it yourself, you don’t normally go away for that long. I’m not going anywhere, I - ”

“I can’t ask you to stay, y/n,” he said, cutting you off. You shut your mouth and shook your head. “Where is this coming from, what happened?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“You don’t get to walk away from this like that!” you exclaimed, nearly yelling.

“And I don’t have the right to expect you to wait for months while I’m out trying to save people. I thought it’d be fine but I couldn’t stop thinking about you here, alone. There’s going to be more missions, more danger. They recreated the serum. Who knows what else they’ll be able to create? You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me! I told you I’m okay with it and I still am, Bucky! I know the risks!” you said, tears pricking your eyes.

He looked away. “You deserve much better than me. Someone who can be there for you.”

You walked up to him and cupped his face. “You’re all I could ever want Bucky. Distance be damned.”

He sighed and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly for a moment. “I have to go y/n. I’m sorry.”

He let you go and turned around, not even looking back to say goodbye.

That had been a couple of weeks ago. You had been crushed at first, devastated. But you were still able to function in your day-to-day life. You had a few friends to hype you up or cry with you, whatever the day was. You were able to still get to work, try to move on. And it was getting better, but the nights were still hard. It wasn’t the same when you knew he wouldn’t be coming home.

During the day you could pretend like you were waiting for that night when he would be able to call you. But at night, it was dark and you didn’t have a person you wanted to call.

You weren’t bitter, in a way you understood. You had known how relationships could be ruined by distance and work. But being a super soldier wasn’t a typical line of work. You had been okay with it, but you hadn’t thought that it would’ve affected Bucky as much as it seemed to. You had been emotional at the time, but looking back on it you could understand where he was coming from. Relationships were two-sided - just because you felt okay didn’t guarantee he was.

You knew what he did was dangerous. You had accepted that there might not have always been a happy ending. Maybe he hadn’t.

But then one day you had walked into a bar, only to see Bucky flirting with another girl, laughing away..

That was all you needed to see.

You didn’t want to read too much into it, any kind of situation could be misread. But him laughing with a very attractive girl over drinks shortly after becoming single - you couldn’t help but wonder.

You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were reading everything wrong, but your heart still felt as though it was breaking.

She was gorgeous. Much more so than you, you had thought.

Was that why he left? Was he just wanting to get himself back out there? Had he met her and just needed to get rid of you?

You didn’t want to think that way, none of it was true. He wouldn’t do that, he was a good man. But still…

Maybe if you were different it would’ve been harder for him to leave.

Maybe you hadn’t given him a good enough reason to stay.

And maybe, if you were better, prettier, he would come back.

It started small - making more of an effort to go to the gym, not ordering takeaways every night, that sort of thing. Not that you had much of an appetite to begin with. But you didn’t realize when your days had become full of going from work to the gym, nor why you had freaked out so much when you had sprained an ankle and couldn’t do your normal workout.

You had decided to work your arms those next few days to supplement the cardio you had missed. You had kept this up until you woke up one morning struggling to turn over because you were so sore. You decided that that day, you could take a rest day.

A rest day turned into a rest week, and soon enough you were only leaving your house to go to work. And only because you needed money.

You had cut yourself off from most of your contacts, still replying every now and then so they wouldn’t be concerned. You didn’t go out with them or call them because you were worried they would see right through you. Better to stay home. Your bed would never judge you.

You had become familiar with the spots on the wall, the streaks from god knows what, the way that light would filter through your window as the sun ascended and descended the sky. Hours could pass and you could still be in the same position.

You had to keep up a front around everyone. Letting people know how much you were hurting was not an option for you. Then they would ask what was wrong and pull you aside and look at you with this concerned face that you couldn’t deal with. It was the one that everyone always gave when someone was having a bad day, the one people put on when they wanted you to think that they cared. Sometimes they did, but most of the time a person with any sense of morals would put that face on to make a person think that they cared. It’s the same way “How are you?” is more of a greeting than a genuine question.

There were people who cared, but you didn’t want to have that conversation. You didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. It was an honest thought of bettering yourself, but it was for the wrong reasons. Trying to be better for Bucky made you realize how much you missed him. How angry you really were at him. But you couldn’t take it out on him, he didn’t deserve that at all, he didn’t earn that. But you were angry at...something, and maybe it was yourself, at letting him walk out that door, of not calling him and leaving him messages. Maybe if you had fought for him he would’ve stayed. If you had said something when he distanced himself.

You felt like this was your fault. And maybe if you changed something about yourself, you would learn from your mistakes.

Not that you knew exactly what you had done or what isolating yourself would fix, or teach you for that matter.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because your ringtone jolted you awake. You groaned, shutting your eyes again. You would let it go to voicemail, just like all of the others. If it was that important they would text you.

You let it ring, sighing when it had stopped. You readjusted in your bed, trying to fall back asleep. It was a Saturday morning, you had until Monday morning to sleep. You were going to make the most of it.

But then your phone began ringing again.

You opened your eyes again, picking up your phone to see who it was. You dropped the phone when you saw the name

Bucky Barnes

Why the fuck was he calling you? What could he possibly have to say to you?

You watched the phone ring through to voicemail, soon after seeing a voicemail was left. You didn’t bother listening to it, you didn’t need to. You simply rolled over in bed. If it were that important, he would have called sooner.

Bucky’s POV

As the call went to voicemail again, Bucky was confused. He had never known you to miss a call, ever. It wasn’t like you, he knew you would drop anything to take calls. You had said you hated people leaving voicemails because you hated them having to listen to your voicemail message. You had thought your voice had sounded weird. It was one of the little things he remembered about you that made him smile

And realize how royally he had fucked up.

Being away on a mission wasn’t anything new for him, but maintaining a serious relationship for him was. He had never met anyone like you, and he had missed you so much when he had left. He hadn’t felt anything like what he did when you smiled at him since the 40′s. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but all he could think about was how much he had missed you. And that made him think about how much you must have missed him.

He felt like he was holding you back in some way. He was used to being away in dangerous situations for periods of time but you weren’t. And no matter how much you had assured him that you were okay with the long-distance relationship, as the months went on he felt guilty for not being able to be there in the way that he wanted to.

In the way you deserved.

He broke up with you because he thought you deserved better than relying on phone calls and texts for months at a time. Someone who could be there all the time for you. Someone who you didn’t have to worry about getting shot when he left for a mission. Someone predictable and reliable. Something he couldn’t always do.

But God, did he miss you.

He regretted walking out that door. He regretted not giving you a better reason, for not calling you or texting you until now, weeks later. The more time went on, the more he felt it would be inappropriate to call you to apologize.

But he couldn’t take it anymore, so he dialed your number. And when it went to voicemail, he had gotten a little worried.

He knew he didn’t have much of a right or reason to be worried, but he had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. So, he decided to reach out to one of your friends.

Hey, is y/n alright?

Why do you want to know?

Look, I know I messed up. I just wanted to apologize and give her the answer she deserves. But she’s not answering my calls.

She doesn’t do phone calls anymore.

What do you mean?

She won’t answer calls. She won’t even come out with us anymore. Something’s up but she denies it.

When did this start?

When do you think?

Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. This was his fault. And he had to go make it right.

Your POV

You were still in bed, wondering why Bucky had called you. It didn’t make sense to you, for him to call after all of this time. What could he possibly have to say to you? Did he want to inform you of a new girlfriend before the news caught wind of it? Did he want to come up with some dumb excuse to tell you he was sorry?

It made you scoff slightly, but the tug at your heart let you know that it wouldn’t be unwelcome.

You couldn’t deny it. As much as his leaving had hurt you, you missed him more than anything.

You wanted another chance with him, one that you weren’t sure you would get. And the thought of him coming back to you was comforting. Like maybe it wasn’t your fault. Or maybe you had done enough to win him back.

Wishful thinking.

You had lost track of time, once again, but were snapped out of your daze by knocking on your door.

What? Why would anyone be here?

You sighed. It was probably just some random person selling some random product or something.

More knocking. More insistent. You sighed, standing up and silently groaning at the soreness you felt in your body. Not necessarily from overuse, but more so from underuse. You stood you slowly, walking quietly over to your door.

More knocking.

You made it to the door and glanced through the peephole you had, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving your mouth.

Why the fuck was Bucky here?

More knocking.

You ran a hand down your face. Knowing him, he wouldn’t leave. But why did it go from calling straight to ‘I’m coming to your door’? As if he hadn’t been the one to leave you?

More knocking.

You swallowed dryly. “Why are you here?” you called out through the door.

Bucky let out a breath. “I just want to talk to you”

You shook your head on the other side of the door, wondering if you should let him speak. As if he wasn’t already living rent-free in your mind.

“Please y/n.”

You set your face hard, pulling the door open. At least you would get to say your piece to him.

“Now you wanna talk? Fine. Let’s talk.” you said, coldly.

Bucky was slightly taken aback, though he couldn’t blame you. He took in your appearance, exhaustion seeming to overtake you. Dark circles under your eyes, pale skin, you just - all life seemed to be drained from you. He scratched the back of his neck nervously before he asked quietly, “Can I come in?”

You stepped to the side, silently allowing him in, closing the door behind you. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged slightly. “What do you want Barnes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. You scoffed slightly, shaking your head and looking away. “Y/n look at me, please. I fucked up.”

“Well it took you long enough to figure that one out didn’t it?” you snapped, looking at him.

“Y/n please -”

“Tell me, when exactly did you figure out that maybe, just maybe, you should say you were sorry?”

“Y/n please - “

“Who was the girl? The one in the bar from a few days after we had broken up? The one you were hitting on over a couple of drinks?”

“The… what?”

“When did you feel the slightest bit of regret? When did you change your mind and decide that you didn’t want to leave?”

“I never wanted to leave you!” he exclaimed. “Can you please just listen to me?”

You looked at him, anger in your eyes but you closed your mouth. You gave him a look that said ‘I’m listening.’

He took a deep breath. “The woman at the bar was an old friend of Sam’s. He had introduced the two of us at one point. I was at a bar one night and and she came over to say hello and stayed for one drink. It’s nothing more than that.”

You took a breath. Situations could definitely be read wrong. You knew it had probably been nothing.

“When we first got together we had talked about me leaving for missions. Long-distance, unpredictable times, dangerous missions. A lot of people have a hard time keeping that going.”

“And I knew that and was okay with it.”

“Let me finish, please.” he pleaded. “I knew you knew the risks but I’m not sure I was as ready as I thought I was. I left and suddenly I couldn’t talk to you because I was worried for your safety. I couldn’t be there for you in all the ways I wanted to be. In all the ways you deserved. I just...you didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much more than that.”

You felt tears prick your eyes. “You already told me that. When you left. What’s really going on?”

He shook his head slightly. “ Sam’s sister had gotten a call with a threat towards her and her children. I couldn’t put you at risk. These people, they were super soldiers just like me. I had a few close calls with serious injuries. And I realized that if I got hurt I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t let you get hurt and I couldn’t let you worry about whether or not I would come home alive. I thought… I thought it’d be less painful for both of us if we stopped seeing each other before that happened.”

You shook your head slightly. “Why couldn’t you tell me that?” you said, a little more softly.

“I don’t know”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than I don’t know.”

“I - “ He sighed slightly. “I was scared. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was scared that I was going to lose you.”

“So you gave me up?” you asked.

“And made the biggest mistake of my entire life.”

You looked to the side and bit your lip slightly. “You know I thought it was my fault?” you turned your face back to Bucky’s confused one. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That if I was enough you wouldn’t have left. Or if I was better you would’ve come back.”

He shook his head and started walking towards you to comfort you. “It was never your fault angel -”

You backed up slightly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not right now, not yet at least.”

He looked hurt slightly, but he nodded. After a few moments of silence, you scoffed slightly.

“You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I fell apart these past few weeks. Told myself that the only thing I wanted and needed was having you come back. And here you are and...I don’t know, Bucky.” you shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or think, you broke up with me because you were afraid of hurting me? I - “ you rubbed your eyes. “I just… I get it, but I just wish we could’ve had this conversation weeks ago, Buck.”

“Does this mean we’re done?” he asked timidly.

“I… I don’t know. I just…. I think i need a little bit of time. Please. Just some time to think.”

He nodded, though he looked slightly disappointed. “Yeah, of course.” you nodded, walking him over to the door, opening it. He turned around. “Is it okay to give you a hug, y/n?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you looped them around his neck. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, tears forming in your eyes as you realized how much you missed this. How much you needed this. When he went to pull away, you held him a little more tightly before letting him go.

He smiled at you before turning to leave. “Take as much time as you need, y/n.”

You gave him the smallest of smiles back. “I’ll see you later Bucky.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you, not having a clue what any of this meant. This didn’t make it okay by any means, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you could start fresh. Together.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #40s bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky fanfic #bucky #angst #angst angst angst #part two coming soon

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

‘That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

#Hinny #Jily Lives AU #Hinny Fanfiction #Eyes glistening #T: Fanfiction

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holden-caulfield · 4 years ago

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For a Draco x reader, I don’t know if this plot is good or not. But it is just an idea that I have and if you feel like writing it I would be very happy because I really do like your work. So maybe something like Draco and reader started to slowly become friends and then hang out more and more. Draco feels happy with her and fall for her. He writes a letter to his mother telling all about a girl he met and how happy she makes him. Then Narcissa writes a letter to the reader and thanking her for making her son happy and she really hope to meet her soon. Reader is just confused and then go and look for Draco. He later then just confess his feeling for her and she feels the same. Would love to if you also wrote when the reader actually met Draco’s family and they all liked her a lot.

I'm honored to know you like my work, thank you sweetheart! Hope you'll like this one too!! I'm not sure this is what you wanted but i liked the concept of the flashbacks so i went with that :)

Perfect For Each Other

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: reader is about to meet draco's parents while recalling how she ended up there in the first place.

WARNINGS: i'm pretty sure there's none, flashbacks are in cursive. also, i'm actually quite proud of this one?? yeah.

WORD COUNT: 1378

How it all started. You would have never expected it honestly, to find yourself in front of Malfoy Manor, wearing your best dress to make a good impression, waiting to finally meet the mysterious parents of your boyfriend.

Draco had talked about them countless times, but you hadn't met them yet. Perhaps it was the lack of time, perhaps it was the fear that made you decline invite after invite, but Draco wanted you to be sure and waited. For you.

He always did, he always waited for you. That's one of the things you loved about him.

He always waited for you after class, when everyone else had already run towards the great hall to eat. He stood near the entrance, lazily leaning on the wall outside with his bag hanging over his shoulder. A small grin always spreading on his face whenever you would join him to go to lunch together.

He hadn't always been like this however, it took sometime, but oh boy was it worth it. He slowly opened up to you until you knew more about him than himself. You started hanging out together after class and during, which wasn't very appreciated by all the professors who constantly reprimanded the both of you.

But you couldn't care less, not when you loved him so much. Love, how weird. Were you really in love with your friend? Or was it just friendship, a really strong and fierce friendship?

You knocked on the door of the great mansion, Draco beside you hugging your side gently, squeezing lightly to relieve your nerves. You appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't enough sadly.

The door revealed a beautiful woman, her eyes matching Draco's perfectly, displaying a certain affection you would have never expected from a stranger.

Draco wasn't known to be very open with anyone; he only spoke with you, but only when he deemed it utterly necessary. Only with you and that made you feel special, or so you thought.

You slackly woke up and took your sweet time getting ready, it was saturday after all and that meant only one thing: relax.

You descended the stairs to the common room, finding it unsurprisingly empty. Even if you slept in, you were one of the first to wake up. You made your way to the great hall and made yourself comfortable at your usual seat.

The morning post arrived and, even though you hadn't expected anything, you saw a big elegant owl approaching you with a white envelope in its beak.

You took it carefully and let the owl take some of your breakfast from your plate before taking off again. As you opened it, you noticed the refined lining and the faint smell of vanilla it emanated.

Dear y/n,

my dear Draco has told me a lot about you, my name is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. I'm so glad to know there is someone there so close to him, that can guide him and be there whenever he needs.

I want to formerly thank you and wish you two the best, hopefully Draco won't annoy you too much. I know how he can be at times, but from what i've heard, i know you two will be perfect for each other.

Please take care and take care of him for me,

Narcissa Malfoy

You read the tiny sophisticated handwriting with an ever-growing smile on your lips, until a thought dawned on you: 'perfect for each other'.

What did she mean by that? What had Draco told her that he hadn't told you? Too many thoughts were running freely in your head to notice the hall slowly filling up.

"Hey, good morning. What do you have there?" a voice suddenly brought you out of your trance and, almost instinctively, you folded the letter in your hands.

"Nothing, just mail." you said innocently. You weren't sure whether you should have told him or not. If he really did feel something for you other than friendly affection, he should have told you. When he was ready.

Maybe you had just misinterpreted it, or maybe Narcissa did, nevertheless you wouldn't certainly have told him anything about it.

He eyed the letter, unconvinced, but sat down next to you nevertheless. As he did that, you immediately sprang up, startling him and everyone else at the table.

"I'd better go, many things to do!" you excused yourself and walked, rather quickly, out of the hall, trying to block out all of the confused gazes on you.

Your feet kept a steady pace as you reached the grounds, looking for a silent spot where to really think about the letter you had just received.

You re-read the letter, your eyes always freezing on the same spot: 'perfect for each other'. You started pacing back and forth until you got interrupted, once more.

"Has something happened, y/n?"

Narcissa greeted you cheerily, a polite smile imprinted on her face as she hugged Draco and then you, with such warmth you felt instantly at home.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. Last time I had heard of you was so long ago, although Draco still tells me everything about you." Draco smiled bashfully as Narcissa led the two of you in the living room, "Maybe i should have just written you, but after last time, I wasn't sure..."

You shook your head quickly as you gazed into his grey eyes, worry etched into them.

"What is that?" Draco pointed to the letter again and you hid it behind your back, keeping your eyes on him. "You can tell me, y/n, you know you can."

You weighed your choices and decided it was better to tell him the truth, whatever the consequences.

"It's... it's your mother, she has sent me a letter..." Draco's usually light eyes darkened as something you couldn't quite place took over in his face.

"What did she say? Did she threaten you? That doesn't sound like mother but-"

"What?! No! No, nothing of that sort!" you quickly reassured him, "It's... she said you told her about... me."

Draco relaxed immediately only to tense up again a second after.

"And what did she say?"

"I need to ask you something, Draco." Draco gulped but didn't stop looking at you, nodding for you to go on, "What are we?"

Draco furrowed his brows at the question, letting a small nervous chuckle escape his lips, "Friends, aren't we?"

"And what would you like us to be?"

He stiffened even more, not sure what his answer should have been, truthful and potentially fatal or a lie.

"I think- I know I love you, y/n. Possibly more than a friend." you tried to stifle a smile but it was impossible and ran into his arms, startling him for the second time that day.

He hugged you back almost instantly, happiness flooding his senses at your unexpected reaction.

"Thank merlin, because i think i do too, you know?"

That was the start of it all, everything thanks to Narcissa, the woman you were now following through the huge halls of the manor.

You now knew Draco loved you, but meeting his parents, knowing they could have disapproved, still made your heart beat faster than usual and your hands clench around Draco's.

You reached an enormous room, with an expensive-looking couch in the middle and a few armchairs surrounding it. One of them was occupied by a blond man, uncannily similar to the man whose hand you were currently holding onto for dear life.

"Good morning, you must be y/n." he greeted, standing up from the chair and taking a few steps forward, extending the hand that wasn't holding his cane.

"Good morning, it's a pleasure meeting you mr Malfoy!" you shook his hand, trying to hide your excitement and, most of all, your fear.

"Draco told us about you, i must say you are quite different from how he pictured you." Draco squeezed your hand and you felt slightly better despite the horrible first impression you had just made with his father, "You are certainly prettier than what he told us."

You giggled lightly as Narcissa offered to take the conversation to the dining room. Draco hugged your shoulders while making your way towards the table and one of the nicest evening you ever had.

Narcissa was indeed right, you were perfect for each other.

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#draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #fanfic #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

#genshin impact x reader #Albedo x Reader #exile.goblet #exile.flower #sojourner special #genshin impact #imagines #gender neutral #fluff #anon 🌌

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lumelii · 3 years ago

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PANDA ~|~ NANAMI x FEM!READER

Summary: Nanami and Yuuji stop into the local bakery. Nanami finds something he wants that’s off the menu.

Content warning: fluff, little bit of pining, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: thanks again to Moni for beta-reading 🥰

word count: 1.6k

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“Daddy! Look!”

It was a bakery they had passed multiple times on the way home, living just next door to it. It was small, tucked into one half of the ground floor of the low building it occupied, sharing a wall with a pharmacy. It served reasonably priced pastries and sandwiches, as well as some of the best coffee in Tokyo. Nanami usually took Yuuji there once or twice a month and let him pick what he wanted for breakfast.

The window display was almost always the same, Nanami would have missed the slight change as he tried to juggle the various bags they had accumulated from their early Saturday morning errands if his young son hadn’t pointed it out. He looked over to see the small bag of fruit he had asked Yuuji to carry on the sidewalk, a lone apple rolling away while his son stood on his tiptoes, his nose practically pressed to the glass.

Instead of the standard fare on the very top shelf, there was a row of buns in the shapes of various animals, with different fillings for each shape written neatly on cards next to each. Nanami had to admire the work, they were incredibly detailed.

“It’s a panda!” Yuuji looked back at Nanami and pointed at the aforementioned bun in the middle. “Can we get one?”

Nanami caught himself before denying Yuuji outright. He had been especially good today when they were running their errands, not complaining once as his father dragged him through town and entertaining himself in the various shops without getting into trouble. And they could go to the park later so Yuuji could run off his energy. A little sugar wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure. Go pick up your bag, though.” He pointed to the forgotten paper bag.

Yuuji quickly ran to pick up the bag (as well as the apple, adding it back to the bag before Nanami could tell him no), and grabbed his father’s hand to all but pull him into the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as Nanami would have thought for a Saturday morning, something for which he was grateful. When there was a crowd, Yuuji liked to use people as obstacles and run around and through them as fast as he could. Only the obstacles moved, and he usually ended up on his butt more times than he would have liked.

They were able to go straight to an empty table to drop off their shopping before moving to the counter, and after a few seconds, one of the workers packaging cookies turned around, and Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t like the bakery didn’t have pretty women working there-there were several, ones who would shamelessly flirt and try to butter up Yuuji as a means to get closer to his father, but Nanami didn’t indulge or even notice them. He was polite, got what he needed, then left. He never played into whatever fantasies the cashier of the month decided to dream up.

However, this time, it was hard to remind himself of that conviction when easily the prettiest worker he had ever seen there walked up to the register and smiled at him. Was she new? She had to be new, he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered seeing someone like you.

“Hi, welcome in.” You greeted and leaned against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Panda!” Yuuji yelled, his nose peeking over the top of the counter as he looked at you.

“Yuuji.” Nanami scolded and picked him up so he could actually see you. “Ask politely, son.”

Yuuji smiled at him then turned to smile at you. “Can I please have a panda bun please?”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course, sir.” You replied, making him giggle. Your smile widened and you finally looked at Nanami. “And for you?”

“I’ll just have a black coffee.” Nanami didn’t think he could focus on eating without choking if you were going to be walking around the bakery.

“Me too!”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“I want what you’re having.” Yuuji pouted. Nanami sighed and turned back to the counter.

“Make mine a hot chocolate too.”

You took his money and handed him a number for the table. “Give me just a second, I’ll bring everything to your table. Make yourself at home.”

Nanami nodded and lead Yuuji away from the big display case by the register back to their table, helping him out of his heavy winter coat when he was seated safely. He tried his best to listen to his son as he talked about a dog they had seen earlier today during their shopping trip, but he was finding it very hard to focus.

His eyes kept wandering back behind the counter, watching as you made their drinks and talked with the other workers, laughing along with them at a joke someone had said. He’d never felt this kind of attraction toward another person. It was irrational. He didn’t know you. Yet he still felt that draw.

There had been other women before Yuuji had come into his life, even a few dalliances on nights when Gojou would take him out and Toji would stay home to watch the kids, just to satisfy that primal need. There was even a girlfriend at one point. But Yuuji had declared he didn’t like her after several months, and that was enough for Nanami to end the relationship. There was no point in pursuing a woman who couldn’t to get along with his son.

So why was it now, after finding contentment in being alone for so long, that all he wanted to do was go up and ask you, a complete stranger, on a date?

“You boys are lucky.” Nanami looked up and saw you were now standing next to their table, placing their to-go cups in front of them as well as Yuuji’s panda bun. “This was the second to last one.”

“Do you normally sell out quickly on the animals?” He heard himself asking, like the back of his neck wasn’t on fire right now.

“We only just started making them this week, but for the most part, yes.” You straightened from setting the food down and hugged the tray to your chest. “The red bean panda usually sells first. I suppose people are more used to the flavor.”

“What’s your name?” Yuuji asked suddenly, taking a big bite out of the head of his panda.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled at the young boy. “What’s yours?”

Thankfully, Yuuji took the time to actually swallow his food before speaking, which was uncharacteristic of him. “My name is Yuuji.” His son said proudly. “I’m five.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuuji.” Your eyes turned to Nanami expectantly. “And your name?”

“His name is Dad.” Yuuji told her before Nanami could reply. She laughed, and he thought he hadn’t heard anything quite so wonderful today.

“And is that your first or last name?”

“Our last name is Nanami.” Yuuji answered again, cutting off his father as he opened his mouth to speak. “We live in the building next door.”

“Really? So I do. I just moved in. We’re neighbors.”

“Can I come visit you?” Yuuji asked excitedly.

“Yuuji, let’s not take up any more of the lady’s time.” Nanami interjected, noticing another customer had walked in, but also slightly embarrassed at his son’s oversharing.

“You’re fine, don’t worry. We already had our big morning rush.” You leaned in closer so the young boy wouldn’t hear what you were saying. “I put a shot of espresso in your cup. It should help if you need the caffeine.”

Nanami merely stared back when you pulled back and smiled again. He didn’t know how to respond to this kindness from a total stranger. You didn’t even know him, yet you spoke and cared as if you had been acquainted for a lifetime.

“Y/N!” A voice from the kitchen yelled before Nanami could open his mouth to thank you properly. “We’re almost out of spritz cookies!”

“Coming!” You yelled back and bowed slightly to Nanami. “It was nice to meet you, Dad-san.”

You were gone before he could reply. “It’s Kento.” He murmured to himself. However, Yuuji heard him and fixed him with a frown.

“Your name is Dad.” Yuuji said resolutely.

“I had a name before you came along.”

“And now it’s Dad.”

They sat quietly finishing their drinks, Yuuji swinging his legs happily as he finished his bun and watched the people coming and going in the bakery with wide, curious eyes. Nanami tried hard not to stare at you behind the counter as you worked, but his eyes kept drifting your direction of their own volition. He’d never felt this kind of pull before. He had to be imagining it. He was being irrational.

His line of vision as he watched the door to the kitchen, waiting for you to come out again after disappearing several minutes ago, was blocked when another server came up and set a brown bag with the bakery’s logo on the table. Nanami immediately picked it up and tried to hand it back.

“We didn’t order this.” He told the teenage boy.

“They’re on the house,” was all the boy said before going back behind the counter.

Nanami looked behind the counter and saw you had appeared again, now watching them. When he caught your eye, you smiled widely and gave him a small thumbs up. Looking inside the bag, there was a pair of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, along with the last panda bun. When he turned the bag to put it in with one of the larger shopping bags from their trip, the black ink of a marker caught his eye. Pulling the bag back out, he noticed the same neat handwriting from the display case.

‘Thanks for coming in, neighbor ^_^’

He was truly fucked.

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan (let me know if you want to get added to my tag list-either for this story or any of my writing!)

#growing pains #single dad!nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #itadori yuuji #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #dadami

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wonderful-writes · 4 years ago

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Change in Arrangements

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Reader (Modern AU?)

Summary: You and Charlie had an arrangement: meaningless sex to release stress, no strings attached. But when sleeping with a co-worker starts to feel like more, what do you do?

Warnings: mentions of sex

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @rcwenaclaw’s 1.5k Writing Challenge. I chose the trope “friends-with-benefits to lovers” from her list. I really enjoyed participating in this challenge, so thanks sm!!

———

It started off as something casual. After a long day at work, one of you would want to blow off some steam in a healthy way. You would seek the other out for some nighttime activities to relieve the stress of the workload that came along with being a dragonologist. Sometimes it was you who initiated a rendezvous, sometimes it was him. Either way, you were often found in each other’s arms.

Casual, that’s all it was. You were friends, co-workers. Your arrangement was merely physical. Just two people having sex for the fun of it, no feelings involved. That’s what you both had agreed on. That’s what you both said you wanted. And that’s what worked for months. But, suddenly, it wasn’t working anymore.

You didn’t know when you had developed feelings for Charlie Weasley. During the first few months that you slept together, you didn’t see him as anything other than a friend. Friends-with-benefits, you called it. But, gradually, he became something more than just an object to use, a body to warm the bed. He was no longer someone you wanted to hook up with. You wanted to stay the night without having to leave in the morning. You wanted to hold his hand, to take him out, to give him your heart.

How could you not fall for the tall redhead? He was handsome, charming, and, above all, kind. He was great with animals, a hard worker, and knew how to treat others with respect. There wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t like him. The only problem was that you perhaps liked him too much.

But you kept your feelings hidden. It was only a casual relationship, after all. He was free to date other people, and so were you. But he was the only person you wanted. You couldn’t risk losing your friendship by telling him how you felt. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he wanted to stop seeing you altogether? Having a physical relationship with him was better than nothing. If you couldn’t have all of him, at least you could have a part of him.

After one particularly strenuous day, Charlie was in the mood for something easier on the muscles. He decided to knock on your door once he had showered and cleansed off the dirt of the day. You answered promptly, letting him in and shutting the door.

“What brings you here?” you teased, busying yourself with straightening the pillows on the couch.

“You know why I’m here,” he responded with a grin.

“Oh, do I?” you asked back, as he approached you.

“Yeah, yeah you do,” he breathed once he was close enough to touch you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

“You know exactly why I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“Then let’s get to it.”

You rolled over the second both of you finished, distancing yourself from the man you were previously entangled with. Normally, you would have let yourself remain in his arms for a bit. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep together for a few hours. But that just made leaving that much harder. You knew that if you stayed close to him for long, you’d want him. And not just for sex. You’d want to love him. And you knew you couldn’t do that.

Charlie looked over at you.

“Something up?” he asked, wondering why you were turned away from him and not speaking.

“Uh, no,” you replied. You were staring at the wall, not daring to meet him in the eyes. “I’m just tired. Maybe you should go so that I can get some sleep.”

“Yeah, uh, you’re right,” he answered. “It’s getting kind of late. I should probably head back.”

He stood up and got dressed, glancing over at you periodically. Finally, when he was done, he slipped out the door, leaving you with your thoughts.

After that time, you told yourself you wouldn’t sleep with him anymore. It was too painful when he left. When he got up and abandoned you like you were nothing. It was your fault for telling him to leave, but would he really have stayed if you asked? Probably. But that’s just who he is. He’s always there for his friends, and you were one of them. If you asked him to spend the night, he would most likely have done it. But it wouldn’t have meant anything to him. Would it?

Oh, how you desperately wished you could get him out of your head. He was everywhere, not just at work but in your thoughts and daydreams. He was all you could think about during every waking moment. You had made a mistake by getting attached to someone who didn’t want a romantic relationship, and now you were paying the price.

You decided that you would end things once and for all. You could no longer see him if you weren’t with him. Sure, you’d be civil with him at work. And you’d possibly still be friends. But you couldn’t sleep with him any longer. It hurt too much to be caught up in the throes of passion with Charlie only to have him leave before daylight. You had to stop this relationship before it could break your heart any further.

Ding!

You rubbed your eyes and sat up at the sound of your phone. Glancing at the screen that read 11:30 p.m., you checked to see who could be texting you at this hour.

Charlie: Hey, you up?

Charlie. Of course. Who else would need you this late at night? Well, need is a strong word. He didn’t need you. He just kept you around for a good time.

Your heart craved to text him back, to tell him yes, I’m up now, and I’ll always be available for you. But your mind told you not to. You couldn’t do this again, couldn’t let yourself fall back into a cycle of bliss followed by heartbreak and back to bliss again. It had been two weeks since you made your decision to stop hooking up with him, and you were determined to stay strong. You couldn’t let your heart be shattered anymore.

You: Hey, I’m not sure we should do this anymore.

You anxiously waited for his reply. This was the first time you were telling him that you wanted to discontinue your relationship, and you only hoped he would take it well. You didn’t want to lose his friendship. He meant too much in your life.

Charlie: You mean hook up?

You: Yeah

Charlie: Why?

You: It’s just not what I’m looking for anymore.

Charlie: Okay? This is kind of out of the blue.

You: We’re still friends, right?

Charlie: Of course

You: Well, have a good night.

Charlie: You too

It was going to take a while to get over him. But you knew you had to do it.

After that night, when you finally broke things off with Charlie, things were decidedly normal on the reserve. Nothing had changed, not that you expected anything to be different. You still went to work, saw Charlie there, and interacted with him like usual. The only difference was that you no longer invited him over, and he no longer invited you. That didn’t mean you didn’t think about him.

He still occupied every available space in your mind. You found yourself picturing the two of you together more and more often. When you made yourself breakfast, you wondered what it would look like if he cooked for you. When you went out to shop, you thought about what his favorite store might be. When you saw a couple walking their dog, you pondered over whether he liked small animals as much as dragons. And when you were in bed all alone, you wished he was there next to you, holding you close.

A few weeks after you ended your arrangement with Charlie, you got another text. This time, it came at 6:30 in the evening.

Charlie: Hey, do you want to come over to watch a movie? No sex of course

You spent a good five minutes mulling over his message. Did you want to come over? Of course you did. But spending time with him outside of work, even if it was just to watch a movie, was not going to help you get over him. Eventually, the longing in your heart won against the logical part of you.

You: Sure. I’ll be there in 5.

You arrived at his house no more than five minutes later. He immediately let you in and handed you a mug of tea from the kitchen.

“I was thinking we could watch Gone with the Wind,” he said once you were both situated on the couch.

“Ooh, a classic,” you approved. “But why an old movie? And why a romance?”

He nervously looked at you and scratched the back of his neck.

“It was the first Muggle movie my dad showed us,” Charlie admitted. “I was just thinking about my family and wanted to watch it again.”

You nodded. “Okay, then, let’s play it.”

Throughout the movie, you couldn’t help glance at Charlie every so often. He was enraptured in the film, as if he was watching it for the very first time. Periodically, he would make a comment or two about the movie, usually referencing something his parents or one of his siblings said when they watched it during his childhood. You enjoyed seeing him smile, glad that you could at least see this part of him. But you couldn’t stop picturing what the evening would be like if you weren’t watching a movie as friends, but as romantic partners instead.

When the film was finally over, you got up to put your mug in the sink, taking Charlie’s as well.

“Thanks for coming,” Charlie said, standing up to cross over to the kitchen.

“It was no problem,” you replied. “Besides, I like that movie.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too,” he said. “Not because of the plot or anything, but because it brings back good memories.”

“Is that what this is about?” you questioned.

He gave you a quizzical look.

“Did you want to want to watch it because you’re homesick?” you clarified. “It’s okay if you are. I miss my family sometimes, too.

Charlie nodded. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I, uh, I was missing my parents and my siblings, even the twins, who pranked me all the time.” He smiled sadly at the memory.

“That’s sweet,” you said with a smile. “You can tell me about them, if you want. It might make you miss them less.”

The two of you walked back to the couch, getting comfortable once again.

“Well, you already know the basic stuff, like how many of us there are. Seven kids, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten.”

You chuckled. “It still amazes me how your parents were able to look after all of you. A bunch of crazy redheads running around.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed in mock offense. “Not all of us were crazy. I, for one, was only crazy about dragons, which is totally different.”

“Not sure if it’s different at all, but I’ll take your word for it,” you joked.

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed. “You became a dragonologist, too.”

Two hours later, you and Charlie were both exhausted. After watching the ridiculously long movie and chatting about his family and yours, you were both wiped out. You had succeeded in making him feel better about being away from home, and that was enough of an accomplishment for you. It made you happy to see him smile, and it sent a flurry of butterflies in your stomach to know that you were the one to cause it. As you grabbed your coat to leave, you wished the night would last forever.

“You could stay the night, if you want,” Charlie offered. “It’s late, and you probably don’t want to walk back in the dark.”

“No, uh, it’s fine,” you assured. “I’ve done it before, so this time should be no different.”

“Well, bye then,” he said as he opened the door for you.

“Bye, Charlie.” You sent him a little wave as you made your way down his front steps and onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, wait,” he called out from his doorway. “Do you want to get coffee tomorrow? Before work?”

You sent him a confused look. “We don’t have work tomorrow. That’s why we were able to stay up so late tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right,” he said sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink. “Well, we could still go for coffee. Unless you sleep in on weekends. We could do lunch?”

An immediate yes almost flew out of your mouth. But, somehow, even after the fun night you had with him, there was still a part of you that kept your distance.

“Umm, I don’t know yet,” you answered. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

As if he could sense the hesitancy in your voice, he asked, “Is there something else?”

“What?”

He walked down the steps and approached you. He stopped about a foot away from you.

“Is there something else?” he repeated. “Is there someone else?”

You were dumbfounded. Why was he asking you this? You two weren’t dating. You weren’t even sleeping together anymore. There were no strings attached when you were hooking up, and definitely no strings attached now that you weren’t.

“Is that why you wanted to end things?” he pressed. “Do you have feelings for someone?”

He stepped closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. You didn’t know what to say. Could he possibly feel the same way you do? Was it worth it to admit how you felt? Or was he only asking out of curiosity? Should you continue to guard your heart? You decided to settle on the truth.

“No,” you responded quietly. “There’s no one else.”

“Then why don’t you want to hook up anymore?” Charlie asked. He reached for your hands, and it took everything in you not to pull away in embarrassment.

“It’s because I like you,” you admitted. “As more than a friend. As more than a sex partner.”

Charlie looked stunned. You searched his eyes for anger or amusement or any emotion at all, but all you could see was a blank stare. You wish you could know what he was thinking.

You took his silence as permission to go on. “I honestly think I’m falling in love with you. So I had to end things because it was too painful to sleep with you and then have to watch you leave. I hope you can understand why I can’t do that anymore.”

You gulped and looked down at your hands clasped in his. Before you could fully take in the sight, he dropped your hands in favor of cupping your face.

“I have feelings for you, too,” he told you, peering into your eyes. “I don’t watch sacred family movies with just anyone.”

You let out a little laugh, your head still spinning from the news. “Then why haven’t you ever told me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was afraid of losing you,” you explained. “Keeping you around as a friend is better than not having you in my life at all.”

“That’s the same reason I never said anything either,” he admitted.

“Well, now that it’s all out in the open, do you still want to go for that coffee date?” you asked hopefully. “Or lunch, if that works better.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I would love to.”

By now, his hands had made their way back to your face. Your eyes flickered from his lips to the freckles dotting his face. You smiled softly at him, gazing into his bright eyes. He took this moment between you as an opportunity to lean in. As if still testing the waters of your new dynamic, he stopped inches from your lips.

“Does this mean we’re in a relationship now?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” you whispered back.

“Well, it’s about time for a change in arrangements,” he said with a smile. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve gone with just being your friend or your hook-up buddy.”

“Me neither,” you agreed. “And I don’t know how much longer I can go without kissing you.”

Not long after the words left your lips, Charlie pressed his against yours. You kissed back softly, letting go of all the thoughts troubling you. All that mattered was you and him, finally together.

When you broke away, you couldn’t help but notice the silly grin on his face.

“What?” you asked, even though you knew your face likely looked the same.

“Nothing,” he answered nonchalantly. “It’s just that dragons aren’t the only thing I’m crazy about anymore.”

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x y/n #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley one shot #charlie weasley fanfiction

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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daddy issues - chapter xiii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

As excited as I was about her accepting my proposal, I couldn’t deny that I was nervous about it, too. Being with her during a trip to her family’s house was one thing - actually living together was something else entirely.

One month in and all of my anxiety had disappeared, though. We easily settled into a routine and although she didn’t accept to move into my bedroom, she wasn’t against ending up there when the baby was keeping her awake or she wanted to get something off of her chest.

That was my favorite part about having her as a roommate, actually. Her voice being the first thing I heard in the morning and most often then not, the sound that I listened to as I fell asleep every night.

Even if we hadn’t been… intimate ever since the trip, the very nature of our relationship seemed to have changed in a way or another. Now, I felt more comfortable being flirty with her without the fear of crossing a line. It seemed like I’d learned what was appropriate to do with her and what wasn’t, but I liked to think that she warmed up to my ways a bit, as well.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get rid of the night shirt and come to bed completely nude, darling?” I asked her one of the evenings she patted towards my mattress after I’d already dimmed the lights, only to hear her warm chuckle as she slipped underneath my blanket - unfortunately, still dressed.

“Not tonight, honey.” I didn’t say anything else because I still struggled to admit just how much the petname affected me. And any night I managed to fall asleep with her in my arms, my hands over my child, was a win for me, even if I was having to ignore my cock much more than I’d ever had to do before.

I was okay with being patient, though. Especially since I was reaping the rewards from it, even if they were completely different from the things I had grown accustomed to look for my entire life.

“Ransom, your phone’s ringing.” Her sweet voice pierced my concentration easily, getting me to finally realize the device had been buzzing right in front of me for at least a few seconds without managing to catch my attention.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Looking over the blinking screen, I was surprised to see my grandfather’s name staring back at me. “Hello?” I greeted, intrigued about why he was calling but not all that surprised since it did happen once or twice a month.

“Ransom?” He confirmed like he usually did, making me smile.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I could hear the rustle of papers in the distance, it made me picture him in his study, surrounded by his books and pens, his natural habitat.

“I was just calling to check in on you. It’s been over a month since you last came to visit.” It was like a bucket of ice had been dropped on top of me. He was right. Usually, I’d visit him weekly, or once every two weeks - but ever since I traveled with Y/N to her parent’s place, I hadn’t visited my grandfather or even sent him a message or anything.

“Oh, shit!” I cursed, running my fingers through my hair as I smiled to Y/N so she wouldn’t think anything too bad was happening when her eyebrows flew up in surprise at my reaction. “Well, I’m about to leave the house to take Y/N to work, how about if I stop by your place on my way back home?”

Silence followed my question, making me furrow my eyebrows. Then, as my grandfather answered with his own question, I realized just how hugely I’d screwed up.

“Who the hell is Y/N?”

Harlan’s P.O.V.

Ransom was trying to act as nonchalant as possible when he got out of the car, which meant that he was seriously nervous about talking to me today. He knew me enough to be aware of how I watched everyone arrive at my house from the windows in my study, and so he tried to come accross as calm and collected but missed it by a mile.

“Hey!” He greeted after knocking to announce his entrance. I was surprised to notice the little differences in his appearance - how his hair was a bit longer, like he hadn’t had the time to give it a cut or hadn’t really cared to do so, how he kept trying to hide a small smile that seemed to be permanently etched into his expression now.

This wasn’t the same Ransom I’d always known. The Ransom I’d known had carefully constructed a mask that sported a scowl since he left his childhood, whereas this one seemed to have rediscovered the joy he used to be filled with when he was young, while still carrying some of the weight of adulthood over his shoulders.

A month ago, I wasn’t even sure Ransom knew that adulthood was supposed to be heavy.

“Hello!” I greeted back, waiting for him to occupy his usual chair before me. “It’s good to see your face again. It seems like so much has happened in your life since the last time you paid me a visit.”

The guilt was clear in his expression - another thing I wasn’t used to seeing in my grandson. It only added to my curiosity, my desire to understand exactly what had happened to make such an impact on Ransom.

“I’m sorry for forgetting to call, life’s been crazy,” he explained, to which I nodded patiently.

“So it seems… Care to tell me more about it? Is it because of the baby?” Ransom finally raised his gaze to meet mine, expression stuck between fear and excitement, and it made me smile. He looked so much like a kid, thinking he might have done something wrong, but that something was so fantastic to him, it made it worth the risk of being caught.

“Yes… and no.” And so he launched into an explanation of what it was that he’d been doing the last few weeks he’d been absent. The more spoke, the brighter his eyes became, the more energized his movements were. So by the time that he was done retelling the tale of his pursuit of a closer relationship with the mother of his child, one thing was abundantly clear.

“You’re in love.” He fidgeted on his seat at the affirmation, averting his gaze once more, but didn’t deny it. It had me opening up a smile, barely believing what I was clearly seeing. “Well, this turned out better than I had hoped for.”

Ransom’s head whipped up to find me genuinely happy with what he had shared, and I could see that a weight left his shoulders when he realized that I wasn’t against the incredible changes that he was going through in life.

“What you have found with that woman is something very precious, Ransom. Now, you have to be careful not to lose it.” He gulped, visibly concerned about the possibility, and it only made me more aware of just how deeply he felt for the woman. “I can see that you’re trying. That’s more than you’ve been willing to do your entire life.”

It took him a while to find the courage to say what he wanted to voice. It was clear something was stuck in his head, running in circles, worrying him. “It’s just so hard to look at her and have to remember that she’s not mine.” He hesitated a bit before admitting, “I-I’m terrified.”

“That’s how you know that what you feel is love.” I smiled as patiently as I could to my grown-up grandson who was just now figuring out what life was truly about. “If you weren’t scared to lose her, it wouldn’t be it.”

I knew there was more that he wanted to ask. Now that he’d seen that he didn’t need to be scared to open up his heart, it didn’t take him as long to question, “How do I make her fall in love with me too? She’s so… different from me. Much better than me.” A self-conscious chuckle gave away just how dark his mind was when it came to himself. “She’s almost innocent, in contrast.”

I gave him a smile that I hoped would offer some comfort, reaching over my desk to grasp his wrist. “If you keep being patient, it’s only a matter of time.” From what he told me, it was clear that the girl actually liked him, and was just having a hard time giving into the feeling - much like he was.

“Say, I’ve asked you this about a thousand times since you’ve become of age, but I’m getting the feeling this time you might give me a different answer. Would you like to accompany me to the publishing house later in the week? I want to get your opinion on some of the different projects we’re starting for the next quarter.” I watched him take a deep breath before giving me an answer, and I knew what was going through his head. He was thinking about her and what she would think of his decision when he nodded and said the words I’d been hoping to hear for the last twenty years.

“Yes, I would very much like that.”

#my series #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale reader inserts #ransom drysdale reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale writing #ransom drysdale writings

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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If you're still taking requests, could you do one where someone is making Remus really uncomfortable and someone from the team helps him out? (Preferably Sirius, Leo, Logan, James, or Dumo but everything you do is so good so it really doen't matter 😂❣)

Yep! Please take a look at the TW below before reading, since there are parts of this that are a bit intense. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Combined with protective Sirius and Leo/ Loops friendship!

TW for a super creepy guy, unwanted handholding, unwanted flirting/ not taking no for an answer, innuendo, moderate panic attack, and alcohol

The folding chair next to Remus creaked as a tall man in a perfectly-tailored suit sat down hard in it. He was clearly a drink or two past tipsy, and something in Remus’ throat itched at the way the man’s eyes flickered across his chest and arms. “You’re Lupin, right? The new Lion?”

Remus set his drink down. “That’s me.”

“Stan Martin, nice to meet you.” Stan held his hand out and Remus shook it; his palm was clammy, and he held on just a second too long. Remus was the first to pull away after he felt a light squeeze from wrinkled fingers.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Remus said with a polite smile. Sirius was nowhere in sight, and everyone else was occupied in their own conversations. He swallowed hard. “Do you own a team?”

“Nah, I just fund ‘em,” Stan snorted. “Too much work otherwise, not enough time for play, if you know what I mean.”

Remus forced a laugh. “Right, yeah, totally. Are you involved with the Lions? I’m a bit new to the whole administration thing.”

“Even after being a PT for so long?” Stand gave him an incredulous look, but beneath it there was a shadow Remus didn’t like.

“Yep. I was pretty contained to my tape pallets and charts.” Joke it off, Lupin.

A hand, heavy from alcohol and lack of inhibitions, fell on Remus’ forearm with a few clumsy pats before settling on his wrist. Stan looked directly into his eyes. “If you ever need someone to, ah, show you the ropes, give me a call.”

Remus cleared his throat and tried to pull his arm away, but the hand didn’t budge. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

“No, really. The NHL is a complicated world. I’d be more than happy to take some of that weight off your shoulders.” Stan leaned closer and Remus tensed as his eyes roved his face. “Your freckles are much more striking in real life, Lupin.”

“Please let go of my arm, Mr. Martin.”

“Call me Stan.”

“Let go of me, Martin.”

An awful little grin spread over his thin lips. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you? Too much for Captain Solitude, I bet.”

He jerked his head to the side of the room, where Remus saw Sirius making polite conversation with a woman in a long dress. A spike of fury bubbled up. “Are you talking about my fiancé?”

“Easy, tiger, I’m just saying—” He hiccupped and Remus tried to pull away, but Stan’s grip tightened by a fraction. “—I’m just saying, you could do better with someone who knows how to handle you.”

“I can handle myself just fine. If you don’t stop talking shit about my fiancé, I’ll—”

“What? You’ll do what?” Stan leered at him and Remus paused to shove down his nausea. “You know, you were much prettier before you tried to be like the rest of these jocks.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“I’m just being honest,” Stan huffed, never releasing Remus’ arm from his hold. Remus could feel his shoulders starting to shake. “You’ve got those cute little cheekbones. Very delicate, like—almost feminine. Those training regimens they put you on ruined it, in my opinion. Look, Lupin, when you get tired of tall, dark, and boring over there, gimme a call and you can be pretty aga—”

“What’s going on over here?” a falsely bright voice cut in. The chair on Remus’ other side clicked at its joints as Leo sat down, looking between them with icy eyes. “Am I missing out on all the fun?”

“Hey, Knutty,” Remus managed, wincing as his voice cracked. Stan leaned back in his chair and Remus quickly yanked his arm away, tangling his fingers together.

“Lupin and I were just having a chat,” Stan said, glancing back down at Remus’ lap until he tucked his hands under his thighs. “Nothing big and important.”

Leo’s knee pressed against his own. “Sirius was looking for you a minute ago.”

Stan’s jaw tightened. “What, we can’t finish our conversation?”

“No.” Remus channeled all his roiling discomfort and the urge to knock the creep’s teeth in as he stood up. “No, this conversation has been done for a while. Have a nice night, Mr. Martin.”

Leo’s arm was steady across his shoulders as they walked away; Remus’ vision tunneled, sparkling black at the sides. “Are you gonna be alright?” Leo asked under his breath, his accent soothing. Remus nodded. “You’re shaking, Re.”

“No, I’m not.” He grabbed a plastic cup of water off a nearby tray and nearly sloshed it all over himself. “Jesus fucking—”

“Re.” He could feel his teeth starting to chatter and sweat rolled down the too-tight collar of his shirt. Leo’s hand closed loosely around his own and took the cup. “C’mon.”

“Sirius was looking for me,” he protested as Leo led him down a side hall.

Leo shrugged. “Probably.”

“…he didn’t talk to you.”

“Nope.”

“You came to get me anyway.”

“Yep.”

The clog in Remus’ chest grew and he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Thanks, Knutty.”

A sharp puff of air cooled his burning face. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“I tried to leave.” The words tangled around his tongue as Leo pushed open the bathroom door and led him to the sinks, dampening some paper towels. “I—fuck, Leo, I’m stronger than him but he was holding my arm so tight and I was so fucking freaked.”

“Easy, Re.” Leo sounded like he was trying to calm a spooked horse.

The towels were a balm in Remus’ hands and on his face as he pressed them over his mouth to muffle the wheezing noises. “I’d rather be called a slur to my face than have that happen again.”

The gentle circles on his back stopped for a second. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t—no. I just wanna go home.”

“Deep breaths.” Leo handed him a new towel to blow his nose, then pulled his phone out.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a kickass friend?”

A weak smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his face was still troubled. “Once or twice.”

Remus’ lungs were tight with a mix of fear and disgust; he felt a little like he wanted to throw up, and while Leo’s hand on his back was an anchor to the world, the rest of him screamed ‘don’t touch me’.

Barely two minutes later, the bathroom door swung open. “Honey? What happened?”

“Holy shit,” Remus managed as gray eyes swam into his field of view. Sirius. Sirius meant safety. Reality zoomed back at double speed and the dam broke—tears poured down his cheeks as his whole body began to shake again. “Holy shit.”

Sirius shushed him softly, pulling him close with a kiss to the top of his head. “D’accord, mon loup, je t’ai.”

“I love you,” Remus sobbed. The fabric of Sirius’ suit was probably wrinkling under his tight grip, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I love you so much for exactly who you are, okay? Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I know.” Confusion edged his voice, but he kept it low and gentle. Remus loved him for it, wildly. The door creaked as Leo left, and then there was silence.

He finally pulled his face out of Sirius’ chest, kissing his jaw, cheek, and lips before resting his forehead in the curve of his neck. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ hands eased through the curls above his ears as he cupped Remus’ face in his hands. “What happened, Re?”

Remus shook his head as revulsion rose again. “There was this creep and he wouldn’t let me go. Said some shitty stuff.”

“He was homophobic?” An angry furrow appeared between Sirius’ brows.

“I wish.” Stan’s words rang in his ears and made his mouth bitter with shame. Remus closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Sirius’ face during his confession. “He, uh—he propositioned me. Kind of.”

“He what?”

“I didn’t catch on until he already had my arm.” Remus sniffled, pressing the heel of his hand below his eye to stem the tears. “He followed it up with some bullshit about you, and then some bullshit about me, and just wouldn’t shut up. I just froze. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, mon amour.” Sirius’ touch was so gentle on him, warm and broad compared to the crushing discomfort of Stan Martin. His hands were heavy, but they let Remus move however he liked.

“I love you,” Remus said again.

“I love you, too. Are you ready to go home?”

“I need a minute.” He rubbed his face against the soft lapels of Sirius’ jacket, desperate for comfort around the guilt wedged in his chest; his next words spilled out before he could choke them down again. “You still like me, right?”

“I love you so much—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You—am I still nice to look at? Now that I’m not, y’know, pretty and kinda twink-y.” There was a long stretch of silence. “Is that a yes?”

“Sorry, I had to take a second and stop myself from putting that fucking idiot through a table.” Sirius took a step back and met Remus’ eyes, fixing him with a hard look. “First of all, I love everything about you, and you will always be the most beautiful man on earth. Second, your muscles are the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. Third, you’ve never been—what word did you use?”

“Twink-y. It’s like…delicate. Femme. Etcetera, etcetera.”

More anger sparked in Sirius’ eyes. “Yeah, and you’ve never been delicate. You are the strongest person I know, Re. Whatever he said to you, it wasn’t true.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Absolutely.”

The ballroom was still crowded with high-end management and people Remus never wanted to see again when they finally left the bathroom; thankfully, the throngs of sparkles and dark suits made it easy for them to slip away with minimal human interaction. Stan Martin was over by the water cups, dabbing uselessly at a large wine stain across the front of his crisp white shirt—Remus saw Leo watching him like a hawk with a suspiciously empty wineglass in his hand and internally vowed to give him the biggest hug of his life at the next practice.

Remus slowed down to take in the fresh nighttime air, holding Sirius’ hand tight in his own as they crossed the parking lot. He paused at the passenger door and tugged him in for a slow kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and cologne.

Sirius’ arms wrapped around him and Remus melted into the hug. He felt him trembling slightly, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the chilly breeze. “You are the best part of my life, Re,” he whispered, his voice thick. “The best part, no matter what. I’m so sorry for what happened tonight.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.” Sirius kissed the top of his forehead once before giving him a squeeze and going to the other side of the car. “I’m sure Hattie will agree with me once we’re home.”

Two hours, one hot shower, and thirty minutes of puppy cuddles later, Remus curled up against Sirius’ ribs and felt his chest rise and fall under his palm. “I love you,” he said quietly.

Sirius let out a slow breath and entwined their fingers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Impossible.”

He could hear Sirius’ smile, even in the darkness of their bedroom, and fell asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Ik someone else already asked for like a delivery part (and honestly, that would be amazing. Like imagine the girls reacting to Baby Mix casually dropping it in their chat). But, also imagine Tom and Y/N haven’t released anything to the public and Perrie (my loose-lipped queen) let’s it spill over a virtual interview or something, how chaotic would that be????

Anyway, I truly loved your Baby Mix stories. You’re combining two of my favourite things so effortlessly. Thank you💜💜💜

Hello my love! So sorry for the long wait, I hope you don’t mind! Thank you for requesting this and being so patient with me❤️ I’m so glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix reader! stories🥰 I haven’t written a delivery part yet but I already had an idea of how I wanted to write this so...here ya go! Happy reading🤎🧸

💌.

Meet Aunty Pez

She would be the best aunty in the world, ugh🥺 Also I’m so sorry I haven’t been active, school has been keeping me busy, but hopefully it’ll ease up soon! Sending all my love to all of you💞

At 3:14am, on an early Monday morning, the bundle of joy that you and Tom have been waiting nine months for has finally arrived. After hours of enduring pain and labor, Amelia May Holland was born. Weighing at 7.5 lbs, she had the same bright chocolate colored eyes as her father, gorgeous brown hair, a mix of your and Tom’s nose, and thankfully she inherited your lips. She was a precious little thing, always cradled in the arms of either of her parents, since they both couldn’t believe she was finally in the real world with them.

The sun casted soft rays of light into the hospital room you and your little family occupied. The warm light added to the peaceful atmosphere you were all currently in. You were sat against the hospital bed, cradling Amelia in your arms, while you and Tom stared at her in fascination. You lean your head against Tom’s shoulder, eyes never leaving your baby girl, who’s nose momentarily scrunched up.

Softly chuckling, you glance at Tom, “Not even a day old and she’s already doing a habit of yours.” The gentle smile grows even wider on Tom’s lips, a sense of pride rushing through his veins.

“Well she’s definitely her father’s daughter.” He hums, his arm around your shoulder pulls you flush against his chest. Tom hides his face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses onto your skin trailing down to your shoulder, where he rests his chin.

“I can’t believe we made her. Isn’t she the most gorgeous baby in the world?” He speaks in a hushed voice, cautious of startling his newborn daughter awake. He gazes at Amelia with a fond expression on his face, large fingers gingerly reaching out to softly stroke the back of his baby’s hand. She’s only been here a few hours and she’s already wrapped him around her dainty little fingers. He would go to extreme measures to do anything for her and to make sure she lived the best life she can. She was to be treated like a princess in his eyes; because she was his princess and you’ve been bumped up to be his queen.

“She’s all we’ve ever wanted.” You turn to face Tom over your shoulder. The whole morning, ever since you gave birth, the two of you spent most of the time admiring Amelia and would burst into tears at how proud you were of each other. Not only had you both just made the most precious baby in the world, but this was a new chapter in your lives. A new experience of life with a stronger bond, full of love, and years of memories that’ll be looked back on in the future.

Tom shifts his gaze to you, the look in his eyes changing to adoration. He tenderly kisses your lips, repeating the actions a few more times before speaking. “Thank you so much for this. Thank you for being an amazing wife and giving me a family. I love you so, so, so, so, much. You have no idea.” He brushes his nose against yours, shutting his eyes, to savor the meaningful moment.

“I wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else but you. You’re gonna be such an amazing dad.” You beam at him. Tom softly chuckles, leaning his forehead against your temple, “God, I hope.”

“You will, you’ll be the best one in her eyes. I already know it.” You reassure him, pecking the corner of his mouth. You turn your attention back to Amelia, who was still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“So when should we tell everyone?” Tom asks, resting his chin on your shoulder again. You lean the back of your head against his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his arms.

“I think we should tell our family and friends first. I’m not ready to share her to the public yet, I want her to only be ours for now.” You quietly explain. You feel Tom smile against your skin.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, that’s what we’ll go with.”

(Y/n)🌻: sent a photo

We thought Amelia might want to pop in and say hello to her favorite aunties for the first time!❤️

Perrie🦋: oh my goodness! Congratulations🥳🥳 I’m over the moon for the both of you!!

Oh she’s precious! Look at those cheeks!! I can’t wait to meet her🥺

Jade💜: OMG WE SHARE THE SAME NAME!!

I’m so happy for you and Tom!! You guys are going to be the most amazing parents in the world!❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Baby Amelia, you are the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen!!!😍 Babe, you and Tom have some really good genes👀

Congrats you two!! I’m so proud of you both❤️❤️❤️

Jesy💖: Thank god Amelia got (y/n)’s genes for her lips!!😂😂 I can’t imagine another loose-lipped Holland!

I’m so happy for you guys!! I can’t believe you’re already a mum, darling🥺 We love you so much and can’t wait to see you and Baby Amelia❤️

(Y/n)🌻: You guys🥺🥺 I can’t wait to see you all and get out of this hospital! This bed isn’t doing anything for my back😭

Perrie🦋: You must be so exhausted lovey, how are you doing? I hope everything went well during delivery!

(Y/n)🌻: Very painful, I felt like I was about to pass out omg😭 The doctor kept on telling me to push, I didn’t know if I was shitting myself or pushing the baby out😭

Tom’s been amazing the entire time. Bless him, I think I broke his hand while I was pushing :(

Jesy💖: Omg!! What was Tom’s reaction to childbirth?!!

(Y/n)🌻: If you thought he couldn’t get even paler, you thought wrong! He was as white as the walls in the room😭😭 He was a good sport through it all though!

Also, Amelia’s crying. I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you girls soon!! And good luck with the interview today, you guys are gonna smash it xx

Perrie🦋: Don’t worry about us! You’re officially on maternity leave now! We’ll send your regards for the interviewer❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Look at our baby mama! We love you❤️❤️❤️

Jade💜: Say hello to baby Amelia and that Aunty Jade loves her🥰

Jesy💖: ^Kiss ass, she’s not even a day old and the competition for best Aunty has already begun smh.

Bye darling, we’ll catch up with you soon❤️

You smiled at your screen before turning it off and placing it onto the table beside your bed. Tom was pacing the room, cradling Amelia against his chest. He was gently rocking her back and forth, alternating from shushing her to humming some sort of tune underneath his breath. You sat back and admired the curly headed boy that’s claimed your heart. Not only was he the love of your life but he was also the father of your child. Sure you guys were young, both in your late 20s, but the daddy role definitely fit Tom perfectly.

Tom must’ve felt your stare because he turned around and sent you a tired smile. He walked towards your bed and motioned for you to lay down. Using one had to cradle Amelia, he used the other to help you get comfy in the hospital bed. Still with one hand, he fixed your hair on the pillow so that it was away from your face. His large calloused hand cradled your jaw, “Get some sleep, darling. I know how tired you are.”

You pouted at him, “But what about Amelia?” He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll try and get her to sleep. You just close your pretty eyes and get some rest in.”

“What if she’s hungry?”

“If she doesn’t fall asleep, then I’ll wake you up. Just please get some sleep, love. You haven’t taken a proper nap since this morning and I know you’re already close to knocking out.” He reasoned with pleading eyes. You sigh finally giving in, lazily nodding in response. Tom beams at you and leans down to place a tender kiss onto your lips.

“I love you both.” You mumble against his lips. He pecks your lips once more, “And we love you too, mummy.” The moment you closed your eyes, you were out like a light.

You managed to take a nap for about half an hour until you felt a few pats on your shoulder. You were immediately awake, turning your head to look for Amelia. You looked at the hospital bassinet, where you could see her sleeping peacefully.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Tom. He was sat beside your bed with his phone held in his hand watching something.

“I’m so sorry for waking you, but you should see this.” He apologized with a pitiful smile. He scoots closer to the bed so you can look at the screen. Your brows furrow together in question as you stare at Tom; it was the girls’ interview.

“Just watch.”

“Hello ladies! Thank you for joining me today!” The interviewer started. A round of “hellos” and waves were seen on the recorded Zoom session.

“Thank you for having us!” Leigh-Anne said.

“Yeah, it’s always a pleasure to be on your show, Zach.” Jade gushed. Zach made a show of flattery making them all laugh.

“I mean I guess I should start by asking how are all of you?”

Jesy was the first to answer, “I’d say we’re all doing pretty good, aren’t we girls? You know—just trying to get by especially with all that’s going on in the world.”

Perrie agreed, “Yeah, we’re lucky enough to be healthy and have the privilege to work. So I’d say we’re very blessed and making the best out of situation.”

“That’s great for you girls. AND speaking of making the best of the situation, thank you for giving us entertainment! I’ve been watching The Search and I’m absolutely obsessed.” Zach began, complimenting the show. He continued, “Although I did notice, that there’s only four of you at the moment, and in the show. How is it like to not have (y/n) around?”

Jesy pouted, the other girls having familiar reactions at the lack of your presence.

“As much as we miss her, it’s best for her and the baby to stay home and away from the public. When it comes to your career or family; family comes first, so it was totally understandable.” Jesy explained.

Jade chirped in, “Well, she’s not completely missing out. She’s had a few virtual appearances on the show and we’ve all been in contact, we always know what she’s up to.”

“How’s she doing? With the baby preparations and all?” Zach asked the girls. Their faces immediately brightened with joy, especially Perrie how squealed and clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh she’s doing wonderful, we were just texting her! She’s officially on maternity leave!” Perrie cheered. On the screen, Jesy eyed Perrie warily.

“Officially on maternity leave?”

Perrie smiled widely, “Yes, she is! She sent us a photo of the baby in our group chat and my goodness! Their baby is so cute, I just want to pinch her little cheeks!”

The three other girls’ eyes widened at the things coming out of Perrie’s mouth too stunned to say anything.

Zach squinted at Perrie, “Wait she’s already had the baby?”

“PERRIE!”

“Yeah, today actually.” The blonde answered proudly.

“PERRIE SHUT UP!”

“STOP TALKING!”

Perrie stopped, looking at the three girls offendedly, “What?”

“Oh my god, she did not.” Leigh-Anne facepalmed herself. Jade’s jaw was slack and Jesy’s eyes were wide with horror.

“Babe, do you know what you just did?” Jesy questioned Perrie, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in stress.

You paused the video, taking in what just happened.

Tom eyed you carefully, “Your phone’s been blowing up consistently. Pez even called me to apologize, she feels really bad (y/n).”

You frowned knowing that Perrie was most likely upset at herself. You’ve been friends with Perrie for years now. It was common knowledge amongst you and the girls that if something big and secretive were to happen, you were to never tell Perrie. Not that you all wanted to leave her out on propose, she just didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. When Perrie found things that made her happy or excited, she didn’t know how to contain her happiness. So it wasn’t completely a surprise to learn she’s told the world you and Tom were finally parents.

Tom noticed that you were still quiet, “Are you mad, darling?”

You shook your head, “No—no, I’m not mad at her. I know Perrie can get too excited sometimes.”

“So you’re okay with this?” Tom asked you, knowing that just an hour ago you said you wanted to keep Amelia away from the public. His hand reaches for yours, grasping it.

You tilted your head at the ceiling, “Yeah, I guess I am? I mean it’s not like she said Amelia’s name or anything. All she told them was that I gave birth already.” You paused and turned to look at Tom.

“Plus, I think she’s saved us the trouble of figuring out how to tell the world about Amelia.” You send him a smile. He reciprocates the action and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “We don’t have to tell them anything more. All they have to know is that you’ve given birth and our little princess is healthy. Also that we’re very happy. The rest of the details will only be for us. For now.”

“For now.” You confirmed squeezing his hand. You glanced at your phone and motioned for Tom to give it to you. Scrolling through your contacts you clicked on Perrie’s name, “I guess we should call her and thank her.”

You clicked on the FaceTime icon and not even a second later, Perrie immediately answered the call.

“I am so sorry.” She apologized, hand covering her face. You chuckle at her and shake your head, “We’re actually calling you to thank you Pez.”

Her face contorts into confusion, “What do you mean thank me? I just exposed the two of you during a live interview.”

Tom poked his head into frame, “Well one, you’ve announced that Amelia’s here already, so that’s one thing off our list. And two, you just saved me months worth of relief during interviews. Now that everyone knows we have a baby, I don’t need to be scared of accidentally slipping it out when I have to do promos!”

The blonde looked between both you and Tom I’m disbelief, “Are you kidding me? If I knew you two would’ve responded this way I wouldn’t have been spending the last hour beating myself up for it.”

You laughed smiling at her. Perrie beamed at the both of you, “For just delivering a baby, you look gorgeous hun. You’re glowing.”

“Aw thank you, lovey.” You look at Amelia from the corner of your eye. “Do you wanna see her?” Perrie eagerly nods at the camera. Tom takes the camera and rounds your bed to the bassinet. Aiming the camera above Amelia he said, “Amelia, meet Aunty Pez.”

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sushi0989 · 4 years ago

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Pick Me If You Want To (part 1)

Summary: Set in the early 1950s, you are an aspiring photographer that is currently working at a toy store until you make your big break. During a surge of Christmas shopping, you are first met by Wanda Maximoff, a mother of twin boys and married. She leaves her gloves, which gives you the opportunity to meet her again. She takes fond of you, and you of her, but her messy divorce with her husband, Vision, risks the custody of her twins. Does she continue your blossoming relationship or fight for her kids? Based on the movie Carol

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: none (i think)

Word Count: 4823

A/N: I actually thought of this idea in the middle of the night while lying in bed and I literally jumped out of bed to write it down haha. I have 2 parts written so far and I plan on having 4 parts in total. I’m also not sure if I want to include smut because in the movie they hook up once, but I’ll think about it. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy :)

Christmas was the most hectic time of the year, for shopkeepers especially. You were struggling to stay afloat during the Christmas present buying palooza. The customers kept flowing in searching for the perfect toy for their child or nephew or grandchild, constantly asking what was the best of the best. Not to mention, the annoying Santa hat perched on your head was a little too big for you, so it kept sliding off and obstructing your view. Your shift ended ten minutes from now, you only had to keep at this for ten more minutes, you assured yourself.

That was when a woman walked in: curled chestnut red hair falling just above her shoulders, red lipstick glistening in the store lights, and wore a tan coat over her light blue dress with matching gloves. She looked at the different products quizzically as you tried not to stare. She began to come to your area at the counter, so you pretended you were writing in the sales slip.

"Hello, sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could help me?" the woman asked you, her voice was warm but also had a richness to it you couldn't quite describe. Perhaps like honey. "Of course, ma'am. How could I be of assistance?" you responded with your customer service voice, perky and obnoxious, two things that you were not.

"I was hoping to get something for my twin boys, but I'm not quite sure what I should get them, you see. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction," she continued, her eyebrows furrowed while addressing you, her green eyes not leaving yours.

Your thoughts about annoying customers disappeared all for this woman. There was just something about her that made you drawn to her, but what was it? "May I suggest a model train? It would be a great gift to share between the two of them," you suggested. The woman felt that she could trust you with anything, you had this energy that she wanted to relish in, but your interaction only lasted for 2 minutes. You gestured to the model train showcase behind the woman and she nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think I would like to order that, thank you, doll," she said to you, your stomach fluttering at the nickname.

"Could I get your name please?" you asked so you could fill out the sale slip, you tried maintaining your professional composure. "Wanda Maximoff," she answered. You asked her to sign the bottom of the page, and she took her gloves off and placed them on the counter beside her to do so, your eyes glanced at her gold wedding band on her ring finger. You stared away to check on other customers as she signed and you noticed an older woman who appeared to be needing help. "If you would excuse me, I need to help another customer. Darcy over here will help you with the purchase," you told Mrs. Maximoff as you made your way to the old woman by the action figures.

She nodded her head and watched you as you turned away. Darcy came over to Mrs. Maximoff and assisted her with the payment, but as Mrs. Maximoff was leaving, she was so focused on you that she had left her gloves sitting on the counter. When you were about to leave for home, you noticed the light blue gloves still lying on the counter, but Wanda was nowhere to be found.

You went to your boss, "Mr. Stark, it looks like one of our customers has left their gloves," you stated with a ring of fear that he might get angry. He crossed his arms and huffed, "well then go look at the sales slip and contact them." You nodded, "yes sir," and pulled out the sales slip for the day. There was written, 'Wanda Maximoff' along with her address and phone number. You wrote the address down on a separate envelope and placed the gloves inside and mailed it off on your walk home.

You got back to your apartment, and much to your disappointment, your boyfriend was there, too. "Hey, baby," he said as you walked into the living room, engulfing you into a hug that you weren't really in the mood for. "Hey, Steve," you said into his chest trying to pull away, the strong scent of cologne invaded your nostrils. He wasn't a terrible person, but you couldn't stand him most of the time by his 'lovey-doveyness'. Your first year with him was great, your love felt pure, but over time it felt bland and repetitive. He, however, was infatuated by you, always wanted to be with you in every waking moment like a puppy.

"Come to France with me," he whines, but you've already told him dozens of times that you didn't want to. You were in the midst of potentially getting signed on as a photographer for The New York Times thanks to your friend, Bruce, who works there. "I already told you no," you groaned, walking away to put your bag down and ready to shower. "Come on, I have so many things planned for us," he pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it and locked yourself in your room. Little did you know, he wanted to propose to you with a candlelit dinner on the Eiffel Tower.

"Open the door," he knocked aggressively, but you didn't want to deal with him right now, or else you would say things that you wouldn't be able to take back. "I'm tired, I'm going to take a shower and crawl into bed," you groaned through the door. "Why don't I join in," he murmured seductively. "Not today, I'm not feeling it," you replied flatly. Steve sighed and walked off, now relieved, you gathered your showering items and went to the bathroom.

Wanda arrived back at her home late at night, her sons running up to her as she walked through the door of her grand estate in New Jersey. Vision, her husband, gave her an irritated expression as she hugged her children. "Go off to bed, kids, I need to talk to Daddy," she cooed and kissed the tops of their heads and they ran off up the spiral staircase.

"Took you long enough to get home."

"Well I was running errands," Wanda huffed and went over to the cupboard that contained alcohol and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She walked over to a chair in the living room and sat with her legs crossed eyeing her irritated husband.

"Errands," Vision chuckled dryly. "It's my turn to sleep in the bedroom, you can stay in the guest room tonight," he seethed while going up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door shut.

Wanda sighed as she chugged her drink and slumped further into the chair. Once the divorce was finalized she could finally be free from his judgment. She could do whatever. Wanda eventually went upstairs and quietly entered the room of her sleeping boys, giving them each other kisses and tucking them in as they were fast asleep.

In the morning, Wanda received a package with her gloves inside, the return address reading 'Stark's Toy Emporium.'

Wanda picked up the phone and called the store.

"Hello, this is Stark's Toy Emporium, Tony Stark speaking," a man answered, seeming to be in a rush. "Hello, I just received my gloves I misplaced at your store in the mail, I was wondering if I could thank whoever found them," Wanda replied.

Soon you were being called over by Tony, his eyes rolled in annoyance, as per usual. You quickly grabbed the phone hoping it wasn't Steve, "Hello?"

"Hi! This is Wanda, I just wanted to thank you for sending my gloves," she chimed through the speaker. "Oh it was nothing ma'am," you replied, trying to shake off the feeling you were getting from this woman's voice. "Well, I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch as thanks," she invited, her voice was a bit softer, deeper than before. "No, ma'am it's okay, it wasn't that big of a deal," you answered back. "Oh come on now, it's my treat. I'll see you at 2 pm at Barnes' Bistro," she hung up the phone before you could object.

It was already noon, only two more hours before you had to awkwardly make small talk with a woman you very well are intimidated by for some odd reason. You hung the phone back on its receiver and returned to work, the rush of people continued through till the end of your shift. There was not even a moment of rest before your lunch. You masked your exhaustion as you entered the restaurant, the aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with delicious food circulated the air, but you would take this scent over Steve's cologne any day.

A waiter noticed you enter and greeted you, "Good afternoon, ma'am, do you have a reservation?" You quickly scanned the restaurant and noticed the top of the chestnut red hair in the back corner. "Um, I believe the name is Maximoff, I see her back there," you pointed in the direction of the redhead. "Ah yes, Mrs. Maximoff, right this way ma'am," he gestured for you to follow him towards the back of the restaurant. It was rather dimly lit, the booths were occupied either by two men in business suits or a man and a woman, all of whom were smoking a cigar or cigarette.

"And here you are," the young waiter said as you stood at the end of the table, Mrs. Maximoff glancing up meeting your eyes. Her fingers also held a smoking cigarette, but you didn't mind since it was the norm, however, you personally didn't smoke. "You made it!" she exclaimed quickly, getting up and kissing both of your cheeks as a greeting. You awkwardly smiled and sat across from her in the booth seating.

"What drink would you like, ma'am?" the waiter asked. "Oh, uh, water should be fine, thank you," you replied quietly, your nervousness could be detected from miles away, but Mrs. Maximoff seemed to be shocked for some odd reason. "Water? No dear, let me treat you to something nice, could you get her a glass of Chianti?" she requested and the waiter nodded enthusiastically and rushed off. Mrs. Maximoff took one last puff of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray.

"So, I don't think I ever got your name, dear," she began. "Y/n Y/l/n" you answered quickly. "That's a pretty name for a pretty girl," she smiled and picked up her glass of red wine and took a swig. Your face blushed at the compliment, you looked down at your hands fiddling with the spoon on the table to avoid her eyes. The waiter came back with the glass of red wine meant for you and placed it next to your hand. "Thank you, Peter," Mrs. Maximoff said to him. He nodded his head before dashing off again.

"How long have you been working at the toy store?" she questioned. "It'll be one year next month, it's just a side thing," you answered embarrassed to mention your true dream. "Well, what is it you want to do?" she raised an eyebrow. "I uh- I'm a photographer," you stammered. "That's very intriguing, y/n" she complimented, you were flustered by the use of your name.

"Have you had any success in finding a job relating to photography?"

"I just met with a photo editor at the New York Times last weekend, I have to put together a portfolio and send it off to them to be considered for a position," you explained, finally looking up at her and putting your spoon down. "That sounds exciting! You must show me your work!" Mrs. Maximoff exclaimed with genuine excitement. Steve would complement your photography, but it felt half-hearted, maybe it's because he didn't want you to overshadow him someday.

After lunch as the two of you headed out, Mrs. Maximoff and you exchanged a farewell. "Thank you again for the lunch, Mrs. Maximoff," you thanked her in a quick hug. "Oh, it was my pleasure. And please call me Wanda, you're making me feel quite old. How about I give you my number and we can meet again?" she offered and you couldn't help but nod. As much as you weren't keen on continuing this friendship or relationship or whatever was happening, you felt like this woman understood you in a way no one else did.

You decided to go visit Bruce to thank him for getting the meeting with the photo editor. The thought of Wanda's phone number written on a slip of paper in your handbag added pep to your step as you strolled into the office building. You walked up to the front desk saying you were going to visit a friend, "Mr. Banner is on floor 11," she said. The elevator let you off on the floor and you saw Bruce in his office typing away on his typewriter.

"Y/n! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!" he beamed and got up from his desk to give you a kiss on the cheek. "I figured I should stop by since you're the reason my dreams have a chance of becoming a reality now," you smiled and took a seat across from his desk. "It was no problem, your talent would add so much to the paper. You're also welcome here whenever," Bruce stated leaning back in his armchair.

"Where are my manners? Let me get something to drink! I've got whiskey, gin-" "I just had a drink actually," you countered declining his offer.

"What's one more drink gonna do? Come on, live a little!" he pressured you and got up to go to the corner of his office to pull out two glasses and a bottle of gin. "Fine, only this once," you caved in. He poured two drinks and handed you one. The gin went smooth, but it still burnt your throat, however, you were able to mask it.

"How are things with you and Steve?" Bruce inquired with skepticism, which you found a little out of character, but the alcohol toiled with your mind and proceeded to spill all of your thoughts. "He wants me to go to France with him even though I've told him not so many times. I can't deal with him anymore, but I've been with him for so long now that I feel bad to end things," you confessed, making Bruce intrigued. He leaned on his desk directly in front of you.

"Is there someone else you think is causing you to lose interest in him?" Bruce asked in a low tone and leaned towards you a little bit, but still your slightly tipsy self didn't see the red flag. "I mean, I haven't really thought about that," you answered pondering, thoughts of Wanda flashing in your mind, but you were quickly brought back to reality when Bruce's lips were on yours.

You shrieked, forcing him to pull away. You angrily got up, "what the hell, Bruce?!" you scolded him. "I'm sorry! You weren't reacting when I was leaning closer to you so I just went in!" he defended his actions. "God! All men are the fucking same!" you complained and downed your drink before rushing out of his office. Bruce rubbed his forehead realizing the mistake he made, but it was too late to take it back now.

You arrived back in your apartment to emptiness, Steve was nowhere to be found. Thank god, you thought. You stumbled onto your pea-green sofa and laid there in anguish. Nothing seemed to appease you, nothing went your way. As soon as these thoughts rang in your head, your telephone rang as well. You groaned as you begrudgingly made your way to the kitchen where the phone was hung.

"Hello?" you groaned in a tired and yet apathetic voice which Wanda was a bit surprised to hear.

"Hi, sweetie, it's Wanda!"

You held your breath realizing you rudely answered the woman. You cleared your throat and corrected your shoulders before speaking again. "Hi- uh I'm- hi!" you stuttered, grumbling to yourself for this embarrassing encounter.

"I was calling to invite you over to my house, I would love to have you over," Wanda said, biting her lip hoping that you would say yes. She twirled the cord connecting to the receiver around her finger patiently waiting for your answer.

"Oh, really? I mean, I can. I don't have a car though-"

"I can pick you up!" Wanda interrupted with excitement. "When are you free this week, dear?"

"I'm free tomorrow," you replied with a smile to contain yourself. "I'll come tomorrow at noon then," Wanda concluded, little did you know just how much she was looking forward to seeing you and your adorable self. She couldn't get enough of you, and neither could you get enough of her.

Steve never came home that night, and you didn't care one bit. He was a nuisance to your life, especially right now since he knew how much this photography opportunity meant to you, but his pestering was going to make you snap and break his heart at any second.

You looked your best self, wearing a navy blue blouse with black trousers. It wasn't that common for women at the time to be wearing such things, it was more progressive, however, all you cared about was comfort. You occasionally would wear dresses, but you preferred pants and a shirt. You could say that it was for Wanda, but it was for yourself. People, particularly women, would examine your modern style as appalling, but not Wanda. You figured why not be comfortable and stylish.

You made a small breakfast before Wanda arrived. You had a bit of a headache from all of the alcohol you had the day before, but that was barely on your mind. All you could think about was making sure you looked presentable as did your apartment before Wanda came. You just finished drying the last dish when you heard a knock on your door. You dried your hands with the dish towel before scurrying to quickly let Wanda in.

There she was, standing in a red coat that hugged her figure in all of the right ways. She wore a beige dress underneath, hidden by the boldness of the coat that you couldn't keep your eyes off of. She was also wearing a matching red hat that looked beautiful with her chestnut hair.

"Ready to go?" she asked, seemingly in a hurry. "Yes, let me get my bag," you turned around and grabbed your bag off of the coffee table, inside holding your wallet and your camera just in case there was an opportunity to shoot.

You walked with Wanda side by side in a comfortable silence until you reached her car. You sat on the passenger side, which was connected with the driver's seat.

"Would you like any music?" Wanda inquired as she pulled out of the parking spot on the curb. "I'll listen to whatever you do," you answered. You didn't listen to music all that much, you didn't have the time to nor did you have a radio.

"I like to drive in silence, the sound of the wind soothes me," Wanda replied. You turned your head and saw how the cool wind tousled Wanda's hair around, but never did it ruin her perfect curls.

"There's a Christmas tree farm on the way that I wanted to check out if that's okay with you," Wanda imparted quickly glancing at you but focused on the road. "That's fine, I don't mind," you said. Wanda's cheeks feathered a light pink, delighted that you agreed. She soon pulled into the small but crowded Christmas tree market. There was Christmas music playing, kids laughing and sprinting around completely oblivious to the disgruntled shouts by their parents, and the occasional newlywed couple admiring what tree was to be their first one.

"You can stay in the car if you'd like, I'm just going to pay for one and bring it back some other time," Wanda was saying to you standing right out of the passenger window. You didn't even notice her get out of the car let alone walk around to get your attention away from the beautiful scene you were watching. "That's fine, you go ahead," you answered, glancing up at her face.

Wanda turned around and made her way towards the clerk, the cool winter breeze ruffling her coat and hair. Your attention was now focused on the woman, how her smile stretched from ear to ear, her mannerisms like how she would play with the ring on her finger while speaking to someone, or how she would partially bite her lip while thinking of a response to a question in conversation.

Your hand automatically reached for your bag and pulled out your camera. You stepped out of the car and shot some candid photos of Wanda, capturing her elegance. As Wanda finished up, you took pictures of the rest of the scene you were so enthralled in before Wanda had caught your attention again. Once you were satisfied, you went back into the car and wrote your name onto the foggy window.

"Dirtying my car I see," Wanda teased, making you tense up. "I'm sorry, I'll wipe it-"

"I'm just kidding, you're so uptight! Let loose! I don't bite," Wanda assured you, but you still held your breath around her. You didn't want her to think badly of you, to set her off in any kind of way even though you barely know this woman. You responded to her with a weak smile to exemplify that you understood her suggestion, you reprimanded your subconscious for looking into her enchanting eyes.

She got into the driver's seat once again, only her left hand gripped the steering wheel while her right hand rested on her lap. After another 20 minutes, you arrived at her home. It was evening by the time you got there, the sunset earlier in the winter, but the area around her room was beautifully lit. It was just as you imagined, a large estate with a grand yard filled with all kinds of bushes and flowers surrounding it.

"Wow," you gawked in amazement. You both entered and your head swiveled to take in all of the details perfectly situated around her home. Your eyes lingered at a family portrait of her, her twin children, and what appeared to be her husband, a tall man who had a strained smile, forced, no true happiness lying beneath it. There was no one in the home, was what you thought at first until you heard the giggles of children emanating from upstairs.

"Billy! Tommy! What are you doing?" Wanda shouted, her hands on her hips facing to look up the spiral staircase in the direction of the laughter. "We're just playing, Momma!" one of them shouted back from the bedroom.

Wanda turned back to face you and sighed. "They can be a handful, but I'm just glad they have one another to keep each other entertained." You nodded in understanding, you had younger siblings who were reckless little misfits that you had to take care of, so you knew exactly what it was like.

You noticed a beautiful grand piano located in a room beside the dining area and your legs automatically took you towards it. You hand caressed the top, you had never seen such a luxurious piano, you've only ever played cheap upright ones. "Can you play?" you asked Wanda, your eyes still admiring the ivory keys.

"Sadly, I cannot. My husband can, but he hasn't touched it in years," Wanda confessed, a twinge of disappointment in her tone. "Can you?"

"I can, but I'm not the greatest," you chuckled dryly. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that, y/n because now I'm going to need to hear you play for me," Wanda smirked and walked over to you and the piano. "Oh gosh, I'd rather not. My hands probably have lost their ability and my voice-"

"You sing, too?! Now I must hear you play and sing!" Wanda was elated, she leaned on the piano as your face heated up. You sighed knowing that you were a guest and you brought nothing to give, not even a bottle of wine. "Since I didn't bring you a gift for inviting me to your home, this can be it," you grinned nervously as you slowly sat on the bench and placed your hands on the keys.

Your fingers automatically played a run, completely captivating Wanda at the effortless ability. You cleared your throat and began to sing.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. Everybody falls in love somehow. Something in your kiss just told me, that sometime is now." You carried on singing, your voice lulling Wanda as she swayed to the song. She crept over and took a seat next to you on the piano bench as you continued playing, trying not to stutter your words when you felt her leg brush yours.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. And though my dreams were overdue, your love made it all worth waiting for someone like you," you slowed the song and the piano still hummed the last note. Wanda placed her hand on your thigh and whispered, "that was absolutely beautiful." You shuddered by the touch and curled your toes.

"My dad taught me how to play. He would always sing this song to my mother. He loved her so much, I swore that I one day want to love someone the way my dad loved my mom. When he passed, I would play this song for my mother in his place, but then she started to lose her memory and now she stays with my younger sister in New Haven," you explained solemnly. Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, her heart ached for you. She moved her hand from your thigh to your face, cupping your cheek.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I am certain, however, with that talent and song you can win over anyone's heart in under five seconds," she smiled and kissed your forehead. You blushed and looked deeply into her green eyes. You tried to capture this moment into your subconscious. She was no longer in her coat, just her beige dress, a pearl necklace, no gloves, and the same red lipstick. Her mouth was slightly open, she glanced down at your lips and began to close the gap.

The front door of the house abruptly opened and a man wearing a suit hiding underneath a black coat walked inside with a brown briefcase. Wanda quickly dropped her hand from your face and stood up. You turned away from her as well. He took notice of the tension and scowled.

"Wanda. You brought your antics into our home. My home. Under my roof. Already moved on from Monica and now you've brought someone else!" he fumed and aggressively put his briefcase down. "Don't yell in front of her, Vision! We can discuss this privately," Wanda hissed at him.

"I'm taking the kids to Florida with me for Christmas, right now," he announced as he ran upstairs to their room. "You're what?! You didn't discuss this with me!" Wanda yelled at him running after him. He soon was holding each kid in either arm and pushed Wanda out of his way. "You can't do this!" she began to cry, but he ignored her, anger clouded all around him. There was a car outside with a chauffeur, Vision put them in the backseat. You stood there watching this all unfold, unsure of what to do.

You rushed over to the front door to see Wanda sobbing while on her knees on the porch as the car drove off. You crouched down and embraced her, she put her arms around you and burrowed her face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Her sobs wracked her entire body, her breathing was uneasy, so you rubbed circles on her back. She eventually calmed down and pulled away.

"I'll drive you to the train station," she said with her broken voice. You nodded your head, she needed time to herself and you were right now a reminder of what she just lost. "I'll call a cab, you should go get some rest," you responded and held her hand in yours. "Are you sure?" Wanda replied. You gave her a smile, which she took as her answer.

The cab arrived within ten minutes, Wanda waved goodbye, no hug or kiss on the cheek. You waved back through the window and the view of her became smaller and smaller as the cab drove off into the night.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #fanfic #marvel #avengers #wanda x reader

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