#um I’m 21 and use she/her that’s all ty x

[01libra]

✧.* Caja (pseudonym); oxf grad student ✿.*

[ellsbclls]

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship. 

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking. 

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit. 

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing," 

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand. 

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly. 

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment. 

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

[bukojuiice]

rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist 

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq 

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m  going to be writing for it.  this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ  in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies.  After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

 He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.  

 Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

 “EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.  

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment. 

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

 The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

 Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

 You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

 “I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

 “Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

 Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

 "I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

 The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong. 

 “Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.  

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!” 

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something. 

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Nothing Changed But Everything’s Different | Sirius Black x Reader

Warning: slowburn angst, mentions of slight violence, alcohol, no happy ending

Time/Era: Marauder Era, Ages 18-21

Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: Sirius found someone who made him believe in love at first sight. 

Request: Okay! :) Well in that case can I have an ANGST Sirius x Reader? Where they’ve been together for a few years (it’s post-hogwarts only a couple years) but the relationship is starting to sour and crumble. Sirius being Sirius is flirting with other girls and just neglecting y/n. They argue a lot and everyone can see that it’s deteriorating. It gets to a point where he just flat doesn’t acknowledge her even though they live together, long and ANGSTY pls 🥺 :) U decide the ending! :) Ty, much love!

A/N: I worked really, really hard on this so I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think :)

part 2 | masterlist | marauders era playlist | read on ao3

“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Prongs!” A young Sirius Black twirled around the dorm room and fell onto his bed with a dreamy sigh. “She’s witty and smart mouthed, but she’s so sweet and nice at the same time. She listens to the Weird Sisters and Queen and she’s a total badass.” 

“Y/N L/N?” James scoffs, bending over a sketch he was working on. It appeared to be an intricate building of some sort, complete with four stories and geometric windows. 

“Yes, Y/N L/N! I think it’s love at first sight, Prongsy. I’m going to marry that girl one day.” Sirius laid one of his ankles against the post of his bed. The leather of his boot made a loud squeaking noise, and James cringed.

“Have you ever even talked to Y/N L/N?” James smiled smugly and smudged ink across the side of his hand. 

“Have you ever had an actual conversation with Lily Evans?” Sirius countered, making James sputter. James looked diagonally towards Sirius and moved his head so their corresponding bedposts weren’t in the way. 

“I have! This morning, for example! We talked about the morning toast for a full 3 minutes!” His glasses began to fog as his cheeks warm. Sirius laughed heartily and threw the pillow that was under his head square at James’ face. With a deep ‘oof,’ James looks back towards Sirius, glasses now crooked. “Fine, don’t believe me! You’re just angry Evans is finally starting to fall for my charm.” 

“Ah yes, my bad. I forgot sweat and body odor was irresistible to girls.” 

“Lily isn’t a girl.” James reached his slender fingers to level his glasses. “She’s a woman.” 

Sirius was sent into hysterics; chest heaving, loud laughter, tearful, hysterics. James rolled his eyes and threw the pillow back at Sirius. But, in all of its glory, the cushion hit Sirius’ bedpost and sent feathers flying through the air. Sirius busts out in even more laughter, falling to the floor with a big, dramatic thud. 

“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, entering the room and setting his bag onto his bed. “Why is Pads on the floor?” 

“JP assaulted me!” 

“I DID NOT YOU THREW FIRST!!!” 

Remus chuckled under his breath and unbuckled his bag to retrieve his homework. “And what exactly caused this alleged assault? Did Sirius call you Prancer again?” 

A bark sounding laugh came from Sirius and James scowled. 

“No, we were just talking about his newfound obsession with Y/N L/N and he took an unwarranted dig at mine and Lily’s relationship.” 

Remus snorted and set his work on his desk. “What relationship?” Sirius let out another “HA” and pulled himself back onto his mattress. “And isn’t Y/N L/N the one who called your hair greasy, Pads?” 

“Well, yes, but I like a woman with a bit of attitude,” Sirius sighed dreamily. His left pointer finger, ring and all, came to twirl a chunk of his hair. “I think I want an autumn wedding.” 

“You’re not getting married to her, mate. You don’t even know her.” James came to Remus’ bed and started poking around his bag. “Are you putting on the scar ointment Pomfrey gave you still, Moons? Hey! Stop picking at that one, you’re going to make it worse!” He slapped Remus’ hand away from his face and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Who are you? My mother?” 

“I am too going to marry her, James! Just watch me!” 

Peter opened the door solemnly, a grumpy look plastered on his face. James turns nervously towards him before slapping him on the back. 

“What happened, Pete? I thought you were supposed to be on a date?” 

“I was, but she stood me up. Again.” Peter responds, making a beeline for the window seat. Conveniently, it was located next to his bed, so he haphazardly tossed his school bag onto the mattress. He grabs hold of one of the pillows before hugging it to his chest and burying his head into it. Sirius and James share a look before Sirius speaks up. 

“Awh, you’ll get ‘em next time. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s her loss, really.” 

“No, it was my loss. It was Abagail Cavin, mate. It was definitely my loss.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he muttered into the soft fabric. 

“Who’s Abagail Cavin?” Sirius asks, looking towards Remus for an answer. He shrugs. 

“I think that’s the ginger girl who always hangs around Y/N L/N? A year or two below us,” James thought aloud. “She’s friends with Lily too, I’ve seen them studying together.” 

Remus snorts. “Of course you have.” 

“I don’t know if I’m sad or angry.” The mousy boy admits, throwing the pillow in his lap at the wall. It hit one of Sirius’ Queen posters, making the frame fall to the floor with a loud crash. James is quick to swoop in and redirect Peter’s attention in fear of him escalating. 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s no need to get mad at Abagail. Um, how about we go get some sweets from the kitchens, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.” 

Peter tightened his jaw, staring at the now shattered frame on the ground. After a moment of silence from all the boys, Peter nodded and the pair exited the room. 

~

“Y/N L/N,” Sirius spoke in his signature flirty voice. He tried to match her walking pace, but she seemed to be in a rush. 

“Sirius Black, what can I do for you?” Y/N answered, her school uniform skirt swaying as she walked. She was on her way to meet Abagail in the library so the two could study together, and she was already 5 minutes late. 

“I was wondering if you would -excuse me, sorry- if you would like to go to the next Quidditch match with me?” Y/N seemed to swerve in and out of the crowded hallway like a car in heavy traffic. “Supposed to be a good game, you know.” 

“Me? Go with you? While you cheer your little boyfriend on? Thanks for offering, but I have to decline.” 

“Come on, you always go anyway! It could be fun!” Sirius finally matched Y/N’s fast gait. “And maybe we could grab some hot butterbeer or cider after.” 

Y/N sighed, suddenly stopping at the entrance of the library. She faced Sirius boldly and grabbed his upper arms with her hands. 

“Listen, it’s really flattering that you want me to go with you, and I have to admit, you’re super cute. But, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls and I don’t want to be just a checkmark on your list of girls to shag.” 

While any person would be wounded by Y/N’s blunt assumptions, Sirius grins. “That’s where you’re wrong, love. I don’t really have a track record with girls, unless you count the week I dated Marlene McKinnon the October of our 2nd year. It’s our 7th year and I’ve had one kind-of girlfriend.”

Sirius watched as Y/N’s facial expression changed. Taking this as an invitation to keep going, he rubs his hands together and continues. “And if you’re talking about shagging, I’ve shagged maybe three girls who were not on some kind of to-fuck list, thank you very much.” Sirius suddenly leans in so he could whisper. “I’m just flirty. And based on the look on your face, the flirting is working.” 

“Y/N!” Abagail’s voice made Y/N drop her hands and Sirius smirk. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, we’re just chit chatting,” Sirius answers for Y/N. “But, I do have a question for you, Ab.” 

Abagail’s face scrunched in response. “Don’t call me that. What’s your question?” 

“Why’d you stand up my mate Peter?” Sirius now stood with his feet shoulders width apart, arms crossed over his chest and his hair pulled to one side. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how well Sirius’ uniform pants fit. 

“What do you mean, stand him up? We talked about hanging out, but we never made actual plans. Honestly, I don’t really think I want to make any official plans. Some of the things he says are kinda scary.” Y/N looks sympathetically towards her friend.

“I told you to just ignore him, babes.” 

“I know, I know. I really think he’s a nice guy deep down though.” 

Sirius looked puzzled, “What harmless, little Peter Pettigrew says scares you?” 

Abagail nods frantically, “He came and sat with Lily and me when we were studying in the library last week. He went on a rant about how he can’t wait to become an Auror just to see,” The girl lifted her fingers to so air quotes. “How far he can take it.” 

“That doesn’t sound like Peter at all,” Sirius’ eyebrows knit in confusion. 

“Well, it was. And Y/N and I have a lot of studying to do. So, if you’ll excuse us.” Abagail gently tugged at Y/N’s arm. 

“Wait! So, is it a date, Y/N?” Sirius called after the girls. Y/N turned over her shoulder and beamed. 

“Common room before the match. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Black!”

~

“You don’t like to be kept waiting… but you think it’s perfectly okay to leave me all alone in the common room? That’s not very kind, Y/N.” Sirius watched Y/N descend the stairs to the girls dormitory. He was wearing his Gryffindor sweater and ripped black jeans, his hair tied messily in a bun. A long, striped scarf dangled lazily on his shoulders and draped down his frame to his mid thigh. 

“I said before the match and if I’m not mistaken, it’s before the match.” Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are those for me?” 

Sirius quickly stood, holding out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. “Heh, yeah. I thought it was fitting because it’s the middle of October and we’re going to a Quidditch match. The leaves are orange and there’s so many colors and the sunflowers have the same kind of color pallet-” 

“Sirius, they’re lovely. Thank you.” Y/N cut off the blabbering boy. She took the flowers happily and observed their pretty petals. Sirius was right; the rich golden color matched the fallen leaves that littered the Hogwarts grounds. Y/N held up a waiting finger to Sirius so she could go leave her flowers in her dorm. 

“It’s pretty cold out, love, do you want to grab a jacket?” Sirius said when she returned. 

“It’s all in the name of fashion, my dear,” Y/N pulls a piece of hair behind her ear and nods towards the portrait hole. “Shall we?” 

Y/N sat in the crowd with her legs crossed; her shoulders were slumped forwards and her hands stayed sandwiched in between her thighs. Gryffindor was absolutely destroying Ravenclaw with the impressive score of 80-10. 

“The snitch is right by Potter’s head!” Y/N screeched, bumping Sirius’ shoulder with her own. 

“Where?! I don’t see it!” 

“To the right! Meadowes needs to catch it before Lockhart sees it!” Y/N shivers in spite of herself, bringing her hands to her mouth in order to warm them. Sirius snickers and loops his scarf around her shoulders. 

“Hopefully that doesn’t ruin your outfit, love.” Sirius winks and turns back to the game. 

The scarf was soft and toasty, and smelt exactly like Sirius. The satisfying mix of leather, butterbeer, pine and smoke engulfed her senses and made her dizzy. Y/N wrapped it around her arms and snuggled deeper into the soft knit. 

“Meadowes spots the snitch!” Remus announces over the intercom. The entire statum seemed to erupt into chaos; cheers and boos echoing off of every surface within 500 feet. 

Y/N had always had a soft spot for Remus; they weren’t friends, but something about him was so warm and inviting. He in no way seemed like the type to announce a Quidditch match, but it appears that when you’re friends with James Potter long enough, anything could happen. 

Dorcas zooms past the Gryffindor student section in her pursuit for the snitch. The entire group, Lily and Marlene especially, scream out loud words of encouragement. Y/N could have sworn she could see a faint smile appear across Dorcas’ features. 

“Potter scores! 10 points to Gryffindor! 90-10! Ravenclaw could still win if Lockhart catches the snitch!” 

“Come on, come on,” Sirius mumbles under his breath. No matter how much he liked to deny it, Sirius got really into Quidditch. He couldn’t play for shit, but he knew the mechanics of the game like the back of his hand. 

“Meadowes catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!!” The entire crowd goes ballistic. Kids hug, and some kiss, before storming the field to congratulate their team. James stays on his broom, doing small loops in the air in the hopes of impressing a certain redhead. 

Sirius wraps his strong arms around his date, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into the air. “We won, Y/N! We won!!” 

Y/N snakes her arms around Sirius in return, a similar happiness bubbling in her chest. 

“What’d ya say about grabbing some hot cider from the kitchens to celebrate?” Sirius questions, noticing they’re the last students at their seats. 

Y/N nods, a soft smile gracing her face. “Yes, please. I’m fucking freezing.” 

~

“It would be easier if you just levitated the boxes in, love.” Y/N watched as Sirius struggled to carry boxes into the living room of their new flat. She giggled, admiring her boyfriend’s flexed biceps and strong hands. The prominent veins in his hands and forearms were bulging, making the manual labor a show for his very happy girlfriend. 

“I feel like that’s bad luck,” Sirius explained, placing the cardboard onto the floor. “I want to do this right. If I don’t we could be cursed.” 

“Whatever you say, babe. But, just so you know, that box goes into the kitchen.” With a flirty wink and smile, Y/N walked into their bedroom to unpack some of their boxes. 

Their new flat wasn’t overly exciting; it was a one bedroom, one bath flat above a small bakery in the center of London. It was a tiny space, as you’d expect two barely-twenty-year-olds to own, but it would soon be their home. Y/N was just excited the flat had a kitchenette and a small living space. 

The best part, in Y/N’s opinion at least, was the fact that the smell of freshly baked bread filled their flat at the beginning of each day. The elderly bakery owners, Jullian and Caspar, had given the young couple a good price on the flat. According to them, they were waiting for the perfect couple to rent from them. What that meant, Y/N didn’t know, but it made her feel special all the same. 

Y/N looked out of their window to the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk below. The shop was a small, hole in the wall bakery called Dream Puffs, that was oddly popular for its location. And Y/N was quick to understand why. Almost everything they made, especially the sour dough bread and cream puffs, were to die for. Jillian had presented Sirius and her a large loaf of the bread and a dozen cream puffs as a welcome present, most of which had been eaten already. Y/N wished she had known of Dream Puffs and the wonderful owners before, but she supposed she still had a lot to discover in London. 

The one downside was the only way to get into their apartment was by going through the bakery. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you’re in a rush or having a bad day, having to face random people isn’t the most ideal situation. Jullian and Caspar were nice enough to close the bakery early for the couple’s move in. 

“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking?” Sirius poked his head into their bedroom with sweat dripping down his brow. 

“Oh right, sorry,” Y/N lazily flicked her wand and their clothing sprang to life. 

“Bad luck, Y/N!” He entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, laid his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window. The busy streets and buildings were muted by the glass, which made Y/N feel as if they were watching ants in an ant farm. 

“I doubt we’ll get bad luck from levitating a few shirts, darling,” Y/N brought one of his hands to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before returning it to her waist. “I can’t believe this place is ours,” 

“Well, technically it’s Jillian’s and Caspars, but yes.” Sirius chuckles directly into Y/N’s ear and kisses her shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” 

“Yes and no. Not now, obviously, but eventually. We’re going to be together forever anyway, so why should we rush?” 

Y/N sighed happily, feeling very loved. 

~

“Do you think Abagail will ever talk to me again?” Peter asked, laying his head against the armrest of the couch. “I heard she's working at the book shop in Diagon Alley.” 

Y/N snorted, laying her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoying the sound of the record playing in the corner of the room. Sirius and Y/N were hosting a dinner party for their friends in celebration of James getting accepted into the Auror academy. The nine of them -Sirius, Y/N, James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary- were all piled in Sirius and Y/N’s small living room, tipsy and full of warm food. 

“That happened almost two years ago, Pete. Let it go,” Y/N hummed, Sirius’ gentle hand rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep. She could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ laughter through his leather jacket. 

“Yeah, so? I’m not allowed to like someone that long?” Peter’s voice was harsher than he anticipated, making Sirius send a glare his way. 

“She means stop moping around and pining after a girl who doesn’t want you. There’s a world of opportunity and thousands of girls just waiting to date you if you open your eyes to it.” Sirius’ tone was barely lighter than Peter’s. 

“Well I don’t want thousands of girls, Padfoot. I want Abagail. Not everyone can hit it on their first try.” 

“Hit it on their first try?” Y/N was now wide awake. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean,” Peter sat up, looking Y/N straight in the eyes. “You fucked Sirius on the first date.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, alright that’s enough. Wormy, Pads, Y/N, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down for a moment.” James was quick on his feet to defuse the potentially harmful situation. He knew how Peter could get, and he didn’t want to see it escalate to that point. 

“Did you just slut shame me for having sex with my own boyfriend? Do you even have the authority to do that, Mr. Unused-Condom?” Y/N was now standing with James, starting to walk towards Peter. Peter stumbled to his feet and stared into Y/N’s eyes. 

“He wasn’t your boyfriend then, Miss Drop-My-Panties-for-a-Knut.” 

Sirius was quick to act, anger boiling inside of him. His knuckles balled into a fist and he threw a nasty punch square into Peter’s jaw. “No one insults my girl, Peter. I thought you knew better than that.” Sirius’ voice was like nothing Y/N had ever heard; it was cold and icy, yet fiery hot and full of hell-bending anger. 

Peter looked up and slugged Sirius right in the nose, making it gush blood. Remus grabs Sirius’ arms and binds them behind his back, trusting James to do the same to Peter. 

Y/N shrieked, having never seen Sirius or Peter get physical with anyone, let alone each other. Marlene grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boys. 

“What have we talked about, you two?” James demanded, the vein on his neck bulging. 

“I’m not going to sit around and let him harass my girlfriend, JP! He’s a fucking asshole and he knows it!” Sirius struggled against his binds, but Remus was much stronger than him. 

“I’m not the one dating a slut!” 

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” Sirius screams making the room shake. Peter wiggles from James’ grip and grabs his wand before disapperating out of the room. 

Remus releases Sirius and he stomps out of the flat and down the stairs, most likely to go smoke a cigarette. James quickly follows after a glance towards Lily. 

“What did James mean when he said ‘what have we talked about,’ Remus?” Y/N asks, her soft voice a stark contrast from Sirius’ shouting. Remus runs a big hand down his face and plops onto the couch. 

“I wasn’t supposed to let you girls know,” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Sirius and Peter have been at each other’s throats for the past few years. Recently, it started getting physical. James always tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work a ton.” Remus meets Y/N’s gaze and smiles sadly. “That boy would do absolutely anything for you, I hope you know that.” 

~

Sirius laid in bed with his arms wound tightly around Y/N’s waist. It was near 5 am and the light was just barely peeking through the window of their bedroom. The morning bread must have just been put in the oven, as the smell of fresh bread was slowly starting to overtake the flat. A long sliver of silver light slashed against the wall before fading delicately into the white paint. Sirius sighed contently and looked down at his girl. 

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly agape; Sirius observed how Y/N’s eyes moved under her eyelids while wondering what she was dreaming about. He hoped she dreamt of him, as his dreams were constantly riddled with her. Every aspect of her danced around his dreams: her lovely smile, her laugh, her scent, her gait, and everything that made Y/N Y/N. Sirius’ own lips parted a miniscule amount as he brought the back of his fingers to brush her cheek. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was under his touch. She was so peaceful in this moment, and if she was to be disturbed, the world would crack. 

But all good things come to an end, and Y/N opened her eyes. Her features were riddled with the grogginess of sleep as she batted her eyes to focus her vision. 

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Her voice was honey in his ears. 

“Perfect, my love. Go back to sleep.” 

“What time is it?” Y/N began to wiggle from his strong grip, but Sirius tightened his hold on her waist. 

The man shot a spare glance at the old coo-coo clock that hung in the corner. “Quarter to five” 

“Then may I ask why you’re awake?” 

Sirius sighed, pressing an opened mouth kiss on her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep, the nightmares are still awry.” 

“What was it this time? Your mom?” Y/N was now wide awake and propped up onto her elbow. 

“No, the last Order mission, actually,” Sirius gently brushed a clump of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s okay, I’m alright. I have you here with me.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched and her mouth pierced. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No, my darling. I just want to lay here with my beautiful girl in my arms.” 

~ 

“I’ve never been to this bar before,” Y/N giggles as Sirius opens the door to the small building. The outside’s appearance was rather unappealing; cracked, exposed brick that has moss growing out of it, a leaky gutter system, a splintering wooden door and a faded open sign. Y/N looked up towards the LED sign that spelled out the bar’s name. Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery illuminated in the wet pavement, but multiple letters were unlit, making it read Silver Ickle and Eat. 

“Me either, one of my clients works here and said she’d give me free drinks.” Sirius winked before following Y/N inside. 

The place was small and drafty, but oddly cozy. It had the same exposed brick as the outside, but this time, they were bright red and covered in picture frames.  A few wooden tables were scattered across the floor opposite the bar, and various older men sat with beers in their hands. 

“Oh, Sirius! My love, you came!” A very angelic girl from behind bar squeals, quickly exciting the bar and throwing her arms around Sirius. Her hurried speed made Y/N step away from the pair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Sirius chuckles heartily, wrapping his arms around her small frame, seeming to forget Y/N was there. 

“Vanessa! Nice to see you again,” He exhaled. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Y/N’s stomach. “How is your tattoo healing?” 

Vanessa pulls her shirt down to show Sirius the skin in between her breasts. On her skin sat a magical tattoo of a Hongorian Horntail dragon, which looked towards Sirius and blew a big breath of fire his way. The art was gorgeous, very obviously Sirius’ work, which only made Y/N’s stomach sink further into her feet. The red, lacy, v neck bra Vanessa was wearing brought out the ink in the tattoo perfectly, and the shape of the cut displayed not only her breasts, but the dragon beautifully. 

Y/N knew that many of Sirius’ clients were girls; she wasn’t stupid. He was a newly licensed tattoo artist at the biggest magical tattoo parlor in all of London. Not to mention, Sirius was an incredibly talented artist, which meant his appointment list was extremely difficult to get on. The charming attitude and good looks only added to the appeal of his artistry. 

“Who’s this?” Vanessa turned her gaze from Sirius’ to look directly at Y/N. Her long, black hair fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and her porcelain skin glowed under the dim lighting. 

“Oh! Right,” Sirius stuttered, shooting a grin in Y/N’s direction. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N this is Vanessa, I did her dragon tattoo last week.” 

Y/N forced herself to send a polite smile towards the girl who was just all over her boyfriend. Vanessa sent an equally fake smile and began to walk back to the bar. 

“And what can I get started for you, handsome?” She giggled, standing in front of the large wall of liquor. Y/N felt as if she was back at Hogwarts with all the girls throwing themselves at Sirius. 

“Old fashioned,” Sirius responded, taking place on one of the wooden stools. “And for the lady, tequila on the rocks with lime.” 

Vanessa sends Y/N an icy look before giggling sweetly. “Coming right up.” 

Y/N sends a worried glance towards Sirius, but he just responds by squeezing her thigh and kissing her temple. 

“So, do you have any tattoos? Since you’re so good at your job, I would assume you do, yes?” Vanessa asks, pouring Sirius’s drink and sliding it towards him. 

“Quite a few,” He catches the glass before it flies off the bar. “Most of them are covered by my shirt though.” 

It was true, Sirius’ torso and shoulders were littered with tattoos: A large lion across his right shoulder onto his bicep, stag antlers across his shoulder blades, a moon on the lower left side of his stomach, rat paw marks under the moon, and constellations riddling his collarbones. 

The bartender tilts her head to the side cheekily. “Can I see them?” 

Sirius chuckles in a very happy, flattered way. “I don’t think that’s quite necessary here,” 

“But I can already see this one…” Vanessa reached her arm across the bar and traced the bottom of the lion’s mane with her long, slender fingers. The tattoo seemed to move with her movements. “Can’t I see the rest?” 

Y/N coughs, slapping her hand against the bar. The vibration of Y/N’s sudden movement caused Sirius’ drink to wobble inside the glass. “I think I ordered a tequila not a random chick flirting with my boyfriend.” 

“Of course, how foolish of me.” Vanessa sent a scowl Y/N’s way and turned her back to fetch the bottle of alcohol. Sirius matched Vanessa’s expression. 

Once the flirt finished making Y/N’s drink, she slid it over to her. Y/N took a sip, only to find it was awfully made and very watered down. 

“Sirius, babe, I have a headache, can we go home?” 

“You didn’t have a headache a minute ago?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. 

“I know, I just feel a migraine coming on. I really need to take my migraine potion before it gets bad. Please?” 

Sirius sighs and nods, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. “Of course, babygirl.” 

The pair stand from their stools but Vanessa stops them. “That’ll be 2 galleons for the tequila.”

“You said you’d give me free drinks?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s lower back, rubbing small circles over her shirt. 

“Yeah, for you. The tequila wasn’t for you.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, slamming them onto the bar. 

“Can I bet on seeing you again?” A loud giggle comes from her mouth as the couple exited the building. “Maybe you can show me your tattoos.” 

~

“I don’t know, Lily! She was all over him and he didn’t stop it.” Y/N bit into an apple and traced the Potters’ tablecloth. It was a month after Sirius and Y/N had visited The Silver Sickle, and Y/N couldn’t keep her anxieties to herself. 

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Lily responded, kneading a big glob of pie crust at the counter. Potter Cottage was much larger than Sirius and Y/N’s flat above Dream Puffs. Earlier that month, Lily had announced she was pregnant, so James decided it was time to upgrade from their small flat to a house fit to raise a family. 

“Yes, but each time I try to bring her up he gets defensive and assures me that it was nothing, that he was trying to get free drinks.” 

Lily stared down at her dough intensely before grabbing her rolling pin. “Well, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Maybe try to ask him again tonight? Just sit down and have a real, hearts on the table conversation about your feelings and whatnot. It’s important to do that.” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s been staying at work late this entire week. Apparently, one of his clients is getting a full back tattoo and it’s taking multiple sessions to finish. This is his biggest job to date, I don’t want to ruin it for him.” 

“How late is late?” The mom-to-be laid the pie crust into her pan and began to trim the excess off of the edges. 

“Nine, sometimes ten. He comes home exhausted.” 

“Hm, okay. I’d still try to speak with him if you can. How’s your work going? St. Mungos treating you well?” 

“Oh, yeah, definitely. My supervisor said that I’m one of the best beginning level healers he’s seen since Pomfrey worked in my ward,” Y/N took another bite of her apple. “I might get transferred to the branch in France for a week coming up, though. There was a big gas explosion and they have over 200 burn victims. My supervisor said it would be a good experience for me.” 

“Oh, I read about that in The Prophet! Those poor people,” Lily filled the crust with apple pie filling. “I’m sure they need all the help they can get.” 

“Oh, I know. I haven’t learned much about burn solvents yet, so it’ll be interesting to learn on the job.” 

“Are you going this week? What a shame, it’s your birthday on Saturday.” 

“Oh, no, the earliest I would be leaving is a fortnight from now. I’m kind of a last resort since I don’t have much experience or training yet.” Y/N stood and threw her apple core into the bin. “How’s JP doing at the Academy? He’s in his second year by now, right?” 

“Oh, he’s doing lovely. The Order is grateful for his efforts and have been sending him on more missions than before.” Lily sighs. “It’s rather nerve wracking, isn't it? You’re lucky Sirius doesn’t get called on many.” 

Y/N laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose they prefer actual Aurors to go on the calls. But when he does go, those are the worst nights. I can’t imagine having to go through that on a daily basis.” 

“It’s really hard,” Lily’s voice cracks and she begins to cry. “I’m sorry, it’s the hormones.” 

“Don’t apologize, Lils. I know how scary it can be. At least he's with Wormtail most of the time, yeah? They’re at the academy together and all.” 

Lily takes a deep breath to control her crying. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank god for Wormy.” 

~

“Hello there, pretty lady. I heard there’s a 21st birthday party to be thrown?” James said happily as Y/N opened the door of the flat. Lily and Remus tailed him ever so slightly, all three wearing large grins and holding brightly wrapped packages. 

“Birthday party? You guys don’t-” 

James waved his hand dismissively. “We’re already here, so you’re kind of stuck with us. Peter should be here eventually.” The three push their way into the living room. 

“The nice elderly woman downstairs asked me to bring you this,” Remus held out a cupcake with bright red frosting. Y/N took it happily and walked to the kitchen to set it on the counter. 

“Thank you, Moony. But, really, you guys didn’t have to. Sirius isn’t even here.” Y/N felt self conscious around her friends. She was wearing an old tee shirt from her early teens, a beloved Scooby-Doo tee with a rip in the left armpit, and black yoga pants. It was safe to say Y/N was more than ready to spend her birthday alone. 

“What do you mean, not here?” Remus was standing in the corner of the living room, flipping through Sirius and Y/N’s record collection. They had so many at this point that the couple was unsure which record belonged to who. 

“I don’t know, he left early this morning saying he got called into work. Something about an angry customer.” Y/N felt small under the group’s gaze. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I was half asleep.” 

Y/N watched as Lily and James shared a look. “I didn’t think the shop was open on Saturdays, but I guess they are.” Y/N’s shoulders lowered visibly, making Lily backtrack. “It’s the pregnancy brain, Y/N. I’ve been mixing things up for the past week and a half.” 

“Right, right. Of course. Um, how’s that going, by the way?” She crossed her arms across her stomach uncomfortably. 

“Oh, it’s going wonderful! We actually have something to give you, if that’s okay.” 

“Wait!” James cut in. “We should wait for Wormy to get here!” 

Lily hit his chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, come off it. You know how late he is to everything! Let’s do it now.” The couple led Y/N to the couch and sat on either side of her, both wearing matching shit-eating grins. Remus remained leaning against the wall, ready to flip the record when the time came. James placed a medium-sized purple box on her lap. 

Y/N carefully undid the wrapping paper, prompting James to let out a loud groan. 

“Any day now, woman!” 

Y/N giggled. “Hey! It’s my birthday! Be nice to me!” 

“I am being nice to you, Y/N! I gave you a present, didn’t I?” 

Y/N bumped her shoulder with his and reached into the box. Her fingertips met with the soft fabric of a tee shirt. Upon pulling the garment out completely, she observed that the words World’s Best Godmother was printed across the front. Immediately, Y/N dropped the shirt and covered her mouth with her hand. 

“Is that a yes?” Lily asked, her eyes tearing again. 

“Yes! Oh my god!” Y/N’s own tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged both tightly. “Me? Godmother?” 

“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” Remus remarked as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold in front of him. Y/N was so overwhelmed with joy that she had almost forgotten that Sirius was absent. Almost. 

The party went along swimmingly from there on out; Peter had arrived shortly after Y/N unboxed Remus’ gift, a new cauldron and potion ingredients, and another gift from the Potters, a pair of gorgeous black combat boots. The mousey-boy shuffled over to Y/N and handed her a small gift bag. 

“Oh? Thanks, Pete.” Y/N awkwardly pulled out the contents of the bag. “Oh, good, a gift card to Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery.” She tried to sound thankful towards the man in front of her, but the disdain was still evident in her voice. 

“Sirius said it was his favorite bar, so I thought you’d like it. Maybe we can grab some lunch there, obviously my treat,” He lazily gestures to the card in her hand. “We haven’t really hung out for a while. I figured it would be nice. If you don’t like it I can get you something diff-” 

Y/N cut him off with a hug, “Thank you, Peter, this was really thoughtful. Would next week work?” 

“Wednesday?” He wraps his arms around Y/N’s frame for a moment before letting go. 

“Wednesday works perfectly.” 

The four continued to hang out well into the night; laughing, chatting, drinking, listening to music, and playing board games. As the party dragged on, Y/N couldn’t help but grow worried about Sirius’ whereabouts. Her worries were harshly pushed aside, though, when Lily suggested they play poker. 

“Ugh, I fold.” Peter slams his cards down onto the coffee table and laid back onto the carpet in defeat. Y/N smirked at Remus, her only opponent, and gestured for him to show her his cards. 

“Straight, beat that,” Remus says confidently. James and Peter “oooh” childishly and looked towards Y/N. It was very apparent that all of them, besides Lily, were very buzzed. 

Y/N smirked and shook her head, “You play a hard bargain, Lupin. So good that I applaud you. But,” Y/N laid her hand on the table: four of a kind. “You’re just not good enough.” 

The room laughs as Y/N pulls the large pile of galleons, sickles, knuts and Lily’s wedding ring towards her. Y/N slips it onto her own ring finger and holds her hand as if to admire it. 

“Oh, Lily, dear, don’t you just adore my new ring? Look at how it glistens in the light!” 

The redhead rolls her eyes and snatches it off of Y/N’s finger. “I’ll just be taking that,” She puts it back on. 

“It will forever be known to be my legal property, Evans. Don’t forget it!” 

“Does that mean I’m married to both of you now?” James smiles a dopey grin and looks back and forth between the two women. Y/N pretends to gag. 

“On second thought, I surrender my rights to your ring.” 

The group continued their laughter until the front door of the flat swung open. A very drunk Sirius Black stumbled in the door, dumbfounded as to why all of his friends were in his house. 

“Why are you guys here?” Sirius slurred, pulling up the shoulder of his leather jacket. He bumped the record player in the process, making Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac skip. 

“It’s Y/N’s birthday, Sirius,” Remus responded, his soft voice contrasting to his previously upbeat tone. Sirius slouched against the wall and slid down it until he hit the floor. 

“Y/N’s birthday...Y/N’s birthday...Oh! Y/N’s birthday! Was that today?” 

James was quick to jump into action. Propelling himself off of the couch, he took Sirius into his arms and brought him to a standing position. Sirius, of course, whined the entire way up, claiming that the floor wanted him to sit there. James responded with a small hum before peeling Sirius’ jacket off of his body and throwing it onto the kitchen counter. As Y/N watched, she couldn’t help but notice a bright pink smear on Sirius’ neck. 

“Yes, it’s today, you big goof. Where have you been?” 

Sirius went into a big flurry of words as James brought him towards the bedroom. Y/N thought she heard ‘And you should have seen her!’ amidst all the jumbled words, but she pied that off as her anxious imagination running awry. Lily’s hand found her back and she rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s shoulder blades. 

“He forgot,” Y/N said to no one in particular. “I can’t believe he actually forgot.” 

“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Lily soothed Y/N, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. “He probably got carried away at happy hour, you know how he gets.” 

“Happy hour on Y/N’s birthday though?” Peter shook his head. Something about his tone didn’t sit well with Y/N. Lily shot a glare his way. 

The party did not last much longer; Remus said he had an interview with Dumbledore about a TA position at Hogwarts, Lily was tired, and Peter said that he was going on a mission tomorrow and needed rest. Y/N bid her friends farewell with large hugs and thank you’s. 

It’s safe to say that Y/N slept on the couch that night. 

~

Y/N awoke to sunlight in her eyes and a crick in her neck. The living room window wasn’t guarded with curtains, so even at the early hour of 4:30 AM, the room was illuminated with soft oranges, reds, and pinks. Y/N sat up and reached her hands above her head to stretch her back. She looks towards the bedroom door, listening for the soft snores of her boyfriend. Her neck screamed in agony, but she still stood and padded over to open the door. 

Y/N twisted the doorknob with care, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. She needed to see Sirius, not have a conversation with him. Alas, in all his glory, Sirius lied on his stomach with his mouth hung open and drool oozing onto the pillow. The girl admired how he looked as he slept; the sharp jaw, the perfect skin, the messy hair, the peaceful look gracing his features. He still wore his skinny jeans from the day previous, but at some point during the night, he discarded his white dress shirt. Y/N’s gaze darted around the floor until it landed on the crumpled fabric. 

Y/N glanced back at Sirius, admiring the artwork that filled his back. She remembered the day he got it; James cried when he first saw the gorgeous antlers. The low light highlighted the dark brown ink and seemed to make his skin appear airbrushed. Y/N smiled in spite of herself. 

Closing the door softly, Y/N walks into their small kitchen to prepare some tea in order to calm her nerves. The apartment was rather messy from the ‘party’ and Y/N had to dig through endless dirty dishes to find a mug clean enough to use. Y/N finally found one, a lavender mug that Marlene had given her for her 17th birthday, and set it on the counter while she filled the kettle. 

The kitchen wasn’t as dirty as Y/N previously thought. Sure, the sink was overflowing with dishes, but the kitchen itself was rather clean. And besides Sirius’ leather jacket, the counter was clear. The floor, though, was slightly sticky. Y/N sighs and flicks her wand; almost silently, the dishes start cleaning themselves. 

Y/N reaches for Sirius’ jacket, only to have a squishy substance fall onto her feet. She jumps back in surprise and disgust of the weird texture. But, the real panic sets in when she notices a big red spot on not only the floor but the leather jacket. Upon further investigation, Y/N realizes it’s the frosting from the cupcake Remus had given her. Sirius was very protective of this jacket and if he saw this, Y/N would be a dead man. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of: scrub the material with a wet paper towel. 

Thankfully, the frosting came off easily and didn’t stain the material. The only real obstacle was the sweet scent of the frosting lingering on the garment. Sirius had an insane sense of smell, so if he picked up even the slightest trail of sugar, Y/N would be busted. She delicately lifted the material to her nose. 

The musky scent of Sirius filled her nose as normal; leather, smoke, cologne, and spearmint. Y/N grinned at the familiar scent until she noticed a strong rose perfume almost ingrained into the leather. Y/N’s perfume smelled of vanilla. 

~

Y/N held her breath as she opened the door of the Silver Sickle, she was in no mood to see Vanessa again. All the same, Y/N put effort into her appearance just in case. She let out her breath when she noticed an old man behind the bar and Peter sitting in the corner. 

“Hey,” Y/N said breathlessly as she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little nervous meeting Peter alone; the two seemed to rekindle their friendship after he and Sirius fought. He promised that he was just drunk and not thinking, and Y/N not wanting to cause childish conflict within their friend group, had accepted his apology. 

“Hey!” He squeaked. “I didn’t know if you wanted to day drink or not, so I just ordered you a water to start off with.” 

Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Wormy.” She took a long sip from her straw, trying to slow her nervous heart. “So, uh, how’s the academy? James said you are taking more and more missions with the order.” 

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s great! Being an Auror is really fun, you really get to show people who’s boss, ya know?” 

“Um, I guess?” 

“I think they’re gonna kick me out, though. I haven’t done the best job at catching who I’m pursuing.” Peter raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side. 

“Oh? Why not?” Y/N glanced over the menu, only half listening to what her companion was saying. 

“I just like to play with them a ‘lil, like a cat and mouse. Except this time, I’m not the mouse.” 

Y/N looks at a delicious looking chicken sandwich on the menu and hums in response. 

“So, how are you and Sirius doing? It seemed pretty rough last week.” Peter takes a chunk of ice from his drink and starts chewing it. “If you want to talk about it, I guess.” 

This brings Y/N out of her sandwich-filled thoughts. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. We haven’t spoken much and I barely see him. He leaves early in the morning...comes home late at night…” Peter nods as if he was a therapist listening to a client. “I don’t want to assume the worst but he’s making it rather difficult.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because it isn’t really my business, but…” He comps down on the ice cube. “I was coming home from a mission a few nights ago and I saw him with a girl. I’m not quite sure what they were doing but it sure as hell didn’t look platonic.” 

Y/N felt her entire world shatter into her lap. “What?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. She was really short with long black hair and a skimpy cocktail dress. They were walking into that club off of Coventry Street. I almost beat the fuck out of him right then and there, but there were bouncers.” 

Y/N bit her trembling lip and folded her hands in her lap. Rifling through her purse, she slammed the gift card down and stood. 

“Thanks for the lunch date, Peter, but I don’t feel well. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Was it something I said?!” Peter yelled at Y/N’s retreating back as she left the bar. 

~

“Are you going somewhere?” Sirius asked, gesturing to Y/N’s packed suitcases by the door. 

“Yup, I’m going to France for a week to aid burn victims,” Y/N finished brushing her teeth before packing her toothbrush. “Didn’t think you’d care.” 

“Well, I do. You could have told me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. 

“I would have if I actually saw you.” Y/N wasn’t in the mood to argue; she had about an hour before she had to leave, and she planned on using that time to relax with a cup of herbal tea. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You see me plenty.” 

“Yeah, when you’re sleeping or showering. There’s not exactly time to chat when you leave early in the morning and come home well past midnight.” Y/N walked into the kitchen and cut a slice of bread. “Oh, by the way, Caspar brought up some sourdough, if you actually want any.” 

“Don’t change the subject like you always do, Y/N. I work hard to support us, you know that.” 

“I work hard too. And I get home before 11 every night. I’m not exactly sure how being a healer gets you home earlier than a tattoo artist, but whatever.” Y/N buttered her now toasted sourdough. 

“Sometimes a piece takes a long time, that’s not my fault! I’ve been getting big jobs recently! You should be happy for me!” 

Y/N let out a harsh laugh as she poured water into the kettle. “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Sirius? Really?” 

“What do you mean? I think you’re rather smart.” Sirius followed Y/N into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah? Then why have you been lying to me for the past, I don’t know, two months?” 

“You can’t keep accusing me of things, Y/N. It’s not fucking fair!” Sirius stared holes into Y/N’s back. “For fucks sake! Look at me when I talk to you!” 

Y/N whipped around, her hair fanning around her face as she spun. “You know what’s not fucking fair? Letting a girl feel you upright in front of me. Lying about going into work. Forgetting my birthday and coming home from who knows where drunk as fuck with lipstick smeared all over your neck. Coming home drenched in another girl’s perfume. Taking your fucking side chick to a strip bar while I’m sat at home wondering if you’re fucking dead because we’re in the middle of a fucking war! You don’t know the first thing about fucking unfair!” 

“You’re not going to France, Y/N.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes held nothing but fire. The tone of his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before, at least not directed at her. He usually reserved it for people who yelled nasty things at her from the street, or when someone bad mouthed James. It felt foreign to hear him use it with her. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “You’re not fucking going, and that’s final.” 

“What are you? My fucking mother? I’m going because I’m actually doing something good for the world, unlike your cheating ass.” Y/N pushed her way past her boyfriend and towards her luggage. 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Sirius followed her strides. He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Y/N, darling, we need to talk about this-” His tone was notably softer than before as if he was trying to glue together shards of glass. 

“Talk about what, Sirius?! How you cheated on me and won’t even deny it? How you betrayed me in the worst way fucking possible? I’m not going to let you manipulate me into putting my career on the line to work out some issue you caused.” 

“What, so now I’m not important? You’re a fucking hypocrite!” 

“And how exactly am I a hypocrite, Sirius? You treat me like shit and whine that I’m done putting up with it? Gonna go cry to James about how you are so upset I wouldn’t hear you out after you cheat on me? Well, go the fuck ahead because James actually has a healthy relationship with a baby on the way. He won’t sympathize with you.” Y/N grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lifted her wand. “I’ll be back in a week and once we’ve had some time to cool off, we’ll talk about this like adults. I’ll see you soon.” 

Just as Y/N apperated out of the room, the kettle whistled and Sirius noticed Y/N left her half-eaten toast on the counter. 

~

It was near two in the morning when Y/N returned home from France the following week. The home was cold, dark, and vacant, and the entire appearance of the small flat had changed. In a week, Sirius had managed to completely trash the house. Even the smell of freshly baked goods was replaced with the sour smell of firewhisky and sex. 

Y/N ventured into the kitchen first, where she observed the large stack of dishes in the sink. Everything from to-go packages to their fine china (normal glass plates from the thrift) were stacked as high as the eye can see. Some were starting to mold and produce the most horrid smell. The stove housed the kettle where Y/N had left it, but this time it was cold and empty. Another pot that contained crusty spaghetti sat next to the kettle, and Y/N cringed at the thought of scrapping it out. She moved to the counter where her toast, now stale, sat. Y/N picked it up between two fingers and threw it into the bin. 

She carried on into the living room next. The couch cushions were tossed about the room and the small fur throw was draped across the back of the couch. The record player in the corner still held the Fleetwood Mac record Moony had chosen on her birthday as if it were a time capsule; Y/N couldn't help but reminisce about how happy she was with her friends that evening. Maybe that proved that she could be happy without Sirius in her life, or maybe it served as a constant reminder that he was woven into every aspect of it. 

Again, the room was covered with food wrappers and alcohol bottles. Y/N feared the liquid that remained in the bottles would leak and stain the carpet, so before moving on to the bedroom, she set each one upright. 

The bedroom was what Y/N feared the most; without her presence in the home, Sirius could have been intimate with an infinite amount of girls in her own bed. She shivered at the thought but pushed on and reached towards the icy doorknob. 

The room was the cleanest out of the entire flat, just various clothes scattered around the floor and a messy bed. Y/N wanted nothing more but to curl up under her warm covers and press her face into the chest of the man she loved most, but that was an impossible task. He didn’t love her anymore and that was something she had to deal with, she just wished she had savored the last time he held her. 

As Y/N explored further into the room, her feet found an article of clothing that neither Sirius nor Y/N owned. Bending at the hips to pick it up, Y/N held a red, lacy v neck bra in between her fingertips. Y/N fingered the material with teary eyes. Another step forward and her feet came into contact with the matching bottoms. Y/N laid the set out neatly on the bed and wallowed; it must have looked stunning on her. 

Y/N walked to the desk, where an ink well was left open and a half-written letter laid face up on the surface. She capped the ink with a wet chuckle. 

“You need to cap your ink, Sirius. If you don’t it’ll dry out. I won’t be there forever to do it for you.” Y/N said aloud, wiping her running nose. She picked up the letter against her better judgment and began to read. 

Prongs,

I know you’re mad at me, but please just hear me out. Vanessa is gorgeous, mate. She’s sweet and nice, but at the same time she's so witty and smart-mouthed. She even listens to Queen and the Weird Sisters!

She made me believe in love at first sight, JP. 

I’m going to marry her one day, mark my words!

The ink began to run as Y/N read and cried, making small blotches of black contrast against the stark white paper. Y/N placed it onto the table and gripped the edge to steady herself. Never in her 21 years on earth had she ever felt such pain, such sorrow. Her pains were usually cushioned by Sirius’ arms and sweet slurred language in the middle of the night, or by her friends’ loud cackles. But this time, this time was different; she was alone, completely and utterly alone. 

Y/N looked to the wall in order to ground herself; a small sliver of silver moonlight slashed against the wall, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Y/N traced the line with her eyes until she landed on the wooden coo-coo clock. 

The clock was one of Sirius’ most prized possessions; it was a gift from his Uncle Alphard that he received when he ran away from the Black family.  Alphard was one of the few Sirius still kept in contact with, and he was a big role model to Sirius when he grew up. Debatably, Alphard was the one who taught Sirius how to be a man. 

The present seemed lame on the surface, but that clock was one of Sirius’ favorite things when he was a child. Sirius had told stories of the long afternoons he would spend in front of the clock, waiting for the small, yellow bird to pop out of the top while Walburga and Orion fought in the background. Y/N respected Alphard with all of her being, but she wanted nothing more than to smash that godforsaken clock. She wanted to destroy everything that made Sirius happy, she wanted him to be under the same pain he was putting her through.

Y/N knew what she had to do at that very moment: she had to get out of London and move far, far away. So far away that no one would ever find her. So, she grabbed the extra suitcases in the flat and began to pack her things. 

Starting at the record corner, she picked every single one of her belongings and shoved them into her suitcase. Y/N had to shrink a few of her belongings, such as the couch, in order to fit, but in a little less than an hour, every hint of Y/N was packed away in three large suitcases. 

Y/N gave one last look at the apartment before apparating to Paris, where she knew she could start a better, more meaningful life. Maybe, she could even find a fresh bakery to supply her with warm loaves of sourdough bread. 

When Sirius returned to the flat the following morning, the only remaining aspects of Y/N were a striped scarf and two galleons folded neatly on the bed next to Vanessa’s lingerie. 

[timextoxhajima]

The Kingdom: Stray Syndicates [HWANG HYUNJIN]

In a world of money, love, death and chaos, the three families of the KINGDOM fight to prove their place. Who will become king?

[PLEASE READ THE CASE FILE BEFORE PROCEEDING]

Genre: Mafia! au x Stray Kids [3rd person POV]

Investigators: @suzy-rainbow @from-xero

Evidence Material: Witness Interview

FOLLOW THE TAG #THE STRAY SYNDICATES FOR THE SS UPDATES

FOLLOW THE TAG #TIMEXTOXHAJIMA KINGDOM SERIES FOR KINGDOM UPDATES

“Alright, so start from the top, Ms Jung. Please state your full name, your age, your occupation and your relationship with Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Um, I’m Jung Chan Mi, I’m 21 and an undergraduate and Hwang Hyunjin was… someone I met at the bar- um, The Code, which is the name of the bar.”

Kwon glances up from her folder, eyes scanning the nervous young lady. By her side, was Wang, careful with his words.

“How did you come to interact with Mr Hwang Hyunjin?”

"Um," She gulps. Kwon can tell she's nervous - almost like she was afraid to speak of the boy they were after. "He- He approached me while I was drinking."

"Alone?" Wang sniffles, side-eyeing Kwon clicking on her pen as she jots down the information.

"Well, yes. I needed some time alone."

"Do you mind if I ask what you needed time alone from?"

Ms Jung pauses, and the silence pulls Kwon's eyes up from her notes again.

"Family issues," The young lady blinks the eye contact away, looking slightly fallen after she admits it.

Wang stops, and the tension in the air settles between the party of three, both detectives picking up something far more in-depth than they can see.

"Ms Jung, if you don't mind... I'd like more details about your family's issues. Where do your parents work-"

"Both my parents work at the City Bank."

With a grim scoff, Kwon places the pen down on the stack of lined sheets.

"Hwang Hyunjin targeted you specifically, Ms Jung."

The young lady frowns, eyes slightly squinted and her head tilted to the side. "I don't understand."

"Hwang Hyunjin is part of a family in a huge Mafia gang... and just last week, the City Bank was robbed of 20 million dollars. We don't know if the family he belongs to did it, but we have good enough reason to suspect they did."

"Ms Jung," Wang steps in, tying down the tension and making use of the panic to bear through her memory. "I need you to tell us if you had anything on you that Hwang Hyunjin could've stolen or taken that could've helped him."

"What- no. I'm not close to my parents at all... that's why I went to the bar."

"No passcode, no phone number that could've helped him? No key to a safe? Nothing?"

Jung Chan Mi gulps. Her palms are probably sweating.

For a split second, Kwon's patience is tested and Wang shoots her a dark glare. Under the sharp lighting of the interrogation room, Kwon's thinning tolerance is highlighted by the distinct shadows on her face.

"I don't-" Jung Chan Mi shakes her head, but comes to an abrupt halt. "Unless..."

The two detectives spare her all their remaining attention, eyes wide and brains churning like they hadn't been on this case non-stop.

"I- I lent him my phone..."

Kwon's eyes flutter shut as Wang gestures for one of the standby officers to come to the table.

"Ms Jung, I'll need you to hand over your cellphone to check for the bug. We'll have to extract your phone details like calls, messages, emails."

She fumbles around in her handbag, pulling out her phone and holding it out to the officers.

Later on in the day, Kwon and Wang find themselves rubbing their eyes as they stare at the monitor screen, observing the tech team try to detach the bug off the phone battery. The loading icon goes in circles and circles and circles, until it finally draws a tick across the screen.

The list of calls and messages from her parents' to her shows up on the screen, and Wang can't help but run his hands through his hair when he notes the pattern.

"Hwang Hyunjin was checking in on when they were in the bank and when they weren't."

[imagine-midtown-high]

Strong Idiot Vibe Part 2

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: None

Summary: After moving to Midtown High a few months ago, you start to settle in with your new friends — including the one and only Peter Parker. But a few things don’t line up with him and you catch a glimpse of something that changes your perspective.

A/N: This is part two of ‘Strong Idiot Vibe’ (you can search for the tags ‘my fics’ or ‘strong idiot vibe’) but can be read on its own. Thanks so much for reading and let me know what you think or if you’d like this story to continue!

‘5...4...3...2...1...’ You smiled as the bell rang, signaling the beginning of your AP Chemistry class. You leaned back in your chair and grinned as someone ran through the doorway, a solid 15 seconds late.

“Mr. Parker, what did I say about being late?” Ms. Jones chastised without looking up from grading papers at her desk.

“Sorry, Ms. Jones!” Peter said while trying to smooth down his disheveled hair. “I, uh, had a thing and—“

“Mr. Parker, just go sit down,” Ms. Jones said, shaking her head with an exasperated grin on her face.

“Thank you, Ms. Jones. Sorry, Ms. Jones” Peter said and looked to you with a pleased smile on his face as he walks over to your shared lab station.

“I’m surprised she let you get away with that one,” you said as Peter set his backpack down and sat in the chair next to you. “But... you were still late so that’s another mark.”

“Y/n... come on! I was way closer this time,” Peter whined.

“Nope. It counts,” you said while trying to repress your smile and be serious. You pulled out a piece of paper with the title ‘Number of Times Peter is Late’ at the top and an impressive 20 tally marks, now 21, and first semester wasn’t even halfway over. At the beginning of this school year, you didn’t know anyone since you had just moved to Queens and started going to Midtown High. But you quickly met your now best friend MJ and lots of other people on the Decathlon team after you joined. Including, the one and only Peter Parker who you’d met on the first day of AP Chemistry when he’d arrived, of course, late.

After a pattern had started arising, you’d started counting and eventually a list had been formed with a deal that if Peter reached 50 by the end of the year he’d have to go up to Flash Thompson and tell him ‘how amazing he is’ and that ‘he’s an undervalued member of the decathlon team’. After struggling to find a counter-motivation, MJ suggested that if Peter didn’t reach 50, you would have to say yes to one of Flash’s endless attempts to go on a date. When you rejected Flash on the first day of school, initially he’d seemed aggravated, but soon made it his mission to ask you out until you said yes.

Of course, after realizing how horrible Peter was at arriving to class on time, you knew that you wouldn’t have to worry in the slightest about going on a date with Flash. “And considering you were 15 minutes late yesterday, it wasn’t too hard to beat that record today,” you laughed.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you count it,” Peter seceded, raising his hands in the air defensively. You could feel your heart skip a few beats during your banter with Peter and tried to calm your nerves at the sight of him. You’d accepted the fact that you might have some feelings for Peter but it really was nothing. At all. You were fine.

“All right everybody, settle down,” Ms. Jones announced over the chatter. “We’re finishing up our two-day lab on exothermic reactions so hopefully you all got some work done yesterday.” Everyone chuckled and you and Peter got the materials from your lab yesterday and set up.

“So where’d you go yesterday when you left Decathlon early?” You asked, pulling out the lab aprons when Peter arrived with the goggles. Yesterday, Peter had suddenly left their Decathlon practice 30 minutes early after receiving a text — not that you had been watching him.

“I, uh, had a thing with the Stark Internship.” Peter busied himself with tying his apron behind his back and in the corner of your mind, you noticed that he was avoiding eye contact.

“Was it an emergency? I saw you leave pretty quickly.” You finished tying your own apron and put on your goggles.

“Uh, yeah. I was... called in to do a thing but I, um, don’t think I’m allowed to talk about it — confidentiality and all, you know,” Peter rambled as he fumbled and set up the test tubes. You nodded like you understood, which you did. You were sure that Stark Industries was very particular about keeping their information secret, but you wondered what Peter, an intern, would be working on that would be so important. A voice in the back of your head, that sounded an awful lot like Flash, wondered if Peter could be lying about the internship but you shook it off. As much as Flash didn’t want to believe it, you were sure that Peter was telling the truth. After working together for a few months, you and Peter completed the lab easily in a choreographed dance — weaving between each other and finishing in record time.

“I’ll clean up if you turn in the lab?” Peter asked, already picking up the cleaning materials.

“Deal,” you said and walked over to Ms. Jones’ desk.

“Done already? You and Mr. Parker do seem to make a good team.” Ms. Jones picked up the lab report from your hand. “... And only 1.3% error, I think that’s a record for this lab. It had quite a few difficult variables. Good work.” She smiled and nodded, placing your paper in her pile of papers to grade.

“Thank you, Ms. Jones,” you said and walked back to your now clean lab station where Peter was reorganizing the reactants you’d used. “Jones said we broke the record for the lowest percent error on this lab,” you said with a grin Qand sat down next to Peter.

“Not to mention we finished,” Peter looked down at his watch, “35 minutes earlier than everyone else.” You both looked around the room at everyone else still working on the final reactions for today. Peter snorted and you followed his line of sight to see Flash fumbling with an overflowing test tube and yelling at his poor lab partner. You both laughed at the sight and you flicked your eyes at Peter for a second, taking in his untidy hair and pink indent marks on his cheeks and forehead due to the goggles. But really, you focused on his smile as he threw back his head in laughter and the way he crinkled his eyes. Peter turned his head and you quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn’t caught you staring like an idiot.

“Hey, at least we don’t have any homework. The post-lab questions are the only thing on the board,” you said hoping to deflect.

“Thank goodness because I have tons of statistics homework from Miller.” Peter opened his backpack, shoving something to the bottom — probably a jacket— and pulling out his homework.

“Ugh, don’t get me started. I have his class first period and I think he takes out his morning grumpiness on us,” you said only exaggerating your misery slightly. Mr. Miller really was the strictest teacher at the school and loved to give his AP Statistics students extra work for one toe out of line. Peter laughed and you both returned to your homework.

After about 15 minutes, you were so absorbed in your homework you almost didn’t notice Peter start to mess around with a beaker in one of the drawers on the other side of him... again. You never brought it up, but after finishing labs early or during lectures, Peter would do experiments on his own — occasionally huffing in disappointment or whispering comments under his breath. You didn’t want to seem pushy and you knew Peter wouldn’t do anything dangerous, but you couldn’t figure out what Peter was doing with his body blocking your view and the chemicals he grabbed so obscure. Your best guess was something carbon-based but you had no idea; maybe it was something for the Stark internship. Suddenly, Peter leaned back and stretched, making your heart race slightly at the way his shirt— but more importantly, it gave you a view into the drawer. You only saw it for a few seconds but it looked like the beaker was filled with a white, stringy material almost like spider silk. Spider silk. Peter leaned back and continued working on his statistics homework, giving his experiment time to react. Spider silk. It took your mind a split second to think of Queen’s own superhero that just so happened to use the same— no, Peter couldn’t be. But once you got the thought in your head a few things started to line up. His disappearance from decathlon yesterday just so happened to align with what you saw on the news: the appearance of Spider-Man and Iron Man at a battle against a rouge science experiment, genetically-modified hamsters the size of buses, that were terrorizing northern Manhattan. Not to mention D.C., that everyone had told you about, Peter going missing and Spider-Man suddenly showing up in D.C. to save the Decathlon team in the Washington Monument.

“Hey, have you done the homework on standard deviation? I’m stuck on number 14,” Peter asked, oblivious to your internal meltdown, still trying to work out the problem he was working on. After you forgot to respond for a few seconds he looked over at you.

“Uh, um, yeah I did. Let me see,” you said trying to not either freak-out and run out of the classroom or blurt out and ask Peter if he was... Spider-Man. You decided that you might be going crazy. You looked at the problem and remembered it from when you had done the problem yesterday, it had a strategy but it was difficult to figure out. You pointed out a few things in the problem and Peter picked up on what you were trying to lead him to.

“Thanks so much, y/n,” he said and smiled at you, making your cheeks flush slightly. Wait, Spider-Man. You’d almost forgotten. But, you’d rather base your suspicions on more concrete material than coincidences and some weird experiment Peter was doing. And the Stark Internship. Of course, Spider-Man would have connections to Tony Stark, his suit was obviously Stark tech. Again, not concrete evidence but you didn’t think that Stark Industries took on many teenage interns that had access to confidential information and had to be called in for ‘emergencies’.

You tried to return to your homework but not even a few minutes later you were distracted by someone making a scene walking up to Ms. Jones’ desk to turn his lab in. Flash handed over his lab and turned around with his arms spread, a smug grin on his face. He looked to your side of the room and when he made eye contact with you, his grin widened. Oh crap, he’s going to walk over here to brag, of course, about how well he did on the lab.

“Oh crap,” you whispered as you realized that Peter hadn’t noticed Flash walking over and still had the drawer wide open.

[hlupdate]

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HISHAND AND REACHED TO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­INGSHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THE FUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHAT A BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEINGTHAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW [sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har­ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chainand Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61 mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LAchanged a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000 scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[stylesnews]

The Face - Volume 4 . Issue 1

A hand­shake can quell polit­i­cal unrest and sti­fle impend­ing war. It can, with a bit of spit, val­i­date a gentleman’s agree­ment, end a years-long roman­tic rela­tion­ship or send a young heart rac­ing. But it all depends on the two par­ties involved.

Daisy, 21, felt a seis­mic jolt when Har­ry Styles, 25, wear­ing a striped jumper and rings on three of his five fin­gers, clutched her hand two days after this year’s Met Gala in New York, when she served him gela­to at the shop where she worked.

“He decid­ed on a small mint choco­late gela­to and I made his and the one for his friend and I said, ​‘Can I just say I absolute­ly loved your Met Gala look’ and he said ​‘Thank you very much! What’s your name?’ And I said, ​‘Daisy’ AND HE FUCK­ING EXTEND­ED HIS HAND AND REACHEDTO SHAKE MY HAND AND I ACTU­AL­LY FUCK­ING SHOOK HIS HAND WHAT THEFUCK,” she wrote on Insta­gram after The Shak­en­ing. ​“Like I didn’t even say any­thing to gas him up besides ​‘I loved your met gala look’ and his fine ass went and shook my hand! WHATA BEAU­TI­FUL FUCK­ING HUMAN BEING THAT HE IS GOD BLESS HIM AND I HOPE HW[sic] LIVES FOREVER.”

For Har­ry Styles, a hand­shake can be a roman­tic ges­ture, con­jur­ing a potent rev­er­ence in its recip­i­ent, like the time he met Gucci’s cre­ative direc­tor Alessan­dro Michele. ​“He was as attrac­tive as James Dean and as per­sua­sive as Gre­ta Gar­bo. He was like a Luchi­no Vis­con­ti char­ac­ter, like an Apol­lo: at the same time sexy as a woman, as a kid, as a man,” Michele told me, has­ten­ing to add: ​“Of course, Har­ry is not aware of this.”

No, Styles has no idea the pow­er he wields. In per­son, he’s tow­er­ing, like some­one who is not that much taller but whose rep­u­ta­tion adds four inch­es. Styles has a seda­tive bari­tone, spo­ken in a rum­my north­ern Eng­lish accent, that tum­bles out so slow­ly you for­get the name of your first born, a swag­ger that has been nursed and per­fect­ed in myth­i­cal places with names like Pais­ley Park, or Abbey Road, or Grace­land. Makes com­plete sense that he would be up for the role of Elvis Pres­ley in Baz Luhrmann’s upcom­ing biopic. He was primed, nay, born to shake his hips, all but one but­ton on his shirt cling­ing for dear life around his tor­so. Then the part was award­ed to anoth­er actor, Austin Butler.

“[Elvis] was such an icon for me grow­ing up,” Styles tells me. ​“There was some­thing almost sacred about him, almost like I didn’t want to touch him. Then I end­ed up get­ting into [his life] a bit and I wasn’t dis­ap­point­ed,” he adds of his ini­tial research and prepa­ra­tions to play The King. He seems relaxed about los­ing the part to But­ler. ​“I feel like if I’m not the right per­son for the thing, then it’s best for both of us that I don’t do it, you know?”

Styles released his self-titled debut solo album in May 2017. The boy­band grad was clear­ly unin­ter­est­ed in hol­low­ing out the charts with more for­mu­la­ic meme pop. Instead, to the sur­prise of many, he dug his heels into retro-fetishist West Coast ​’70s rock. Some of the One Direc­tion fan-hordes might have been con­fused, but no mat­ter: Har­ry Styles sold one mil­lion copies.

Despite its com­mer­cial and crit­i­cal suc­cess, he didn’t tour the album right away. He want­ed to act in the Christo­pher Nolan film Dunkirk. To his cred­it, his por­tray­al of a British sol­dier cow­er­ing in a moored boat on the French beach­es as the Nazis advanced wasn’t skew­ered in the press like the movie debuts of, say, Madon­na or Justin Tim­ber­lake. Per­haps he was fol­low­ing advice giv­en by Elton John, who had urged him to diver­si­fy. ​“He was bril­liant in Dunkirk, which took a lot of peo­ple by sur­prise,” John writes in an email. ​“I love how he takes chances and risks.” Act­ing, unlike music, is a release for Styles; it’s the one time he can be not himself.

“Why do I want to act? It’s so dif­fer­ent to music for me,” he says, sud­den­ly ani­mat­ed. ​“They’re almost oppo­site for me. Music, you try and put so much of your­self into it; act­ing, you’re try­ing to total­ly dis­ap­pear in who­ev­er you’re being.”

Fol­low­ing the news that he missed out on Pres­ley, his name was float­ed for the role of Prince Eric in Disney’s live-action remake of The Lit­tle Mer­maid. How­ev­er, fans will have to wait a bit longer to see Styles on the big screen as that idea, too, has sunk. He won’t be The King or the Prince. ​“It was dis­cussed,” he acknow­ledges before swift­ly chang­ing the sub­ject. ​“I want to put music out and focus on that for a while. But every­one involved in it was amaz­ing, so I think it’s going to be great. I’ll enjoy watch­ing it, I’m sure.”

The new album is wrapped and the sin­gle is decid­ed upon. ​“It’s not like his last album,” his friend, rock ​‘n’ roll leg­end Ste­vie Nicks, told me recent­ly over the phone. ​“It’s not like any­thing One Direc­tion ever did. It’s pure Har­ry, as Har��ry would say. He’s made a very dif­fer­ent record and it’s spectacular.”

Beyond that, Styles is keep­ing his cards close to his chest as to his next musi­cal move. How­ev­er, the air is thick with rumours that his main wing­man for HS2 is Kid Har­poon, aka Tom Hull, who co-wrote debut album track Sweet Crea­ture. No less an author­i­ty than Liam Gal­lagher told us that both big band escapees were in the same stu­dio – RAK in north-west Lon­don – at the same time mak­ing their sec­ond solo albums. Styles played him a cou­ple of tracks, ​“and I tell you what, they’re good,” Gal­lagher enthused. ​“A bit like that Bon Iver. Is that his name?”

Har­ry Styles met Nicks at a Fleet­wood Mac con­cert in Los Ange­les in April 2015. Some­thing about him felt authen­tic to the leg­endary front­woman: ground­ed, like she’d known him for­ev­er, blessed with a win­ning moon­shot grin. A month lat­er, they met back­stage at anoth­er Mac gig, this time at the O2 in Lon­don. Styles brought a car­rot cake for Nicks’ birth­day, her name piped in icing on top. By her own admis­sion, Nicks doesn’t even cel­e­brate birth­days, so this was a sur­prise. ​“He was per­son­al­ly respon­si­ble for me actu­al­ly hav­ing to cel­e­brate my birth­day, which was very sweet,” she says.

Styles’ rela­tion­ship with Nicks is hard to define. Induct­ing her into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in New York as a solo artist ear­li­er this year, his speech hymned her as a ​“mag­i­cal gyp­sy god­moth­er who occu­pies the in-between”. She’s called him her ​“lovechild” with Mick Fleet­wood and the ​“son I nev­er had”. Both have moved past the pre­lim­i­nary chat acknowl­edg­ing each other’s unquan­tifi­able tal­ents and smooth­ly accel­er­at­ed towards play­ful cut-and-thrust ban­ter of a witch mom and her naughty child.

They per­form togeth­er – he sings The Chain and Stop Drag­gin’ My Heart Around; she sings the one alleged­ly writ­ten about Tay­lor Swift, Two Ghosts. One of those per­for­mances was at the Guc­ci Cruise after­par­ty in Rome in May, for ​“a lot of mon­ey”, Nicks tells me, in a ​“big kind of cas­tle place”. She has become his de fac­to men­tor – one phone call is all it takes to reach the Queen of Rock’n’Roll for advice on sequenc­ing (“She is real­ly good at track list­ing,” Styles admits) or just to hear each other’s voic­es… because, well, wouldn’t you?

Fol­low­ing anoth­er Fleet­wood Mac con­cert, at London’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um, in June, Nicks met Styles for a late (Indi­an) din­ner. He then invit­ed her back to his semi-detached Geor­gian man­sion in north Lon­don for a lis­ten­ing par­ty at mid­night. The album – HS2or what­ev­er it’ll be called – was fin­ished. Nicks, her assis­tant Karen, her make-up artist and her friends Jess and Mary crammed onto Styles’ liv­ing-room couch. They lis­tened to it once through in silence like a ​“bunch of edu­cat­ed monks or some­thing in this dark room”. Then once again, 15 or 16 tracks, this time each of his guests offer­ing live feed­back. It wrapped at 5am, just as the sun was bleed­ing through the curtains.

Even for a pop star of Styles’ stature, press­ing ​“play” on a deeply per­son­al work for your hero to digest, watch­ing her face react in real time to your new music, must be… what?

“It’s a dou­ble-edged thing,” he replies. ​“You’re always ner­vous when you are play­ing peo­ple music for the first time. You’ve heard it so much by this point, you for­get that peo­ple haven’t heard it before. It’s hard to not feel like you’ve done what you’ve set out to do. You are hap­py with some­thing and then some­one who you respect so much and look up to is, like: ​‘I real­ly like this.’ It feels like a large stamp [of approval]. It’s a big step towards feel­ing very com­fort­able with what­ev­er else hap­pens to it.”

Wad­ing through Styles’ back­ground info is exhaust­ing, since he was spanked by fame in the social media era where every god­dam blink of a kohl-rimmed eye has been doc­u­ment­ed from six angles. (And yes, he does some­times wear guyliner.)

Deep breath: born in Red­ditch, Worces­ter­shire, to par­ents Des and Anne, who divorced when he was sev­en. Grew up in Holmes Chapel in Cheshire with his sis­ter Gem­ma, mum and step­dad Robin Twist. Rode hors­es at a near­by sta­ble for free (“I was a bad rid­er, but I was a rid­er”). Stopped rid­ing, ​“got into dif­fer­ent stuff”. Formed a band, White Eski­mo, with school­mates. Aged 16, tried out for the 2010 run of The X Fac­torwith a stir­ring but aver­age ren­di­tion of Ste­vie Wonder’s Isn’t She Love­ly. Cut from the show and put into a boy band with four oth­ers, Louis Tom­lin­son, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik, and called One Direc­tion. Became inter­na­tion­al­ly famous, toured the globe. Zayn quit to go solo. Toured some more. Dat­ed but maybe didn’t date Car­o­line Flack, Rita Ora and Tay­lor Swift – whom he report­ed­ly dumped in the British Vir­gin Islands. (This rela­tion­ship, if noth­ing else, yield­ed an icon­ic, can­did shot of Swift look­ing deject­ed, being motored back to shore on the back of a boat called the Fly­ing Ray.) One Direc­tion dis­cussed dis­band­ing in 2014, actu­al­ly dis­solved in 2015. They remain friend­ly, and Styles offi­cial­ly went solo in 2016.

It’s been two years since his epony­mous debut and lead sin­gle, Sign of the Times, shocked the world and Elton John with its swag­ger­ing, soft rock sound. ​“It came out of left field and I loved it,” John says.

After 89 are­na-packed shows across five con­ti­nents grossed him, the label, whomev­er, over $61mil­lion, Styles had all but dis­ap­peared. He has emerged only inter­mit­tent­ly for pub­lic-fac­ing events – a Guc­ci after­par­ty per­for­mance here, a Met Gala co-chair­ing there. He relo­cat­ed from Los Ange­les back to Lon­don, sell­ing his Hol­ly­wood Hills house for $6 mil­lion and ship­ping his Jaguar E-type across the Atlantic so he could take joyrides on the M25.

“I’m not over LA,” he insists when I ask about the move. ​“My rela­tion­ship with LA changed a lot. What I want­ed from LA changed.”

A great escape, he would agree, is some­times nec­es­sary. He was in Tokyo for most of Jan­u­ary, hav­ing near­ly fin­ished his album. ​“I need­ed time to get out of that album frame-of-mind of: ​‘Is it fin­ished? Where am I at? What’s hap­pen­ing?’ I real­ly need­ed that time away from every­one. I was kind of just in Tokyo by myself.” His sab­bat­i­cal most­ly involved read­ing Haru­ki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chron­i­cle, singing Nir­vana at karaoke, writ­ing alone in his hotel room, lis­ten­ing to music and eaves­drop­ping on strangers in alien con­ver­sa­tion. ​“It was just a pos­i­tive time for my head and I think that impact­ed the album in a big way.”

Dur­ing this break he watched a lot of films, read a lot of books. Some­times he texts these rec­om­men­da­tions to his pal Michele at Guc­ci. He told Michele to watch the Ali Mac­graw film, Love Sto­ry. ​“We text what friends text about. He is the same [as me] in terms of he lives in his own world and he does his own thing. I love dress­ing up and he loves dress­ing up.”

Because he loves dress­ing up, Michele chose Styles to be the face of three Guc­ci Tai­lor­ing cam­paigns and of its new gen­der­less fra­grance, Mémoire d’une Odeur.

“The moment I met him, I imme­di­ate­ly under­stood there was some­thing strong around him,” Michele tells me. ​“I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thought­ful way, with uncombed hair and a beau­ti­ful voice. I thought he gath­ered with­in him­self the fem­i­nine and the masculine.”

Fash­ion, for Styles, is a play­ground. Some­thing he doesn’t take too seri­ous­ly. A cou­ple of years ago Har­ry Lam­bert, his styl­ist since 2015, acquired for him a pair of pink metal­lic Saint Lau­rent boots that he has nev­er been pho­tographed wear­ing. They are exceed­ing­ly rare – few pairs exist. Styles wears them ​“to get milk”. They are, in his words, ​“super-fun”. He’s not sure, but he has, ball­park, 50 pairs of shoes, as well as full clos­ets in at least three post­codes. He set­tles on an out­fit fair­ly quick­ly, maybe changes his T-shirt once before head­ing out, but most­ly knows what he likes.

What he may not ful­ly com­pre­hend is that sim­ply by being pho­tographed in a gar­ment he can spur the career of a design­er, as he has with Har­ris Reed, Palo­mo Spain, Charles Jef­frey, Alled-Martínez and a new favourite, Bode. Styles wore a SS16 Guc­ci flo­ral suit to the 2015 Amer­i­can Music Awards. When he was asked who made his suit on the red car­pet, Guc­ci began trend­ing world­wide on Twitter.

“It was one of the first times a male wore Alessandro’s run­way designs and, at the time, men were not tak­ing too many red car­pet risks,” says Lam­bert. ​“Who knows if it influ­enced oth­ers, but it was a spe­cial moment. Plus, it was fun see­ing the fans dress up in suits to come see Harry’s shows.”

Yet tra­di­tion­al gen­der codes of dress still have the minds of mid­dle Amer­i­ca in a choke­hold. Men can’t wear women’s clothes, say the online whingers, who have labelled him ​“trag­ic”, ​“a clown” and a Bowie wannabe. Styles doesn’t care. ​“What’s fem­i­nine and what’s mas­cu­line, what men are wear­ing and what women are wear­ing – it’s like there are no lines any more.”

Elton John agrees: ​“It worked for Marc Bolan, Bowie and Mick. Har­ry has the same qualities.”

Then there is the ques­tion of Styles’ sex­u­al­i­ty, some­thing he has admit­ted­ly ​“nev­er real­ly start­ed to label”, which will plague him until he does. Per­haps it’s part of his allure. He’s bran­dished a pride flag that read ​“Make Amer­i­ca Gay Again” on stage, and plant­ed a stake some­where left of cen­tre on sexuality’s rain­bow spectrum.

“In the posi­tion that he’s in, he can’t real­ly say a lot, but he chose a queer girl band to open for him and I think that speaks vol­umes,” Josette Maskin of the queer band MUNA told The Face ear­li­er this year.

“I get a lot of…” Styles trails off, wheels turn­ing on how he can dis­cuss sex­u­al­i­ty with­out real­ly answer­ing. ​“I’m not always super-out­spo­ken. But I think it’s very clear from choic­es that I make that I feel a cer­tain way about lots of things. I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I’m not…” He paus­es again, piv­ots. ​“I want every­one to feel wel­come at shows and online. They want to be loved and equal, you know? I’m nev­er unsup­port­ed, so it feels weird for me to over­think it for some­one else.”

Sex­u­al­i­ty aside, he must acknowl­edge that he has sex appeal. ​“The word ​‘sexy’ sounds so strange com­ing out of my mouth. So I would say that that’s prob­a­bly why I would not con­sid­er myself sexy.”

Har­ry Styles has emerged ful­ly-formed, an anachro­nis­tic rock star, vague in sen­si­bil­i­ty but des­tined to impress with a dis­arm­ing smile and a warm but firm handshake.

I recite to him a quote from Chrissie Hyn­de of The Pre­tenders about her time atop rock’s throne: ​“I nev­er got into this for the mon­ey or because I want­ed to join in the super­star sex around the swim­ming pools. I did it because the offer of a record con­tract came along and it seemed like it might be more fun than being a wait­ress. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Styles – who worked in a bak­ery in a small north­ern town some time before play­ing to 40,000scream­ing fans in South Amer­i­can are­nas – must have wit­nessed some shit, been invit­ed to a few pool­side sex par­ties, in his time.

“I’ve seen a cou­ple of things,” he nods in agree­ment. ​“But I’m still young. I feel like there’s still stuff to see.”

[jayascorner]

college tings

[tyler joseph x reader]

y/n was never the type of girl that would skip class. not saying that she likes school or wants to stay in school, no, she hates school’s stinkin’ guts. its just there’s a consequence, i mean, there’s always consequences. she never ever gets in trouble, and she’s practically an angel at school. no one wants to be noticed by the whole school. that’s pretty embarrassing.

but sometimes y/n needs to get away from this boy..... a boy who has always been in her high school and just happened to be at the same college as her.(like.. just great!) a boy highly annoys her; but does it on purpose. a boy that drives her crazy, but she just can’t get him off her mind. a boy that she thinks she hates, but her stupid hormones won’t let her decide whether she likes him or not.

either way he wouldn’t like her anyways, he’s probably just trying to tease her, or play with her feelings like most boys do. but he really does it just because he knows she likes him secretly.

well, anyways, this day was a great day to just stay out of his presence, or just stay out of having to talk to him. it’s kinda hard to find words to say when those brown eyes are staring into yours, and that angelic voice that comes out of his mouth. it’s just too overwhelming for her!

all this to say, yes she skipped the only class she had with him. she went to the mall with her friend brooke. that’s a great way to escape tyler.

so yeah. they were walking through the mall and found a place to sit. brooke had a hunch that she just needed to ask her.

“hey y/n?” brooke asked. “what?”

she smirked. “do you like tyler?”

y/n’s eyes widened. “what?!” she whisper shouted. “i said, do you like tyler. you know? that cute guy who hangs out with that other hot dude that dyes his hair?” is it that obvious? i hate talking to him. she thought. “uhm n-no... what makes you think that?” “ i had a hunch. and i always see you talking to him.”

her face crinkled up in disgust. “oh god no! he’s the one that talks to me! he always teases me and makes me want to die.” she said, but obviously the last one was a lie. he doesn’t make her want to die, come to think of it, y/n literally craves his voice everyday. she won’t know what to do if he leaves or if he’s not around. she just won’t admit it.

“oh is that so? usually a guy who teases a girl likes her. he just tries to find another way to flatter her...by not flattering her. y’know what i mean?”

“uh...no. i don’t know what you mean.”

brooke stopped. “you seriously don’t know what i’m talking about? a lot of boys do that. i swear there’s got to be some sexual tension between you two.”

she shook her head. “no. i don’t think so. there’s many other women for someone like him to be fond of. and it’s never gonna be me. that’s something obvious to point out.”

“okay... just don’t come screaming to me if y’all end up making out or something...”

“oh god that’s a bad visual, brooke” she said really embarrassed. and yes, that was another lie. “yeah right that’s a bad visual! i bet you’re always imagining that when he’s ‘annoying’ you.” she pointed out.

“pshhh the only thing i want to do is get away from him and have nothing to do with him.”

brooke stopped dead in her tracks as if she were thinking really hard.

“wait... what classes do you have with him?” she asked. “uh this class period. why?”

“OHHH I GET WHY YOU DECIDED TO SKIP CLASS WITH ME!!! YOU WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM HIM AND THIS WAS THE ONLY WAY!! wow i should’ve known. you know you can always tell me if you need help with a guy.”

“no no i don’t need help with guys. i still don’t know how you’re getting these ideas, they’re ridiculous.” she exclaimed.

“hey. y’know what i think is ridiculous? you denying all this. i know you think he’s hot. i see your conversations. the way your face looks. sure you want to get away, and oh! i know why, it’s that you don’t want him to see you blush or whatever. you definitely have feelings for ty-”

“DANG Y/N! are you skipping class too?” they hear someone shout from behind. lo and behold there’s a grinning tyler with his friend josh. and oh Lord he’s coming.

y/n’s heart rate went up like ten times faster. “uh oh. uh.... uh brooke can you.. cAN YOU HIDE ME!?”

brooke smirked at her and started walking backwards slowly towards josh’s direction.

“sorry y/n. you’ll have to figure this one out on your own. i got dibs on someone else.”

y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes. “great.” she muttered.

tyler was still coming. he looked so excited to see her. y/n yelped and headed for the nearest outlet store. it just so happened to be a forever 21. “y/n wait!” tyler’s voice was faint from a distance, but she was too busy to hear him. she rushed to the back of the store where she most likely wouldn’t be found.

there was a gasp heard from probably one of her other friends. “y/n?! what are you doing here?! and why are you in such a big hurry?” y/n turned around to see her friend bailey with her arms full of clothes to try on.

“uhmm.... do you have a minute?” y/n asked. “yeah, yeah sure.”

they went into the dressing room to so she could spill everything. it wasn’t really a big deal, though.

“uh so you know tyler?”

bailey started giggling. “yea.”

“well um— you see- he really annoys me and tries to talk to me a lot just to tease me about things. i wanted to get away from him because this is the only class i have with him. so i’m here and skipping class with brooke. but then he just shows up out of no where with josh! and he’s trying to get to me. and then brooke just runs away with josh, and i had nowhere else to go but here to escape! so i ended up here.”

“oh y/n. it looks like you have a crush on someone. you’re trying to avoid him aren’t you?” she asked.

y/n groaned in frustration “no i don’t have a crush on him. and no i’m not trying to avoid him. and how do you know i like him?”

bailey shook her head. “it’s so obvious that you like him! stop denying your emotions, cause deep down, you know you like him. just cut the bs already!”

“that’s exactly what i was thinking!!” y/n said.

she shrugged “anyways, don’t we need to get you some clothes so you’ll stand out to him more? ‘cause this place has really cute clothes. and i bet if we get something like a crop top, you’ll be irresistible to him.”

“what?! why are so many people trying to set me up with him?” y/n whisper shouted as her face reddened.

“because you said so yourself. you like him.” bailey said, then saw tyler enter the outlet. “i’m gonna go use the restroom.” she pointed to the restroom and walked off.

now y/n was left all alone with no one to talk to. oh wait- never mind. all except one.

she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. “hey. i didn’t know you like forever 21. anyways, why’d you run away from me?” tyler whispered in her ear, which sent shivers down her spine. y/n turned out of his grip, and pushed him away.

the thing is, he had never touched her before, and he never used his voice like that on her either. so that totally surprised and scared the heck out of her at the same time. so she looked at his eyes. they weren’t full of what they usually were, no, they were filled with confusion and concern. she started to take a few steps back, but he grabbed her hand. “what’s the matter? you can talk to me, you know. i won’t hurt you.”

she glared up at him.

“i know you won’t hurt me. but you will annoy me. in all honesty that’s literally the only thing you do to me. like, seriously! what can you possibly gain when you talk to me?”

she didn’t really mean that. it’s just what she thought she believed. and it’s not true either.

“what will i gain? well obviously to get you to like me! to actually smile when i show up, or something. i didn’t know you hated me, i’m sorry.” he apologized.

then it hit her. tyler may like me back? her attitude softened as she realized he was just trying to.... be nice? all along? it didn’t seem like that, though.

she sighed.

“no need to apologize. i don’t hate you. i actually feel the opposite. i-i just thought it was annoying how you always made me blush and feel really warm and..” you sighed. “and it just made me want to die! because i knew you would never feel the same. but here i am, telling you all this because maybe i think i lik-“ she got cut off by a pair of soft lips being attached to hers.

sadly, the kiss only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away to see y/n’s face full of shock.

she tried to say something but stuttered “u-uh”

“yeah. i’ll see you later y/n.” tyler said with a wink.

y/n stood there in shock of what just happened.

~the end~

a/n~do y’all want a part two? pls comment if you want one :))

[chaerismatic]

“SHOULD WE KNOW US A LITTLE BETTER” TAG 📜

RULES: you must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 a couple people [im too nyervous n bad at tagging :C]

i was tagged by @moonbebe , @monbeboo and @monbabi~ tysm ily guys w my whoooole heart ♡♡

THE LAST Drink: water wow already off to a rly interesting start,, great job angie Phone call: my mumma  Text message: “still full from the chicken, don't know if i want dindin” [asldkfjs i still talk to my mum like a four-year-old ok yep moving on] Song i’ve listened to: from zero,, aka the bop of the century that probably wont ever be released ;; v ;; Time you cried: i basically spent all of last weekend in the foetal position cos of the p101 final and shine forever

HAVE YOU 6. Dated someone twice: nope 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: nope 8. Been cheated on: nope 9. Lost someone special: yep 10. Been depressed: i guess 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: nope,, im?? an egg 12-14. List three favorite colours: green, yellow, cream

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU 15. Made new friends: yess, especially here !! i don't rly deserve any of them and i love n admire every single person thats talked to me. ty ty ty ♡ 16. Fallen out of love: maybe, but idk if you could call whatever that was ‘love’ 17. Laughed until you cried: we had karaoke at my school today,, i nearly choked from screaming n dancing to the pokemon theme song 18. Found out someone was talking about you: don't think so eep 19. Met someone who changed you: for sure 20. Found out who your friends are: i think so 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: uhh yes

GENERAL 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all of ‘em 23. Do you have any pets: OK ASDLKFJA I LVOE MY BABIES; so u’ve got miffy my v bouncy dog n best pal, my two rly chirpy but rly sweet birbs toro and newbert, and my two goldfish who are,,, both named huat,,, because that means prosperity n i need that $$$ 24. Do you want to change your name: hmm nope i like it, esp my full name even though i don't rly like it when people call me by it just cos it feels too formal 25. What did you do for your last birthday: probably ate a lot of mexican food and played the sims 4 for like 10hrs straight 26. What time do you wake up: 7am on school days n like 11pm on weekends 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: having a v mild panic attack about my history exam but also watching my babies sewoon/gwanghyun in their first vlive 28. Name something you can’t wait for: jung sewoon to debut jfc 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: maybe like an hour ago when i was washing the dishes 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: feeling more fulfilled and optimistic cos tbh ive got it really good compared to others n i hate when i forget that 31. What are you listening right now: why don't you know - chungha 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yep, a guy in my bio class that i barely know, he just asked for help w a question 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my academic incompetency  34. Most visited website: youtube or tumblr 35. Moles: none 36. Marks: two lil dots under my right eye, one on my upper lip n a whole bunch on my arms 38. Hair color: black  39. Long or short hair: long 40. Do you have a crush on someone: huygnown jks sorry 41. What do you like about yourself: my ??softness tbh 42. Piercings: nope 43. Bloodtype: idk but i really wanna find out !!! ;;  44. Nickname: angie is a nickname i guess, but a lot of my school friends call me angle 45. Relationship status: dating a pretty cool guy (who is not hw but its fine i still kinda like him asldfjsal that was a rly weird n kinda messed up joke im sorry) 46. Zodiac: cancer 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: orange is the new black, brooklyn nine nine, rick and forty, and a whooole lot of japanese dramas 49. Tattoos: nope 50. Right or left hand: right 51. Surgery: none 52. Hair dyed in different color: not currently but i had green ombre for a while last year 53. Sport: not really my thing if yknow what i mean hah im as active as an actual pile of garbage   55. Vacation: ive only ever had an extensive stay in malaysia but its like a second home n i love it so much c: 56. Pair of trainers: uhhhh one ? yes ? idrk what this is asking ;v;

MORE GENERAL 57. Eating: i had kfc for dinner mmmm 58. Drinking: water 59. I’m about to: pass out im so tired 61. Waiting for: monsta x’s first win !1!! 62. Want: to hug wonho,,, idk i feel extra protective of him today 63. Get married: for sure 64. Career: nursing/midwifery

WHICH IS BETTER 65.Hugs or kisses: hugs !!! warm n friendly or romantic n gentle,, you can't go wrong !! 66. Lips or eyes: both are v good, especially as a combination when someone smiles,,, smiling is rly rly nice 67. Shorter or taller: taller  68. Older or younger: older for now 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: asdfhasl both again !! both are SO good !!! esp soft tummies w comfy arms in hugs !! ;; - ;; 71. Sensitive or loud: sensitive  72. Hookup or relationship: relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER 74.Kissed a stranger: nope 75. Drank hard liquor: nope 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: no but thats honestly my worst nightmare,, id be completely vulnerable 77. Turned someone down: yeah but in like the 5th grade 78. Sex on the first date: nope 79. Broken someone’s heart: maybe ,,, 80. Had your heart broken: probably fractured, not quite entirely shattered 81. Been arrested: nope 82. Cried when someone died: yessir 83. Fallen for a friend: way too many fkscifn times

DO YOU BELIEVE IN 84. Yourself: uhh probably not 85. Miracles: sure 86. Love at first sight: eh not really 87. Santa Claus: i rly want to cos i love christmas so much :cc but no 88. Kiss on the first date: mmm probably not 89. Angels: have u seen the all-white shine forever stage outfits amirite

OTHER 
90. Current best friend’s name: i have two bestest friends named annie and charlie 
91. Eye color: dark brown
 92. Favorite movie: WHY END WITH THE HARDEST QUESTION YOU COULD POSSIBLY ASK ME ??? ok um lets go w back to the future as one of many favourites

❀ tagging: @monbibi @peachminhyuk @cngkyns @chaesprincess @kukungie @bamethyst @omgxiaoch ! ❀ but feel free to ignore, this does take a really long time so i totally understand :)