#very funny that he left the pick threaded in the high strings

[woundedheartwithin]

x

[apaleflame]

bg3 post epilogue slide show that exists in my imagination: [spoilers]

shadowheart and psymáre use their copious riches they collected during their adventure to buy some property in rivington, they have a house built for shadowheart’s parents and another for themselves. scratch and the owlbear cub have tons of room outside to run around and play!

funny idea popped into my head that psymáre should take over ownership of sorcerers sundries since it’s previous owner, uh, tragically died

im not sure where precisely astarion is living (maybe he also buys himself a house with all the gold we picked up) (also like, with cazador gone... who owns the szarr estate? maybe the gang pulls some legal strings so that astarion becomes the new owner, then he auctions off all of cazador's shit, and now has a ton of money. then oops the mansion burns to the ground. hooray insurance fraud!) but psymáre visits him often because they are friends. in her free time she’s researching ways for him to be able to walk in the sun again.

gale returns to waterdeep after retrieving the broken crown pieces from the river and returning them to mystra. psymáre’s roped him into her “helping astarion walk in the sun” project. she goes to visit him in waterdeep after everything at home for her has settled down and gets a grand tour of the city. they use magic skype to talk to each other when psymáre goes back to baldur's gate because they are wizard besties

wyll is in avernus, and so is karlach for the moment (a lot of players (including me) are disappointed that there's no way to give her a real happy ending, despite all the threads in act 3 that hint that there should have been a way, so... this might change pending future content updates) so unfortunately they don't see each other very much in person anymore :( but psymáre's a very smart wizard and makes magic skype work between planes so they can still catch up. i imagine she'd have a chat with barcus about potentially getting the iron hand gnomes and their new gondian allies to work on a solution to karlach's case

it seems like lae'zel and the gang permanently part ways after she returns to the astral plane, and I wish there had been a slightly longer goodbye scene with her if you had very high or exceptional approval with her. in my mind hers and psymáre's parting was a lot more like morrigan and the warden's friendship parting in da:o "i knew nothing of friendship before i met you, live well my friend, live gloriously". psymáre really didnt like lae'zel when she first met her and was surprised by how much she came to value their friendship (like... she only stole the hammer from raphael & freed orpheus because lae'zel asked her too. braving a devil's lair so you can free a guy who might just kill you when you release him for your friend is pretty ride-or-die, in my eyes). maybe they will meet again one day! i hope they will. psymáre's a high elf and still has many centuries of life left ahead of her, and in the astral plane lae'zel won't age, so who can say!

since jaheira lives in baldur's gate, that means they're neighbours and would still see each other! i dont see psymáre becoming a harper herself, but she'd be allied with them, certainly. jaheira goes home to her family and has a well deserved break from apocalyptic fuckery. also that reverse aging scroll jaheira has in her basement... psymáre's a high elf and is 370 years old, so she might expect to live another 400 years or so, whereas shadowheart... isn't going to live that long (elves live on average about 750 years, but half-elves only about between 128-180 years) ... maybe jaheira gives the scroll and her research to them, since she decided she wasnt going to use it?

(now ive made myself sad thinking about how all of astarion's friends are eventually going to die of old age :( maybe the "walking in the sun" fix will be to cure him of vamparism? this would be a good century or two into the future though, probably. give him plenty of time to decide if that what he wants or not. also plenty for psymáre to learn how to cast wish or find a scroll of true resurrection)

in halsin's romance ending he tell you that he's going to help the refugees and orphaned children start new lives in the now shadow curse-free lands, so obviously he's still gong to be doing that. i cant decide whether or not yenna goes with him or if psymáre and shadowheart adopt her lmao but i definitely think that they'd drop by and say hello whenever they're able. and im sure shadowheart would like to see moonrise towers back to its former glory!

i recruited minsc really late into act 3 so i didnt get to know him very well but i assume post-game that he's doing just fine i dont have any further thoughts on him lmao

[petri808]

If you're open for nalu requests, can you write a smut fic where nalu goes to a lingerie store because lucy wants to try on some lingerie and natsu ends up getting aroused? But if you can't it's fine just ignore this ask😊

Hi Nony, this is the last request I’ll do. Decided to save this for @thenaluarchive Sinfully Nalu event Mirror prompt. What did Lucy expect by dragging Natsu lingerie shopping?

“I’ve just got one more stop to make.” Lucy pointed towards the other side of the mall.

“Ugh…” Natsu’s shoulders dropped, “but we’ve been here for 2 hours already, Lucy, and I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll spring for lunch. Anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to it,” he grumbled, but allowed her to pull him forward.

Natsu knew the mall well enough to know that the section they were heading towards were mostly women’s clothing stores— definitely not where he wanted to be. All these fancy clothes, and accessories, and… stuff that his girlfriend loved to wear. Sure, he didn’t complain cause it made her happy, he just didn’t wanna shop for it. Forever twenty something, Cache or Channel— whatever, “oh, uh-uh, no way,” he jerked them to a halt. “I ain’t going in there.”

“It’s just Victoria’s Secret.”

“Well Victoria can keep her secret. Lucy you’re crazy if you think I’m going in a women’s lingerie store!”

Lucy turned to face, then grabbed both of Natsu’s hands, holding them together close to her chest. “Please,” her eyes begged. “I need you to tell me what you think will be nice on me.”

Thinking about his girl, in lingerie, while standing in a mall was *not* the image Natsu wanted conjuring in his mind. But between the soft, puppy-dog expression, and her whimpering pleading— he was powerless to turn Lucy down. He sighed with a whine. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” She giggled, kissed his cheek, and took his hand again, entwining their fingers together. “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

Yeah, uh-huh, right… Painless.

As they walked down the rows and racks of lingerie, Natsu hummed in his head as a distraction. Bras, panties. Low cut, high cut, thongs, g-strings. Sets, individual pieces. Lace, satin, cotton. So many choices! He let the colors blend in his vision, the scents of brand-new clothing mixed with perfumes sold, or miscellaneous accessories. How do women pick anything when there’s so many options? Give him a t-shirt and jeans and he was good to go.

Every so many picks, Lucy would ask his opinion. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. No, that looks itchy. I like that color. Eww, it doesn’t match you.’ Finding her size in the styles she wanted wasn’t always easy, but after 30 minutes, Lucy had half a dozen or so items to try on. So, they head towards the fitting rooms.

Natsu stopped in front of the doors, and readied himself to stand around and wait—

“You’re coming in with me.” Lucy tugged on his hand. “I need your final opinion.”

Up until now, Natsu had managed to avoid thinking about anything even remotely related to sex, but now?! “Uh-uh, no way!”

“Please…” Lucy turned on the pouty lip-action and puppy-dog eyes again. “It’s not like you won’t see me in them later.”

Natsu gulped hard as the naughty images were unlocked. “Are you trying to kill me in public?”

“Pfft, no,” she giggled. “Stop exaggerating this.”

‘You have no idea, woman…’ “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if anything happens in there.” Because if the twitch in his pants and slight bulge growing was any indication, it wouldn’t be what she’d be expecting.

“Tch.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Natsu, you’ll see.”

The dressing room was a lot more spacious than he was used to seeing. Men’s fitting rooms, at least the ones he’s been in are like closets with just one full length mirror, and maybe a small bench inside. This one could easily fit them both, with wrap around mirrors to catch every angle. It had a small, cushioned bench along one wall, and a couple of hooks on the inside of the door. But most noteworthy was the fact it was a fully enclosed room— not those partial-length doors at lower-quality stores. It was very, very private.

Natsu sat down on the bench and closed his eyes while Lucy fiddled with her options. He could hear the plastic and metal hangers going up on the hooks, as well as the sounds of his girlfriend shedding her clothing. His mouth suddenly felt dry… Lucy’s voluptuous body bared for him to see with only her regular panties left on— he squeezed his eyes tighter shut. ‘Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!’

“Ready— Natsu, silly,” Lucy giggled. “How are you gonna tell me if it’s good or not if you can’t see?”

“No.”

Lucy threaded her fingers gingerly through his hair. “Just one peak…”

‘Fuck…’ he groaned as the tightening in his shorts grew uncomfortable. “One peak.”

Natsu opened his eyes and immediately slammed them shut again from the screaming bra and panties glued to her frame. A sheer red with solid fabric only over the nipples and a strip covering her crotch. So much flesh revealed in these outfits, was there even a point to wearing anything at all?

“Great!” His voice squeaked out. “Looks fine.”

Her giggles only added to his demise. The sounds of more fabric rustling, and the twitch in his shorts… Natsu shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t. Lucy had grabbed about six of seven different pieces to try, and this was only the beginning. She was too damn sexy, and he swore, derived pleasure out of torturing him like this! Ugh, his cock was so hard right now…

“Okay, next piece,” Natsu heard her say. “I’m not sure about it, cause the color doesn’t seem to look good on me.”

Tch, it could be multi-colored polka dots and Lucy would still be a man’s wet dream. He cracked open one eye. It was a dark green, combo with frilled lace along the waistband. Natsu gulped hard as she did a turn around to reveal a thong and curvy swell of her backside.

“You do realize I’m biased, right?” Natsu blurted out. “Everything looks good on you to me.”

“Awww,” Lucy bent down and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I still think I’ll add this to the maybe pile,” she spoke as she started removing the pieces. “I think you’ll really like the next one I found; it has these cute flames on them.”

“You know what I’d prefer to see?” Natsu questioned, for he was done holding back.

Lucy stopped mid-way, bent slightly over with the thong down to her thighs. “What?”

Without answering her, Natsu got off the bench and started helping her take the thong off.

“Natsu, what are you—”

Once off, he moved onto her regular panties down.

“Nat— s-stop!” Lucy grabbed for his hands, but she couldn’t do much without twisting or tripping. “What are you do—”

“Keep your voice down.” He tugged those off too leaving her exposed from the waist down.

“Natsu this isn’t funny!” She seethed in an exasperated whisper.

“Neither is this,” he gestured at the bulge in his shorts. Guiding her against the mirrored wall as he spoke. “You said I could choose whatever I wanted for lunch, and I’ve decided to put you on the menu.”

Lucy whimpered when she felt the cold mirror against her bare skin. “But we’re in public.”

“I warned you didn’t I…” Natsu leaned in with a whisper, cheek to cheek. “Then I suggest you not make any noise,” his words wisp out, warm breath fanning down the barren skin as his lips burn a trail over her neck. Lucy dug her fingers into his hair, holding on but not stopping him as he moved lower.

His stops were brief, lips ghosting burning marks along her chest, a mountainous journey over the pillowy bosoms, a few licks against the pert nipples, and lower… down … snaking over her torso to what he was truly after. “Breathe, baby,” Natsu teased at her halted, bated breathing. “Just look forward and watch.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and stared forward at the mirrored image of Natsu going down on her. It was strange to literally watch every move he made like a voyeur living through another’s body. Lucy’s fingers tightened their grip on his hair in anticipation as he spread her legs a little wider…

“Mmm,” he mused in thought on how to get the best angle. “Hold to me,” Natsu suggested, and before she could reply, lifted Lucy’s left leg, and rested it on his shoulder. “Perfect…”

Natsu dove right in, latching his mouth onto the moist folds he knew so well, humming at the quick squeak his girl couldn’t catch in time. But he knew from the pull on his scalp exactly what she was experiencing. He kept one hand on her raised hip, while the fingers of his other toyed around the edge of her wet opening. His tongue pressed and circled around her clit, sucking, palpating, interspersed with soothing flicks and long strokes to lap up the growing sap gathering in the area. He closed his eyes as he relished in the warmth oozing over his face from her beautiful sex.

Heaven help her, Lucy couldn’t stop staring at that mirror… her gripped fingers to his hair and nails digging into his shoulder for dear life from the seasoned oral ministrations that slowly undid her sanity. Just his tongue alone… but the teasing fingers… Oh! Oh— Her thighs clenched to the sides of Natsu’s head as she felt one, then two fingers slipped through her walls. Lucy’s body arched slightly, and head tilted back as those fingers began swiftly pumping.

“Natsu…” Lucy moaned softly through sealed lips. She could feel his grin against her flesh, hear the squishing sounds, and smell the light scent of her extreme arousal. Damn him…

In a race against time, Natsu pumped fast and hard while his mouth and tongue devoured Lucy’s sex and sanity with an intensity to rival any known battle for supremacy. Each passing second, drawing the heated coil at her core closer to snapping. Her legs trembled, yet clenched and stiffened as his fingers pummeled, bumping the swollen sex being driven to his knuckles reach. He could feel Lucy start unraveling and held firmly to her hip bone as the jerky spasms rocked her body in orgasmic euphoria.

“Stop, stop, stop—” Lucy clawed at his back and neck as she whimpered from the immense pressure boiling in her body, and radiant moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please… enough, Natsu my legs are gonna give out.”

After giving her pussy a few more licks to clean up the excess juices, Natsu finally obliged and put down Lucy’s leg, then stood up while still supporting her as she caught her breath. He licked around his lips and cleaned off his fingers. “Best lunch in the world,” he grinned.

“Oof!” Lucy playfully slapped his chest with a short laugh. “Not what I’d meant. And now I don’t have time to try on the rest.”

“Why not?”

Lucy started putting on her regular clothes. “We’ve been in here for too long, it’ll be suspicious.”

“Tch, then just buy all of it if you like them, cause I’m telling you they’ll all look great on you.”

She glared at him. “Fine, but after pulling that stunt, now you owe me lunch!”

Natsu shrugged and grabbed all the hangers of clothing. “Okay, since you’ll need your strength later.”

“Later?”

The widest seedy grin bloomed on Natsu’s face. “You’ll see…”

[sunflowerstache]

the one where you’re Harry’s tailor

@theasstour​ and I have been stewing in this idea for nearly a year and it’s finally come together.. we hope you enjoy x.

Word Count: 25.6k | Warning(s): explicit language, alcohol, sexual content

NORA’S MASTERLIST  |  SARAH’S MASTERLIST

There were few moments in life that would equate to being backstage at a fashion show, simply because it was impossible to string together the specific words needed to describe the feeling. Journalists tried, quickly scribbling down thoughts and plans for their future articles in small notepads, while the professionals around them danced about in unspoken, yet somehow synchronized, movements. How would they be able to accurately depict the feeling of fabrics rubbing together between your fingers, in the most comforting way? The almost deafening sound of sewing pins carelessly being dropped on the table, after fixing a foot sized hole in a pair of trousers moments before showtime. Or how, with the amount of people crammed into the room, mixed with the humid Roman air seeping through the open windows, had sweat continuously dripped from your forehead. Yet, there was still a constant shiver running up your spine with nerves. No matter how valiant of an attempt, unless they were watching their own tailored outfits walk down the runway, their written words would never be exactly right.

Even after four years working for Gucci, perfecting hundreds of articles of clothing, clothing that was held on such a high pedestal in the fashion industry, the nerves never settled. Not when Alessandro immediately hired you at the end of your University placement, or when you were asked to accompany him in the closing walk during last year’s Cruise Show. But all of those monumental achievements paled in comparison to the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you were crouched in front of your current canvas, Gucci’s newest runway model for the 2020 Cruise Fashion Show; Harry Styles.

He was making his runway debut wearing Look 51, something you’d taken notice was not too far away from his new wardrobe when you first opened his folder. The wide legged pants were crafted from fine dots patterned blue wool, a single red pin stripe running from the hip, all the way down to the ankle. They were finished with minor details, ones not many people would take notice to, but ones that made your heart race with excitement; hidden horn buttons, front slash pockets, viscose inner lining, and an interior silk belt, all of which were hidden by his coat. Green, red, and blue stripes defined the knee length coat, appearing to crease where the four pockets sat; two at his groin and two more just at the breasts, the left pocket holding Lyre ‘Pas de Rumeur’ crest patch. Barely visible under the wool coat, peaked out a blazer identically matching the pants, only the buttons and red piping could be seen, but you knew what would be hidden to onlookers; an orange lion embroidered onto the upper left breast pocket, the hand stitched word ‘Gucci’ sitting under it’s paws in black thread, and a baby blue silk inside - a fabric that no doubt felt great against Harry’s white tank top covered torso. The rest of his look consisted of minor accessories that brought the look together; a red barrie that had the signature double G’s embroidered in green thread, a pair of crocheted black fingerless gloves, and maroon quilted leather slide sandals, complete with the interlocking G horsebit. The subtle jewelry on his body was a stark contrast to his usual ring clad fingers, now only having a few delicate necklaces rest against his bare chest. He was a sight to be seen, someone who would surely grab attention as he made his way through the dark museum runway.

“Quit moving, or you’ll end up with a pin in your bum.” you mumbled, on your knees behind Harry and quickly fixing a tear in the rear left pants pocket before he was ushered out onto the runway.

The two of you were in the farthest corner of the back dressing room, away from most of the hustle and bustle of all other models, so that you could grab the emergency sewing kit, filled with all colors of thread, baby scissors, hundreds of pins, and even super glue, from your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, Alessandro could be seen weaving through the room, triple checking that each and every outfit was completed in the exact way he had envisioned. There wasn’t much time before all models were set to step foot on the Musei Capitolini floor, and the last minute nerves were finally setting in.

“Sorry, can’t help it. Never done this before, you know.” his voice was muffled by not only the chatter of the room, but also the constant picking of his lip.

“Still can’t believe you’re actually doing it, if I’m honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you chuckled, giving the bum pocket a couple tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come undone again, before moving to stand directly in front of him. “You cut yourself the first time we met, ripped your trousers at the first shoot, and fell off a stone wall in the new campaign. You’re not exactly the most graceful lad at times.”

“In my defense, no one told me not to get on that wall.” Harry paused a moment, holding his hand out for you to place the pin cushion while you reorganized your bag,  “Can’t believe we only met a few years ago. Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Without any hesitation, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t really remember the exact date you first met Harry. All you remember is it had been February 2018 and raining - very hard at that - and when you entered the Gucci store on Bond Street in London, your umbrella had been torn to shreds because of the wind, and your hands felt like ice after having been attacked by the raging storm outside. Alessandro had been upstairs in one of the offices, three huge white boards before him with the different campaigns he was planning at the time. Humming along to Malafemmena by Roberto Murolo playing from the speakers on his desk, Alessandro traced a finger over the fabric hanging from the wall beside the boards. You knew those were the fabrics you were going to be using today, your boss having hung them forth so it would be easier for you to work.

“Morning.” You had said, taking your jacket off and placing it on the hanger. “Absolutely horrendous outside.”

“Hmm,” mused Alessandro, tilting his head to take the grey fabric in before he looked over at you making your way over. “Always like that in England.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the different colours, materials and patterns you were going to use for the new looks. “You’re not wrong.”

Alessandro giggled, looking over his shoulder for a single second.

“Either pouring rain or it’s drizzling.” You said, studying the different designs of each of the suits you would be making over the next few months. “Right annoying when you don’t even want to be here.”

He laughed again, turning around to look at the boards you assumed.

“I’m being serious.” You reached for the fabric your boss had been checking out when you arrived. “Who would choose to live in a country where it constantly rains?”

“Didn’t really have a choice most of my life,” came a voice from behind you and you instantly stopped dead in your tracks. “Can’t really control where we are born, can we?”

Slowly, you turned to see one of Alessandro’s dearest friends: Harry Styles. He was sitting in the brown leather sofa right behind you, a sofa you knew was there from having been in Alessandro’s London office multiple times before, but hadn’t thought to give a second look. You would assume Harry would have someone there with him, like some assistant or manager or… anyone, but Harry was sitting there all alone, looking over at you with this cheeky grin on his face that had your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t a shock for him to be here alone, you thought after a second, as Harry and Alessandro spent loads of time together usually so this was just another normal hang-out for them. You, on the other hand, had never met Harry Styles before. This was your first time being in his company. And so far – you had to be honest with yourself – you weren’t looking very good. Grumpy, soaked through, and with a dash of dishevelled everything, you no doubt looked like a person no one wanted anything to do with. Harry clearly found it very amusing how little you liked being in England. Also most definitely found it funny how startled you were at his sudden utterance. You watched as he got up from the sofa, walking over to you as Alessandro also came to sight again.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro said. “This is Harry.”

You zoned out entirely, the whole situation too surreal. Though you had been born and brought up in England, there was just something about the constant rain that made not only your mood drop, but your skin sticky and hands clammy. So when Harry reached a hand out to shake yours after Alessandro had told Harry your name and introduced you, red lights and a loud alarm started going off in your head. He would have to feel just how bad the effect of the bloody terrible English weather had on you. But not shaking his hand would be weird and impolite. His hand was between the two of you, open and ready for yours. It stood there for a few seconds. And you just looked at it. Quickly realising that not shaking his hand would probably be more awkward than doing so with a sweaty palm, you took his. A breathy giggle left Harry’s lips as your hands met. You let his go, looking over at Alessandro who was giving you a weird look while you heard the slap of Harry’s hand against his thigh in the background.

“Measurements.” Alessandro said, trying to move on from the awkward situation you had just caused. All the blood in your body rushed to the surface of your skin, instantly heating you up. You glanced to the ground, hoping Harry didn’t notice how flustered you just got. Walking to your bag, you took out your notebook and measurement tape. “Glorious, mio caro.”

Getting your pen, you walked over to the board for the Gucci Autumn/Winter Campaign. There were five different suits for this one, a couple of more for the next, and then three for the last one. From the way Alessandro had left some space at the bottom of the last board, it was clear he would be working even more with Harry in the future, they just did not know exactly what or when yet. Someone cleared their throat beside you and you whipped your head to your left to see Alessandro pointing to the different suits on the board.

“These today.” He said, pointing to the specific details he wanted and instructions on where they would be loose and not. “I need to go to a meeting, but you two will be fine on your own. You have a lot in common.”

You frowned, watching as Alessandro walked toward his desk, picking up a huge binder and resting it under his arm. “Have a lot in common?”

“Yes,” he grinned. “You do.”

“Like…?”

Alessandro only gestured with his hands for the two of you to get talking, and then he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Dettagli - Detalhes by Ornella Vanoni played lowly as the quiet between the two of you filled the room and made it troublesome to breathe properly. A great stream of anxiety suddenly took over and you suddenly felt very awkward. Obvious from the way Alessandro had left in such a hurry and the way he had left with that grin, you knew there was underlying expectations to this encounter. There were multiple reasons why Alessandro had called you to come help him. You didn’t want to think about that, though, because that only made absolutely everything ten times more embarrassing.

“Lovely,” Harry looked over at you from staring at the door Alessandro had kicked closed, standing confidently in his green and white striped tee shirt over his loose light denim jeans. “Likes a dramatic entrance and exit, that one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking over to the board to look at the details once more. Harry only watched you, a bit unsure of what to do next. The rain fell against the windows, creating a lulling sound to go with the Italian music still swaying through the room. The white walls, tall ceiling, and Victorian look of the room only made it feel like you two were actually in Italy. His phone vibrated from the sofa with an incoming text, only giving it a quick look over his shoulder until you wandered over to your bag again. Whipping your glasses out, you hung them from the collar of your white tee shirt before walking back over to Harry.

Quickly, and maybe a bit too loudly, you cleared your throat. “Are you ticklish?”

Taken a bit off guard, Harry blinked twice. “Only armpits and backs of my knees.”

“Right.” You nodded your head, hooking your measurement tape around your neck. “Stand still, back straight.”

Harry listened to you, biting the side of his lip as you pressed your ring and index finger to your sternum in concentration. Eyes following you as you started walking around his figure, getting a good look at everything before you stood before him again.

“Clothes too loose?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, taking your tape back in your hands again. An instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio by Jack Jezzro started playing just as the rain outside threw itself more forcefully against the windows, but you tried not to pay notice to anything but what was going on before you. You had no idea why you were nervous. Plenty of times before, you had worked with other celebrities; tailoring their suits, dresses and whatnots. For some reason, however, this felt different. Harry was so close to Alessandro, so the notion that the two of you would get along just as well filled you with anxiety, and a hint of awkwardness. Bringing your tape up you took a step closer to Harry as you lifted it above his head and around his neck. Before doing anything else, you put your glasses on, wanting to actually be able to see what the measurements were. Resting the tape on the tops of his shoulders, you put your finger between the tape and his neck to allow for some room for Harry to breathe in his suits. You felt him swallow against your finger. Her heart skipped a quick beat.

“So…” he said, dragging it out. “Where are you from?”

Instantly, your eyes whipped up in the direction of his, staring at you patiently. You glanced down at the measurements again, whispering them to yourself under your breath and doing so continuously till you wrote his numbers behind the ‘neck’ in your notebook.

“You can tell I’m from England?” you asked, knowing your parents had made it very apparent to you how much of your accent you had lost over the four years you had spent constantly traveling.

“Know a Brit when I hear one.”

You huffed through your nose, walking back to him. “Lift your arms, please.”

He did.

You sneaked the measurement tape from where it hung from his shoulders and wrapped it around the widest point of his chest. “Worcestershire, you?”

“Cheshire,” he answered. “Right outside Manchester.”

“Stand in a relaxed posture if you can,” you ordered. “You can let your arms fall to your sides.” Harry did as you told him to. “Now breathe in.” Breathed in, you noted the numbers in your head. “Breathe out.” You did the same again. Muttering them under your breath, you dragged the tape with you while writing everything down.

“And you?” Harry asked, clearly eager to get to know you better while you were this close to him. He didn’t want any awkward tension between the two of you as this almost felt like an intimate moment; you studying him so closely and touching his entire body on your first meeting. Though he was good at knowing when to be professional and when it was okay not to be - and though he knew this was work - he couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t. You were a good friend of Alessandro, just as he was, and so it felt more like two acquaintances hanging out than anything work related.

“Evesham.” You answered, enclosing the tape around Harry’s waist this time. You leaned into him, nose almost touching his chest. You breathed in through your nose, and as discreetly as possible, breathed out through your mouth. Why were you acting up? What was it with Harry Styles that suddenly made it hard for you to function? This never happened. Bending your index finger, you started feeling around for Harry’s belly button to make sure you were on the right spot.

“Never really been to Worcestershire, if I’m- Oh!” Harry looked down at you as you poked his belly button a little too hard.

“Sorry, just needed to know I was directly on your waist.” You leaned down, asking him to breathe in and out again.

Harry watched you write the numbers down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“What?” you asked, putting one end of the tape at the mid side of his neck, following it all the way down to where you knew Alessandro wanted the shirt to end. Which was a little too close to his crotch. “You mean working for Gucci or tailoring people?” You felt the spot where his abdomen ended and his leg began. No, no, no, don’t go there, be professional, you thought to yourself.

“Both.”

You hunched down, getting the right measurements, writing them down, and then going to stand at his back. “Since I was twenty. Alessandro thought I had some talent, took me under his wing, and I’ve been working for Gucci since, tailoring people.” Placing your finger near his armpit, and tracing a line upward, Harry jerked.

“Absolutely not.” He glanced at you now that you were face to face, protecting his armpit while he continued on, “Want me to elbow you in the throat?”

“Preferably not.”

“Then don’t tickle my armpit.” He was so serious it took everything in you not to laugh.

“Well,” you couldn’t help your smile now. “I kind of have to know where your armpit is to do your shoulders.”

Conflict ran across Harry’s face, as if he was debating everything that could go wrong if he let you do it. Slowly, he turned back around, shoulders incredibly tense this time.

“Try to relax.”

“I know I’m about to have a finger jammed up my armpit, I’m unable to.”

The urge to laugh was so immense, but you bit your lips together and quickly ran your finger from his armpit and directly up his shoulder. Harry only winced a little, sighing under his breath as you took the measurements and then went to write them down.

“Sorry,” Harry said as you turned back around to him. “Didn’t mean to turn into a dickhead, but I just hate when people touch my armpits.”

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m the same with my neck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Ever had someone tailor you?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Nope. I’ll do that myself unless I need someone to do my back.”

“Let me know next time you need help and I’ll do your back.” Harry said. “Maybe wiggle my fingers along your neck or summat to that effect.”

You laughed. “You have free time on your hands now? Aren’t you a busy bloke?”

“Count me in after July.”

“Oh?”

“World tour is over; I get to relax.” He informed, watching as you did his arm. “Going to Italy to relax with some mates and family.”

“How nice.” You said, doing his wrist. “I’m going to Italy as well. Always spend March ‘till August in Florence, then September ‘till February in London.”

“Really?” Harry almost looked a little impressed by your lifestyle, as if his own wasn’t just as adventurous. “Travel a lot?”

You couldn’t help a tiny smile, knowing that no matter how many countries you’d travelled to, Harry had probably done double the amount. But regardless of how well-travelled he himself was, in the low yet curious tone of his voice, you could hear the sincerity of his question. “Mostly between Italy and England, but I do tag along on some of Alessandro’s visits to the States, France, and some other countries.”

“Wicked.” Harry smiled as he noticed the corners of your mouth tip a little upward. “What’s been your favourite so far?”

The eye contact was intense. He didn’t look away, focusing entirely and altogether on you. There was a friendliness to his glance that had you relaxing, which was odd considering how anxious you had been earlier. You were sure that, by this point, Harry had completely forgotten the entire reason why he was here or why it was raining outside. And, to be fair, so had you. This felt like catching up with a friend, the easy chatter you had with one of your mates after months apart.

“I feel like I’m somewhat biased, but Italy. I love my little flat in Florence and that city too much for my own good.” You said, finding the way Harry’s head moved slightly with his huff, endearing. “You expected that?”

“What's not to love about Italy?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “I’m going there this summer, remember? Taking my whole family and meeting some mates.”

“Where abouts are you going?”

“Modena.” He put his hands in his jean pockets, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not really anywhere close to a big city or anything, but I just want to rest once I’m there to be fair. I’m teaching myself Italian at the moment, Alessandro is teaching me some as well.”

“Really?” Your smile grew bigger.

Harry’s smile mirrored yours. “Yeah.”

“Would you understand if I spoke some to you?” The four years you had lived in Italy had made you fluent in their first language. It had been a challenge at first, but you now understood the frustrated Florentine drivers shouting out from their open driver side windows, the old couple owning the bakery near you who loved to mumble, and even the slang some of the interns at Gucci used when they talked to one another. Harry seemed to be able to tell that you mastered this language he had just barely started to learn, but he nodded nevertheless.

“Right then.” He said. “Hit me.”

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself, getting the measurement tape from the table behind you, completely having forgotten about the fact that you were here for work.

“Is that Italian for ‘oh no’?” Harry teased, making you both laugh, but you quickly shut up as you saw what was next on the list. Hip and seat. Clearing your throat, you turned back to Harry, biting your lip as you hunched down before him. You could tell that he too was a bit taken aback by the completely new position you two found yourself in. He quickly looked away.

“Is it okay if you…” your eyes met. “If you lift your shirt slightly and lower your jeans a tad? I need to measure directly onto your body.”

“Alright,” Harry took a grip of his jeans, shimmying them along with his boxers a bit down his hip. “Yeah.” Taking his shirt up next, the bare skin of his abdomen was there right in front of you.

“Modena,” you started, leaning in as you brought the measurement tape around him. Harry felt your breath brush against his abdominal hair. “Non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

“What?” he said, eyes glued to the wall right in front of him, hands gripping his shirt hard in concentration. “Didn’t catch that.”

You memorised his number, then said a quick, “You can pull your jeans up and shirt down now.”

Harry did so, watching you stroll back to note his hip. He noticed he was panting slightly, like he had run up a set of stairs. Closing his mouth, he shook his head and willed himself to act normal, to be respectful. It was a little hard, however, when he had been single for so long and a pretty lass stood right in front of his crotch. As you came back and stood in front of him the exact same way as the time before, Harry settled his eyes on the white boards again. This time around, you brought the book with you, wanting the crotch and leg area to be done with as quickly as possible.

“Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.” You said again, measuring around the widest point of his seat.

He didn’t respond.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

You giggled, writing down the measurements before inhaling hugely. Inseam next. “Did you catch what I was saying?”

“No, I-“ He stopped himself as your hand came up to the inside of his upper thigh, not having seen it coming. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay.” You said quickly, doing his inseam, knuckles softly gracing that spot between his thighs.

“I, uhh, I didn’t understand what you were saying.” He admitted quickly, hands on his hips and gaze faraway.

You wrote down the inseam, and got up, taking the book with you. His eyes instantly fell on you as you stood face to face again; him biting his lips together and your eyes big. Turning around, you placed the book down on the table again, running your finger over all the measurements so far.

“Could you come here, please?” You asked, hearing Harry walk towards you, hands on his back and ready for the next steps. You had been a bit scared to command him earlier, but now that you had talked and been between his legs, you felt it almost got a little easier to be around him. As if the awkwardness had gone away. Now you didn’t have to go far to write his measurements because the table and book and pen were right beside you. You walked over to the white board, mentally jotting down how and where Alessandro wanted the shirt to end and how it was supposed to sit on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry craned his neck to watch you. Still wearing your glasses, he watched your lips move as you mumbled to yourself, the dark blue of the rainstorm from the window beside you, made what Harry looked like seem like a painting. The calmness of you against the raging madness outside. He glanced back at the book, then at the soft fabric hanging beside him, mind wandering to the different places these campaigns would take him. He read over his measurements, about to turn the pages to see some of his other lengths and widths, when he felt a sharp pain in his finger.

He hissed.

You glanced over at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Harry was fast to answer, putting his index finger in his mouth to get some of the blood off his finger.

Walking back over to him, you didn’t pay much attention to how he was quick to put his hand behind his back again where it had been earlier. “Modena isn’t too far from Florence.”

Harry’s brows met above his nose, feeling a little lost at first, but as he slowly started putting two and two together, his grimace evaporated. “Modena non è troppo lontana da Firenze.”

You nodded your head twice, giving him a little smile. “Esattamente.”

“Exactly.” Harry translated.

You raised your hand, offering Harry a high five which he happily answered. What he forgot in that second however, was his minor accident just a minute earlier. Right before your hands met, you noticed his finger, and your eyes went immediately to his.

“What happened to your bleeding finger, mate?”

“Oh-” Harry looked at it, looking unsure for a second before he huffed. “Oh that,” he huffed. “That’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re a tailor.”

“What…” You shook your head. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Thought we were stating the obvious.” He shrugged. “Just a papercut. I’ll survive.”

“Of course you’ll survive, just wondered how you were able to start bleeding out of nowhere.”

Harry chuckled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to use my hand as normal in no time.”

“Knob.” You mumbled automatically, immediately regretting it. That was not at all professional. And you were in a very professional setting. You were at work. You couldn’t call your client a knob right to his face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, you thought to yourself trying to row yourself back to safe territory. You scrunched your nose up as you inhaled sharply. “Can’t even remember the last time I got a papercut, to be frank.”

“Speaking frankly now, are you?” He joked. You looked up at him again, and a second after your eyes met, you both started laughing. You put your hand to your heart, shaking your head at how silly the two of you were when you were under strict orders from Alessandro to get Harry’s measurements. But the fact that he hadn’t taken you calling him a knob seriously, the fact that he was able to joke about it and take the piss, it made it impossible for you not to laugh with him.

Your eyes met, both teary eyed from laughter.

“What’s knob in Italian, anyway?” Harry asked, making you laugh even harder.

And that launched the two of you into easy conversation. Almost a little too easy for the two of you to just have met. The fact that you were in a work environment didn’t seem to face you at all, which was incredibly refreshing for both. The seriousness of the meetings you had to endure most of the time so unnecessarily boring and dry that this was like a breath of fresh air. Alessandro had been right when he said you had loads in common, which you figured out in between you taking his measurements. There didn’t seem to be a topic untouched at the end of Harry’s session, and though he was done with his measurements and such, he stuck around. You two stood by the table you stood at earlier, you still holding onto the tape like once you stopped, Harry would immediately leave. Neither of you noticed how the door opened slightly. Didn’t notice Alessandro looking through the crack and at the two of you, having heard voices from behind the door when he came back from his meeting. He smiled to himself, seeing Harry laugh at something you said before he closed the door again, leaving you two to it.

You became fast friends. Though you could go a week without texting, or a day without thinking about one another, you still knew that when you next met up, you would pick up where you left off. You had formed an easy friendship like that, one which you both appreciated and knew you could come back to without problem. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would befriend someone as high profile as Harry Styles when working as a tailor. You hadn’t really thought you would befriend any celebrity when working as a tailor, actually. But here you were, friends with Harry Styles, and not at all thinking of him as someone who made hit singles or who was the new face of Gucci. Someone who made a living off of singing and who had a huge bloody fanbase supporting him. That part of his life felt surreal, but yours and Harry’s friendship was so genuine, so effortless, that you didn’t really care about the other aspects of his life as long as he was a good person.

The second time you met was at the chip shop, The Camp, in St Albans, Hertfordshire, where the photoshoot and commercial would take place. It was cloudy, the skies a dull grey that threatened with rain, but you knew would just fly right by without interrupting the film crew. The wind was annoying however, bitter at the touch, but you knew Harry was a warm blooded person and would have no problems exposing his chest and hands to it. You strolled up to the Camp School parking lot that was littered with cars and a huge white truck where you knew Harry would be, getting ready. Alessandro had other business to attend to and most of the people on set worked for Gucci, but you were there to see that the suits you had made were okay and that they properly fit. For the first fitting some weeks ago, you had been busy with another client, so Alessandro had done that himself. But he still wanted someone on sight in case something happened, because no way in hell were anyone but him or you allowed to repair a pair of torn trousers or a ruined shirt.

You knocked on the door of the truck, heard a “Come in”, and stepped inside. Harry was sitting in a makeup chair, a woman doing his hair and make-up, readying him for his first ever Gucci shoot. He opened his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror before him. Your smiles were identical when you realised who you were looking at.

“Knob.” You said, standing by the wall behind Harry.

“Wanker.” He answered, grinning at you. “You alright?”

It was something the two of you had fallen into the habit of calling one another ever since the ‘knob’ incident of your first meeting. No one really understood why, especially not the people around you. Alessandro, who thought he had been the mastermind behind a match made in heaven, was surprised to see just how good friends the two of you were. Seeing you two hit it off in his office at first, he had immediately thought he had done it, found each his friends a potential partner, but after months of nothing romantic happening, he had given up. It was clear the two of you just looked at each other as friends and nothing more. Very good friends at that.

“Yeah,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing out beyond the door you had just walked through. “Looks like it’s about to rain.”

Harry chuckled. “Worried about that, are you?” He thanked the make-up artist before he got up, gesturing for you to walk out first.

“Yes.” You answered, stepping out of the van. “You’ll look like a maniac if you get wet in that.”

“A maniac?!” Harry sounded appalled. “You might have to elaborate on why.”

“Wet hair, wearing a suit with no shirt, striking orange necklace, and holding a chicken?”

“No, that’s art, babe.”

You laughed. The two of you started strolling towards the chip shop.

“If anything, I’ll look irresistible wearing this and being soaked.” Harry said, saying a quick ‘hi’ to someone walking by. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

You huffed. “If I saw someone walking down the street looking like that, being soaked through, I’d have my pepper spray ready and already dialling 999.”

“Admit it, you’d not be able to keep your hands off me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me thinking you’re fit?” You laughed. A short silence followed. Your knuckles brushed against one another. Something warm lit up your chest for a single second. Harry just looked at you for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the question. But before you got the chance to look to your left and at your mate, to make sure he was fine, someone interrupted.

“Harry,” one of Glen Luchford’s assistants walked toward the two of you. “We’re ready for you.”

The photographer stood beside the art director – Christopher Simmonds - further down the street, just outside the chip shop, talking amongst themselves about something. A slight breeze blew past you, Harry’s cologne graced you for two lovely seconds as you watched the man himself follow the main photographer’s assistant. You were a couple of steps behind them, standing by yourself and watching the whole commercial unfold. Harry was handed the chicken, who flapped its wings upon being in Harry’s grasp. The look on Harry’s face had you laughing, and Harry immediately looked over at you, giving you a stern look. However, you were laughing, so it was hard for him not to crack a smile as well. Your phone vibrated in your pocket some minutes later, and you walked a distance away as not to be in the way.

“Lallo, hiya.” You greeted, scrunching your nose up as you felt the first droplet of rain hit it.

“Il mio amore,” Alessandro greeted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “How’s the photoshoot?”

“Not really done much yet, but everything’s fine so far.”

He sighed again. “I am glad to hear. Did the suit fit nice like it’s supposed to?”

You glanced at Harry over your shoulder, standing on the pavement further down, ready to film. He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the white sky with big eyes. It was almost as if you could see the peaceful green of his irises. His neck was stretched as he bowed his head back, closing his eyes and letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He looked almost dreamy; peaceful for a few moments as he collected himself. Someone shouted something and Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the director. Suddenly, his eyes went to you, but they flickered away just as quickly. You looked away.

“It fits.”

“Nothing bad’s happened?”

You kicked at a stone on the ground. “What does that mean?”

“Harry ruining the suit.”

You huffed out a small laugh through your nose. “Do you have that little faith in him?”

“He gets clumsy when he’s nervous.”

You frowned. “Harry isn’t nervous.”

“Are you sure?” Alessandro asked, you could tell he was narrowing his eyes and putting his hand on his hip. He was challenging you. “Really sure?”

“Look,” you started walking towards the make-up van, aware that you most likely had to go get the make-up artist and hairdresser out if it was going to start raining. “Everything’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. If you were worried this was going to be a fail, why didn’t you prioritise this event?”

“Fine, fine. It’s not you I’m worried about, no? It’s that…” Alessandro paused for some seconds. “It’s Harry’s first Gucci shoot and I’m not there. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then I’m there to fix it. Why I’m here, remember?” You spotted the van. “I’m your eyes, ears, and hands today.”

Alessandro laughed. “Il mio amore, what would I do without you?”

“Do not know. I really don’t.”

He laughed again and you two hung up just as you knocked on the door to the make-up van. Informing them that it was drizzling out and that they might have to come do a touch-up if it got worse, you walked in as they got everything they needed. A selection of suits hung on a rack on one end of the van, some twins in case something were to happen, and others were lone ones. Regardless, you always found Alessandro’s ability to make clothes into a form of art so inspiring. It was what made you want to work with him in the first place. An abundance of colours and fabrics, of softness and roughness, of modern and rustic. The things he thought to make you’d never in your wildest dreams think of, which made doing anything for him so fascinating. Always something new, always something spellbinding.

You followed the crew out and in the direction of the shoot. It wasn’t drizzling as much anymore, but this was still England, something that meant it would happen anytime soon. The artists were chatting amongst themselves as you made your way over, you read over an email on your phone. Suddenly though, the heels that had walked right beside you stopped. You glanced up from your phone, over your shoulder at the three ladies you had gotten to help you. They stared straight ahead, and when you averted your eyes, letting them land on what they were seeing, you almost dropped your phone.

The hen Harry had been holding was flapping about, two crew members chasing it while a third one ran over to help. Someone was shouting “Stop recording” and someone else “Get the fucking chicken”. But the worst part of it all – at least for you – was Harry getting up from the asphalt. There was a furrow to his brows as he checked his suits for scratches, stopping when he saw the rip at his knee. Your brain immediately flashed back to what Alessandro had just told you.

Harry’s eyes shot up, hastily scanning the crowd around him, and you quickly realised he was looking for you. Stepping forward, you saw him relax some when his eyes landed on you. He jogged over, groaning through his teeth.

“I-“

“-Get to the bloody van, I need to take a look at the rest of your suit.”

“But there’s only the knee.” Harry said as you two started walking.

“I’m not taking your word for it.”

This seemed to become a theme for Harry’s shoots. His anxiety would get the better of him, though he did get more confident with each one that went by. It wasn’t something he was amazing at at first, but something that grew on him overtime. Just like the seasons changed from winter to spring to summer, Harry slowly got his feet off the slippery ice he seemed to have been on that first shoot in England.

However, a few months later, you were back in Italy, doing another shoot with Gucci. Harry was wearing one of the suits you had tailored for him; a checked one, a blue shirt, a silk bandana around his neck and another one in his hair. Since the last shoot, the two of you had talked over the phone, texted, and sent each other funny memes on Instagram. You hadn’t met up a whole lot, maybe the odd café trip or two with some friends, but nothing beyond that. So, meeting him in Italy, your second home, was incredibly special to you.

You were on the outside of Rome, Villa Lente, and you had spent most of your morning yawning and getting looks from Alessandro when you did so. Harry yawned with you when he caught you doing so, the two of you giggling at how ridiculous you were being. With raised eyebrows, Alessandro watched the two of you, giving you a slight flick to the arm when you distracted Harry.

But it was when Harry was perched on the stone wall, dragging some hair out of his face as he placed himself steadily on it, that was then it happened. The sun hit him just right, making the ruffle of his curls look like a golden halo around his head; green irises switching to the colour of autumn leaves where the light hit them. He looked ethereal. And in the middle of all of this, Harry reached for the lamb he was supposed to be perching on his shoulders. No one thought Harry would actually fall off the wall. No one thought he was that clumsy. But as he was hurtling towards the ground having lost his footing completely, the realisation that he was indeed that clumsy hit you just as Harry hit the stone staircase beneath the wall.

Alessandro exclaimed a few crude words in Italian, running to Harry’s aid. You stood there blinking, getting yourself back from the slight daydream you’d just had about the poor man that laid on the ground with a dozen people around him. One second he had looked like something straight out of a dream; like an angel that had come down to earth. He had looked too good and you simply had not been able to look away from him. You knew Harry was good looking, you weren’t blind, but something about the sun hitting him like that, when he smiled down at you watching him, how carefully he styled his hair when he at up on that stone wall. It did something to you.

But all of that disappeared right away when Harry hit the ground, exclaiming a grunt of pain. Alessandro was by his side in seconds, speaking so fast you had trouble understanding him. Harry held onto his knee, yet again having ripped the suit and once again bleeding, only this time it was his hand. Why was it always his knee and why did he always end up bleeding? It was only so clumsy a person could get, wasn’t it? And yet, Harry Styles seemed to be proving you very wrong. No one was as easily affected by their anxiety as him.

People crowded him, ready to be of help and to get him standing. It wasn’t like he had broken any bones, because he was able to get up onto his feet without trouble, but the fall had definitely hurt regardless. Your eyes locked as Harry’s arm came to rest around Alessandro’s shoulders, the designer helped him over to the van. Once again, Harry had to change trousers.

“How?” you simply asked, unsure what best way to even address the whole situation.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, not in the mood to have you take the mick out of him for this. “Hurts like a fucking cunt.”

Alessandro pinched Harry’s side, making him yelp and put more pressure on his knee than he wanted to, ultimately getting him to gasp. Harry glanced at the designer, an annoyed furrow forming between his brows.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You were being rude.”

“Pinching a wounded man is rude.” Harry removed his arm from around Alessandro, limping towards the van. “I’m getting changed.”

You glanced at Alessandro, both of you knowing that no matter what, Harry would be in a bad mood for a bit now. That always happened when something didn’t go according to plan; he’d get grumpy and need some time alone. One of the assistants was about to follow him, clearly having gotten some orders from the photographer, Glen Luchford, or art director, Christopher Simmonds. You put your hand out warning them from following the already irritated and hurting star of the photoshoot. He just needed 10 minutes to cool off, and then you’d be off after him to make sure he was alright.

Once 10 minutes had passed, you knocked on the door of the make-up van, hearing a grumble of sorts before stepping inside. Harry was standing unzipping his trousers and shimmying them down his hip. It reminded you a bit of the tailoring you had done at the beginning of the year, how he had pushed both his trousers and boxers down so you could get his measurements right. He glanced over his shoulder at you before he sat down, now only his boxers covering the top part of his thighs and crotch.

“Don’t stand there looking for too long,” he said, bending over to get the trousers completely off. “I might end up turning you on.”

You stepped inside, closing the door and walking over to the first-aid kit. You felt Harry’s eyes on you as he sat back, placing the ripped trousers on the chair beside him. Getting some cotton, you put a mild soap on it and poured it under water before walking back over to Harry. You sat down in a chair, getting closer to him, and taking his hand. As you turned it over to look at the scratch on his palm, you could tell that it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be, but it still looked like it’d hurt. Carefully, you dabbed the wound, making sure to clean it up. Harry hissed through his teeth, watching as the cotton came out dirty. It hadn’t been the cleanest ground he’d landed on and you didn’t want him to get an infection.

Getting up, you got another piece of cotton and did the same, dragging the chair even closer to Harry now. Taking his hand this time around, your knuckles brushed his thigh, the dark downy hair you hadn’t noticed till now. How his boxers rested tightly around his thighs, and how far up they were, revealing more than you were intended to see. Your cheeks felt hot and you focused on his hand, lifting it from his leg so you didn’t have to feel his warm, bare thigh against your knuckles. There wasn’t really a trace of any dirt on it now, but you wanted to be sure you’d gotten everything before you let him outside again.

You were very aware Harry could rinse his own wound himself. He didn’t need people to do everything for him, he liked doing most things himself, in fact. And though both of you were sat there knowing you didn’t have to, neither stopped it. Slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest at your face. They stayed there, just watching you tend to him so carefully. When people go out of their way to help you, to make sure you’re okay, those are the kind of people to hold onto for life. The kind of people who will buy you sweets when you need it on a bad day, who will force themselves to be in a cheery mood to better yours, who will kiss your eyelids when you go back to sleep after a nightmare. The kind of people who will rinse your wound when you get hurt when you’re perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

You didn’t know why you looked up, didn’t know what made you do it. Maybe it was your subconscious that knew if you did, you’d find something you’d been searching for your whole life. Maybe something inside you knew that glancing up, you’d see something you hadn’t before. Your eyes met Harry’s, and though you had stared into them on numerous occasions before, something shifted in that moment. With his hand in your hand, his bare knee resting against yours, eyes glancing intently into yours; it was like something bigger than yourselves took over. You felt it on your heart first, like a warm tingling that spread out to every single one of your limbs and cells. It felt like you were drunk; head hazy and feelings heightened. Everything about Harry before you was greater, brighter; more.

“You need to finish the shoot.” You said, knowing that Alessandro would undoubtedly not appreciate the two of you taking this long.

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared at you, like he was seeing something spectacular for the first time and he couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes softened as he gulped, his Adam’s apple moving with a lump in his throat he clearly had trouble swallowing. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes rest to your lips. Following the shape of them, savouring the colour of them. Neither of you realised you were moving in. It wasn’t till the sight of Harry started to blur and the room seem to fill with electricity that you realised just how close you were. You stopped, pulling a bit away till you saw him clearly, but a slight wrinkle to his brows told you he hadn’t appreciated that. Just as you were about to lean in again, to an unknown fate between the two of you, there was a loud knock on the door and a second later it flew open. You pushed away from him, barely even touching his hand as you finished rinsing the wound. Harry blinked, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder at Alessandro who stood there glancing back at him.

“Well?” Alessandro asked, gesturing behind him at the shoot that had been momentarily stopped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes meeting yours before he dragged his hand out of your grip. “Just a sec.”

Harry got up, walking over to the wardrobe to get changed. Instantly, you threw the cotton away and walked outside with Alessandro, ready to forget the whole moment and never think of it again. But it was easier said than done. The rest of that shoot, that day, that week, it was all you could think about.

Unfortunately, after that shoot, you and Harry hadn’t been able to see one another  It was finally that time of year when you had a bit of time off to relax, and this time it happened to fall in the middle of July. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do nothing more than wander the streets of your home, see some old friends, and fully enjoy the beauties that an Italian summer had to offer. But no matter how happy you were for the time off, it was bittersweet because although Harry had just finished his world tour and now had an abundance of free time on his hands, he was fully booked until you’d see him for your next shoot.

You didn’t fault him for how he spent his time off, he did just get home after a long year long world tour, and that did warrant some time alone. But you did have to admit that you missed seeing him. Somewhere in your mind, you recall him saying he was spending some time in Italy up north with his family, but the dates were jumbled and you didn’t want to disturb his peace. Instead, you settled for knowing you’d see him again in a few short months.

You had set out for the day in order to find some new houseplants, seeing as the young girl who kept yours tended to while you were away - Lilliana - always seemed to let them wilt. It was the most perfect day to stroll down to the market and see some of the florists you’d missed while you were away, what with the sun shining it’s brightest and only the tiniest breeze ghosting by your cheeks. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. This was your time to bask in the sunlight before heading back to dreary London for some time.

Sandals clapping against the cobblestone walkway echoed through the quiet street, the sound of faint music playing from a nearby open window was carried by the breeze, filling in any silence that would be there otherwise. This was the life you had dreamt about as a child, the kind of life that you only got to read about in books or watch in films, yet here you were. It was yet another reason you had to be thankful to Alessandro for.

“Mi scusi, signora.”

You often walked down the small side street with your eyes closed briefly, not only knowing it like the back of your hands, but also basking in the warmth of the sun, so it wasn’t anything new to have someone speak up to let you know they were near. But something about that voice was familiar. Like when you walk into your home for the first time in a while and you can smell you. Like you can’t exactly put a finger on it, but you know it’s familiar, so you investigate. Which you did, and it caused you to gasp.

“Harry?”

“In the flesh.” his smile could rival the brightness of the sun that was shining between in the tall buildings as he walked up the slight incline of the street towards you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and through I’d stop by. See my favorite tailor.” Once he finally reached you, your arms were instantly wrapped around one another, squeezing like you hadn’t just been together weeks ago.

“Wha - how are yo-?”

“Don’t tell me you’re speechless. You? Of all people?” he laughed, pulling away after giving a few rubs to your back.

“I know you didn’t come all the way to Montaione to take the piss, Harry.” you took this time to really look at him after your surprise meet up. He looked remarkable, something that quite annoyed you considering he was dressed so casually. Then again, the man could pull off close to anything. He was wearing a pair of grey trousers; a single pleat running from his waist to ankles down the middle of the leg, a plain white t shirt that perfectly accentuated his dark tattoos, and a royal blue bandana that hung loosely from around his neck. The pair of sunglasses he had worn when walking up to you were now being hung from the bandana so that he could get a better look at you, and if you had to look at his sparkling green eyes for any second longer, you were sure you would combust.

“Despite how easy it is to get under your skin, I, surprisingly, didn’t come here to do anything other than see you for a few hours.”

“A few hours? You traveled down from Modena just to hangout for a few hours?”

“Knew I was in Modena then? Keeping tabs on me while we’re apart, are you?”

Your hand jut out and shoved him hard enough to make him lose a bit of balance while you two started walking down the street, just enough so that he had to take a few steps to the side to stabilize himself.

“Thought you weren’t here to take the piss, knob.”

He laughed, nodding his head and sliding his sunglasses back onto his face. “Alright alright. Truce. But to answer your question, yes I did. That a bad thing?”

“Uh, no it’s not. Just a bit surprising is all. That’s a bit of a journey just for lunch.”

“And I’d make it countless more times for you.”

Over the last two years, you grew to know Harry and when he was being serious or having a laugh, so you could instantly hear the sincerity behind his words. Despite the goofy grin playing at his lips, you knew that he was being truthful, and the thought made butterflies awaken in your belly.

“It’s good to see you, Harry.” the nod you gave was more towards yourself, but when you glanced up at Harry, you saw that he was already watching you, smiling as he took in your relaxed aura.

“You too, doll.”

“How’d you find me, anyway?” just as you did each time you met up, the two of you fell into easy conversation as you made your way towards the village square. Harry was one of those people that you could go months without talking to, yet somehow, the second you met back up again, you were able to pick up right where you left off.

“Alessandro may or may not have given it to me.” his voice was timid, like he didn’t fully want to admit he had asked your boss where you lived.

“Of course he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s obsessed with you, you know?”

“He’s not.”

“Mhm. Says you’re his shining star. ‘M sure the man would create a whole collection surrounding you if you give him enough time.”

“Says the woman who he looks at like his next of kin.”

“Don’t make this into a pissing contest, Harry. You know he adores you.”

“Just him?”

It felt like spending time with a lifelong mate when with Harry, but when he said shit like that, when he made your tummy flutter with his mix of words and longing gazes, it made it hard for you to see him as just a friend.

“Didn’t you say that you only had a bit before having to get back?” you changed the subject quickly, not wanting to answer his question.

“Not get back, ‘m not headed back to Modena.” he shook his head when you sent him a soft, questioning ‘no?’ “Nope. Flying down to Sicily for a few days for Google Camp.”

“Google Camp?” your eyebrows shot up in question when he told you, “A sumit for the rich and famous to talk about climate change while flying in on private jets and yachts. How very unlike you mister Styles.”

“Oi, lay off. Got invited, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to turn it down. Besides,” he shrugged, “‘M flying commercial and carpooling. Being as eco friendly as possible.”

“Course, of course.”

“I have four hours until my flight, so just shut up and come get lunch with me.”

The room had gone totally dim during your trip down memory lane, indicating that it was time for everyone to begin getting in their places so that the show could begin. But even in the low lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the look of fear and doubt flash through Harry’s eyes. The look was something that appeared before every shoot or campaign you had been present for, only lasting seconds, yet always intriguing to you. The man before you was a superstar, someone who pranced around on stage in front of tens of thousands of people every night, without a care in the world. Yet, as soon as your exquisitely tailored clothes touched his body, his shoulders would tense, and he looked like a scared child. You’d never understood why.

“You’re nervous.” It came out as more of a breathy statement than a question.

“‘M terrified.”

You heard those words regularly from your models, especially the new ones, but hearing it fall from between his lips made your stomach tighten. Harry was such a natural at all of this; the superstardom. It was easy to tell that he felt right at home while on stage, how perfectly natural his body reacted whenever the camera was on for a red carpet, how easy going he was when it came to hair and makeup and outlandish outfits. All of it came so easy to him and it blew you away every time you got to witness it. And while he was so good at adjusting quickly to new environments, his team and fans constantly cheering him on with every new endeavor, he was still just a normal twenty five year old guy. He still FaceTimed his mum to get her opinion on new looks, still went out and enjoyed his free time with mates, and still got anxious when trying something new. He never seemed to want to disappoint you or Alessandro when he was wearing the clothes you’d made for him specifically. That was what got to him, you thought, the prospect of ruining spectacular clothes you’d made from scratch. The moments in time you’d just thought back on was indicator enough.

“It’s gonna be great. We saw you during the runthrough yesterday.” you smiled, reminding him how well he had done during the practice show.

“But that’s different. This time it means somethin-” he was cut off by Alessandro yelling it was time for all models to officially line up for showtime. “What if I go too fast and I step on Mae’s shoe, fuck up her walk? Or too slow and clog up the entire runway? Or the hat fal-”

“Hey!” To stop his incessant worrying, your hands grabbed either side of his face, making him stop for a second and look directly at you. He blinked once. “Stop it. You’re going to do amazing. Alessandro wouldn’t have put you in this show if he didn’t have complete confidence in you. And you should know by now I wouldn’t have wasted my oh so precious time making any of this fit you perfectly if I didn’t believe in you.”

Harry’s breathing began calming down, going from almost hysterical to a gentle, rhythmic, intake, indicating that he was coming out of his panic bubble. His eyes never left your own, quite different from all the times they had openly roamed your figure.

“You can do this.” You whispered, nodding slightly and sending him a loving smile as your hands dropped back down to your sides,

Alessandro’s voice yelled over everyone, demanding everyone be in their place immediately, but Harry made no move to leave your side. He continued staring at you, taking a few deep breaths every few seconds and nodding to himself, seeming to give himself a pep talk in his head. The lights went out in the museum, leaving the audience in complete darkness, and you knew the intense sound of an alarm would soon be echoing through the building to start the show.

But none of that held your attention.

In what could have only been a second, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was so quick that you didn’t have time to register what had happened before he was turning to run and join the other models, but it left you stunned. Like being in the warmth of your home during a snowy day and suddenly opening the door, letting the freezing wind hit you in the face.

And as much as the kiss had taken you off guard, it felt so very right that small second it happened. He hadn’t even given it a second thought, leaning in to kiss you like the two of you had been an item for years and it was part of your normal everyday routine. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the thought alone made your fingertips ache to be on his skin again. Shaking yourself out the haze that had formed around you mind, your focus and priorities flipped like a switch as soon as the siren began playing, looking around the room to make sure everyone and everything was where it needed to be.  

Just as the precession of models began exiting the dressing room, and The Shadows Die Twice by Br1002 ranging throughout the museum, you made your way up to stand beside Alessandro. There was never a time you saw him truly stressed; not when you first started working with him and you accidentally ruined an entire bundle of fabric, not when he was in charge of creating dozens of different looks for the Met Gala, and not even now, watching as his newest collection strutted down the runway, making its worldwide debut. He was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.

“There she goes.” You admired, resting your head on your boss’ shoulder and watching all 217 of the looks he created and you helped bring to life, be released into the world.

The sense of pride that rushed through your veins each and every time you got to see the pieces you put your heart and soul into, was similar to what you could only imagine it was like for a parent to watch their child flourish. You could remember all the moments during the months leading up to the show that you wanted to quit, when you would get so frustrated with Alessandro and his brilliantly creative mind every time he brought you a new look idea, how badly you wanted to scream after pricking your fingers so much they started to bruise. You remembered all of those times when holding such an important job at Gucci felt like something you just weren’t ready for at the age of twenty four. But every hardship was worth it the moment your work came to a culmination. This moment of absolute pride and excitement.

“How are you feeling?”

Alessandro wrapped his right arm around your shoulder, pulling you so close to his body that it was most comfortable for you to wrap one arm around his back and one around his waist, your hands joining together at his hip. “I feel so much love.”

That was the only way to describe what the two of you were feeling as the show progressed through the museum. Even though the room was dark, tall lighting setups hung in every direction, and hundreds of guests were posted up in chairs, the beauty of the location still shined through. Black and white marble covered the floor throughout the entire building, the diamond pattern flowing easily from room to room, and sculptures of ancient men lined each side of the hallway, seemingly growing from the walls because of the similar colors. About halfway down the hallway, models made a left turn and entered the large area known as Palazzo Nuovo. The “New Palace” was constructed over 400 years ago and was an identical replica of the Palazzo dei Conservatori that Michaelangelo created. You had been to the location many times before since spending 6 months at a time in Italy, but you had never seen it as a place to hold a show. Not until Alessandro had brought you one day and explained his vision as you roamed the hallways.

The quick pass of a red beret on one of the monitors, set up for the backstage team to watch the show, caught your attention. He stayed on camera for a bit, and you wished you could watch his fans meltdown over it in real time because he looked exquisite. Despite the darkness of the room, Harry was glowing. The way the strobe lights would hit his face every few steps and accentuate his already angelic features made your stomach clench. You had spent countless hours up close and personal with Harry, while there was very little fabric covering his body; very intimate and unforgettable moments. Many a-second-too-long looks, smiles when the other wasn’t watching, and an intense almost kiss. And an actual kiss. A tiny kiss. A kiss you still felt on your lips. But now, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about his lips while he strutted down the runway in one of the most conservative outfits of the line.

There was something about the lapel rolls of the jacket flapping open slightly with each step, beautifully showcasing his sparrow tattoos and delicate pendant necklace under the dim lights, that excited you. But it was the faintest smile that graced his lips the second before he left frame that made your heart swell.

The overall look he was sporting was extremely similar to that of his first Men’s Tailoring campaign, with the long robe like jacket and exposed chest, but the glint of both happiness and confidence in his eyes reminded you of the moment you put him into the pink and red ensemble of his latest campaign. Something that still made something inside your tummy flutter and the corners of your mouth tip upward.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Harry said. “I will die. 100%.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, holding the pink blazer up and letting him put both his arms through it. “It’s just pigs.”

“That will have my head if I get too close.”

“This is a Gucci shoot, you’re not on I’m a Celeb.”

Harry huffed, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting the blazer over his shoulders properly. “Watch me go on I’m a Celeb and die when I get attacked by an exotic animal or summat.”

“A pig won’t be the death of you and it’s not an exotic animal, now shut up and sit down.” You wagged the red bandana at him. “I need to put this on you before we can get this started.”

“Alright then.” Harry shoved his wrists out for you. “Go on.”

You tried to give him a disappointed look, but you simply were not able to. Laughing, you shoved Harry into his seat, standing between his legs as you tied the bandana around his head. This time around, the shoot was mostly indoors, so there weren’t many ways Harry could fuck this one up. Alessandro was busying himself and so were other crew members, walking about you two and shouting orders at someone else, but neither of you noticed anyone but the person before you. Since the lunch in Florence, you had been incredibly busy, so you hadn’t really had much time to meet up. Harry, who was currently travelling and making his second album, hadn’t been available much either, but you were both over the moon that you got to spend this time together. You really missed each other the time you were away.

Since last time, Alessandro had gone out of his way to make rings for those he held dearest. Gold Gucci rings with each person’s initials, one for each letter, big and bold. It had taken you off guard, as you hadn’t thought yourself to be as important to Alessandro as he was to you, but he had insisted and showed you his own. He told you “Dear friends match” and that did it for you, you simply had to wear his rings without question. And since then, you had been wearing them every single day. You felt part of his little family. So when Harry showed up to your third shoot together, wearing matching rings to yours, you felt your heart skip a beat and Alessandro’s knowing eyes on both of you. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew how you both felt for one another, and he thought, by giving you these rings, you might realise how special you were to him and then see how special you were to one another as well.

“You’ll just have to forget about your fear of geese and be a professional.”

“I don’t have a bloody fear of geese.”

You shrugged your shoulders, tying the bandana properly.

“I don’t!”

“Alright, mate.”

Harry paused for a second. “Don’t ‘mate’ me.”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore the comment and how it made literally every inch of your body heat up. Taking a step back you studied him, giving him a thumbs up before you walked over to the other suits you had to check up on for the shoot. Harry watched you for a few seconds before he got up from the chair, going to check himself out in the mirror again. Your phone suddenly vibrated against the desk right in front of the mirror, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell to it. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“Who’s Jack?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry read the text you just got. “Hey!”

“Who is he?” he asked again, looking over at you as you came rushing over. You took the phone, pressing it to your chest as if it was going to make Harry forget what he’d just read. He tried to add a playful undertone to his voice, a slight smile across his lips.

“None of your business.”

Harry looked away from you, nodding as he busied himself with trying to get some kind of lint off his coat. “You’re right.”

You put the phone back in your jean pocket and walked over to the suits again, hunching down to check the seam on the hem on the trousers. You felt your phone vibrate with another notification or vibrate as a reminder that she’d gotten a text two minutes prior. Getting up and about to reach back to check what Jack had wanted, she felt a breath against her neck.

“You’re seeing him then?”

You jumped, holding your hand to your chest as you turned around to face him. “None of your business!”

“Oh, come on!”

You shoved him out of the way, way too much to do to be distracted by Harry’s nosiness. Strolling over to the desk, you started looking through your calendar when Harry showed up beside you again. Leaning on his elbow on the desk, he looked up at you, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how curious he actually was.

“Is he fit at least?”

“He’s not annoying.” You said, covering his face with your hand. You felt him smile into your palm. “Ever tried that?”

“Tried being annoying?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

You shoved him away, making him lose his balance some and lean both his elbows on the desk. He watched as you walked back to the suits, looking at which ones Alessandro said were to be used by Harry and which ones were to be used by someone else at another time. Just as Harry was about to ask another question about Jack – who was just a mate from back home you hadn’t ever talked to him about because he’d never come up in conversation -, there was a knock at the wardrobe door. Alessandro stood there, a raise to his eyebrows and a small smile on his lips that was almost hidden by his dark, thick, long beard. He’d stood there watching you two for a little while, you thought to yourself.

“Is Harry ready for the shoot?”

“Yes,” you glanced at Harry and pointed at Alessandro. “Go.”

Harry sighed but got up, walking over to Alessandro who was smiling, encouraging Harry to do the same. As he passed him, a small beam was on Harry’s lips, but as he walked through the door, you couldn’t tell if he was still smiling or if he just did it to Alessandro wouldn’t make him. The creative director looked over at you, crossing his arms but not losing his smile.

“What?”

Alessandro shrugged.

“No, what?”

“You could’ve at least told him who Jack was.” Alessandro chuckled.

You rolled your eyes.

“But I get that you want to watch him suffer. It’s funny seeing someone you like be jealous.”

“Harry isn’t jealous.” You said, closing the calendar and placing it neatly back on the desk. “He’s just nosy.”

Alessandro didn’t say anything in response, instead he just walked on over to the shoot, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just told Harry who Jack was. It wasn’t like anything was going on between you and Jack, you were simply mates and he wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. You had absolutely nothing to hide. Especially nothing to the point of keeping your phone close to your chest so he wouldn’t reread the message you’d just gotten, holding no significance whatsoever.

Maybe Alessandro was right. Maybe you did want to see if he was jealous or not. But he didn’t seem jealous to you, just his nosy self. Sighing, you followed Alessandro, ready to be of service if something should go wrong. They hadn’t even started shooting when you walked into the room, they were still walking around, placing the different statues and other props around the place to get it to look exactly like the producer wanted it to. You stood watching for a bit, knowing that your phone was still in your back pocket, untouched since Harry had seen the innocent text from Jack.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, saw a shadow mingle with yours, and you recognised the messy hair and the bandana you’d wrapped around his head earlier. Smiling, you continued to stare ahead, waiting a minute before Harry felt brave enough to answer.

“Did you answer Jack then?” You felt the breath of his words against your hair.

“He just wanted to know how I was, Harry.”

“I know.”

You bit your lip, not looking back at him.

“Guess he just wanted to talk. To feel close to you in a way.”

You huffed, standing your ground and not looking back at him like you knew he wanted you to. “And the point of this is…?”

“Being close to someone you love can calm you down.” Harry said, voice low so only the two of you could hear him. You felt a shiver run up your spine. “Like shelter in a storm; entering a small house and staying for tea before braving the terrible weather again, a little stronger this time with some motivation from those you… hold closest to your heart.”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your throat, feeling both Harry’s breath and eyes on you. It took everything in you not to look at him, to see his soft expression after uttering those equally soft words. “I’m not in love with Jack, Harry.”

Harry was quiet for a second before he said, with the hint of a smile in his voice, “Okay.”

You smiled yourself, wanting to say something in response but not knowing what would be appropriate. You weren’t even sure why you were feeling this much or why Harry being elated you weren’t seeing someone made you this happy. He stood right behind you, just as close, not wavering, till he had to go do the shoot. Walking backwards, he made sure to catch your eye, give you a small smile, before going to do his job. You hated how your cheeks felt hot, that every single time Harry’s dimples appeared you heard something inside your head scream and the every single one of your cells react to him. Glancing over at Alessandro, you caught the creative director watching you with a grin on his face. As soon as your eyes met, though, he turned away, forcing his smile away and pretending like he hadn’t seen a thing. You rolled your eyes, focusing all your attention on Harry, who didn’t let his anxiety get the better of him this time around.

“He’s doing very well.” Alessandro commented, his left hand resting on his chin in a pondering manner.

“He is.”

“Because you replaced his nerves before the show.” From under his hand, you could see a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

“I - what?” Lifting away from his side, you stared at Alessandro’s face. And your wide eyes must have made you look like a deer in the headlights because he started chuckling.

You were positive that no one had seen your moment with Harry, considering how dark the little corner you were stood in was. Backstage at a fashion show was crazy enough, there’s no way anyone had been paying attention to the tailor in the back of the room. But the knowing look in your boss’s eyes told you otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest.

“Eyes all over my head, il mio amore. I see everything.”

Alessandro had been like this from the moment he introduced you and Harry, almost two years ago at this point. Always motioning from across the room for you to stand just a bit closer to Harry, informing you whenever Harry was remotely near the office, and always leaving the two of you alone each time he was scheduled for a fitting. It was like he was making it his life’s mission to get his two prodigies together.

“Don’t laugh at me. This is your fault, you know?”

Feigning offence and his hand moved from his chin to his chest, Alessandro turned away from the monitor to finally look directly at you, “Mine? Why do you say that?”

“‘You have a lot in common.’ or how about, ‘look at my two loves together!’ or my personal favorite, ‘The two of you together, assolutamente da togliere il fiato!’”your impersonation of him had gotten extremely good over the last few years, bringing a soft smile to his lips. “Any of those ringing any bells?”

“Only encouraging what you both know to be true, cara.”

“You’re absurd.”

At this point, the first model had made his way back to the dressing room, immediately going to line up for the final walk through. It was scheduled to be a quick show, only about thirteen minutes from first walk to last, but you never imagined it would go by this fast. As the models began to line back up, both you and Alessandro separated, going to either side of the line to join the other tailor in making sure each outfit was still in its pristine condition. You you had a few loose threats to snip here, and a broken necklace to dispose of there, but overall, everyone was still looking perfect.

Especially Harry.

His head was craned, watching you as you made your way down the line behind him, and as soon as you stepped in front of him to quickly examine his apparel, he whispered your name.

“Haven’t tripped yet.” he smirked, adjusting the red glasses on his nose.

“I know, I was watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. We were talking about you. Turn around.” grabbing hold of his shoulder, you pulled forward, “Making him proud, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed under your palms, like hearing the news of making one of his idols happy set him free and he could now have the utmost fun with the final walk through.

“Alright. Good luck.”

But before you could get to the next model, his hand caught your arm. In any other situation, you’d be annoyed that you were being stopped from completing your job, but the look on Harry’s face made all worries about any other model fade from your mind.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you proud?”

The question took you off guard. Was really that concerned with what you thought of his performance? He was one of the most renowned superstars in the world, who danced his heart out on stage and did what made him happy no matter what others thought. But your opinion was the one who made his hands clam up? And had you ever made him feel like you weren’t proud? You always thought your quick jabs to one another were all in good fun, but maybe you had gone too far and made him doubt himself.

“Always proud of everything you do.”

It was the honest answer. Getting to watch him excel in every aspect of life he threw himself into, make decisions that helped so many people, putting his friends and family first, and making sure he was happy above all else, was inspiring to say the least. There was never a day that went by where you didn’t feel immense pride for even just getting the chance to know Harry. And in that moment, you promised yourself that you would make it more apparent to him from then on.

A large smile spread across his face, and even in the poor lighting, you could see the apples of his cheeks turn a rosey pink. He looked undeniably cute and following your heart as well as Alessandro’s previous encouragements, you decided to take a leap of faith.

“Come find me after the show. Gotta talk.”

The happiness faded from both his face and his eyes, and you instantly regretted the way you phrased your sentence. “Nothing bad, I promise! Just come find me, yeah?”

You had moved on to the next model, giving her a smile and a quick “Hello Mae” and began checking her dress as Harry was still processing your request. His hands were fidgeting with the fingerless gloves and he was undoubtedly about to break skin with how hard he was biting his lip. You felt like a proper idiot for making him nervous again after he was so happy.

“Calm down, would you? You’re starting to stress me out.” you laughed, giving Mae the okay and moving onto the next model. Sending him a wink, you nodded your head, making him well aware of how unserious this conversation was going to be.

A faster paced rendition of The Shadows Die Twice started playing, just as you finished checking over your designated models, indicating that it was time for the final walk through to begin. After these final few minutes, all the garments you had worked tirelessly on for months, would be totally completed. And usually, you would be filled with ease and comfort knowing you would have some time off before your next project. But this time was different.

This time, Alessandro had consulted you on many of the pieces making their way down the runway, showing just how much he valued and trusted your opinion. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be where you are today, but because of the man standing next to you, believing in your talent and putting your passion to use, you were living out a dream that you never knew you had.

“Thank you.” You whispered

“For what?”

“For believing in me enough to hire me four years ago. For not letting me give up when I was confused. For always encouraging me. Just - thank you.”

“Never have to thank me for those things, tesoro. The potential and passion inside you needs to be explored! I’m honored I get to be the one to help you embrace them!” Alessandro pulled you into a tight hug, the two of you swaying as you watched the models capture the attention of each guest one last time.

Lifting to stand on your tiptoes you whispered in Alessandro’s ear, but even though your statement was barely loud enough to be heard over the booming music, apparently it was just loud enough for your boss to hear, because his head snapped back and he grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you at arms length.

“What?!”

“Mhm.”

“Together?”

“Mhm.” It was hard not to continue your giggles at his bewildered expression.

“How come?”

You shrugged, “I guess I just have a bloody persuasive boss.”

Once again, models began entering the dressing room, but this time, instead of staying in strict model mode, they were letting loose. Smiles were spread all over their faces, rushing to give each other hugs and words of encouragement. It was a beautiful sight to watch, the release of pressure the show brought to the models and the absolute joy they were now basking in.

“Il tuo tempo per brillare, rockstar.” your time to shine, rockstar. giving his shoulder a pat, you watched as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself to walk the runway and accept the congratulatory applause about to be thrown his way once the last model had arrived backstage.

It was during this part, for some reason, that you always saw a bit of his nerves pop out. Maybe it was because of all the wandering eyes and unknown opinions, but walking out to thank the guests for attending seemed to be the only thing that ever made Alessandro nervous. And you would never admit it to him, but you enjoyed seeing him a bit on edge, reminded you that he wasn’t just some fashion robot, but a man who just wanted to be accepted for his unique and creative mind.

Your position in the back room made it easy to be a part of both atmosphere’s; the juxtaposition between the loud, bustling back room and angelic, calming sound of Bach - St. John Passion BWV 245: Herr echoing off of the marble walls was like a metaphor for your life these last few months. How at times, everything around you was so busy and fast paced that it was sometimes hard to get a handle on what was happening. But then moments like this happened and none of failures or pricked fingers mattered. Because watching your boss, the man you admired with all your heart and were lucky to call a friend, walk down his own runway, accepting love he deserved, on pieces you had helped create, was the most heavenly feeling you could imagine.

You watched as he made his way through the museum quickly, stopping every so often to bow his head in gratitude and send kisses to everyone in the audience.

“I see why you like this so much.”

Harry stood next to you, hands buried deep in his pants pockets, the long overcoat pushed back behind his arms, just enough that you got a good view of the sparrow tattoos and the very tip of the bird cage on his rib peaking out from under the white tank top. He didn’t look at you, instead, his eyes were trained on the monitor, watching the man who gave you each the chance to flourish in a world you never expected.

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“Fucking exihlerating walking down that runway.” he admitted, the sentance coming out in a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe how much fun he had. “Can’t imagine what it’s like for the people that created it all.”

“Yeah, quite hard coming down from a high like this, so he usually takes a week or so off before jumping back into things.” you chuckled, thinking back to when you’d received an influx of text messages the last time Alessandro had gone off the grid, depicting how much he loved bees and would be incorporating them into the new collection after staying on a bee farm for a few days.

“Alessandro did a phenomenal job.” he paused, finally taking his eyes away from the screen and turning his entire body so that he was now facing you. “But so did you.”

If he hadn’t been staring directly at you, he would have missed the roll of your eyes. Of course, you were thankful to be a part of something so extraordinary, but this was all Alessandro. It was all his vision and even though you were asked to help finalize a few looks, this masterpiece was all thanks to him, and you wouldn’t take credit for any of it.

But before you could explain all of that to Harry, he said your name softly, moving a tad closer so your elbow was just barely touching his stomach. “‘M serious. These may have been his finalized pieces, but you quite literally put it all together. There would be no final product without your work.”

“Harry -”

“Don’t ‘Harry’ me, wanker, you’re bloody amazing at what you do. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone walking around this room is example enough.”

Receiving compliments from Harry wasn’t anything new to you. For as long as you’d known him, he was always looking for the good in people and making sure they knew about it. If you had to guess, that was probably one of the his main qualities that initially drew fans in, because all anyone wanted in life was to feel good; appreciated. And that’s exactly what he had been doing for you since the day he walked through your office doors. It was the little things that made your stomach turn to mush; holding your pin cushion when he knew it would make a session easier for you, bringing you a smoothie when you’d told him you didn’t have time to eat before a shoot, sending you funny memes in the middle of the night, or even just seeing his dimpled smile appear when he finally got to see his immaculately executed wardrobe. No matter what the circumstance was, simply being around Harry made you feel happy, calm, and you didn’t want that feeling to ever go away.

“Just look around an-”

“Do you want to go on a date?” when you’d asked him earlier to find you after the show so you could chat, you didn’t exactly expect the conversation to start out so blunt, but he just looked so cute and sincere telling you in his own way how proud of you he was.

“Wh-“

“There’s, um, there’s this really great restaurant not too far from here. Most delicious pasta you’ll ever eat, not to mention the cutest old couple on the planet runs it and they’ll def-“

“I haven’t eaten since this morning, so if you’re going to keep talking, I’ll just go eat this amazing pasta by myself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right, that was a dumb que-“ it wasn’t his words that made you stop mid sentence, but more the soft smile that spread across his face, his dimple popping out slightly beneath his growing facial hair. There was no hesitation in his acceptance to your dinner date, contrary to what you were expecting, and it made the tips of your ears warm up. “Oh! Um, perfect. Yeah, great. Okay.”

Never had you been so flustered by the man standing before you. This wouldn’t be the first time you grab a bite to eat with him, and definitely wouldn’t be the first time the two of you spent time alone, but the way he was looking at you, like none of what he just did mattered, was definitely a first.

“Okay, um, just get dressed and I’ll meet you outside?”

“‘M serious, hurry up. Might starve to death while you’re busy chatting.” Harry joked, slowly walking away while still facing you, his finger coming out to point right at you, “Then you’ll have to explain to everyone how your desperate need to talk to everyone you come in contact with, was the reason behind the death of the Harry Styles.”

“Oi, fuck off. Says the man who made sure to learn something about every single person setting up the show today. Go get dressed before I slap the Harry Styles.”

The slight shake of his head kept your attention as he weaved his way through the bustling room, back towards the vanity he had claimed as his own. You’d watched the scene in front of you play out many times before; models spread out throughout the room, some having changed immediately into their own comfortable clothes, some tossing their heads back in eased laughter, and some every sitting back with their feet up, enjoying a basket of chips. No matter how each of them decided to unwind after such a monumental show, it never got old. Because just as they did, you had your own post show ritual.

You didn’t divulge in unhealthy foods or put on your most comfortable pair of socks; you organized your kit one last time. From the moment Alessandro sits you down with his new vision until the last model walks off the runway, you know to keep millions of pins, thread of all colors, buttons of every shape and size, and even some super glue on you at all times. They would undoubtedly get used throughout the months of alterations and mishaps, if not by you, then by a member of your team. So, taking a moment to sit and go through everything once the night was officially over was a sort of release for you. A way for you to touch and feel just how much hard work had gone into your work. How the container holding your pins was considerably lighter, the spool of black thread had nearly vanished, and the pile of band aids in the lower pocket was down to three. All signs that you put your heart and soul into this collection.

There was never any guarantee when Alessandro would find inspiration next and when his next project would begin, meaning you never knew when the next time you’d be opening your kit was. But this time, that wasn’t the case. He had planned at least three more shoots before the years end, so you were only allotted a few weeks of laid back free time this time around.

“Packing up so soon?”

“You know how I like to close out a show.” You chuckled, not turning to look at your boss, but seeing his hand reach out and fingertips graze over the very top of your bag.

“How many this time?”

“28 buttons, nearly the entire tin of pins, 64 band aids, and two mini bottles of wine.”

“You should be proud, il mio amore, that’s two less bottles than last time! It’s about progress!”

“Two less because someone yelled at me less this time around.” Finally getting back to your feet, you turned to face him and noticed that he had thrown his hair up to get it away from his sweaty forehead. “No need to drink if you aren’t crying in the fabric closet.”

“Lo faccio solo con amore, Tesoro, lo sai.” I only do it with love honey, you know. His smile was contagious as he took your hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Look at how far you’ve come. Such beautiful art comes from these hands.”

“Do you know what you’ll do until the fragrance shoot?”

“I will be taking Vanni to see my brother. A nice peaceful place to become one again. Where will you go?”

“My flat in Florence has been calling my name for weeks, Lallo.” He smiled fondly at the nickname. “Will probably do some redecorating while I’m there.”

“And some dates, no?”

“I really don’t know why I bother telling you anything. Like my father, you are.”

“Well I am the reason for this, am I not? Seems only right that I know all the details.”

“Details of what?”

“How I’m redecorating my flat in Florence.” Your response was quick, and you sent Alessandro a stern side glare so that he knew not to bring up anything of what you were just speaking of.

“Yes, I told her that I expect pictures.”

“Oh, add me to that list as well then! I’d love to see how you decorate. ‘M always looking for new inspiration.”

“Um, yeah sure. You ready?” if Harry could sense how awkward you felt when he joined you and Alessandro, he made no move to indicate it. Especially now, smiling at your agreement.

“Yup. Ready to enjoy some of Earth’s finest pasta.”

“Oh!” Alessandro brightened at Harry’s words, his back straightened, and eyes widened. “Are you taking him to Chiaro Di Luna?” you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Magnifico! A wonderful place you will love!”

“Well he won’t love it if we keep standing here so…”

“Have fun my prodigies!”

Both you and Harry laughed quietly as you finally walked away from the man of the hour. You may have known him in different ways, but each of you got the chance to see a side of Alessandro most people didn’t – parental type figure who wanted nothing but love and prosperity for you both.

“He’s like that with you all the time as well?”

“Hmm?”

You took a glance at him when pressing the button for the lift, just to be met with his warm eyes already looking at you. He looked handsome after the show – not that he wasn’t always handsome, but something about seeing him work so hard and then look so comfortable made your chest tingle. He was wearing a pair of dark yellow corduroy pants – the flare at the ankles not nearly as large as some of the flares he owns, but wide nonetheless – paired with a red and blue striped shirt, a tiny Mickey Mouse head embroidered into the upper left breast and a black bomber jacket.  He looked relaxed and everything that spending time in Italy embodied.

“Does he turn into dad mode on you as well?”

Harry laughed, “He means well.”

It was no surprise that Harry had brought along a plethora of fans, all eagerly awaiting his presence back outside after the show, so there was no way the two of you could casually stroll out of the front doors to get to your late dinner date. Instead, you were walking through the basement hallway so that you could make your speedy escape through the lower side exit, directly across from Cafe Capitolino.

“You think you’d do another?”

“You think I’d be asked to do another?”

Your hand found it’s way up to his forehead as the two of you strolled through Piazelle Caffarelli - the quaintest little park directly across from the museum. In the bright moonlight, the beds of flowers and statues almost appeared to glow, directing your path through the garden.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you have a fever.”

“Huh?”

“You must be sick because I’m not seeing your ego anywhere.”

“Oh piss off.” he laughed, lifting his own arm so that he could slap yours - playfully - away from his face. “‘M serious.”

“So am I. You’re one of the most confident people I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you doing your music thing Harry. You’re good and you know it. Where’s that attitude here?”

He was quiet as the two of you finally made it out of the garden and crossed the main street, focusing on stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and tugging it closer to his torso. His hair had grown quite a lot since the first time you’d met him years ago, and the curls, wild from being kept under a cap for hours, were blowing in the small breeze.

“‘Dunno. I was nervous when I did the film as well. Guess doing something new like this makes me question if I’m given the chance to do it because I’m genuinely good at it, or just because they want my name on it.”

That was a surprise to you. From the moment you met him, you could feel the confidence he emitted. In fact, it rubbed off on most who were working with him. He made the people around him feel confident in themselves and what they were doing, and always encouraged when someone was feeling down.

“You’re very much wanted on this team for what you bring to it, not your name. I’m sorry if you were made to feel anything less.”

“No!” he quickly rebutted, gaining the attention of the few people wandering the street late at night. But he paid no mind to them, only focused on looking at you to make sure you heard what he was saying cearly. “You haven’t, at all. None of you have. Just don’t want to be known as the guy who gets jobs because he was in a band.”

“Can promise you that Lallo wouldn’t have asked you to be a part of so many shoots and such an important show if he didn’t completely and wholeheartedly believe you were perfect for it.”

You watched him nod and mutter a quiet I guess, the moon peeking over the Gran Caffe Roma and highlighting his eyelashes and very tip of his nose so perfectly that he began to look like a statue.

“Lallo?”

“Yeah.” a quick chuckle left your mouth, a hand coming up to rub your cheek while you thought of your response. “After I finished my first collection for him, it was a small one so he could see if I was right for the position, he took me out for drinks to celebrate me getting the job. Long story short, we both had a few too many and I started calling him Lallo and it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.” his hand was wiggling about, trying to escape the confines of the jacket pocket, and when it finally did, it brushed against your own. You both looked down at the close proximity of your hands and you felt the air immediately get thicker. He must have felt the same because when you briefly look up at him over your lashes, he was staring straight ahead; very apparently trying not to make any sudden moves.

But the millisecond the warmth of skin left yours, you wanted it back. Maybe it was the tiny kiss you shared backstage just hours ago, or the built up tension between the two of you that had started during his second campaign shoot, whatever it was, you were done dancing around the obvious. Without giving it a second thought or looking anywhere but straight ahead, you lifted your pointer finger ever so slightly. Just enough so that it gently rubbed against his. You wanted to give him the option of pursuing anything further, so just as quickly as the contact began, it ended; your fingers settling by your side yet again.

However, the breeze working it’s way between your hands didn’t last long, because almost immediately after your little move, you felt his fingers slowly creep around your hand. He didn’t move fast, almost as if he was letting the calm Italian breeze join your hands together. And slower than you would have liked, your entire hand was enclosed by his, feather touches to make sure the other was comfortable with where things had gone.

You wanted to make sure Harry knew just how okay you were with his hand keeping yours warm, so you continued talking as if nothing had happened. “‘M the only one who gets to call him that though, so don’t go parading around saying it.”

“Loud and clear. Your secret's safe with me.” he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening when a strong gust of wind blew through the small alleyway you were walking down and you shivered, “Cold?”

“No, I’m alright.” you lied, the air outside always making you significantly colder after leaving the sauna that was a fashion show back room.

Instead of letting go of the idea of you being cold, Harry lightly tugged on your joined hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, which then forced you to move closer to his side. Italy in May wasn’t a time you would consider cold; the sun shone nearly every day, warming your cheeks, and there was no need for anything more than a light jumper, but the warmth radiating from Harry’s side made it feel as if you were strolling around on an August day. But you welcomed it, despite the race of your heart.

“Looking forward to having some time off?”

“Absolutely. I really do need to redecorate my place. ‘M sure Lilliana hasn’t been taking care of the plants as often as I’d like so I’ll have to make a stop and pick up some new ones.”  you were mostly speaking to yourself, so you elaborated when he didn’t respond. “Lilliana is a girl who lives across the street. She’s sixteen, and has been watching my place ever since I started with Gucci. Doesn’t want to get paid or anything, only wants me to get her a meeting with Alessandro when she turns eighteen. Told her I’d see what I can do, but he’s already seen some of her designs. She’s very talented.”

“You’re really wonderful, you know.”

The compliment made the tips of your ears warm, and you were worried that the palms of your hands would start to clam up if you thought about the way you could feel him looking at you, so you quickly changed the subject, your hand clumsily sliding out of his pocket to point at the tiny restaurant in front of you.

“Here we are!”

Nestled at the very end of the alley, was your destination. Only two tables were set up outside, the tiny patio was past picturesque; it was straight out of a movie. A metal fence was surrounding the seating area on two sides - the third wall was created by the muted terracotta building and the fourth was left open for easy access. Wrapped around the very tops of the fence were some fairy lights, not enough to cover the entire thing, but enough to give a bit of lighting on the otherwise dark road, and creating a pathway to the front door, sat a nice variety of potted plants. And with the green doors to the shop left open, the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit you and Harry in the face.

“This is amazing.” his voice was full of wonder and you appreciated the fact that even he, someone who had been around the world and back many times, never took for granted the small beauties of the world.

“Just wait until you try the food.” you smiled, bringing your hand up to your mouth in a mock chef’s kiss. “Deliziosa!”

The boisterous laugh that fell from between his lips was enough to catch the attention of whoever was working inside. It didn’t take long for them to walk down the front steps, seeing as the inside of the establishment was also small. But the second his face lit up from the wall mounted lights, you smiled.

“Lorenzo! Così bello vederti di nuovo!” Lorenzo! It’s so good to see you again!

“Mio dolce! Mi sei mancato!” My sweet! I’ve missed you! His arms opened wide as he walked down the single step, instantaneously enveloping you in a hug. He smelled of pasta sauce and pizza dough, the evidence of his hard work sprinkled across his withered cheek.

“Mi dispiace! Sai quanto può essere intenso il lavoro! Soprattutto con un capo come il mio!” I’m sorry! You know how intense work can be! Especially with a boss like mine!

You watched Lorenzo’s face light up when he pulled away from you and heard your boss’ name. The two had met ages ago and he was the one who had introduced the two of you. “Ah! Alessandro! Confido che stia bene! E chi hai portato con te questa volta, cara?” Ah! Alessandro! I trust he is doing well! And who have you brought with you this time, dear?

Feeling bad for leaving Harry out of the brief conversation, you angled your body so that you were now facing him, moving your hand between the two men in front of you. “Lorenzo, this is Harry. Harry, Lorenzo.”

True to his nature, Harry immediately stuck his hand out and offered a ‘you alright?’ to the older gentleman, but Lorenzo was having none of that. Completely ignoring the waiting hand, and having to stand a bit on his toes in order to wrap his arms around the younger man’s upper back, he pulled Harry in for a tight hug.

“Any friend of hers is a friend of mine! Benvenuto!”

“Hai un… posto bellissimo qui!” Lorenzo’s smile grew as the two separated and Harry slowly racked his mind for the right words. “Was that right?”

“It was! Thank you, we do love it here!”

“Speaking of..” you cut in, “I know it’s late but do you think we could steal a plate or two?”

“For you, mio caro, anything.” he lifted his calloused hand to gently pat your cheek. “Why don’t the two of you sit down and I will bring you a few dishes. I’ve got some fettuccine alla carbonara if you’d like. I’m sure I can find something else if-”

“That sounds wonderful, Lorenzo, thank you.”

You watched as his frail figure made its way back into the shop, taking an extra second to carefully climb the single step. It was the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy one of your favorite meals, but even more perfect to turn around and see Harry holding a chair out, waiting for you to join him at the table.

“Thank you.” you hoped the smirk you were trying to hide wasn’t visible in the dimly lit back alley and he couldn’t tell how much the small gesture made your heart race.

“So tell me,” he sighed once he finally sat down next to you, his forearms leaning against the small wooden table so that he could look directly at you. “You really like the food here or do you just keep coming back because he adores you?”

“I take offense that you think I’d use my charming personality just to get a free plate of pasta.” the stare shared between you both was one of comedy - his eyebrow raised in question and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I use it for two.”

“I knew it.”

“It really is the best, swear it! Tried to get him to teach me the recipe once but he won’t budge. Says he won’t allow it to leave the family.”

“He always here this late? Seems to be a bit… old… to be here at quarter eleven.” he never broke eye contact while speaking to you, but his fingers began to roam around, slowly inching towards your own empty hands. There was no move to do anything more than brush his fingers against yours, but you longed for him to envelop your smaller ones in his.

“For as long as I’ve known him. Always comes in to prep for the people who come in at five the next morning.”

“Good bloke.” he nodded, craning his neck a bit so he could look around him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to have my own restaurant.”

A deep belly laugh spilled from your lips upon hearing his words, your body’s finally making contact when you lifted your hand and placed it on his forearm to ground yourself.

“What’s so funny about that?” his voice held a certain aura of feigned offence, but you knew not to take it too seriously by the bright smile covering his face. It was a different kind of smile than you were used to seeing him give, but you welcomed it and never wanted to see it end. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle a tad more than normal, mouth open a bit wider, and entire body lean forward.

“Harry, I’ve known you nearly three years. Never once have I heard you mention wanting to have your own restaurant. I’ve been told a lawyer, a florist, even a physiotherapist, but a chef? Can you even cook?”

“Now I'm offended! I’ll have you know that I used to cook for the band all the time!”

“Beans on toast doesn't count as cooking, Harry.”

“Leave off.” somewhere during your mock argument and Harry laughing at you, his hand had fully found its way to yours, wrapping around it carefully as not to disturb the perfect peace the two of you had going. “You’ll just have to come over so I can prove to you just how good I am.”

Obviously he didn’t mean it in any other way than a friend inviting another friend over for a nice meal, but the way his tongue jut out before speaking, leaving his lips shining and nearly begging for attention, made the sentence mean a lot more to you than he led on.

“Well, I’ll hold you to that, mate.”

“Don’t mate me while I’m holding your hand, mate.” you swear it was like Harry was trying to push every single last button you had. Not only was he smirking while giving your hand a squeeze, but with each word, he seemed to be gradually leaning closer to you.

Almost as if he was waiting for the most perfectly inopportune moment, Lorenzo made his presence known with the clink of two wine glasses that echoed through the small alley. The sound made you and Harry separate as quickly as possible and look towards the older man.

“Two dishes of my world famous fettuccine paired with the best bottle of wine you could ask for!”

“But we didn’t ask for wine, Lorenzo.”

“It’s alright because you are new here, but when I give you a bottle of wine, you take it.”

“He says it makes for a better experience.” you shrug, taking the glasses and bottle from the tray so that he would have an easier time setting down your plates.

“Non puoi goderti i frutti del tuo lavoro senza un po ‘di divertimento!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say. Now take this before I stay here all night and give it to Mateo, because you know he’ll take it.” you tried handing him a few folded up fifties, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t accept, but insead, backed away from your outstretched hand.

“Mio caro, no. I do not want that from you. I just enjoy seeing your beautiful face every now and again.”

“Lorenzo, you know I won’t stop. Please”

“You are too much, ragazza dolce. Please come tell me if you need anything more.”

“What did he say to you just then? I caught fruit and fun but that’s where it stops.” Harry asked as soon as the older man was out of ear shot. He was trying hard to look at you, but the steaming plate of food before you both was enough to pull anyone’s attention away, so you didn’t fault him for being mesmerized.

“Come on, hot shot, have your Italian lessons taught you nothing?”

“Wow you’re really riding me tonight, huh?” if only. “I’m busy alright. Got a lot going on up here.” he used his pointer and middle finger to tap against his temple, “Gets hard to remember things sometimes.”

“You know I’m just taking the piss.” unable to wait any longer, you began to twist your fork in the pasta while giving him an explanation. “Said you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labor without having a little fun.”

“He’s got a point you know.”

“If you try and tell me that I need to be prouder of my work, I will dump all of that food on the ground before you even have the chance to try it.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not if it’s as good as you say it is.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious, love.” Harry had called you many pet names since your first meeting, but love had never been one of them. It sounded so comforting falling his lips, like it was the only word you wanted to hear for the rest of time, and it made your insides instantly warm - and it wasn’t from the wine. “You’re outrageously talented. Everyone on the planet can see it except for you.”

“I’m proud of what I do, Harry. Just don’t feel like it’s right to take any bit of credit for something I only helped put together.” sure, you helped transform the clothing from pieces of mixed matched fabrics into the collections that hit the runways, but they weren’t your ideas or designs, so you felt only fair to give credit where it was rightfully due.

“Alright. Fine then. If you won’t take credit for your work, I’ll do it for you.” he cleared his throat after finishing off his glass of wine, back straightening and his chest puffing out after filling with air. “Hello!” he shouted, followed by introducing your name, “I am the lead tailor for Gucci and I just completed my fourth Cruise Collection!”

“Shh!! Harry!” you really did try to keep it together while tugging on his arm, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he kept shouting praising about you to the empty Roman streets.

“I’m one of the best in the world and everyone is absolutely dying to work with me!”

“Harry!” you laughed again, this time, cupping your hand over his lips that he couldn’t say anymore. “I get it, my god.”

“Do you? Because I can do it again. Hello -”

“I do, thank you.” your smile was genuine, truly appreciating the fact that he always had such nice things to say about you and your work. “But please just shut up and eat, yeah?”

Finally the two of you were silent, smiling to yourselves so that you could enjoy your awaiting food. Until you weren’t.

A loud moan from next to you quickly made your head snap up in desperate need to see where it had come from. There was no one else it could have come from, but to hear the sound fall from Harry’s mouth wasn’t something you were prepared for. Nor was the sight of carbonara sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck you were right.” he moaned again, this time much smaller, “This is the greatest pasta on the planet.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now that there are very few times that’d I’m not right.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the man indoors, who when you looked up over Harry’s shoulder, you saw standing in the window smiling and giving you a thumbs up. Of course he was on the same page as Alessandro and would be trying to put both you and Harry in the mood for a romantic night. But to hear the chords of ‘So This Is Love’ play through whatever speaker he had in his kitchen, really did surprise you.

“Lorenzo!” you yelled, not caring about waking whatever kind of neighbors he had

“What?”

“Really?”

“I just turned on my music, mio caro! Please enjoy your meal.”

Snickering from next to you made you roll your eyes,  “Don’t laugh at him, you’re only egging him on, Harry.”

“‘M not, I’m not!” you sent him a pointed look, taking the last gulp of wine from your glass and pouring yet another. “Alright, maybe just a little. But only because I think ya look cute when you’re flustered, is all.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you’re a right bellend.”

“Only to a select few!” the sound of his light laugh was drowned out by the creaking of his chair as he pushed it backwards. In a second, he was at his feet, ignoring your question of ‘what are you doing?’ to stand in front of you. “Signora.” his mouth may not have made any movements to smile, but you could see his eyes holding one back.

He mocked bowed, resting one arm behind his back as the other hand engulfed one of your sitting on top of the table. The pads of his fingers caressed the inside of your hand as he gently picked it up, slowly slotting your two hands together. It felt like an out of body experience, like you were watching the scene happen as an onlooker, instead of being a part of it. Because the second he picked his head up from the bow, his eyes met yours. Hundreds of unidentified thoughts raced through your mind and your breathing stopped when he picked up your hand completely, the distance between it and his lips growing short and shorter every second. With one quick, quiet, exhale falling from your lips, he placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, keeping his eyes set on yours.

It could have been every innocent moment the two of you had spent together over the last two and a half years, or watching him perform his heart out just hours ago in garments that you literally built, or maybe even the way his eyes sparkled in the Italian moonlight, but staring at him as he stood back up straight, his hand still holding yours, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

“Care to dance?”

It wasn’t the spark that radiated through your hands or the wind pulling at your blouse, but the look of endearment in Harry’s eyes that made you stand from your chair, accepting his offer. His free arm wound around your waist while yours rested on his shoulders, your body now flush against his. It wasn’t the perfect setting for be slow dancing; the twinkling lights were barely bright enough for you to see where you were stepping, the cobblestone beneath your trainers made the arches of your feet hurt, and the open space was very limited between the table and building, but the soft instrumental of ‘Bella notte’ playing from inside the shop and the wine flowing through your veins, made it something out of a dream.

The sun shone in through the window and straight into your eyes, making you blink awake with a small wrinkle between your brows. First thing you noticed was that you were sleeping in the cream blouse you had worn the night before, your trousers off and hopefully, you thought to yourself, so was most of your make-up as well. Second thing you noticed was the hand on your hip and the other under your head, the breathing against your skin and the forehead against your neck. Third… was something else entirely…

Memories from the night before came back in bits and pieces, bringing a small smile to your face. How you and Harry had both drunkenly stumbled down the hallway at like one, how you had struggled to get the key to your room in the lock, and how Harry had playfully pushed you out of the way to help you with it. How he helped you indoors, and how you’d asked him to stay. There hadn’t been a sexual intent behind the words, just an infatuated drunk speaking truthfully to another. You remember asking Harry to not look as you took your trousers off, and that you thought it’d be a good idea to take your bra off but sleep in your silk blouse. Harry on the other hand, kept all his clothes on, laying down beside you in bed and told you goodnight before you’d even managed to get yourself properly under the sheets. He must’ve been exhausted. It’d been a long day after all.

You woke up in the spooning position; his arm resting across your hip, breathing onto your skin, forehead against your neck, holding you close. Even before Harry woke up and noticed what was going on, you tried to understand why you felt like something wasn’t as it usually was. You felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath behind you and then him moving his head away from you, lifting the hand that had been placed on your hip, running it over his face. It wasn’t till you were about to turn around to face him that you both realised what was resting between you. You both stopped abruptly, silence filling the room around you.

“Bollocks.” Harry hissed between his teeth, glancing down at where his morning wood pressed against his yellow trousers and your ass and thigh. “So sorry.” He didn’t really know how to move as to not make it worse. Walking away from bed would mean you’d have to see the bulge in his trousers, but staying there would be absolute fucking torture.

You tried your hardest not to giggle, feeling a flush wave through your body.

“I-I… I don’t know what to do now. Sorry.” Harry said, feeling so embarrassed he was unsure what the next right thing to do would be.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, on everything that had transpired between the two of you, you suddenly felt a surge of dominance run through you. The countless times you’d waited for Harry to kiss you, the times he could’ve reached for your hand in the silence of the moment, the hundreds of hours you’d spent smiling at each other. The numerous missed opportunities. All the ‘what if’s. You hated them all, but they’d led you to this moment. It had all came down to this. Here, now. You two, in bed, Harry grunting in frustration into the pillow and you smiling to yourself, not at all sorry for him waking up hard against you. In fact, you didn’t mind it at all. After everything last night, this felt right. After absolutely everything you two had been through, it didn’t feel weird.

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Harry there with his eyes shut tightly.

“What’re you doing?”

His cheeks were red, obviously incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “Willing my woodie away, what does it bloody look like?”

You couldn’t help your laughter, shaking into Harry who smiled at the sound of your exclamations of joy. Slowly, you moved your arse against him, feeling his erection between your bumcheeks. Harry stilled, watching you with wide eyes as you did it again. Reaching behind you, you took a grip of Harry’s hand that had been on your hip earlier, placing it back there so he could feel you swaying against him. You felt an inhale of breath against you, then Harry’s fingers instantly grip onto you. He watched you as you continued to roll your hips against him, loving the hot feeling it sent to the spot between your legs. You hummed, biting your lip as you glanced down at Harry’s hand on your bare skin, letting him see just how much you liked this.

Instantly, he moved closer to you, wrapping the arm he’d been resting under your neck around you, taking a grip of your shoulder. The other one he slowly slid further down, moving closer and closer to the space between your legs that ached for him. You closed your eyes as he hovered above you, laying his palm flat against your cunt, the breathy and barely audible moan that left your lips driving him insane. Laying some pressure on you, you inhaled sharply, both your hands gripping the arm wrapped around your neck. The heat that had started in the very bottom of your stomach intensified, and got even hotter when he ran his fingers seductively over you. Feather-like touches, soft kisses to your cheek and neck, absolutely nothing mattered but the fire that was being ignited in your core.

Harry pushed your knickers aside, running his ring and middle finger between your folds. While doing so, he pushed your hips to rock against him, causing a friction between the two of you unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. You gasped, opening your eyes and looking at Harry who was watching you more intently than you’d ever seen before. He looked so hot like that, demanding you to please him while he was pleasing you. Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made him feel.

You reached down, wiggling your hips as you dragged your knickers down your legs. You threw them somewhere far away before turning back to Harry. This time, you sat up and onto his lap, looking down on him while you rested your hands at the zipper of his yellow trousers. He let out a small breath, heart hammering against his chest as he watched you sit on him like that; look at him like that. He’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to find himself in this position, and yet, here he was. You reached for his zipper, undoing it as Harry did both the buttons. You sat up on your knees helping Harry as he tried to get out of his trousers, but it seemed harder than either of you thought.

“Just get them off.” You said, reaching behind you to push them further down.

“Not so easy when you’re on top of me like that.” Harry answered, sitting up to drag them off. Your faces were suddenly very close.

“Alright, I’ll get off-“

“-No,” he answered abruptly. “Please don’t.”

You stopped, letting Harry take his trousers off and throw them to the ground, not breaking eye contact with you once. You felt him against you, felt how hot he was for you like you were for him; how badly he wanted you. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he glanced back up into your eyes again, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words for it. You had taken control so far, so you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say or do something. And it was as if he knew your thoughts exactly. He took a grip of the back of your neck, bringing you to him.

The second your lips met, you closed your eyes, melting into the kiss and melting into Harry. You hadn’t really shared a proper kiss till now, only having had that small peck and him kissing your hand. But this was a real kiss. You tasted him, felt him. Surrounding you and everything you knew in those sublime seconds your lips were pressed against one another. Heavenly, carefully, gingerly, Harry slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you welcomed him completely. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. He pulled you to him, devouring one another unapologetically. Now that you were kissing, dragging out the delicious moment, you weren’t holding back anymore. The kisses were hungry, desperate, wet. Nothing had ever tasted better than Harry, nothing had ever felt better than him either. You wondered why you’d waited so long to kiss one another, what had taken so long. Because now you couldn’t think of not doing just that.

You wanted to kiss him till the end of time. Wanted to feel as his hands roamed your body, how his tongue swirled around yours, how his lips got more and more swollen as you continued on making out. Forever, and maybe even longer than that if you were allowed; you wanted to kiss Harry forever. It felt so good, so right. Like tasting every good thing that had ever happened to you all at once, combined into one thing. Harry.

Moaning your name, you felt him grip your bum, squeezing it hard as he dragged you over him. He wanted some friction as bad as you; wanted you. It felt so good knowing Harry was as desperate as you, that he felt the same way and wasn’t ashamed of admitting that he did. You had no idea where your infatuation had begun, had no idea how you had fallen in love with Harry. You just were and that was how it was supposed to be. It had always supposed to be the two of you. Whenever something feels right, you get a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, like it’s your soul telling you that you’ve reached your final destination; you’ve gotten where you’re supposed to be. And you felt that very feeling right now, in Harry’s arms, kissing him, feeling him hard against you.

You pushed him back down on the bed, bending over him to continue kissing. He instantly gripped your arse again, begging you to rock against him so he could get some small friction. You refused however, and instead buried your hands in his hair, dragging out the tongue filled, wet, lustful kisses. It was excruciating, Harry thought to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to force you to do anything as he didn’t want this moment to be over. If you wanted to drag this out, then he would not stop you. He was making out with you, you were almost naked on top of him, he got to touch you all over. He wasn’t going to take this for granted.

There didn’t seem to be an end to your kisses, they seemed to be going on and on and on. Not that either of you were complaining, but at one point it was hard to remember how the rest of the morning had gone before you’d started snogging. You suddenly realised just how naked you were, that only your cream blouse was covering your torso, that the rest of you were on display for Harry. But he was way too busy kissing you to pay notice to anything else.

You tugged at the end of his tee shirt and he quickly took it off, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning his attention back on you again. You ran your hand down his front, wanting to feel his skin under yours unashamedly. Every time you’d touched him before had been under a work setting, but this one was quite different. The hands touching him now were those of a lover, not his tailor. They were the hands of a desperate woman who wanted nothing more than to be with Harry in any way one human could be with another.

Resting your hands at the top of Harry’s boxers, Harry frantically followed your lead, being there to help you get them off. He was ready to do exactly as you told him to, knowing that he was and always would be at your complete and total disposal. As his boxers came off, his cock sprang loose, and you couldn’t help but look down at it. Harry watched you as you took him in, finding you checking him out like this incredibly hot. A wave of excitement and adoration ran through him, so captivated and altogether in love with you that he was sure in that moment and every moment that followed, he would lay down the rest of his life and himself to you wholly.

You took a grip of his cock, looking into his eyes after positioning him right at your hole. He didn’t take his eyes off you, knowing that what was just about to happen would change everything for you and your friendship. Not that all of last night and the rest of this morning hadn’t done that already, but sex complicates things. It’s hard not to form an emotional attachment to those you choose to have sex with, and it’s even harder to forget said person you have sex with if you’re in love with them. But regardless of that, both of you wanted to do this. You wanted to shag; wanted one another.

You guided him into you, holding onto him till he was all the way in. Your lips parted and Harry let out a low moan, your warm walls around him almost being too much to take. Positioning your knees well on either side of his waist, you sat up on his lap again, and started moving your hips over him. Harry gripped your thighs, squeezing them tight and looking up at you with his mouth agape. Your blouse hung loosely off you, unbuttoned to the point of one of your tits showing. It fell off one of your shoulders as you rocked over Harry, revealing even more of you to Harry in the bright morning light.

He moved one of his hands upward, running it up your arm, over your collarbone, to your neck. His thumb ran over your jawline, wanting to feel all of your soft skin under his fingertips. You looked down at him, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes met his. Already the familiar burn of a climax started building up in your core, reminding you of how long it had truly been since you’d found yourself in this position prior to this. Not that it even mattered, because right now you were having sex with Harry and he felt so fucking good inside you and underneath you, you would never get tired of this feeling.

You slid your hands down his front, dragging your nails along this skin till you reached his abdomen, where you let them rest. Harry’s eyes fell to your hands, relishing in the feeling of you touching him everywhere, of you being everywhere. Nothing mattered but you and the magic you were creating between the two of you. The soft skin of the inside of your thighs resting against his hips and ribs, his tattooed arms caressing your entire body. Heavy breathing, the occasional moan.

He moaned your name, hand sliding down your chest, rubbing his thumb over your exposed nipple. The burn in your core was really starting to build up now, and you knew it would burst any second. Harry sat up, wrapping an arm around your middle. You gasped a little in surprise, but your heart instantly started beating faster at him being so close to you. His grip was tight, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening, it sent a wave of butterflies straight to your tummy. All of them flew directly to your core as Harry started moving his hips more with yours.

“Look so good on me like that, you do.” He whispered against your lips, his voice still having that morning rasp to it that sent a shiver up your spine.

You wrapped an arm around his neck, resting the other one on his shoulder as you continued to rock your hips against him. His eyes were hooded, but there was something in them that was so soft it took your breath away. When you know someone inside and out, you notice every single little change in their behaviour. This wasn’t tiny, though, because there was a type of vulnerability in Harry’s eyes that you hadn’t seen there before. He was laying himself completely bare, both physically and emotionally, wanting to connect and attach himself to you on every level a human possibly could.

Being this close, your movements got shorter and quicker. Bending his knees, Harry brought you flush to his torso, your hips and his moving rhythmically, hard against one another. Everything felt electric, everything felt hot. You wanted to melt into him and have you two sitting like this for eternity. Wanted to stare into his eyes, feel his warm breath on your skin, have his arm around your waist and the other hand on her cheek. Having him inside you like this, feeling him grip you hard, whimper against your lips, moan your name, you felt incredibly powerful and so, so good. There was something so magical about this moment, about you two joined like this. Something words lacked the ability to articulate and something your hearts didn’t quite understand yet but wanted to. He reached his hand down to your bum, squeezing you hard.

“Harry.” You moaned, feeling your hips and knees begin to ache from sitting like this. Not that you cared much, because the wild look in Harry’s eyes was enough of a reason for her to endure it a hundred times more.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against you. “You like that?”

Biting your lip, you glanced into his eyes, letting your look speak for itself. Harry moaned, letting his hand fall to the bed and the other to your thigh, pressing you harder around him. You were both close, clinging harder onto one another. The heat in the pit of your stomach grew bigger and bigger, threatening to burst with every grind, every moan, every touch. He thrusts harder into you, entranced as he watched you gasp and moan loudly.

“Fuck me.” You said, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as you want me to, baby.” He kissed your jawline, nails digging into your thigh. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You gasped, feeling the heat get more intense. Harry felt your movements get more frantic and he moved his hips quicker, meeting yours and creating a friction so heavenly it caused you to lose all control.

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, looking into Harry’s eyes as everything started to blur.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling your legs start to shake around him. You came hard. Harry watching you intently, holding back his own release to watch every last second of yours; to make sure you were done before he allowed his own climax. You gasped for breath and moaned ad repeated Harry’s name over and over and over again until it felt like it was the only word you were able to pronounce.

Harry came right after her, a furrow appearing between his brows and lips parted. His hands tightened around her, holding onto her for dear life as he came in her. He stilled, neck vein showing, and he moaned and moaned and moaned. It was so hot, he sounded so sexy. You watched him till he came down, feeling his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as he slipped out of you. You breathed together for a few moments before looking at one another, suddenly laughing a little at what you’d just done. He rested his forehead against your chest, feeling you breathe with him.

“That was a thing that just happened.” You said, making Harry laugh.

“That just happened.”

“We just did that.”

You both laughed, holding onto one another still, not willing to let go. For the time being, you two were the only thing that mattered, nothing outside your room existed. But then you laid your eyes on the clock by the nightstand and jumped off Harry. He watched you, wide eyed and confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m supposed to be at Alessandro’s hotel room in five minutes to go over yesterday, and some other stuff.” You said while you ran to the bathroom, needing to get washed up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Harry got out of bed, quickly putting his boxers and tee shirt on. “When’re you done?”

“Dunno.”

“Meet me for breakfast.” Harry said as you ran back out, new pair of knickers on and rummaging through your wardrobe. “I’ll text you the location.”

“Harry, I-“

“-Please.”

You looked over at him as you put your trousers on, smiling at his pleading words. “Text me.”

He smiled back before looking around the room. “Where are my trousers?”

“I’ll find them later, just piss off because I need to leave.” You ran towards the door with your laptop in hand and Harry – looking quite mortified – followed. He pulled his room key out as you were closing the door, about to run down the corridor for Alessandro’s room when you felt a hand around your wrist. Harry pulled you back toward him, pressing his lips against yours. You both smiled into the kiss, feeling absolutely elated and still not sure how to process what had just happened.

“Hurry.” Harry mumbled against your lips before kissing you again. “I’ll be waiting with that morning after pill.”

“Good.”

Harry smiled. “Now, be off.”

You giggled, giving him one last peck before running down towards Alessandro.

Everything that happened between you and Harry over the last 30 months had culminated to this point; you rushing out of the room after sharing an unexpected, intimate morning together. Looking back on it, you knew that each longing look you gave him had a hidden meaning behind it. You wanted this. Maybe not right away, but the more you got to know Harry, the more you wanted to be more than just his tailor. There had always been more between the two fo you, you just had not figured it out till now.

The way he watched you with admiration while you worked, gave you praises when you were feeling down - quite literally shouting them from the streets - and spoke to you in a way that had your mind in the clouds, it all slowly built over time.

It built until you couldn’t handle it any longer and needed to show Harry just how deeply you were falling for him.

Knocking on Alessandro’s door you quickly tired to fix your hair, aware that you looked like a right mess. Because of your morning antics and inability to keep track of time, you hadn’t given your appearance a single thought. Once Alessandro opened the door, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there panting and looking distressed, instant regret hit you for not at least brushing through your hair. Alessandro would know something had happened, having known you for so long, he’d see right through you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Alessandro smiled knowingly, nodding his head as he let you in. You just raised your eyebrows, but Alessandro didn’t make another comment. You’d told him enough.

“I stopped by Harry’s room last night, wanted to congratulate him on the show and how well he did, but he wasn’t in. Any idea where he was?”

“Nope. None. Maybe he was having a wee.”

Alessandro nodded again, walking over to sit down by the table in his suite along with his event manager, head stylist, and fabric coordinator. Tons of sketches of new outfits and plans for upcoming events laid out on the table, ready to be discussed. You sat down with them, ready to take notes. You had already been a little late, so you didn’t want to do anything else wrong today. Full on concentrating, you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop for almost 30 minutes, and when you did, it was to check your phone. You’d gotten two text messages, both from Harry.

Harry Don’t forget my yellow trousers. They’re my favourite pair. x

Harry Had an amazing time this morning, by the way. Can’t wait to see you later. x

You couldn’t help the smile that spread out over your face at the messages, and you didn’t realise just how wide your smile was till Alessandro cleared his throat beside you. You looked up, turning your phone around and looking right back at your laptop as if nothing had happened.

“What’s got you smiling?” Alessandro questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You answered, trying to refocus on the document before you.

Alessandro looked down at your phone, smiled, and went on with the meeting. There would be no hiding what happened between you and Harry. Somehow, someway, the man sitting before you would hear how his ‘two prodigies’ had finally gotten together, and when that day happened, you’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he constantly reminded you that without him, the two of you would have likely never met so it was his doing that you had a best friend in Harry.

So what was he to say when he found out you and Harry were now more than friends?

[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader 

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl? 

You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left. 

“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot. “Ouch!” 

You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation. 

“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked. 

You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.” 

You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude. 

“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.” 

You chuckled and shook your head. 

Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight. 

You faked yawned and checked the clock once more. 

“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you. 

“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.  

“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.

It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill. 

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

“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.

“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate. 

Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin. 

“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone. 

“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies. 

“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish. 

“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table. 

“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!” 

“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.” 

“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest. 

“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.” 

“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.” 

You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter. 

This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him. Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring. 

Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone. It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat. 

“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door. 

“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed. 

He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard. 

“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.” 

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.   

This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts. 

You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.” 

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

chapter two

[tooruluv]

Tobio Kageyama x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished, but the book is closed. tell me, have we started a new one? ❞

description: it had been years since you and kageyama broke up. it had been years since the two of you left each other, hatred brewing. fate works in funny ways, you thought, as you caught his eye across the café. love works in funny ways, you thought, as you woke up in his bed the next morning, his fiance calling his phone.

genre: forbidden love, cheating, ex lovers, (all characters are aged up)

word count: 2,007

warnings/notes: strong language, cheating, lowkey toxic relationship, just a lot of heartache and angst! i’ve been thinking of this one for a minute, so i hope you enjoy!! pls let me know your thoughts, i love hearing from you guys <3

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The final pages of the story were finished. The book was closed, the concluding statements read. The story of you and Tobio Kageyama had long since completed. With a few nostalgic memories and a broken heart, it was the end.

Except, like many stories, it wasn’t. An epilogue had begun. A new chapter starting in the midst of nothing, a sequel to a seemingly finished story.

Because you had somehow ended up here: gasping in between desperate kisses with the aforementioned man. He had you pinned up against his penthouse wall, hands grasping every inch of you that he could while your hands threaded in his hair.

Kageyama was buffer now, extra muscle and better build. He easily picked you up and made his moves with more strength and power. It wasn’t just passion the both of you were working with, but anger as well. He was angry at you, angry at the world.

But most importantly, Kageyama was angry with you, still. For breaking his heart.

The night was full of rough, heated kisses and using each other’s bodies in a way that would most certainly leave marks the next morning. You never once spoke, not since the very first kiss you had shared in five years.

Heaving and exhausted, the both of you fell asleep in the hotel you were staying in. There was no cuddling, no pillow talk. Instead, you fell asleep side by side.

Tobio Kageyama was the love of your high school life. The two of you dated the entirety of the dreadful years, seeing each other grow. He may have seemed stoic, or too focused on his favorite sport, but you would be lying if you said that he was a terrible boyfriend.

You brought him a milk every day at lunch, you supported him at every early morning volleyball tournament, you helped him study because despite everyone telling you he’s smart he was actually the least studious person ever. And he came to your house every time you felt sick, he looked at all of your drawings as if they were professional paintings, he brought you a hot chocolate (with your specific order) from the coffee shop you both liked whenever he felt the need to apologize.

You completed each other.

But you can’t really bring up the good parts, the parts you missed the most, without bringing up the bad parts. The parts that make you never want to return.

You were drained in the relationship, to say the least.

You were exhausted all of the time, full of worry because he never texted back, tired from the late nights when he would leave you waiting after practices when he promised he would meet you outside after. And he would get mad at you and give you the silent treatment until he brought you a hot chocolate and neither of you ever talked about it again, or if you tried he would change the subject. He also tended to hate PDA, something you rather enjoyed even if it was just holding pinkies.

The worst part, though, was his hatred for your friendship with your best friend. Tooru Oikawa had been your best friend since you were both children. You had even met Kageyama through the older boy, back in junior high. 

You had to tell him over and over and time and time again that Tooru Oikawa was just a best friend and nothing more. You, in simpler terms, had told Kageyama that you had never ever had even an inkling of a crush on the man. This was a reoccurring situation for the entirety of your relationship.

Like it was a competition between the two and you were the prize. And you hated being played as a game.

One day, only a couple of weeks before you had broken up with him, you and Kageyama were sitting in your bedroom. You were trying to study with him, flashcards and papers spread out across your bed as he sat beside you.

Your phone went off, and you ignored it. Kageyama didn’t.

“Oikawa’s texting you again.” He said, voice low with irritation. You rolled your eyes.

“You know, Kageyama, that he’s only a friend and has only ever been a friend.” you told him, ignoring your phone when it went off again. “It’s like you talking to… Hinata.”

“Hinata’s not hitting up my phone every hour, though, is he?” 

“He might as well be.” You set down your book and turned your body so all of your attention was on your boyfriend. When your hands reached for his, and your fingers interlocked with his, he basically let out a sigh of relief as he relaxed. “I love you. You.”

“I love you, too.” He wrapped his other hand around the one holding yours. “I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“I know.”

God, it was going to be hard to tell him goodbye.

Five years had passed since you had last seen Tobio Kageyama. They passed in a series of blurs, as you spent a majority of them traveling and moving non-stop. And after a long time, you had somehow ended back where you started. Back in Japan.

Oikawa was the one who picked you up at the airport, excited as all hell to talk to you about his achievements since high school and hear your stories. He even wrote your name on a piece of paper and all.

“Ah, I have missed you more than you could possibly know!” Oikawa exclaimed as you walked beside him to get your luggage. “And now that you’re back, you can stop Iwa from bullying me.” He pouted.

“You know even I don’t have that kind of power.” You joked. Oikawa got taller, too.

On the way home, you heard about his new team and how they traveled the world, you heard about how big his nephew had gotten, about how things have changed since high school (Oikawa actually lived by himself, now, which was a shock to you since your best friend hated being lonely).

And you caught him up on your adventures, about backpacking in Europe and visiting the Great Wall of China, about living in the states.

You missed being back, for the most part.

Oikawa helped you unpack in your hotel (“You could always stay with me, young traveler, instead of this hotel” He told you. Which you replied with, “My dear Tooru, I wouldn’t want to intervene on prime masturbation hours.”)

The first place you visited since being back was Oikawa’s apartment. The second place you visited was the Scoups Café. 

The café wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t large either. There were tables spread out along the floor, decorated with old newspapers and flower centerpieces. The smell of coffee filled the air the second you opened the big glass doors. The small chatters of people and clicking of keyboards created a chorus of nearly synchronized harmonies. Though it was soothing, beautiful, but it reminded you of every love story imaginable all packed into one: Tobio Kageyama.

You ordered your hot chocolate and waited behind the brown counters. As you did, you heard your name being said from behind you.

You turned to see him. The dark hair, the blue eyes. Unmistakable. You froze on the spot, arms limp at your sides. You didn’t know if it was the anger or the heart break that hit you first. But all you knew then, in that moment, was that he was there. He was there, in the coffee shop with you, and was looking at you with the same anger/heartbreak combination you wore.

“I hate you.” 

Those were the last words Kageyama said to you. Those were the words that you heard repeatedly over and over and over. You weren’t sure if he was being honest or if he was just pissed off, but he said them. To you, to your face, in front of loved ones. He said it. 

And you hated him for it.

The plane ride was full of running makeup, shaking, and putting your phone on airplane mode (not that Kageyama would even text you, you knew he wouldn’t).

Maybe “I hate you” was better than “goodbye”. Maybe “I hate you” was better than “I love you”. Maybe “I hate you” was better than literally any other thing he could have said. Yeah, maybe.

Because hating him for the rest of your life would be way easier than being in love with him.

You claimed Tooru Oikawa as your best friend. And he claimed that you were “slightly higher than Iwa on the best friend scale”. It stemmed as children, you were in the same junior high as them before moving to Karasuno in high school. You were sitting with your other best friend, Hana, watching the game with such intensity that both of your eyes might as well have popped out of your head.

Hana was just as involved. Though it was just a junior high game that wasn’t that hard, it was interesting.

That’s when you met Kageyama for the first time. Your eyes were trained on him the entire time, his drive and passion showing even at the young age. He just… felt different. His aura drew you in like a red string tied on your pinky.

“You’re drooling!” Hana teased from beside you.

“I am not!”

You most definitely were. And after the game, you congratulated Oikawa on court along with his teammates (meaning a certain dark haired boy).

“Does he still hate you?” Oikawa asked you on facetime while you were still in the states. He was outside, in daylight, and you were about to pass out from staying up too late.

“I don’t know.” You didn’t like talking about it, contrary to popular beliefs. “I haven’t talked to him.”

“It’s okay. He hates me too.”

“Are you on a swing? Are you a child?”

“I’m watching Takeru!”

“I smell excuses, Tooru. Excuses.”

You laughed as Oikawa did his best to defend himself, making up ridiculous excuses that only made you laugh harder. Always the dramatic one. You were just happy to derail the conversation.

See, you thought that would be it. One relapse sexcapade with the man you loved for most of your life. One “get it out of your system” night. It’s funny, isn’t it, how things never truly are what you expect them to be.

You didn’t wake up to an empty bed. In fact, you woke up entangled with the dark haired man. Your legs were wrapped around his, and his arms around your waist. He was warm, chest pinned against your back.

His phone rang throughout the bedroom, interrupting your (quite peaceful) sleep.

He reached over your body, still staying behind you (completely naked still, to add), checking the caller ID. His one arm held his body over yours, chest to your side. Like he was trying to keep you trapped there, or he knew he looked like a god in the morning sun (the orange hues reflecting off of his skin in the most beautiful way possible). Either way, you just watched as he grabbed the phone off of the stand.

“Shit.” He mumbled.

His fiancé was calling.

[nuttytani]

Just like a movie

fandom: ikevamp

pairing: vlad x gn!reader 

words: 2000+

warnings: mentions of food and that's pretty much it

a/n- this was my secret santa gift for my dear friend: @jiyuu-chan ! + if you enjoyed it; feedback is highly appreciated!

People say that you are meant to meet a special someone in your life. Someone who would change everything, who would complete you like a piece of a puzzle- someone you are destined to be with from the moment you are born, a string of fate tying you closer.

Soulmates have a special bond with each other; a red string that is attached to their pinky- which can only be seen by them. Such is drilled into every child’s brain from a young age.

When you were younger, your father would always tell you stories of how he had met his soulmate, his wife...your mother. It was otherworldly he said, like nothing else- an indescribable moment, and he wanted you to just know when you had met yours.  

“One day, you’ll also meet your one and only, sweetheart!”

“Really? But…. how will I know?”

“Really! It’s simple. You’ll see a red-,” your dad said- looking a little too excited.

“DARLING- STOP! DIDN’T WE DISCUSS THIS!?? Don’t annoy the poor child…,” your mother screeched from the kitchen as she stormed to your place- giving her husband a sharp look before turning to look at you,  “sweety- you’ll know when that day comes, alright? Why don’t you go play, hmm?”

You only nodded meekly, and rushed upstairs- glad to have your dad stop talking. Your parents’ banter was now muffled, but your mind was clouded with thoughts of what your father was about to say. Perhaps your mother was right...it’s better not to know to keep the moment special.

As you grew up, from kindergarten, primary school to highschool and finally college; you stood by and watched most of your friends find their other half- until you were the only one left. You’d always feel a dull pang in your heart...what if you were destined to be alone for life? When were you going to meet your soulmate? Will people keep on taunting you? These thoughts would lurk in your head, until you couldn’t think anymore. But now you were older and more carefree than before, such thoughts didn’t bother you any longer- at least not completely.

Every once in a while, your family and friends would dreamily tell you about their experience, while you’d just listen and nod. An exhausting cycle, where all your concerns would come rushing back to you. Then, of course, they’d never forget to ask about your nonexistent love life... It wasn’t fun to watch them shoot you a sympathetic smile and say “don’t worry, your time will come soon!”

Truly, having a soulmate or not didn’t matter to you, at least that’s what you think. It wasn’t uncommon for few people to be ‘alone’ although that was quite rare and an unfortunate occurrence. Why was it so hard for people to leave you alone? Real life isn't a romantic movie, like everyone would depict it as.

“There we go! I think that’s it now,” the strawberry brunette sighed as he placed the vase of wildflowers on the coffee table. 

“Finally! I’m so tired,” you groaned, slipping to the floor as your back pushed against the couch.

Fumbling with the book in your hands, you motioned the man to sit beside you- not too long after, he too sat lamely next to you on the cold hardwood. Exactly five hours passed since you and your friend Charles began organizing your new house. The two of you were working nonstop- tirelessly to get the place looking more liveable and comfortable. It was a struggle, but the effort was worth it.

“You know...you owe me for this big time,” Charles announced cheekily.

“Spill it. What do you want Charlot?” Brows shot up your forehead, you knew that smile all too well.

“First of all...stop calling me ‘Charlot’ it’s weird! Only Faust calls me that. And to answer your question- I would like to eat your pancakes.” He flashed you a toothy grin.

“Sure whatever you say Charlot,” you snickered, “with coffee?”

“Uh-huh!”

With a roll of your eyes, you stood up and threw the book on the couch before heading to the kitchen. Straight away- you pulled out the mixing bowl and sieved the dry ingredients, while humming to a tune that was stuck in your head.

About a week had passed since you moved into your new house, it was a decent place and safe neighbourhood. But the best part about it was the fact that your house was a five minute walk from town. That meant no more lazy drives to the market, quite the bonus actually.

Remembering a task- you shouted to Charles, “Can you be a sweetheart and do me a favour?”

“Ask away child, your wish is my command,” he said with a flourish of his hands.

“Haha very funny- go get the mail”

“No no no- you’re forgetting something. What’s the magic word~” he sang in a high pitch.

“...Monsieur Charlie, can you please get the mail,” you huffed in annoyance.

Sounds of pancake sizzling and boiling of the kettle filled the kitchen, you were too busy flipping the pancake to notice Charles' presence back in the living room. His eyes were squinting hard at the brown box and some mail sitting snugly between his arms. He looked back and forth between the parcel and your back before he cleared his throat, capturing your attention.

“Hey uhh...is your home address 216b?”

“No. It’s 215b- why do you ask?”

“Are you sure? Because your mail says-”

Before the man could complete his sentence; you snatched the package from him- your eyes widening momentarily.

“I suppose the addresses got mixed up…” Charles muttered

“Yea looks like it…”

The two of you just stared at the package, not knowing what to do. Your first thought was to drop it off at the right address. The house was just in front of yours, it shouldn’t be a problem and maybe you could introduce yourself to your neighbour at the same time.

A smoky scent filled the living, interrupting your train of thoughts; your nose scrunching up in disgust- “What’s that smell?”

The two of you stared at each other quizzically before exclaiming at the same time “THE PANCAKES!!”

[Unfortunately, it took a great deal of time trying to scrape the burnt pancake off your pan and clean it. The unknown package was the last thing on your mind.]

“Thanks for the help Charles, I appreciate it.” You smiled at him.

“No problem, after all, I got to eat a good meal in turn,” he gave you a wink before bidding his byes.

The sky lost its pale blue colour and was now transformed into soft red and violet, all blending in to create a beautiful gradient with specks of white clouds adorning like freckles. A mop of unfamiliar silvery hair passed by your peripheral as you stared up the sky, taking a shy glance towards the man.

You stared at his back discreetly as he fumbled with the keys before opening the entrance to his house. 

‘216b’ the golden letters glistened. 

Huh. So that’s your neighbour! Maybe now’s the time you give him back the parcel, and that’s what you did.

You knocked thrice on the emerald green door, while balancing the huge brown box on your other arm- waiting patiently while you internally panicked. Your hands started to sweat and the box started to slip. Rushed footsteps echoed from the other side before halting suddenly, the green door opened with a start; giving you a little shock.

Once again, you were met with the silvery haired man; his garnet red eyes flickered to yours and at that moment- you felt as if everything froze around you. Your heart started to beat way too fast, and your breathing became shallow- it felt as if you were underwater. A tingling sensation ran up your left hand, your eyes flashed down to see whatever the problem was- only to be met with a scarlet thread wrapped around your pinky. You looked at the man in clear surprise and he too- looked very taken aback as he followed your eyes.

The silence stretched far too long for your liking, with a clear of your throat- you introduced yourself to the perplexed man and spoke

“...I’m the new neighbour”

“Bonjour, how can I help you?” He stared at you with wide eyes.

“So err- the package— I mean...I-I believe this is your mail?” You motioned to the box in your arms, “Looks like the mailman mixed up our home addresses.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Ahh! Why yes- actually I have yours as well- the mail I mean,” his eyes softened in understanding, “Please! Come inside.” He invited you in as he took the parcel from your hands.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You shook your head meekly, still recovering from your speeding heartbeat.

“Not at all! Come in, please,” he insisted with shining eyes.

The house was similar to yours, the same white walls with wooden floors and fixtures- it had a relaxing ambience. You spotted several plants and flowers decorating the house, giving the place a much more peaceful vibe, you were too busy admiring the place to notice your neighbour returning.

He placed two plates of strawberries and tea on the coffee table which caught your attention.

“You have a lovely home uhh…”

“Vlad. I’m Vlad- my apologies, I completely forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me,” Vlad said with a slight smile.

When you turned up his doorsteps, you had no idea of what was to come- you definitely didn’t expect to finally meet your soulmate after all these years and in such a way. Now you understood what people meant by ‘feeling butterflies’

“No, it’s quite alright,” you chuckled while calming your jittery hands.

Vlad took a seat on the couch and pat the place next to him for you to sit. He elegantly picked the teacup and blew softly on it.

“So, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Not too long actually, been just a week. I’ve finally finished organizing today,” you said while taking a bite into the deep red strawberry- the sweet juiciness making you sigh in delight.

“These strawberries are particularly my favourite- in fact, these were in the parcel you brought,” Vlad said with a deep laugh.

You gave an awkward ‘oh’ as you took a sip from your cup.

Not too long after, the awkwardness disappeared as you two got lost in conversation after conversation and more endless conversation, and a few giggles in between. It was quite easy to trust Vlad- he had a calming and serene aura and had you feeling comfortable in no time, perhaps too comfortable that you didn’t realize how late it was until you glanced at your wristwatch.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry- I lost track of time…”

Vlad gave a hum of acknowledgement as he eyed the wall clock, “It’s not that late.” He looked at you with twinkling eyes, ”Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’d like some company.”

“Hmm I don't know… I’ve overstayed my welcome,” You said with furrowed brows.

“Well I for sure know you haven’t —as I’ve said—I enjoyed your company.”

“Ahh fine! You’re good at tempting people you know?” With a grin, you folded your arms which earned a hearty chuckle from Vlad.

Dinner went smoothly as you two chattered on and on. The two of you stalled your return home but stayed in each other’s presence by washing dishes, eating dessert, extra dessert, and washing dishes yet again until there was nothing left to do.

Once again, you stood at Vlad’s doorstep with a meek smile.

“I had fun, thanks for having me”

“Me too- and it’s not often to find that your neighbour is your soulmate,” Vlad gave you an impish smile.

“Yea— it was, just like—”

“Just like a movie?”

“You stole my words, monsieur.”

“Perhaps this is our movie,” he said while tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

*

*

a/n: if you enjoyed reading this, please don't forget to leave a like and/or reblog. feed back is always appreciated. + join my taglist here

[halstudandruz]

Watch My Lips (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Antonio steps up to teach the reader a few things

Warnings: Smut (18+), swearing

A/N: I took a small page out of the Peter and Gabby book (I really miss Mills) anyway I don’t in any shape or form speak Spanish so blame google translate if anything is wrong, what they’re saying will be in English in parenthesis after just in case.

“Dawson, we need you.” Hailey yelled coming out from the back. Looking up from his desk he gave Jay a questioning look, “he only speaks Spanish.” Upton explained. Antonio nodded closing his file before locking his gun up and following her back. You contemplated between continuing to work or going to watch your partner question the suspect for a few seconds before giving into yourself. Against your better judgment you saved your file on your computer getting up to walk back as well. Kim catching your arm as you passed her desk amused smirk covering her face,

“What?” You asked.

“Where are you going?” She wondered.

“Just going to watch.” You shrugged making her smile grow wider,

“And is there any particular reason you’re going to stand back there and listen to people talk in a language you don’t understand?” She raised an eyebrow at you making your face blush a deep shade of red shifting on your feet,

“Shut up!” You begged looking around to make sure nobody was watching, making her laugh loudly.

“Hey I ain’t here to judge just here to enjoy the show.” She winked, turning back to her computer. Sighing loudly you shoved her in the arm taking the steps to head back to the room opposite of Antonio.

So, Kim may have been your best friend and might have known about your crush on Antonio. Of course taking any opportunity to tease you about them as if she wasn’t doing the same things with Ruzek. Antonio was hot any day of the week, but add on him speaking a different language, being able to watch the way it rolls off his tongue, and the confidence he has while doing it, had you sweating, heat rising in your body.

“Hey.” Jay spoke coming up behind you, making you jump a mile as he laughed out loud. “Looking a little flustered there [Y/L/N].” He smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Halstead.” You huffed.

“Yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that. You might want to pull yourself together before Voight comes in though.” Jay winked, an accusing smile on his face.

————

You were a little zoned out heading back to the district later in the day. Antonio was talking your ear off, but your mind kept drifting. You were normally really good at keeping your thoughts and feelings at bay, but looking at him today for some reason caused a wetness to pool between your thighs. Could’ve been his new haircut, could’ve been the way his jeans fit him just right, or maybe the v-neck he was supporting that day because damn you weren’t sure how his arms even fit in it to be honest fighting the urge to reach out and squeeze them.

“Earth to [Y/N]?” Antonio cleared his throat making your eyes shoot up to meet his face immediately turning red.

“Yeah? Sorry what were you saying?” You swallowed, turning to look away from him.

“I’m just saying someone is going to have to learn Spanish before I retire.” Antonio pointed out.

“Yeah cause lord knows that’ll be sooner rather than later.” You teased, stealing a glance as his eyes focused on the road.

“Haha, very funny.” He shook his head hiding a chuckle, “I think you’re going to have to be the one to step up though,” he continued making you laugh,

“Yeah let’s pretend that would happen.” You rolled your eyes, but the smirk on his face never left making you suspect he wasn’t joking, “Antonio, no. I’m not taking a Spanish class.” You crossed your arms against your chest.

“You don’t have to, I'll teach you.” He shrugged, putting the car into park after reaching the district’s parking lot.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to hire someone who speaks Spanish?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Probably. This will be more fun though. Come over to my place at 7. I’ll even make you dinner.” He smiled getting out of the car.

“Antonio! I don’t-“ You started to protest before he closed his door cutting you off and heading back into the district without you. Sighing you followed him knowing it was going to be a long night ahead of you.

——————

“This is so a date.” Kim giggled helping you with your makeup.

“It is not!” You retorted for the thousandth time.

“No? Then why are you so concerned about how you look?” She questioned.

“Maybe cause I never get to look nice and for once I’d like to take advantage of it.” You shrugged knowing deep down she could see through you.

“Sure. Okay. We’ll go with that.” She nodded an obvious smirk on her face. “You’ll tell me how he is thought, right?” She continued after a few minutes, making you groan, covering your face with your hands.

��————-

Walking up to Antonio’s door your heart was in your throat. This was nothing new, being at Antonio’s house. He was your partner and you were together regularly even outside the job, but knowing you were going to have to listen to him talk to you in Spanish all night while simultaneously keeping your composure already had your knees weak and your head doubting yourself.

Dinner was good. He had always been a good cook and you enjoyed watching him. You had talked mostly about work which wasn’t a surprise. Eva and Diego coming up frequently too as they were his pride and joy. Which you admired even more. You loved watching him with them even on the bad days the love you could see in his eyes was more than any words he could ever string together and that had you falling even deeper every time.

You were now seated on his couch nursing a glass of wine as he sipped a bottle of beer. Seated just close enough to him that your knee would slightly bump against his every so often.

“You know it’s really not that hard.” He teased.

“It’s your first language! I’d say the same thing about English.” You retorted.

“Do you know anything?” He chuckled, resting his arm against the back of the couch which caused his hand to land against your shoulder. Taking a deep breath you tried your best to ignore it before answering,

“Uh no not really. Just the real basic stuff we have to know. I didn’t even take it in high school. I took French.” You shrugged while taking a drink.

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” He asked, amused.

“I don’t remember any of that either anyway.” You chuckled. It started off simple naming things around his house. Following his lead.

An hour later your body was starting to heat up from the wine and listening to Antonio’s hidden accent come out even more prominently had a certain impact as well. So, whenever he started rolling his r’s you could hardly contain yourself wondering what it’d feel like against your own tongue.

“Come on try it again.” He laughed setting another empty beer bottle aside.

“Tonio, I can’t.” You whined setting your almost empty glass on the coffee table next to you.

“One more time. For me?” He smiled brightly at you as you huffed giving in. “Just start slow. Por favor (please).” He repeated and you could swear you heard a whine slip through your own mouth, breath starting to get heavier as you listened to his smooth words flawlessly falling out of his mouth. Taking a deep breath you tried again,

“Por favor.” But it ended as ungraceful and clunky as all the other times, making Antonio laugh loudly. “It’s not funny! I told you I couldn’t do this.” You frowned laying your hand on his knee.

“Alright just watch my lips.” He tapped his mouth, and he didn’t have to tell you twice. As if you hadn’t been already. Nodding you chewed at your bottom lip, inching just a little closer unintentionally. “Por fa-“ he started your lips cutting him off without a second thought. You didn’t remember leaning in, you didn’t remember your mind telling you to do it, but now your lips were tangled with his, hands fisted into his shirt. Antonio didn’t move, didn’t react to your lips on his. Which had you pulling back, your mind catching up to what you were doing.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” You begin to apologize, backing away from him, going to stand up in a rush, panic beginning to set in as you realized what you did. Before he grabbed your wrist pulling you back down to him, but this time closer.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Am I sure about being sorry? Yes, I di-“ But he cut in.

“I don’t believe you.” He smirked one hand landing on your waist, the other on your neck. You gulped not saying anything making him smile and lean into you this time. You gladly welcomed the feeling of his lips on yours again this time relaxing into it. Noticing how he smelled even better this close, how soft his lips were, and how smooth his hair felt as you threaded your fingers through it pulling him impossibly close. He picked you up, sliding you into his lap effortlessly. Pulling back to get a breath before moving to your neck.

“Antonio. Are y-oh,” you moaned feeling him nip behind your ear trying to compose yourself as you continued, hands grasping at sleeves of his shirt, “are you sure about this?” You eventually got out between a few deep breaths and whines. Antonio kissed your shoulder gently before leaning back to look at you, hands resting on your hips.

“Completely. Are you?” He answered.

“If you think you can keep up, old man.” You teased. Laughing he pulled you back to him, tongue immediately sneaking into your mouth, beer taste still existent, but you couldn’t have cared less, hands slipping under his shirt to feel his stomach and you were pleasantly surprised at the hardness. Curious now to see what was underneath up close you tugged at his shirt breaking to pull it over his head when he lifted his arms. Throwing it to the side, hands returning to his abdomen to admire his broad shoulders and perfect chest. “Oh hell yes.” You gaped causing him to chuckle below you.

“What are you thinking?” He asked as you traced your fingers over his scars, leaning down to answer,

“Lots of bad, bad things.” You replied nipping at his ear lobe which earned you a growl from grinding against him at the same time. He moved to pull your tank top off leaning down to leave gentle kisses across the neckline of your bra once it was tossed to the floor. Slowly unclipping it behind you and letting it fall between the two of you. Watching his eyes roam over your body had you immediately self conscious which he sensed.

“Hermosa.” He whispered, hands moving up your body.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“Beautiful.” He smiled, taking your breasts into his hands, moving his thumbs over your nipples as you sighed loudly. Closing your eyes tight when his mouth attached to one. Trying to keep from making too many sounds so early on you bit your lip feeling his fingertips digging into your hips encouraging you to move against him again. Gladly you moved your hips teasingly slow against the stiff cock pushing evidently against his jeans earning you a hard bite on your chest that without a doubt would leave a mark. “You want to tease now?” He looked up at you, cockiness in his voice, lips swollen from yours. Lip still trapped between your teeth you nodding looking down at him to see the lust in his eyes grow by the second. “You know I’m not stupid, right?” He chuckled moving to unbutton your jeans, “I could feel your eyes on me all day baby. Even in the two-way glass. I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were watching me.” He leaned up to kiss you reaching his hands under your thighs to pick you up and move you to his bed. Laying you down gently when he reached the edge, “Admit it, [Y/N]. Tell me I’m not wrong.” He pushed one hand holding himself up as the other cupped your face looking down at you.

“You’re not wrong.” You admitted flattening your palms against his chest and slowly moving them down. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you no matter how hard I tried.” You swallowed hard one hand moving to cup him and push against his jeans making him gasp eyes closing tight for a second as he pushed against your hand.

“I wanted to take you in that car today. So bad. Feeling your eyes all over me. Trying to be inconspicuous. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, [Y/N].” He confessed rubbing a thumb against your cheek staring hard at you.

“Me too.” You agreed smiling up at him.

“That’s all I needed.” He smiled back giving you a quick kiss before leaning up to slide your jeans and panties down your legs, humming in satisfaction when he leaned up to look over you, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined every night.” He winked, kneeling down landing on his knees before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed moving your legs so they rested on his shoulders. He kissed from your ankle to the top of your thigh before stopping and moving to the other leg leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks along the way of each. No doubt purposely avoiding where you needed him most. You could feel yourself growing wetter every second at the anticipation, starting to drip onto your thighs absolutely in awe at the sight of a shirtless Antonio in between your legs.

“Antonio...come on, please.” You whined wiggling closer to his face and feeling the huff of his laugh hit your core causing you to buck your hips unintentionally.

“That’s not what I taught you.” He teased leaving tiny kisses closer and closer to your center.

“Baby..” You huffed running your fingers against his hair.

“Just like I taught you, princesa (princess) and I’ll make you feel so good. I promise.” He bargained moving his hands to hold your hips down.

“Antonio...” you cried before seeing he wasn’t gonna give in sighing you tried, “Por favor.” coming out better than before but still not perfect.

“Good girl. I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier.” He winked before moving his mouth to connect with your core, a moan immediately escaping you as your head fell back. If you thought he was good with his tongue before you had absolutely no idea. It took mere minutes for you to be a moaning mess shoving his face deeper into you and thank god he had your hips pinned down or the man wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

“Yes baby that feels fucking incredible.” You croaked. Your head was swimming as his tongue covered every inch of your pussy in the most amazing way possible. Summoning all of your strength to push him away seconds before you came. You watched as he backed away using his shoulder to wipe his mouth off leaving it glistening as he came back to his feet. Leaning down again to kiss you,

“Sorry I was too close.” You apologized once you broke apart.

“That was the goal.” He joked kissing your cheek and standing back up to undo his belt stepping out of his jeans and boxers and kicking them to the side. Whistling you moved up the bed some pulling him back down on top of you catching him by surprise.

“Ugh. Careful love.” He laughed adjusting himself.

“What? Am I gonna hurt you or something?” You teased moving your hand down to wrap around his shaft. Pleasantly surprised to find how thick it was in your hand.

“Yeah you wish.” He groaned when you started moving your hand. “Fuck.” He cursed.

“What?” You asked.

“I don’t have condoms.” He sighed, closing his eyes as you started to speed up your hand.

“What? You didn’t plan for this?” You joked.

“Maybe in my dreams.” He smirked thrusting into your palm.

“I’m on birth control. So as long as you're clean...” You trailed off letting go of him to lick the precum that had leaked out onto your hand.

“Of course I am.” He looked down at you in disbelief.

“Hey, shit happens.” You shrugged.

“You think the hottest detective in the city wouldn’t be a little careful about who they jump into bed with?” He joked.

“Well you know Halstead isn’t always the brightest.” You shot back.

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. You shrugged, grabbing ahold of him again and guiding him to your entrance wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer., shivering at the feel of his cock rubbing against your clit for the first time. Using the tip of his cock to your advantage you moved it through the lips of your pussy adoring the way his dick slid perfectly between them, mouth parted soft sighs escaping every time the head brushed against your clit. Enjoying every second before you had enough of your own teasing moving your hips up to let him slide in, “Tell me one more time.” He looked down at you nervously.

“I want you, Antonio.” You reassured him. Sighing in relief his palms landed on each side of your face before he started to push himself in. Breathing through the slight sting your nails dug into his back pulling him closer. Enjoying the pain more than you ever had in your life. Each inch clenching him even deeper. He wanted nothing more than to thrust into you as hard as he could but he talked himself through his impulses stopping every few seconds for you to adjust until he finally bottomed out. Breaths heaving in your ear. He started slow obviously trying to keep his control, only pulling out slightly before pushing in. Just worried about loosening you up first or he was going to lose it before it even started, but as you started to feel the pleasure taking over it started to get agonizing, never having felt so full in your life, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You had never been so happy to be on birth control giving you the ability to feel every throb, every twitch, every inch of his dick inside of you and that thought had you moaning out loud.

“Oh my god, baby.” He groaned against your neck at the sound and feeling of you.

“Come on handsome. I’m ready. Give it to me.” You encouraged holding his face in your hands. He moaned louder at your words, closing his eyes to avoid looking at you as he started to move faster and with each thrust the more you both lost yourselves in each other. In no time Antonio rested one of your legs on his shoulder giving him even deeper access than you ever thought possible, filling you to the absolute brim. His groans and sounds from his thighs hitting yours filled the room with each thrust making it even hotter. Shuddering his hips forward caused you to scream, hitting your sweet spot dead on. With his free hand he captured your wrists holding them tight above your head. You couldn’t believe the pleasure that was coursing through you was even possible before he leaned down capturing a nipple in his mouth and you swore you blacked out for a second screaming Antonio’s name. “Nobody has ever fucked me like this baby. You’re mouth, your tongue, your cock my god. You love making me scream from it all don’t you?” You got out between a series of moans. Antonio couldn’t answer you fully only able to get out a loud,

“Fuck, [Y/N].” You could tell he was close. From his sloppy thrusts and his moans to his cock starting to throb in you. You were close too right on the edge ready to fall any second. Moving your eyes up from where you two were connected up his body that was glistening from sweat rolling down from his chest, to his face where his mouth hung open groans and curse words flowing from it without shame and when you met his own eyes completely full of lust staring down at you that was the end. Stars clouding your vision as your eyes closed tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream, hips bucking up, and thighs tightening around different spots of Antonio. You came back just in time to feel Antonio’s cock twitch, his body stiffening, nails digging into your wrists, and head falling into your shoulder muffling a moan that would’ve been sure to wake up the whole neighborhood as he spilled himself into you completely. Eventually the room was silent besides your heavy breaths. Antonio eventually pulling out slowly and rolling off you. No words were spoken or movements made for a few minutes until you decided to break the silence.

“Every night huh?” You smirked turning on your side towards him making him chuckle.

“Maybe not every night.” He smiled pulling you to his chest.

“But close to?” You continued.

“Damn near.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I might have to send you some material then.” You looked up at him wiggling your eyebrows.

“Cannot say I’d be opposed to that.” He kissed you gently before standing up and walking into his bathroom carrying a cloth and water with him when he returned handing you the glass and nudging your legs apart to clean you.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman.” You took a drink before setting it on the night stand.

“I made the mess might as well clean it up I guess.” He shrugged kissing the inside of your knee as he did, before laying back down beside you gladly letting you cuddle back into him.

“You know that was like really incredible right?” You laughed looking up at him.

“Yeah? Not so bad for an old man huh?” He smirked.

“Yeah...young enough for round 2 yet?” You joked kissing at his chest squeezing his biceps.

“Only one way to find out I guess.” He lifted you back into his lap pulling you towards his lips. Later that night you would be sure to send Kim plenty of thumbs-up emojis (and maybe a few eggplants.)

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter V

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪᴠ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪ ⟶

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: holy shit, this one’s is a big boy. This chapter has been a nightmare. I’ve been stuck on it for weeks. I had it planned and all, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. The tone was getting way too angsty, so I rewrote the whole thing multiple times. 😩 Hopefully you guys like the end result!

Next chapter will be the final one, I think? Depends on how carried away I get 😅 Is anyone else excited for these two idiots? Let me know!

“My head is killing me.”

“Lightweight.”

A streak of sunlight filtering through the curtains reminded you both that life went on outside your smelly apartment. You opened the window to let in some fresh air, which makes your friend shriek and hide under the blanket. Last night’s scraps —half eaten chips and pulp-less lemon wedges— came to life under the light. The leftover still life accentuated the taste of alcohol on your mouth and you walked to the kitchen in need of something to wash it off.

Best friend bonding nights ended up inevitably in hungover mornings. That is, using the term “morning” loosely. It was a routine you both had perfected. First you sneaked shots at work and went to your apartment after closing. Then you did even more shots, talking and laughing over whatever sappy movie you were pretending to watch. Last but not least, you both fell asleep on the couch Tetris-style.

At the sound of you waking up, your cat-shaped demon strutted proudly towards you. She tangled between your legs, making you trip to avoid stepping on her and hitting something in the process. With a curse, you rubbed your sore knee while trying to remember where you set her food last time. She was a genius glutton, so you had to change the hiding spot constantly. Otherwise she would get to it, no matter how high or locked it was. Impatient, the feline followed you around. Shortie joined her high pitched meows, complaining about the noise. As you exited the bathroom with her precious pebbles, the feline purred happily. You kept the light on for your best friend, who hurried inside to purge any leftover mistakes from her stomach.

The flush went on while you poured some juice for her. Wiping her chin, she joined you in the kitchen with a grimace. 

“I’m too small to drink that much. Never again.”

“You always say that and never keep your word.”

“Don’t expect it to be any different this time,” she downed the glass desperate to wash off the taste.

“At least you’re consistent,” you quipped.

Sitting on the counter, you pushed a plate towards her before chomping on your breakfast. While you hummed a song you couldn’t remember, Shortie eyed the butter as it melted on golden bread for a minute. An annoyed groan brought you back from your thoughts.

“Ughhh… I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke last night all over again.”

“Are you dissing my breakfast-making skills?” You turned to her, quirking a brow. Her eyes widened, and she shook her arms, making a fuss.

“No, no! It looks amazing, really, but my stomach is—”

“Chill,” you interrupted her with a satisfied grin. “I’m just messing with you.”

“I hate you,” she glared while you picked up her plate. No way you’d let it go to waste. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the new toaster.”

The incredulous look you gave her, as if she hit her head somewhere, made Shortie giggle. She could tell you appreciated her gift. Bribe. There was a blurry line between those terms.

“Not enjoying, loving. Bitch, have you seen it? It’s yellow and says ‘I loaf you’. I loaf you. This is the peak of my existence,” you raved between mouthfuls.

“Well, at least you got something out of dating a millionaire...”

“Don’t start with your Seokjin crusade,” you warned with a groan. What nice way to ruin breakfast. 

“What? I didn’t say anything yet?” 

Feigned innocence always looked good on her, all doe-eyed and pouty, brows sloping at the end. She took advantage of it whenever she could, but hungover you wasn’t having it.

“I mean it,” you hopped off the counter, rounding her to wash the dishes. “It’s too early for that shit.”

“It's past 12.”

“Exactly,” you grunted.

Just a few seconds passed, silence only disrupted by your scrubbing. Your friend nibbled her lip as she did when she mulled over something.

“Well, it’s not like those old ones you are used to, but I’m happy you like the thing,” she chirped, standing next to the toaster. “You should listen to me more often. I mean, look at it! Beautiful, elegant, funny and it definitely knows how to toast your bread.” 

Her hand slid across the shiny surface distractedly, but still scanned your reactions from the corner of her eye.

“Very subtle.”

Ever since she met Seokjin at the bar, he seemed fixed on the idea of you dating him. She managed to shift the conversation towards him one way or another. A skill as impressive as it was irritating.

“He came by the other day. Again. I forgot to tell you.”

“Thanks for the report, soldier, but you don’t need to notify me every time he shows up. I don’t care.”

“The best sex you’ve ever had crosses Seoul, sits alone and orders a single drink just for a chance of seeing you. It’s my moral obligation to let you know.”

“He might like the place,” you shrugged. 

Shortie closed the faucet to get your full attention. No need to take a look at her to know exactly the frown she wore —the one that made you feel like a child being scolded. In a weak attempt to avoid it, you left the kitchen. She followed you closely, not giving you a chance to escape.

“He likes you.”

“I’m flattered.” Unfazed, you slumped on the couch.

“We talked for a bit, you know? Poor guy wanted to know why are you avoiding him,” she continued as she sat beside you. 

“Poor guy? Not your finest word choice,” you snickered, triggering an exasperated eye roll.

“I don’t get you. You say you don’t give a damn, but you hide under the counter whenever he shows up. You won’t respond to his texts, but you read them all. You say he’s just another random hookup, but then admit it felt different —good different.”

“When did I say that?”

“Last night,” she chuckled implishly, reaching for an empty bottle on the floor and shaking it teasingly. “You always spill your guts with tequila.”

She kept her gaze fixed on you. Shifting a bit, you scratched your neck to relieve the uncomfortable itch of the conversation. Why did she have to press you on the matter? If he was so damn perfect, she should marry him. You’d even hold her up for the kiss to spare him the back pains.

“Your point is?”

“Stop being so stubborn and give him a chance. Not just for him, for you too. I know you don’t need it, but you deserve someone who takes good care of you. He’s into you and you’re into him, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m not—” 

“Nope, can’t fool me,” she grinned. “I see the way you look at your phone. Sorry to break it out to you, but he’s got you hooked.”

“Ok, now I know you’re still drunk. He’s the opposite of my type.”

“Your type is crap. Plus we both know that’s not the reason why you push him away.” She took a breath after rolling your eyes and occupied yourself with a loose thread on the blanket. “It’s been three years since your ex, I think you should give Jin a try.”

“Hey! We agreed not to talk about The Maggot.” 

A well-deserved nickname for that wormy bastard. Just a few months with him, you’d reached the lowest point in your life. He feasted on the lack of self-love you’d accumulated through the years and wrecked all the progress you’d made since leaving home. He seemed to grow bigger the more wounded and hurt you were, so he made sure you felt like shit. Thus: The Maggot.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she stuck her tongue out when your face puckered. “Give him a chance, not everyone is like that jerk.” 

“Since your weird obsession with Seokjin is clogging those cute ears, I’ll say it again: I don’t want a relationship. It always ends up being a mess, I end up a mess and I’m tired of it. I’d rather have fun, no strings attached,” you shrugged.

“Look, babe,” the sudden tenderness in her voice formed a knot that you forced down your throat. “I know better than anyone that you’ve been hurt before. I get it, it’s scary. There’s nothing wrong with hookups, if that is what makes you happy. Just don’t let all the assholes before Jin scare you out of love. It doesn’t suit you, you’ve always been the fierce one.”

The both of you stayed like that for a while. Shortie rubbed circles on your back, waiting patiently for you to sort things out on your own. She wanted to hug you, but you knew she wouldn't push you anymore and you appreciated her understanding. With a heavy sigh, you turned to her.

“Let’s just take another nap, I have work tonight.”

“Ok,” she complied with a bright smile that made you forget the mess in your head before pointing to the couch. “But, please, not on this spine-wrecker.”

Late. Again.

The red bulb shined mockingly, brighter as seconds passed. The erratic drum of your fingers on the wheel only unnerved you further, but they had a mind of their own. Tonight’s event was big and you’ve spent extra time pampering yourself to look your best. No one wants sushi on hairy legs. However, your cat decided that it was as good a day as any to battle the living room lamp, which hit the glass coffee table when defeated. To top your exasperation, she had the audacity to look upset at your scolding. Insolent punk.

You arrived at the location, a tall mirror reflecting Seoul back at you and checked the address once more. Top floor, naturally. What was with businesspeople and heights? Must be nice constantly looking at the world from above. You checked yourself in the lift’s mirror, to put any hair that got wild with the rush back in place. Tapping your foot, you glared at the numbers passing by on the screen. For a spaceship-like elevator, it was pretty damn slow. Just your luck, Tanaka was in the kitchen tonight. Whenever you worked with him, you found a new level of stress you didn’t know you could reach. Being the best sushi chef at the catering, he could make anyone lose their job just by saying the word. To add to your luck, he hated your guts. You became his least favourite model since that one time you might have showed up a bit tipsy. However you absolutely did not fall asleep as he claimed, just rested your sight —two minutes maximum. Guests didn’t even notice. Next thing you knew, he was yelling something about his art being disrespected by a westerner, berserk mode on. So he definitely wouldn’t take well you being late. You sighed heavily, hoping that at least the froth coming from his mouth didn’t spray in your direction.

Ding

Shit. Tanaka had to be furious, he never texted. Hell, he barely even talked to you. Reluctantly, you unlocked your phone, mentally prepared for a scolding. You breathed once you saw the screen —Kim freaking Seokjin and his timing. Numbers increased in slow motion as you considered answering. You really should ignore him, but there were fifteen floors left. Enough time for you to try to get through his thick skull that you wouldn’t go out with him again.

Doors opened suddenly and you jumped a bit. Moment of truth. Anyone else would’ve been scared of the pair of sharp eyes that greeted you —disintegrating every single cell in your body— but you were no coward. After an uncomfortable apology, you took off your clothes and laid on the table so he could begin his artistry. 

You found out that Tanaka was even scarier when he gave the silent treatment. As you felt him and his kitchen helpers place food and decorations on your skin, you simply stared at the ceiling. Soon enough your head filled with a bit of everything: shopping list, your dad’s iconic moustache, the lightbulb that needed changing… Eventually, your mind gravitated to Seokjin. It was a common occurrence these days, much to your distaste. Not only did he show up at the bar or texted randomly, he had to pop into your head too. He just made way through your mind, pushing aside everything else. As if you didn’t have anything better to think about. Even his abstract self could be an arrogant jerk.

Was it cruel to let him believe that you were out with someone else? Perhaps, but that was your last resort to keep him at bay. Most likely looking for round two, he’d been persistent —obnoxiously persistent. To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. On a scale of one to ten, your night together made the scale its bitch. After almost a month, you still found yourself spacing out thinking about it. A little guilty pleasure that you’d never admit out loud.

Of course you could always give in. You’d call, ask about his day and go somewhere nice just to end up in his bed again. You could’ve stayed that morning with him instead of running away. But you knew those deals already. Love always came with fine print. Jealous outbursts even when they were the cheater or nasty comments about the things you were proud of. Maybe they enjoyed making you feel small and worthless just so they could look better next to you, like The Maggot. Or perhaps they just wanted to fuck the dumb, foreign girl because “she’s a freak in bed”. The list went on. No one knew better —you’d been through all of them. Dangerous men, all wrapped with charming personalities and big smiles to distract from the trail of broken hearts behind them. Given how your face lit up whenever your screen did, Seokjin was one to be especially careful around. His unread texts meant trouble. 

Blocking his number would’ve been the smartest solution. Quick, like ripping off a bandaid. Still, there was a part of you that wanted to wait and see if he’d grow tired of chasing after you and go find an easier target. Not if, when. So far, he’d lasted longer than you expected.

A heavy sigh was your queue to sneak a glance at the chef, currently wrinkling his nose at work in front of him. He checked his watch before turning to his ever-tense kitchen helpers.

“Guests are arriving soon, so this will have to do. I can’t do miracles. We’re 15 minutes short on presentation time thanks to someone’s incompetence and we don’t have nearly enough greenery to cover all the imperfections.” The not-so-subtle side eye at you didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not proud of tonight’s piece, team. We’ll have to compensate for it with an impeccable service.”

Hearing disappointment in their superior’s voice instantly glued eyes to the floor. You winced, knowing it was your fault.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, idiots! Move, move!” He ordered, making them all jump and scatter like scared mice.

With that, he turned around and zeroed in on you. Upper lip raised, the chef got closer until he was towering you. His imposing demeanor had you squaring up as much as you could without the food on you falling. Tanaka’s favourite activity was intimidating others. Enough dealing with bullies taught you that is best not to show them fear.

“I know I’m asking a monkey to do magic, but try not to ruin my night further or I’ll personally make sure that you never work again,” he spat before walking away.

Silent treatment was definitely better. That man’s tongue was sharp as his knives. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and let your muscles relax. It was going to be a long night.

“Everything looks spectacular, Mr. Choi. Wouldn’t expect less from a man like you.”

An hour in and no incidents so far. Tanaka had relaxed a bit. Not around you, of course. Whenever he came to check, you could feel his eyes slicing you up like hamachi. However, the other cooks and the service left the kitchen far less horrified.

Two men chatted by the table you laid on. Head filled with nothing you kept your eyes on the intricate ceiling with a blank expression. Usually you didn’t pay much attention to the conversations around you —too much business talk. However they sometimes served as distraction for the ache of laying still for hours.

Tonight’s host, Mr. Choi, an older man with a neat haircut and small hands, turned his head to you. “I chose the model specifically for you. I thought you’d feel more at home with a bit of western flavor to your food, Mr. Harper.”

“Everything is perfect, I’m grateful for your hospitality.” He took a piece of sashimi, his gaze lingering on you. “Is this a Korean tradition?”

“Japanese. I find nyotaimori an exquisite showcase of artistry, although it is an unusual practice. Forbidden in some countries, even.” The older man got closer to the other, as they inspected you.

“I envy you, Mr. Choi. Your eye for beauty is as sharp as the one for business.”

“It is, indeed,” he chuckled. “My old friend Mr. Kim told me you and I would get along. His son has a gift for reading people and he speaks highly of your company. I think you’ve met him already?”

“Yes, I have. I’ll admit I was discouraged when Mr. Kim sent his son to talk business instead of doing it himself. Five minutes with the boy, and I realised my mistake. He’s a bit younger than me, but he has experience and confidence way above his age.”

“Just like his father, that old devil. Look, there he is. Perfect timing, as always,” he turned with a beaming smile and gestured for someone to join the conversation. “Come here, son! We were talking about you just now.”

With an odd feeling in your gut, you bit the inside of your cheek. Not him. There’s a Kim every two Koreans, please, not him. From the corner of your eye, you catched a glimpse of the man approaching before averting your gaze.

The universe hated you.

“Only good things, I hope,” Seokjin bowed and the other two chuckled. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Mr. Harper here was telling how happy he is to do business with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come, son. I know you’re not a fan of these parties.”

“I couldn’t miss yours, Mr. Choi. Anyone in business knows: if you want to make the right connections, here’s the place.”

“Ah, always working. I’ll warn you, Mr. Harper, Seokjin here is a professional even after leaving the office. Since you two are close in age, I’m trusting you to make him loosen up a little,” he patted Seokjin’s broad back. “Come on, son. Get something to eat.”

There was a pause and the background noise quieted for a moment. Eyes fixed anywhere but him, you didn’t see his reaction once he realised you there. Would he wear the smirk he gave you when he saw you the first time in this exact position? Or would he arch his brow slightly like he did when something picked his interest but didn’t want it to show? Surprised at your own knowledge of Seokjin’s expressions, you didn’t realise him approaching until his voice rang much closer than before.

“With pleasure.”

His silhouette blocked the ceiling light, that shined like a halo around him. The eclipse-like effect would cover his reaction even if you dared to look. You felt your cheeks heat up and your toes curled nervously. He made no further comment, but you did notice his slow movements as he chose something with chopsticks. Despite your breath quickening, you didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling. 

The conversation with his peers flowed casually, all business deals and market values, though you couldn’t focus on it anymore. Not with his efforts to draw your attention back to him. Standing near your table, Seokjin picked up something from your body every now and then. Whenever you felt his presence closer, something stirred deep inside you. A mixture of arousal and mortification. What if he told them about your night together? They’d probably lose their appetite, knowing their sushi platter made a mess on someone’s sheets. If you still had a job by the end of the night, you’d lose it. Though you doubted he’d even admit he’d fucked you, it would ruin his image in front of his partners. How many men like him admitted all the secretaries and maids and other nobodies they got frisky with? In his world, big names didn’t look good next to small ones. At the same time, the memory of his mouth on your skin and the dark ink of his lovebites on your neck the day after messed with your ability to think straight.

Eventually, he excused himself and greeted someone else, brushing your ankle when he walked past. You tensed immediately. Looking in his direction for the first time, you caught the faint outline of a smirk as sauntered away. The greater the distance he put between you, the easier it was to relax. Shortly after, you realised he wouldn’t allow it.

Time passed lazily, minutes turning into decades built up the stress of the night. First the incident with the chef, to whom you’d surely have to suck up to later in hopes he forgave your lack of punctuality. And then Seokjin and his cruel way of keeping you on edge. Without a phone screen or the bar counter as barrier, ignoring him proved to be tougher than you’d thought. All throughout the night you heard his voice, sometimes closer than others but never enough for you to figure out exactly where it came from. He wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about him, that he could approach and tease you whenever he pleased. At some point you grew tired of the tension. 

Body perfectly still, you scanned the room until your eyes met. He kept talking to the expensive suit in front of him, but his gaze was undeniably locked on you. Mischief and playfulness poured out of his dark orbs and a little bit of something else. Maybe annoyance, maybe lust. It was usually hard to decipher his expressions, but even harder when he masked them for the other attendees. He seemed a different man, giving plastic smiles for his plastic friends —the tiny creases around his eyes nowhere to be seen. You missed them.

The little exchanges and glances grew bolder since that moment. For anyone else in the room, Seokjin behaved as the heir of one of the biggest companies in Korea should. For you, however, he’d lick his lips while devouring your body from afar or wink at you whenever he caught you staring back. To your surprise, no one seemed to take notice. 

No matter how hard you tried, avoiding his gaze proved to be pointless. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to his before you could register it. It only spurred him to be more daring and it kept you on edge, afraid of him doing something that could cost you a paycheck.

At the end of the night, the clink of glasses and the frivolous chatter thinned and tangled with the slur of goodbyes and the buzz of waiters cleaning up. Only a small group was left. They smoked big cigars and discussed politics, faces red with alcohol, while you discreetly stretched your neck and counted the minutes. Just when you thought the night was almost over, your body tensed once more when you heard a familiar voice. 

“I don’t think ‘mouthwatering’ does you justice, sweet cheeks.”

His words ringed too loud for your liking and your eyes bounced around the room. The smokers were too immersed in their secret competition for the biggest, rarest cigar and the workers seemed too eager to go home to pay attention. Seokjin sensed your apprehension and placed a hand next to your head, resting his weight on it so he would look straight down at you. You took a sharp breath when his thumb caressed your temple and you jerked away on instinct, the contact scolding your skin. His eyes briefly shot up to check if anyone had noticed the sudden movement, but landed immediately back on you.

“I like your dress, by the way,” he added. “It matches your imaginary date.” 

An ugly scowl settled on your face, but he chose to ignore it. Tilting his head, he trailed down your form as you warned him with a huff. When his gaze met yours again, it narrowed dangerously. Even if his face was serene, his eyes weren’t. All the colors around you stirred in his black pools, a mysterious kaleidoscope you had never seen on them before. Your tongue itched from the unspoken expletives as you glared up at him. Without a sound, you gracefully mouthed a “fuck off.”

“Don’t look at me like that, the sushi is going to turn sour,” he grinned. “Can’t resist getting naked for me, hm? Next time I’d appreciate a warning if you are gonna show up like this. Do you know how difficult it is to do business with you teasing me?”

Your brows shot up at his words. Only if you could tell him to get his egocentric ass out of his mouth.

“It’s cruel to take advantage of my weaknesses, sweet cheeks,” he tutted. “Not fair play.”

“I am working,” you reminded quietly through a clenched jaw, voice low and gritty with irritation.

“It hasn’t stopped you from ogling me like you want me to fuck you senseless in front of everyone.”

Once again, his carefree tone felt dangerous. Although the remaining guests' cackles overpowered his words, for you they still boomed too loud. So much, that your traitorous body rumbled at his suggestion despite the fear of being discovered. 

He caught the subtle way your teeth trapped your bottom lip before it tightened in a line. Not even your frown could hide your pupils expanding and he smiled wolfishly. You’d tried so hard to keep him at a distance, to act cold around him. The weeks after he woke to the lingering bittersweetness of your perfume he’d been wondering why. Right there and then, he got his answer. 

“You’re gonna get me fired. Leave.”

“Then tell me why are you avoiding me,” he asked, although he didn't need to.

“Get a pen, there’s a whole list of reasons,” your quiet retort made him chuckle darkly.

“Will you read them to me after work? If you’re good, you’ll get a spank for each one,” he winked. If anyone looked in your direction, you would be in trouble. He was too close and the flowers on you laid off their designated spots.

“Just lea— ”

The rasp of a throat clearing tore the air and your body became stone. Seokjin straightened his back calmly, not even bothered by the interruption, but your head whipped to the noise at lightning speed. You felt the petals on you fall on the table, followed by a piece of sushi.

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Kim. But the nyotaimori exhibition is over. If you wish to eat something else, our buffet is still open.”

Tanaka snapped his fingers and two waiters picked your table and brought you into the kitchen. You didn’t miss the throbbing vein on his forehead when he bowed for the millionaire.

The pleasant bell of the elevator mimicked the end of a boxing match after a knock out. Utterly defeated, your feet dragged on the beautiful carpet that led you out of the building. 

Your head was pounding with the echoes of the chef’s harsh scolding. A few of your coworkers chatted by the entrance, but quieted down when they spotted you. No need to be a genius to know the nasty things they whispered as you walked past them. They’ve witnessed the scene just moments ago. Tanaka yelled and yelled while you just stood there, drenched in all his anger. Pathetic excuse of a model. That’s what he called you. From his point of view, you broke your obligations and tried to get a millionaire’s attention. Someone who, as he kindly reminded, would never mix with the likes of you for more than a fun night. His hurtful comments didn’t end there, but that part stuck with you the most. 

Cold hit your face as you exited the building, freezing any lingering thought and you breathed out to fill your lungs with that same peace. Once outside, where the usually frency of Seoul slept, you could store the night in the drawer of moments that you’d rather forget. 

“Hello, sweet cheeks.”

Any prospect of serenity on the quiet night air crashed with just three words. Him, always him. Whenever you allowed yourself to relax, he always appeared. Like a fly on a hot summer evening, sticking to your skin and buzzing until it drew you crazy. You walked past the spot where he leaned against the wall with a huff.

“How about I take you on an actual date tonight? I sneaked a bottle of wine.”

Nothing. Maybe it was childish to ignore him, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with him, not tonight, so you kept walking.

“Should I take that as a yes?”

The more he talked, the faster your irritation started to boil. Without sparing him a glance, you kept your pace. Seokjin jogged a bit to keep up and frowned himself as he noticed your scowl deepening. 

“Baby, it’s hard to maintain a conversation if you don’t help me out a bit.”

The burning tick of your brow marked the countdown before the explosion, you knew that. It bothered you how his long legs could easily match your quick pace. You fished the car keys out of your pocket, taking a turn to cross the street.

“You are angry with me,” he stated.

A scoff escaped your throat, as you smiled dryly. 

“To be angry I’d have to give two shits about you, which I don’t.”

“Ouch,” he grimaced at your clipped tone and let you put some distance between the two, considering your words. Aware that he walked on thin ice, he caught up once again with a smirk. At least he got you talking.

“You sure about that? You seem pretty angry to me.”

Exasperated, you stopped abruptly, fire burning in your eyes. It took him by surprise how serious your expression became. Maybe he’d overstepped in his attempts to lift up your mood, maybe he’d really fucked up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Seokjin?”

“Just wanted to check if everything is fine with your boss,” he was cautious, approaching you as if he wanted to pet a lion.

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” you snapped with an accusatory finger to his chest. “I almost got fired.”

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, I shouldn’t have messed around while you were working. I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“Of course you didn’t. Losing your job is not something that ever scares you, hm? The little prince has his life sorted out already. Must be nice.” 

Voice loaded with sourness, you held his gaze. Apart from his lips tightening in a thin line, Seokjin kept his usual unreadable self. He didn’t even have the decency to look intimidated by your anger. Blood pulsed in your temples like migraine. God, he was so infuriating. 

“By the way, don’t you ever call anyone to clean up my shit again. I don’t need it. I can deal with my own problems.”

When Tanaka had been done yelling and calling you names, he contacted the higher ups. Neither of you expected the woman on the other side of the line brushing the chef’s complaints off so easily —the guest had cleared up the situation already. She hung up with a grin in her voice after praising your ability to “befriend” such a powerful man, and you were left dumbfounded. Since that  job covered most of your bills, it was a relief to keep it. That aside, you were fuming. One phone call, that’s all it took for him to make the problem disappear. Was life really so easy for him? Was he so dense to think his last name would solve anything? He surely didn’t give a shit about putting you in that situation in the first place, or your coworkers thinking of you as a slut. Above everything else, it pissed you off that he thought you needed to be saved, like it was his charity act of the month. 

“My behaviour tonight was unacceptable and you shouldn’t be the one to pay for it. Now I see I overstepped, so I apologise for that too,” he said after a pause. His eyes softened and you noticed his shoulders drooping slightly. “It’s just—  You do things to me, sweet cheeks, you don’t even realise. I can’t think straight around you. Not that that’s an excuse, but it’s the truth. I really am sorry, I didn’t want to cause you trouble.”

“Oh, thanks! That fixes everything. Glad that you got that out of your chest, wouldn’t want to make you feel guilty about it,” you sneered.  

Seokjin followed like a watchdog as you resumed your walk, taking big steps in a futile attempt to leave the man behind. Not only him, but the inconvenient flutter in your stomach too. Mulling over his words, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You do things to me, sweet cheeks. So casual about it, he could’ve been chatting about the weather with a neighbour.

“Let me take you home, at least, to make sure you are safe,” he offered, taking your wrist to stop you.

“No,” you jerked away, his touch blistering your skin. “Don’t take me home, don’t call me, don’t text me.”

“I can’t help it. I like you, sweet cheeks. A lot. One night is not enough, I want more than that.”

You felt it, the skip in your heartbeat. Deep within you, it faltered. Scared, wounded, hopeful. Occasional sex was your usual go-to for a good reason. That’s why you only got involved with the “not-the-boyfriend-type” kind of men, to avoid those kinds of messy, unnecessary feelings. You didn’t need anyone to take away your individuality or change your life —you liked freedom. However, your issues with love ran deeper than that. 

Admittedly, you were scared of letting anyone in. You’d been hurt and mocked many times, leashed and scolded enough to be reduced to a shell devoid of any worth. But you learned, hit after hit, and grew protective thorns everytime it happened. Yet, the sly bastard had managed to sneak behind your defenses. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get a hold of yourself.

“Well, it is for me. I’m sorry, but I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing anymore.”

“Tell me you don't like me back.” “Have I not been clear enough? I think I’ve showed you many times that I’m not interested.”

“You kissed me,” he countered, stopping you in your tracks. “The morning you left.”

You faced him after a deep breath, exhausted from his insistence. “That’s playing dirty. You were supposed to be sleeping.” 

“Why did you? If you wanted a one time thing, you would’ve just left. But you kissed me goodbye,” he pressed. “Not to be nice or polite or because you thought you had to —I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. And yet, you decided to kiss me. Why?”

“Goddamn, rich boy. It was just  a kiss, don’t read too much into it.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone stern with a hint of a snarl. “If you won’t, I’ll say it for you. You felt something that night and you feel it still, I can tell.”

“Let me get one thing straight: just because we fucked doesn’t mean you know me. Stop trying to decide what I do or do not feel. You can’t just magically appear in people's lives and expect to be the center of their existence. It’s so goddamn irritating, you are everywhere. If I’m at Dionysus, I get tense whenever that fucking door opens in case it’s you. Everytime I look at my phone there’s a stupid text, or worse, there’s nothing it messes my head up. Even my best friend won’t shut up about you! It’s like a horror movie, I swear. Just leave me alone, I don’t want whatever this shit is. It’s driving me insane.”

“This,” you gestured between the two after a heavy sigh, “was a one time thing, fun, nice sex. End of story.”

“Just nice?” Devilish smile already blooming, he stalked closer. “After all the screaming I was  expecting good, at least. I’ll work harder next time, I’m aiming for A+.”

The moment he was close enough for you to have to crane your neck up, your burning gaze mixed with his. His cologne hit your senses and you remembered how it stuck to your tongue when you kissed his body, sweat and lust making the scent borderline intoxicating. It fuelled your resolve to turn him down before his voice trapped you under his spell —saccharine and enticing, like a siren.

“There’s no next time, so go try to get someone else fired,” you tried to cover the lack of steadiness in your words with a dismissive gesture. 

“Oh, there will be, don’t you worry,” he chuckled before holding your glare with firm determination. “That pretty mouth might say one thing, but your body tells me otherwise. I know you can’t resist me, just like I can’t resist you. At some point you’re going to admit it and let me kiss you and fuck you how you want me to.”

He didn’t lean forward to level your eyes, didn’t let his hand wander on your body —he didn’t need to. Standing there, centimetres away from you, Seokjin knew he had a bigger effect on you than you anticipated. However, your pride took over. The right to decide your feelings wasn’t his and you were determined to show him.

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.”

“Why not? I love winning.”

His cheshire grin set something ablaze in your gut. Unsure if it was irritation or something else, you took a step back. He looked stunning, his sharp suit accentuating those wide shoulders and dark locks neatly brushed back. But what really took you breath away was the glint in his eyes. Dangerous and playful at the same time, in complete dissonance with his impassive pose. 

“Good night, Mr. Kim.”

This time, only his eyes followed as the streets of Seoul swallowed the sweet enigma that was you.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, August 2020

[micahscowgirl]

Bite Me ~ Chapter 2

Micah Bell x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Cursing, Bruising, Female Masturbation

Word Count: 2550

Second chapter? Yes, please. I hope everyone likes it! Still new to this so, once again, sorry. My page is completely empty except for this, so, please, feel free to share. I already have plans for the next chapter, and I’m excited!

Chapter 2

It had been a week since your incident with Micah, but it was still somehow fresh on your mind. All you could do was occupy yourself with tasks around camp. Today, you promised Charles you would help him put up a new tent he had gotten for himself. A lot of people have been getting their own ever since you had decided to. Molly O'Shea made it very clear to you that she thought it was selfish for you to spend so much on yourself. You had explained to her many times that you hadn't stopped giving half of what you made to the gang and that you had been saving since you joined them in Blackwater. She continued to argue, feeling that it would get her attention from her beloved 'Dutchy', as she called him, but you knew as much as everyone else that Dutch was completely fine with you getting yourself a tent. That is where your disliking of Miss O'Shea sprouted.

Charles was pulling down the final strap to his tent. "This is probably one of my best purchases, I must say."

You smile, "Yeah, I agree. I just couldn't sleep soundly around people that I haven't known for that long." Charles nodded in agreement. He had only been with the gang close to four months before you, so he knew exactly what you meant.

"If you still have some free time later, would you be interested in going hunting with me?" Charles asks you.

"I'll have to pass on that one. I've never actually shot a bow." You tell him. "I would just miss and scare everything off."

"I could always teach you, Y/N. It's a skill that comes in handy a lot these days."

You decide to let him teach you the basics after considering your other options: chopping vegetables or laundry. He grabs a hay bale and begins walking away from the camp. You follow. 

Coming up to a nice clearing, he drops the hay and hands you the bow and a few arrows. "We can stand over next to those trees," he points. "That will be a good distance to practice from. You’ll shoot at the bale from there."

He starts you off without an arrow, just learning how to pull it back. "Wow, this is a lot tougher than it looks!"

"Yeah, it's hard to get the hang of. This is a heavy string bow as well. I know that makes it harder."

You continue to practice without an arrow, finally getting to where you can pull the string all the way back. When you release, the string barely grazes across your arm. "Ow, that hurt like a bitch," you say, grabbing your wrist where it made contact. A red bruise begins to appear almost instantly.

"Yeah, that's one thing you need to be mindful of. Try your best to keep your body straight with the arrow."

Micah is making his way back to camp when he spots you and Charles. Pulling back on his reigns, he brings Baylock to a halt and watches you. As you pull the string back again, he watches your shape. The way your back arches slightly, making your breasts stick out, the way your riding pants fit your thighs. And you release the empty bow again.

"There, that's better!" Charles reaches down and grabs one of the arrows that you had placed next to you. "Now, let’s try it with one of these." He shows you how to hook it on the string and rest the end on your finger as you pull it back.

You release and miss the hay bale completely. Micah chuckles, but you don't hear him. "Dammit, Charles, I was feeling so confident about this."

"You're doing great, just try it again. And when you pull the arrow back, hold it." You do as he says and he stands behind you. He turns his head to look at the target with you, placing his hands on your hips to adjust your position slightly. Micah felt a small spark when Charles touched you. He didn't know why, but he didn't like it. "When you shot, it went high, so aim lower than what you did last time. Remember to stay focused. Now begin to breathe. I want you to release on your fifth exhale. Begin." 

As you breathe, he counts. Inhale. Exhale. "One. Two. Three. Four." and on your fifth breath, Micah coughs, loud and on purpose. Your body shifted and the string caught your chest as the arrow missed the target even more than your first shot. You look down and see the top two buttons of your shirt ripped and a huge purple, swollen bruise has already begun to appear on the top of your breast.

You clutch your hand to it and look over at him. "What the fuck, Micah?!" You say through clenched teeth.

"What! Isn't part of training learning to be ready at all times? I believe you, Charles, said 'stay focused?'" He shrugs, holding back a huge grin when you lower your arm and reveal the mark he's made on you.

"Micah this isn't a joke," Charles begins. As they begin to bicker, you see an opportunity and take it.

You point the bow at Micah and pull back the string.

Charles falls silent and Micah holds his hands up. "Woah now, it was only a joke! This isn't funny, put that down now!" He barks at you. You release the string, not letting it touch you once. He flinches, almost stumbling to the ground.

  "I never loaded an arrow. Pay attention."

Charles chuckles. "Well, I think that's enough for today. I would get Miss Grimshaw to look at that for you." He motions to the bruise that has become bigger, turning more black, with a ring of ugly yellow around it. You hand him the bow and he heads back towards the camp.

Micah straightens himself up and stomps over to you. You stay still. Only inches from your face, he growls at you, "You think you're funny, dollface?! You got it coming for you now!"

"Bite me." You reply, straight face. You stare sharply back into his deep blue eyes. 

He stares back, hard. Silence takes over both of you. Finally, he speaks. "I don't think I will. One mark is good enough for now." he glances down at your chest, the top two buttons having gotten ripped off. He looks back up at you, you can see he's flustered, mad, then turns and walks away, calling Baylock to follow him. Your chest hurts, bad, but you refuse to let him make you cry again.

You made your way back to your tent. All of the adrenaline has left your body, you feel how tired your arms have become from pulling back the bow. You're immediately overwhelmed with the wish to sleep. It's only mid-afternoon, but you know that sleep is winning. You pull down your tent flap and sit on the edge of your cot.

Your nightshirt and shorts are currently being hung to dry, so you pull off your pants and shirt. You sit there in your panties and look down at your chest. The bruise is huge, over a couple of inches long and dark. You can't remember a single other time seeing a bruise like that on your body. And he made it. It was his mark. He marked you as his. Somehow, he keeps a hold on you. You shake the thought from your head and lay down, pulling your quilt over your almost naked body.

~~~~~~

Later that evening, Micah headed over to the food pot to get his share. He noticed a couple of glares from people in the camp. He usually got such treatment, but it seemed different. He sat down and ate his stew.

He had just finished his bowl when Javier walked past, "Watch out for the arrows, compadre." He said, chuckling. Uncle, who was near enough to hear, laughed as well. Micah got hot. Acting unbothered, he stood and walked off. His walk became faster the closer he got to your tent.

Swinging open the flap, he looked over at you, laying on your cot. He walked over to you, his rage started to fade. You were facing away from him, but he could tell by your breathing that you were fast asleep. He started to reach for your shoulder but he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned over and looked at your face. He didn't see any signs of crying. Then his eyes wandered down to your chest. They were mostly covered, but he could see the mark he made on you. He also took note of how full your breasts were. He would love to be able to feel them, grab them. He growls quietly, and on his way out, he spots the shirt you were wearing on the ground. He picks it up and sees the threads on the top that used to hold buttons. He smiles, sets down the shirt and leaves.

~~~~~~

It was the next day and you were sitting at one of the tables in camp with Mary-Beth and Tilly. Tilly was mending a shirt for Dutch and Mary-Beth was telling you about a romance novel she was currently reading.

"The way that he acts towards her is just so amazing. He buys her flowers, and they go swimming in this creek at night. It just seems so wonderful. I don't see why neither of you will read it!" Mary-Beth says to the both of you.

Tilly responds first, "I have never been able to find joy in reading. I enjoy doing things with my hands. If I could, I would spend my time quilting."

"And I just can't sit still long enough to read, you know that. I get bored so easily!" You tell her. As the three of you continue your conversation, Micah walks past.

Mary-Beth drops all talk of the book immediately. "Y/N, I heard that something happened between you and Micah yesterday, but no one will tell me what." Tilly leans a little closer as well, she must've heard the same thing.

"Well," you say, unbuttoning your shirt slightly, showing them the bruise.

"A hickey!" Mary-Beth laughs.

"What?! No!"

Tilly chimes in, "I knew you had the hots for him!"

"That's not what happened! I--"

"Don't worry," starts Mary-Beth, glancing around. "We won't tell anyone. We might not care for him, but that's your business, not ours."

"But I--"

Pearson walks up, "Would any of you fine lady's mind helping me get dinner prepared?"

"I'm free," Tilly says, cutting the thread from her needle, finishing Dutch's shirt. Mary-Beth nods as well.

You sigh, it's pointless trying to argue with them at the moment. When they walk off, you head over to the wash bin which you heard Uncle say it needed filling. 

~~~~~~

That night, you were lying in your tent staring up into nothingness. You had drunk a couple beers that evening, and you began to think about what Mary-Beth had said. A hickey, left by Micah himself. Your mind begins to wander, thinking of how soft his lips were when you took his cigarette from them. Your hand moves to your neck, softly running across your collarbone, imagining that it was Micah, his lips gently touching your skin. Your hand moves further down, gently moving over your bruise, his mustache scratching across your sensitive skin. Your fingers move further down, sliding into your shirt, passing over your nipple. Bucking your hips just barely, you let out a sigh. As you play with your nipple, your other hand slowly moves down your chest, over your stomach, and slides into your panties. You feel how hot and wet you've become so quick, just thinking about it being him, licking your nipple, reaching his hand down to feel you, slowly rubbing in between your folds. You begin to massage your clit, sending shivers through your body. 

He begins to run his teeth over your nipple just enough to make you moan, not loud enough for anyone to hear, but it was enough to make you throb. Your slide a finger--his finger-- into your pussy, covered in your slick. It was soon followed by a second. You begin you move them in and out, slowly, while rubbing your clit with your thumb. All of your sensitive spots being touched at once makes you moan more. "Micah..." you moan his name. It catches you off guard, and if you weren't as drunk as you were, you probably would've quit everything at once. But instead, it made you move faster, rubbing your fingers against your spot. Bucking your hips more and more, trying to ride your own hand. But in your mind, it was Micah’s. You wanted him. It wasn't long before you started to shake, coming close to your climax. Your moans became louder, too loud. The hand you had on your nipple--his hand--moved up to cover your mouth. You were becoming rough with yourself. He was rough; it was Micah after all. You let out one final moan and bucked, calming down, lying on your cot, shivering. 

~~~~~~

"Micah, thanks for stopping by, I have a task for you," Dutch says, pouring himself and his guest a drink.

Micah takes the drink, sipping before saying, "Good, I've been getting bored all cooped up here."

"Uncle says that there's a man in Valentine who was talking to him about a farm nearby. Rich family. Too rich in my opinion. I think that it would just be right of us to lighten their load. Uncle told him that he would send someone to meet him at the saloon tomorrow morning. I think that person should be you."

"Sounds simple enough."

"I also think that it would be a great idea if you took Y/N with you."

"What? No! That's not the best idea." Micah argues.

"Why not? Y'all have a special way of working with each other. The bickering keeps you on your feet!" Dutch jokes. "And besides, her being there can help get some more out of our friend in Valentine. She has a gift when it comes to talking with men. A way of getting more of them. And getting into the farm, she can keep you from shooting everyone."

"Fine. Whatever you say, boss."

Micah finishes his drink and walks over to your tent. He pushes through the flap and sees you lying there. You were still on your back, sleeping soundly after your fun. He begins to leave, but he can't stop himself from walking over to you once again. He could smell your sweetness and knew what you had been doing moments before. He imagined you twisting and moaning, pleasuring yourself. 

You were snoring softly, one of your arms above your head, the other resting on your stomach. He reaches out his hand and pulls your shirt down just enough to see your bruise. He runs his fingers over it softly, making you shift a little, releasing a very small and quiet moan. You were still dreaming about your fantasy. He was caught off guard and immediately turned and walked out of your tent. He would tell you Dutch's plan in the morning.

[thevoidable]

Small excerpts from my upcoming krbk fics

Aight, I’ve made a decision.

I have several Kiribaku fics (mostly AUs) that I’m working on, but my motivation has been on the down-low lately due to things going on in my personal life. SO, what I’m going to do is reveal a few small excerpts from each of them, and I’d be super grateful if y’all can take the time to quickly read them and let me know if you want me to finish them. 

Any amount of hype for even just one of them will really boost my desire to get them written as well as see which ones are more anticipated, so please don’t be shy! I love hearing what people think! [FYI, a majority of the following will be from the first chapter of each fic. Also, none of these are posted on AO3 yet; they’re all WIPs.] Hands of Smoke and Fire (Fantasy AU, longfic) ‘The darkness snaked on for what felt like an eternity, but soon threads of a gentle, silver glow slithered into view, and Katsuki charged straight into a lakebed of moonlight. Dirt flew into the air as he skidded to a halt in front of stark silhouettes that towered over him and swayed in the cool breeze, the moon itself just barely peeking over the top to give the light that Katsuki needed.  Having just come from the spire where the roaring flames had warmed the surrounding rock, his skin prickled with goosebumps from the night air’s chilly touch, and he wasn’t sure if it was a welcome change.  He shivered, but it was a small price to pay for what lay ahead. Katsuki looked back and caught sight of the rest of the kids finally catching up, their eyebrows furrowed in exhaustion and their mouths open with heaving breaths.  Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so disappointed looking at them before.  “Are you serious?” he scolded.  “You’re out of breath from just that short of a run?  Are you Barbarians or not?!” “You’re way…faster than us…” panted a boy who was currently resting his weight on his knees and looked like he was about to throw up. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you should be that weak no matter what speed you’re going!  If something chases you, you’re on your own.”  Katsuki huffed, and he turned back in the direction of the forest, peering into its depths for any sign of movement.  He saw nothing, and pushed back that slightest hint of relief.  “Ugh, whatever.  Catch your breath and then start walking.  You’d better not slow me down, got it?  You’re such a bunch of losers.” Blocking out the kids’ mumbled groans, Katsuki paced towards the edge of the forest and peeked down into the grass.  Crickets and a few other insects he couldn’t name dotted the ground here and there, and then vanished just as quickly as he’d seen them as they fled from his invading feet.  Many twigs and branches lay broken and mangled in front of him; he absentmindedly picked up a decently-sized one and swished it around in the air, enjoying the slight buzzing sound it left in its wake. However, a stick could only keep him entertained for so long.  Too fed up with waiting for the others to regain some energy, he stomped back over to them and gave the stick a good thwack on the ground.  He grinned at the way they yelped and jumped to attention.  It was the same tactic his mom often used. “I’m not waiting around anymore.  Get up and follow me,” he barked, not giving them a chance to reply as he began to march directly into the underbrush.  With luck, they’d been startled into alertness, because they obviously weren’t paying attention prior.  Katsuki wasn’t denying that the hunting grounds were dangerous; it was actually the reason he even wanted to go in the first place.  So if these losers had their guards down, it wouldn’t be his fault if something snuck up on them while they had their damn heads in the clouds. They quickly followed into step with him, not wanting to be left behind.  It’d be funny to see that, though.  To watch them panic in the darkness alone. “So, where are we going?” one asked.  He was looking over both his shoulders constantly as they passed each tree – yeah, Katsuki’s stick trick had definitely snapped him to his senses. “Wherever I want,” Katsuki replied, and while it was true that the idiots were here just to follow him, being out in the wilderness made him think a little on his own words.  Out here, there were no rules or restrictions, no leaders or dictators.  It was simply the quiet in the air, the crisp breeze slipping through each rustling leaf, the moon as their guiding light.  He certainly could go wherever he wanted, and do whatever he wanted.  Out here, he was his own leader, regardless of whether he had followers or not.  This feeling…  It stretched a smile across his face, lifted his head high, made him tread forward with that much more confidence.  It was a feeling he couldn’t put a name to, but he liked it.  It flooded his whole body, rushed to his head, pushed and shoved at his feet and begged him to keep going.  Suddenly, the feeling was all around him, calling to him; it was out there and he wanted to find it.  Badly. Out here, he had something he wanted to run to. So he ran.‘

--- Kiss of the Sea (Pirate + Merman AU, longfic) ‘At first, he wasn’t even aware he was awake. The weightlessness enveloped him like a bubble, suspending him in what he assumed was a dream-like state. Everything was quiet, save for the low hum in his ears of something slow shifting around him. But then he felt the feather-touches of...something...against his skin, twisting and moving and wrapping itself around his torso, but never squeezing. Something was underneath him as well, though it remained still, holding him in place...wherever he was. So, wait, where was wherever, exactly? Oh, right, he had eyes. He should probably open them. Before he even had time to focus on something solid, the amount of blue in front of him was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It was comforting, actually. The colour was relaxing, calm enough that it almost made him want to close his eyes again, but the thing underneath him was itchy and uncomfortable. Part of it was in front of his face, forcing him to go cross-eyed to see it. He could grab it with his hands and push himself up a little, and it was then that he could make out the brownish colour and criss-cross pattern - rope? Yeah, it was definitely rope. Okay, so that was two things figured out… Kind of. Twisting to look behind him, he wanted to address whatever was brushing against his body. The white folds of the shirt he was apparently wearing were unmistakable, and it was loose and just gently waving about in the current. It was kind of bothering, to be honest. Well, off with that, then. The rope gave him little space to move around, so removing the shirt wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but once it was off he shoved it through one of the holes and watched it float as if suspended by some invisible string.  But, now that he thought about it, he wanted to be out there too - not really floating like the shirt, but...the endless expanse of blue below him beckoned him, and it got darker the further down it went. Up here, in the open and the light, he felt exposed, too close to...well, he wasn’t sure what he felt too close to. But something stirred deep in the back of his mind, whispering to him that he wasn’t supposed to be here.  He tried shifting about again, trying to survey his surroundings some more. He could see blue for as far as his eyes could see, but he couldn’t swim out to it; he was stuck here.  Wait. The rope. It surrounded him on all sides, almost clinging to him, and no amount of moving seemed to open up any points of exit. This was a net. And he was caught in it.’ ---

Initiating Sentience (Futuristic Robot AU, longfic) ‘At first there’s blackness.  A consistent void of nothing sits in front of him while he waits for the tiny flickers of red static to turn blue, giving him access to the motors in his eyes.  He can hear something though.  Voices.  Some kind of clicking he doesn’t recognize.  Footsteps.  Clanking metal.  More voices.  Pings sounding on and on in his head, alerting him that something isn’t right, that he’s not doing what he’s supposed to, that he’s being damaged, he’s screaming, crying out, needs to get away, needs to get back to-! His eyes open. 

The pixels in his vision slowly shrink down until a grey floor comes into focus beneath his face.  A yellow alert box also materializes in the corner; his breathing system is overworking itself and needs to slow down.  He feels his whole body pulsing with energy – he should be able to move now. Blinking a few times to check his eyelids are moving fluidly, he moves his hands into view and pushes himself up to sit.  There’s a slight tingle in his right shoulder, something had hit him – oh, there’s a metal table next to him.  Then…did he fall?  He recognizes nothing else in front of him…  This is all new, shouldn’t he know where he is?  This isn’t the first time he’s been activated, so why- >MEMORY FILES CORRUPTED “Oi, Metal-for-Brains, I’m over here.” His hearing sensors detect the voice coming from behind him, and he’s almost startled into falling back over.  He turns around nonetheless, and he looks up to see a human standing over him with his arms crossed, and his expression doesn’t look happy. >INITIATING FACIAL RECOGNITION >SCANNING: >FACE NOT RECOGNIZED >FACE STORED INTO DATA BANK >NO PERSONAL INFORMATION AVAILABLE’ ---

Glass Box (Canon-verse, oneshot) ‘The incoherent rambling of Deku’s muttering was just as annoying as the ticking of a clock in an empty room, echoing a repetitive tune like a drum beat with no song, constant and so monotonous that it would drive anyone stir crazy from the desperation of trying to stop it being committed it to memory – and it was that very reason that Katsuki hated the seating plan from day one of U.A.  He wasn’t just hearing Deku from across the room anymore, no; his voice was hovering right behind his ears like a fucking mosquito that wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he tried to ignore the high-pitched buzzing. It was damn-near making him ready to snap. He didn’t even need to turn around to know that the little moron had his nose buried in his notebook, eyes staring so hard at the pages like he could burn holes through them.  And all the while he was tapping his pencil on the desk in rhythm to the bullshit he was spewing out of his mouth.  Every time Katsuki tried to think, to create even just one small space of solace for his thoughts to gather, Deku’s ever-present cacophony came barraging in like roadworks right outside his damn house. He could grip at the edges of his desk all he wanted, grip them until he broke his fucking knuckles, but he wouldn’t be able to shut the little nerd up without getting shit from Mr. Aizawa. Because Deku was muttering about their newest assignment. Which Katsuki also thought was bullshit, by the way – how the hell was this even supposed to help them become better heroes?  “Cultivation of Inspiration” his ass. “Of course, feel free to be as creative as you like with this.  There’s no right or wrong way to go about it.” “Then that could mean that anything goes and we won’t necessarily be graded on the subject so long as we present it well enough to-” At this point he was only half-listening to his teacher explain the basics, because the more he tried to focus on just Aizawa’s voice, the more it blended in with the hospital bed fucker behind him and he could no longer tell which were actual instructions and which was a useless cockroach he needed to crush beneath his foot.  He wasn’t even sure if Mr. Aizawa had gone over why they were doing this.  Only more reason to kick Deku’s ass for distracting him later. “However, due to the free-form nature of this assignment, your photographs will be looked over before you present them in front of the class to avoid any upset from students who may end up in them.” Katsuki felt the entire energy and gaze of the room shift to a couple seats behind him. “When you’ve finished thinking it over and you’re ready to start taking photos, head to Power Loader’s workshop.  You’ll find all the cameras stored in there.  Now, use up the rest of this time to brainstorm ideas.  I want to sleep.”’

---

Where the Sky Meets the Sea (Half-bird AU, longfic) ‘His scuffed-up boots kicked up loose stones and pebbles as they shimmied towards the craggy rock face, toes bravely peeking over the edge to meet the swirling grey below as the debris fell within and vanished not a second later, never to be seen again. The air was cold and unforgiving, whistling and howling its monotonous song that slapped at his exposed skin like an ice-covered whip. Surging up with weighted chains came the ever-familiar sensation that wrapped completely around him and yanked, fighting to tip his body and pull him down. It sank through his skin, bled into his veins, ate away at his very core, and he loved every second of it. He let the anticipation fuel his adrenaline as a fire spread out at his sides, wind licking the bright orange tips to make them sway and ripple with excitement. This thrill that swallowed him whole hadn’t changed since the first time he stood here as a child, when his wings were no bigger than himself and the breeze barely lifted his feathers. So now, with sculpted muscles hidden beneath downy layers of black and confidence built from years’ worth of training and endurance, letting the ground tilt beneath his feet was as easy as breathing - the forces around him had no need to fight or beg. Slowly he felt his blood stop dead in its tracks as his weight ceased to exist for a fleeting moment, and then in a single rush he couldn’t have felt heavier. The cold, the wind, the emptiness below - he tucked his wings in close in preparation to pierce it with just his body alone. He plummeted.  And there wasn’t a gale in existence that could wipe the wild grin from Katsuki’s face.’

--- Aaaaand there you have it! Those are all the previews I have for now - again, please let me know which ones you want to see most! Thank you!

[whitequeensofmyheart]

I Like The Way You Move - Brian May x Reader

Summary: Brian cheers you up after a frustrating shitty day at university... there really isn’t much of a plot in this tbh.

Warning: NSFW, some language

Notes: I pretty much just wrote this for fun, I’m not sure if I’ll write more (though I expect I will) and if I do, it probably won’t happen consistently. I just felt like writing for one of the boys, since I hadn’t in a while and I got the idea from the German podcast “Oh Baby” (which is actually pretty funny and is basically bottled girl talk, I recommend it if you speak German). If there are any mistakes, I apologize, I really didn’t read through it very carefully. Any comments and/or feedback is appreciated!

The sight of your front door was a welcome one, the day at uni had been long and frustrating and you wanted nothing more than to sink into your boyfriend Brian’s arms. As you opened the door to your shared flat, the sounds of upbeat music and quiet singing coming from the kitchen reached your ears and you smiled, toeing off your shoes and padding around the corner into the spacious kitchen. Brian was standing at the stove with a dishtowel tossed over one of his shoulders, bouncing to the music as he stirred the sauce bubbling in the pot in front of him. He was so engrossed in his cooking that he hadn’t heard you come home and jumped slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his spine in greeting.

“Hello, my love.” Brian turned around to kiss you sweetly on the lips and you giggled when a curl of his hair tickled your cheek. “How was your day?”

Your face fell, and you groaned in response, resting your forehead against his chest.

“That bad?”

“Remind me why I thought I should pursue a higher education again? I swear it’s gonna kill me one of these days,” you whined.

Brian smiled softly and stroked your hair. “Because you’re wicked smart, love.”

Your mood lifted at the compliment and you lifted your head to give him a cheeky grin. “High praise from you, Mr. Astrophysicist.”

He snorted and kissed you on the nose before turning back around to continue stirring. As you backed away to lean against a counter, you couldn’t help but admire your boyfriend. The yellow light of the kitchen, while usually unflattering, picked up tiny streaks of auburn in Brian’s dark curls as they bounced along with his dancing, which was becoming goofier and goofier. This was for your benefit, you realized when he shot you an exaggerated sultry look over his shoulder as he shook his ass to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You laughed and joined him at the stove, accepting the hand he then offered. At first your dancing stayed near the stove, but then Brian twirled you forcefully and the momentum carried both of you into the centre of the kitchen, where your movements only got more erratic as you let the music guide you, spinning around each other, jumping, and attempting the occasional – regretted – high kick.

When the song ended you had found your way back into Brian’s arms for the final pose and you were both panting and grinning at each other. His eyes were sparkling happily as he beamed down at you and brushed his calloused fingers across your cheek. Your noses were nearly touching, and you could feel his breath fanning over you as his gaze flicked between your eyes and your lips, hesitant to disturb the moment of quiet. Impatient, you closed the distance and captured his mouth with yours, humming contentedly at how perfectly you fit together. Brian’s hand slid down to the small of your back and he pulled you flush against him as he deepened the kiss and you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself. You would never get used to the effect Brian had on you: he knew just how to kiss you to make your knees go weak and make you gasp against his lips. You let yourself get lost in his embrace as he walked you backwards to the counter and lifted you onto it, nudging your legs open to settle between them. When you broke apart, your head felt clouded and your cheeks were hot. If you hadn’t been turned on before, the hungry look on Brian’s face was enough to make your core tingle. His lips crashed onto yours again and you wrapped your legs around his waist, desperate to relieve some of the ache that was building between your legs and he softly groaned into your mouth. The grip Brian had on your hips was almost bruising as he moved against you, swallowing your whimpers before they could leave your mouth. You separated and gasped for air as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your throat and sucked a dark bruise into the soft skin just under your jaw.

“Lie back,” Brian demanded hoarsely, gently pushing against your stomach until you complied and lowered yourself to the counter. You practically shook in anticipation as his fingers ghosted over your neck and collarbones, heading slowly for your shirt, though he wasted no time ripping your shirt open once he got his hands on the first buttons. You relished the look of awe and concentration that furrowed Brian’s brow as he ran his hands over your torso, but your impatience got the better of you and you squirmed under his touch. Brian opened your jeans slowly and gave you a cheeky smile before placing a light kiss right above your panties, making your breath hitch. Once he had tugged your jeans off, Brian returned to nipping at your neck and jaw and chuckled when you writhed underneath him and pulled at the waistband of his velvet pants, which he gladly shed, along with his shirt. As he leaned over you again, you smoothed your hands over his sides and down his stomach to stroke his erection through his underwear and he growled against your throat, sending another shock of arousal through your body. Brian straightened, slowly running a hand up your thigh to where you wanted him most but lingering beside the hem of your panties to watch you whine, desperate to be touched. Finally, he gave in to you and brushed his fingers across the damp spot caused by your arousal before pulling your underwear off to gently thumb at your clit. You gasped at the sudden stimulation and grabbed for his other hand as he pushed a finger into you and curled it up to press against your g-spot. You were very quickly turned into a whimpering mess – Brian knew exactly how to manipulate your body to make your back arch in pleasure.

His eyes were dark as he watched you twist on the counter. “How’s that feel, baby?”

“G-good, Bri, so good,” you choked out, “I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

“Wait, I wanna taste you. Do you trust me?” Brian pulled his fingers out of you, ignoring your protests, and grabbed your legs as he sank to his knees, pulling you towards him until your hips were hanging over the edge of the counter. You scrambled to hold onto something – the only things supporting you were your legs over his shoulders and his hands on your hips. He wasted no time by teasing you and immediately buried his face between your thighs, humming appreciatively as he ran his tongue up through your folds to flick over your clit. You moaned and threaded your fingers through his thick curls, tugging to try and bring him closer as you chased the orgasm that had barely escaped your grasp.

“Fuck, I’m coming. Brian don’t stop!” Your cries became louder as a particularly deep lick pushed you over the edge and you trembled in his hands for each wave of pleasure that washed over you. Brian paid no mind to your feet digging into his back, nor to your shaking, he continued eating you out until you were pushing him away. The sight of him kneeling between your thighs with lust-blown pupils, licking your glistening arousal from his lips with a look of satisfaction was almost enough to make you come again, but you found the strength to pull yourself back onto the counter and sit up.

Wincing a bit as his knees popped, Brian rose to his feet to kiss you again and you brought one of your hands up to his hair to tangle your fingers in his mass of curls. Your other hand slipped into his underwear to pull out his hard cock and he moaned into your mouth as you swiped your thumb over the head to gather the leaking precum. You moved to kiss down his jaw to his neck, where you left playful nips and soft marks. Brian tipped his head back, eyes fluttering shut, and you swept your tongue up the white column of his throat, catching the small beads of sweat already starting to form. His hips bucked into your hand and he gripped your hips so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Bloody hell, Y/N, stop, I need to be inside you,” Brian groaned, and you nodded, angling your hips so he could enter you and hooking your legs around his waist. You both moaned quietly when he had pushed himself all the way into your heat and he touched his forehead to yours, a small, adoring smile twisting his pretty mouth. At first, he moved slowly, just relishing the feeling of being so close to you but need soon took over and his thrusts became faster and harder. The sounds of his grunts, the feeling of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, and the delicious stretch were all driving you mad and all you could do was try and hold on to his shoulders as he pounded into you. Each thrust was hitting all the right spots and you nearly sobbed out when he reached between your bodies to rub quick circles on your clit. His name was falling from your lips like a prayer and you could feel your second orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Brian, I’m gonna co- fuck!” You let out a string of curses as your orgasm hit you and Brian swore as you clenched around him.

“Fu- I’m right behind you, love.” He plunged into you twice more before stuttering to a halt as his cum painted your walls, the throbbing remnants of your orgasm coaxing him through his.

You pecked him on the lips and he touched his forehead to yours again as you came down from your highs. Suddenly, you remembered the pot that had been simmering away on the stove unattended and panic shocked you out of your state of bliss, but before you could open your mouth to express your concern, Brian set your mind at ease: “Don’t worry, I turned off the stove right before we started dancing.”

You furrowed your brow. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

He grinned and kissed you on the nose. “Because I can read you like an open book, love. Which is also how I knew to turn off the stove.”

“I love you, did you know that?”

“I did. I love you, too.”

Tags: @queens-n-roses @elunicornus @hystericallyqueen @delilahiloveyou39

[maybemitch]

NUMB THE PAIN

Description: ‘Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it’ - Albus Dumbledore.

Warning: mentions of character death, swearing, spoilers for episode 4 - so read with caution if you haven't watched or played it.

Word Count: 4,049

Fem!Reader

———

Numbing the pain for a while…

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes when Marlon dropped down to her knees, as the life drained from him. She couldn’t process that he now had a bullet hole in his forehead, which was leaking crimson blood, announcing his official death. She couldn’t process that moments before his brutal murder, her other friends - Brody - has also been murdered, but she couldn’t decide who to believe was the actual cause of it. Y/N couldn’t believe the fact that where her friend once stood, was the young new boy, holding tightly onto a small silver revolver. She couldn’t believe that the first words which fell from his lips, was his sort of justification, that he had ‘aimed for the head’. 

Y/N was furious. She had furious at the fact that Clementine had allowed such a small child to handle a gun. And not any old gun, one which was loaded with bullets. A disgusted look overtook her face, her eyebrows dipped in the middle of her forehead, a frown on her lips. Y/N knew that people could see the disgust on her face, but then again most of the people which lived at Ericson all held the same face. 

She took one step forwards, which caused a hand from someone behind her, to fly up and wrap around her elbow, holding her into one place. She could feel the grip tightening every time she tried to move forwards - she wasn’t bothered with the fact they had decided to hold her into place, she was annoyed at the fact they had prevented her from getting closer to the young boy.

“Y/N. Stop. His a just a b-” Aasim tried to reason as the girl moved in his grip. Y/N shook her head, tugging on her limp in captivity. “Y/N. Stop it”.

“You shot him. He’s dead. You’re a murderer” Louis informed AJ which stood in his spot. Y/N nodded her head in agreement, finally pulling her arm free from Aasim.

Y/N stalked over to Marlon’s dead body and crouched down. She could feel the presence of Aasim lingering over her shoulder but ignored the urge to turn around and tell him to do one. Y/N gulped, looking at the lifeless body and blinked once. 

She didn’t know what to do. Inside of her, she knew he had done something to the twins, she knew that Clementine wouldn’t lie about a subject which would be touchy to them all. She wanted to hate the male, but she didn’t want to do anything which would disrespect the dead. Then again, she wanted to mourn him, but somewhere deep inside of her, she could sense that wasn’t the right thing to do. 

 Most of the other teenagers, had gathered around Marlon. She could hear their sobs from behind her, some of them crying more than others. Y/N began to feel out of place. Therefore, she pulled herself back to her feet, nodded her head once to the group of people before leaving the group in a hurry. 

She could feel the eyes on her as left. Some which held wonder in them of why she was leaving them, some eyes held anger in them as she left them without paying respect to them. Yet, she knew that Aasim was watching her as she walked away, his eyes were trialing her but his wasn’t judging her, he knew exactly what she was doing. He somehow knew how she felt, that she was unsure about the hole situation.

Aasim payed his respected and dismissed himself also, jogging to catch up with Y/N who now stood at Ericson’s gate. He stood at a respectful distance, not wanting to overstep into any boundaries which the girl has made. Y/N turned her head the moment the boots had stopped clicking and smiled weakly to the Pakistan male.

“I wanted to know if you are okay,” Aasim asked as he crossed his arms across his chest, “I know Marlon was close to you. And I wanted to let you know that I am here for you, if you need me”.

Y/N smiled and nodded, “Aasim, thank you. But I’m alright. It will take some time to get use to. But I’m good”.

———

While make it worse…

On the night which Delta attacked Ericson. Y/N had been defending the school; her home. The rest of the remaining residents were doing the same, defending. They all wanted to protect the home, the place which was their happy haven. They place which had kept them safe since the beginning. None of the teens wanted to be invaded by the people which noted to take them away, yet here they were.

Y/N felt a leap of pain inside of her heart, when the leader of the opposing group; Lilly, mentioned Minerva. Y/N - just like everyone else in the school - had thought she was dead, just like what Marlon and Brody had told them. Y/N grieved for the lose of her friends when it happened. She had helped Violet and Tenn with their belongings, burying them, a few tears shedding from her eyes in the process. Y/N had also help with taking up their responsibilities when they had gone. But here she was, learning that Minerva was alive despite a year of thinking she was dead - with no mentioned of Sophie though. 

Y/N could feel the pain radiating from Violet at the mention of her former lover, the heartbreak which she experienced when the news had broken that she had ‘died’. Y/N could recall the countless of nights she had spent inside Violets room, soothing her to sleep as she cried at the lose - they weren’t even close at the time. Y/N could also recall the memories of Violet talking so fondly of her, like they were deeply in love with one another. Y/N could also feel the pain radiating from Louis at the mention of his musical friend. Y/N had been there the night they performed the song which they had created, the happiness which they held as they played it proudly. Y/N could remember how the two use to laugh at the bizarre things which weren’t relatively funny but it was all down to the way Louis had said it.

Y/N looked over her left shoulder, across the gap to her two friends and witnessed the aftermath of their faces when they had learnt Minnie was alive rather than devoured by walkers which they were informed off. 

The bow which occupied Y/N’s hand itched, the urged to thread an arrow onto the sting and send it flying over the wall into the gathering of intruders, in hopes to kill them, to shut them up. However, she knew that if she did that, consequences would be served as it would lower their chances of survival. So she sat and waited for her orders, more specifically, she awaited for the arrive of Mitch and Willy.

The wait for them two boys wasn’t long, as they came running to cover. A sense of victory with their return, as the booming of the bomb went around the courtyard. With the bomb exploding, the teenagers stood up, revealing themselves from cover, weapons raised high, ready to defend what they live in. 

Y/N’s eyes brushed to the floor, a pained look when Tenn lay there . She pulled the string of the bow back, ready to allow the arrow to go flying into the mix of panicked adults.

“Y/N. Cover me,” Mitch demanded as he got up from his crouch and ran into the mix, right towards Lilly. 

Y/N didn’t realise what the boy had told her to do until it was indeed too late. The shining of the silver blade, sunk into the Mitch’s neck, blood staining his pale skin. Lilly murdered him without hesitation. Y/N whimpered, another loss to Ericson, another grave to dig. Willy noticed that the girl was still out a cover and tugged her hand so she came back down to floor. Aasim placed his hand on the girls legs, getting her to look at him for a moment.

“Breathe,” Aasim informed the girl has he related the girl to grab onto Willy who was screaming out for Mitch.

Y/N felt a lump in her throat, something which was preventing her from speaking. She could hear Willy’s cries. A sense of defeat now in Ericson’s view. She didn’t want to picture Mitch laying lifeless more a less in the same place which Marlon once was. She didn’t to picture the way the school would be without Mitch around and his constant joking threats. 

Aasim had managed to get Willy to calm down, therefore, he sent his famous worried glanced to Y/N who was breathing heavily, “Y/N. Are you okay?”

She nodded. Licking her lips once, steadying her hands from shaking, shoving the picture of Mitch from her mind, concealing the pain of the loss, “I’m alright. Now go do your part. I’ve got your back and just remember. I will be fine”.

———

 When you finally feel it.

Arms flailing, legs kicking, Y/N’s head finally emerged from the water. Her lungs felt full with water, as she coughed it all up. Behind her, the ship was lighten up in orange embers, slowly descending into the water. The girl began to kick her legs in the water, helping keep her over it as she looked around the shore line. She could see members of Delta fighting the walkers, but no sign of her group. No sign of her family.

She swam forwards towards the shore. The moment she got close, she army crawled onto the beach and lay down, catching her breath. There was moaning all around her, walkers were emerging from the woodland area, some coming up the banks onto the shore. 

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a moment to herself before realising the situation she was in. How her life was on the life at the very moment, how the walkers were walking around, some of them gaining on her position. She pushed herself up to her feet, on the way up, she picked up a log for defensive and began to swing it whenever one walked too close.

She shouted as she swung, her anger being released onto the dead. Her fallen friends flashing before her eyes. Minnie was the first, it was the Minnie which she once knew, the one which didn’t like to fight walkers, the ones which wouldn’t hurt a fly, but that transformed into the monster she had been reintroduced too. The second was Marlon. His happy face whenever he was with Louis or whenever he was with Rosie but that soon transformed into his lifeless body falling to his knees when the log collide with the soft skull of a walker. Y/N remember Brody. How despite she was worried all the time about her friend well being, she cared for them all, but that transformed into the body which they received the morning they buried her. She finally remembered Mitch, who risked his life to save Tenn. How he would always do things which would put him at risk but he enjoyed doing it and that soon twisted into Lilly driving the knife into his neck, the moment the log was ripped from her hands.

Y/N kicked her leg forwards, the walker which had managed to overpower her, toppling to the floor with a deep groan. A walker grabbed onto her shoulder of the jacket, trying to bring the body of the girl closer to its mouth, however, Y/N sent her leg backwards and wriggled her way out of her beloved jacket, running away from the forming herd.

“Y/N!” A voice called out, she turned her head, Aasim had his head peaking up from his hiding space, guiding her over. Y/N found herself running to the male, dropping to her knees, enveloping him into a hug, then doing the same with Omar which held onto his gun shot wound, “Im so glad to see you”.

“Did you get bit?” Aasim asked as he looked over her shoulder, “I just saw the thing grab you and a panic set. You’re not bitten right?”

Y/N shook her head, “No. I didn’t. I just lost my jacket to it”.

“I’m sure after the herd passes, Clementine will allow us to come back and get it. Just tell her it was your mothers, shell understand” Aasim suggested, due to the fat he knew how much the jacket meant to her - the final gift she had even gotten from her family. 

.

Eventually, Y/N found herself walking up to the fishing shack which was by her home. Over her shoulder, she carried a shovel, something which she found when she was on her own. She had found herself trailing Louis. Not because she didn’t trust him - she did, with her life more a less - but she didn’t want to lose him to something tragic. Yet, she couldn’t find him. No sign of him, nor AJ, nor Clementine, nor Tenn.

When she was leaving, she had promised Violet that she should return in one piece and that Louis would also be in one piece. Violet had smiled, telling her when she returns she doesn’t want her leaving her side for a while, not until her eyes get a little better; she didn’t mind.

Y/N stepped over a fallen log, her face lighting up when she saw Rosie sitting by the little stream. The shovel slipped from her shoulder, clattering to the ground. The dog turned around, ready to pounce on whatever it was, but her little tail began to wag the at the sight of one of her owners.

“Come here, girl,” Y/N called, patting her thighs. Rosie began to run, her bottom half aimed towards the floor as she sprinted in excitement. Rosie licked the girls face, kissing her, despite the fact she hadn’t seen her in a while, Rosie tapped her foot on the floor the moment Y/N began to scratch her in the right spot. 

AJ came out the shack, looking around Rosie and stopped in his tracks the moment he saw the girl who the group thought had gone missing. AJ slowly approached, a timid smile on his lips, “Y/N? Is that really you?”

“It sure is, kiddo,” Y/N inspected the area before opening her arms for the boy. AJ didn’t hesitate, unsure if the girl would turn away the offer. AJ didn’t even know if she had forgiven him for killing Marlon, but he didn’t ask. Y/N tightened her grip around him, breathing in, in relief, “How is everything. Where’s Clem?”

AJ gulped, closing his eyes, “She got bit”.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Her grip tightening on AJ for comfort, “Im sorry, kiddo. I really am. Did Lou make it back? Tenn?”

AJ smiled, “Louis got back fine. Tenn. I shot him,” Y/N pulled AJ away from her, looking him up and down in disgust, but out of habit, “He was going to get Louis killed. I didn’t want to. He was my first real friend. I didn’t want that for him”.

Y/N nodded, “I understand. Shall we head back?”

The pair began to walk back to the school, but a rustling from behind them made them come a halt. Turning around slowly, AJ held onto his gun, Y/N had a hand on the young boys shoulder in a protective manner. The pair gasped when walker Tenn came into their view, Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him. 

“What shall I do?” AJ asked as his finger held the trigger without the pressure. 

“You decide. I wouldn’t want to be a walker. Neither would you. Or Clem for that matter. Or you could lead him away?”

AJ grabbed a rock, throwing it in the direction Tenn needed to go. Y/N smiled and began to move away. AJ followed, his hand wrapping around the bucket, Rosie trailing at his side. Most of the teenagers which were outside the gates smiled at Y/N when they saw her, some of them waving and sighing in relief at the sight of her. Ruby and Aasim smiled at her, Aasim hiding his face when Y/N raised her eyebrow at the hand holding between him and Ruby. Omar held a smile on his face. When she approached the gate, Louis got down from his post, taking the girl into a hug.

Louis pointed over to where Violet stood, and beckoned her over to the girl. Y/N did what he told her to do, laying a hand on softly on the girls shoulder. She witnessed her flinch, “Vi, its me”.

“Holy shit,” Violet shouted, turning around to throw her arms around her. Violet breathed in, unable to believe that she was back in front of her, “You’re alive. I can’t believe it. We thought you didn’t make it. Louis was beating himself up about it”.

“I’m alive. How’s your eyes? Are they good? Can you see?” Y/N asked as Violet nodded, holding a hand over her eyepatch, “At least you can see still. Im sorry about Tenn. But AJ told me that it was him or Louis. I can’t believe that AJ had to do that and do something to Clem. She got bit”.

“Clem. She alive,” Violet informed the girl, “AJ cut the bite off. Minnie, she somehow helped her? You should ask Clem. Just don’t stare, she’s caught us out a few times now. She missing her leg now but its not stopping her from being the leader”.

Y/N looked at Violet and gulped. 

“I feel like a shit friend,” Y/N admitted, Violet taking a a double take to the speaking girl, “I just feel… so… angry with myself. I didn’t mourn anyone. Not Marlon, not Brody, Mitch. I didn’t do it. I feel as if I failed them. And it hurts”.

“You had a lot on your plate?” Violet question as if she was trying to find a rational reason for the girl to act the way she did. “We were going to be kidnapped. Fuck, I was. You wanted to worry about your life before someone else?”

Y/N shook her head, “I didn’t. I just assumed that I will be fine and pushed the pain of losing them away. I lied, continuously to Aasim whenever he asked me if I was okay. The night Marlon died, he asked me if I was alright and I said yes. When I was and the same with Mitch. It just hurts so much right now”.

Violet didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to handle her, it wasn’t her scene, not because she didn’t like the girl, they were friends obviously, but it was because she didn’t really know how to handle emotions. Violet blinked, her hand scratching the back of her neck, “Maybe you should talk to Aasim? He could help you”.

Y/N nodded in defeat and drifted away.

Later that night, Y/N had taken the watch tower. She had spoke to Clementine after dinner, thanking her that she was still alive and that however she did it, it was a miracle. Louis had spoken to her about how he felt when the group had told him that the girl has went looking for him and how he wanted to do a search party but it wasn’t a good idea considering Clementine’s  condition alongside with Violet’s. 

As she sat up on the watch tower, she had her arms around her chest, the breeze something she was use to considering she always wore her famous jacket given to her by her mother. She somehow knew if she ever went back to where the ship was, the jacket would no longer be there. The walker would have wondered away with it or it would been blown into the water, never to be seen again. Part of her wished she had thought for it, but the other part of her knew if she did, she would be where the others were; dead. And to her, that was something more better than suffering with the pain of losing multiple of people.

The sound of wood creaked, signally someone was coming up the ladder to either relieve her of her duty or to accompany her. Either would do fine with her, but she didn’t fancy going to bed any time soon. She looked over her left shoulder, Aasim stood at the top of the ladder, a small bowl in his hand which was somehow steaming. He nudged it forwards but Y/N rolled her eyes, so he placed it by her feet. 

Aasim felt as if he was unwanted and began to move back down the ladder, until the girl in front of him jolted forwards, startling him to a halt. Y/N spun around quickly, sadness evident on her face, “Please don’t leave me. I could use some company for a while”.

Moving back up the ladder, Aasim crawled over to her side, barely missing the small bowl he brought up for her. He nodded, “You okay?”

“No,” It was the first time she was honest with him. To her, she thought that Aasim would be taken back, shocked even, but he just nodded his head, with a known look on it. Y/N twiddled her thumbs around one another, “Aren’t you shocked? Not even a small bit?”

“Y/N, ive known you since you the beginning. I know when you’re upset. I wanted to help you but you kept pushing me away. I didn’t want to push you in anything, I would much rather you come to terms with the fact you want to talk it out. Rather than me sit you down and corner you, forcing you to tell me things. That way, it wouldn’t be honest. Would it?”

Y/N just nodded, unknown what to say to Aasim announcement. Neither of the pair spoke for a while, Aasim had his eyes trained onto a walker which was throwing its arms around trying to catch one of the flies buzzing before its face. Y/N had her eyes on her falling apart shoes. 

“When Marlon died. I lied. When Mitch died. I lied. I just thought it would be easier. I thought it would be easier to push away the pain rather than face it,” Y/N began, rubbing her hands together now. Aasim was leaning back on his hands in the small area, listening closely to the girl as she confessed to him, “For some fucked up reason, I thought that if I showed one ounce of pain to any of you guys, I would be treated differently. Treated weaker and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you guys to think of me differently. Acceptance means everything to me”

“Why are you admitting it all now?” Aasim wonders.

Shrugging Y/N replied, “You’re the most accepting person I know. And I just thought if… you know what? Forget it”.

“No. No. No. Continue,” Aasim begged for some reason, “Please. I can help. I promise”.

“I just thought if I spoke about this to someone, the pain which I have because of it wouldn’t be so hard. I just thought that maybe if I spoke out about the pain I’m withholding, then it wouldn’t be so much for me to handle. Because, pain is harmful if you hold onto it for to long. And because I suppressed the pain of losing people, it hurts. So. Fucking. Much”.

Aasim moved closer, wrapping an arm around her, bring her into a friendly hug, “Sometimes pain is unavoidable. Even if you speak about it to someone. Its always going to linger”.

“Yeah, but having a pain which is bearable it much more better than having to live with something which is eating you alive more a less,” Y/N pointed out, Aasim nodding his head in agreement.

Aasim smiled into the night, “Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’ll get there, eventually”.

------

I intended on making a Mitch x reader, but then I wanted to make a friendship Aasim x reader, therefore, this baby was produced. 

I’ve also gotten really obsessed with Harry Potter recently, therefore thats why the Dumbledore quote was used, guilty as can be. 

Hope you enjoyed! More fic’s coming soon, hopefully - I’d ask you to pinky promise, but, uh... yeah.

[morikothehalfangel]

Holding on by a Thread

Part 1

Rated: T for Inu’s potty mouth

Inu/Kag AU (Two-shot that may turn into a full fic!)

2485 words

I’m uploading this onto FF.net, too, so if you don’t want to scroll forever here, feel free to go check it out on there!

A few of my fellow Inuyasha mutuals, Inuyasha followers/following, and the person who came up with the prompt, Artiste! @artistefish @keichanz @coquinespike @umacaking @dyaz-stories @eternalnight8806-3 @stuckinthewrongworld

______________________

“And this, my dear Kagome, is called ‘The Red Thread of Fate’! Why, this has been passed down our family through generations! It’s one of the few created centuries ago!”

Kagome groans. “Really, Gramps? That’s just a rolled-up ball of yarn!”

Mr. Higurashi gapes aghast at his granddaughter. “Do not say such foolery! This ancient thread is guaranteed to help those who are far or lost to find their soulmate!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Kagome rolls her eyes, one hand petting the fat cat reclining in her lap, the other ‘marveling’ at the red ball of cloth. “And I suppose the Shikon no Tama existed, too?”

“Of course! That story is—,” He pauses and glares at the unimpressed fifteen-year-old. “Hmph! If it’s just a ‘ball of yarn’, then why would we keep it for generations, hmm?”

“Because your great great great great great grandfather was quite the prankster of his time, I assume.” Kagome replies snidely.

“W-why, young lady, that is—!” He starts, but a woman’s voice interrupts his tirade.

“Father, where are you? We promised Souta we’d take him and his friends out to that new park they opened up.” Ms. Higurashi enters the threshold and smiles at them both. “Oh, hello Kagome! Is father giving you your present?”

“Nope, just giving Buyo some yarn.” Kagome chuckles as she drops the ball onto her cat’s stomach. He bats at it, but is suddenly startled by something, and darts out of the girl’s lap. “Ah, Buyo! What on Earth…”

“It’s the power of the thread, I tell you! It even spooked the cat!” Grandpa Higurashi quickly stands, pointing at the cross-legged youngster.

“Grandpa, Buyo is spooked by the old well, too. Does that have some kind of magical power, too?” She questions.

“Of course it does!” He snaps back. She sighs in reply, and her mother decides to stop the argument.

“Father, come on now, leave her be. She’s going to be the birthday girl!”

“Mm, fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shakes a gnarled finger at the teen and leaves the room with his daughter.

Kagome hums and looks at the wad of thread. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, oh great fate-sealing yarn.”

A door shuts from the down the hall, and she assumes her family is gone now. She stands and picks up the wound thread and mumbles to herself, “Maybe I can make something with this, or sew it onto a plain dress?” She sighs. “Oh well, who knows.”

And with that, she heads upstairs to her room to practice some math homework, cause the girl can’t get a break from quizzes, even on her birthday.

_________________

“Myoga, will you just leave me alone?! Haven’t you heard that this is my forest? You’re practically trespassing.” Inuyasha leaps into his favorite tree, trying to ignore the old flea. “I don’t care if Sesshomaru has some ‘willing’ woman to marry me off to so I can go live in the Western Lands. He’s despised me for years, why on Earth does he care now?”

“My lord, please! Sesshomaru-sama has come at an impasse and needs you to save face for the sake of the land’s honor and— ack!” The old flea is tossed back off his lord’s shoulder.

“So what?! All of a sudden, the damned filthy half-breed can go and have a family, all to ‘save face’?! What kinda desperate attempt is this? They’ve really gotta be sinking low if they’re asking me to join the family.” He huffs, a low growl never leaving his throat.

“But sire, think of the positives! You’d no longer be alone, or lonely, or—” Myoga is smashed onto Inuyasha’s knee in reprimand.

“Who the Hell said I’m lonely?!” The hanyou shouts.

“My… Apologies… M’lord.” He strains out of his squashed form. He pops back to his original shape and takes a hasty retreat back onto the far end of the branch. “I’ll… leave you be, for now.”

“Good, that’s how I like it.” Inuyasha seethes through clenched teeth.

And he did like it. He liked not having to deal with people everywhere, and if he wanted “company”, he would go help out the village that lies on the outskirts of his forest. He’s been around these parts for over a century, maybe longer, and he’s saved their asses more than he can count. One winter was really bad, and while the adults could handle their minor illnesses, the children were not so lucky. They likely would have had to dig a lot of small graves if it weren’t for him.

The old village miko, Kaede, was extremely worried about what to do for the children, because even she was running low on herbs during this harsh of a winter, and tea can’t solve everything. Food was running low, too. Thankfully, it was towards the end of the winter, but she didn’t think the kids could last that long. Imagine her surprise one cold morning when she found a heap of ingredients, all wrapped up in old baskets and aged cloth. Upon untying a basket, she finds a scrap of paper, likely as old as herself, lying on top of the fresh ingredients. She read the scraggly and poorly written, but legible, words to herself and softly gasped.

It was a recipe.

After that winter, he came by one day to trade for some vegetables, and more than half the village bowed and thanked him nonstop as he walked through to the small ‘marketing’ area. He was going to trade firewood for food when the man in front of him straight up gave him two whole bags of rice, free of charge. The man kept praising and thanking him for his ‘elixir’, and Inuyasha didn’t have the heart to tell anyone it was just an old family recipe.

He ‘avoided’ the area for a bit after that. He still checked up on them, when few were around, but he didn’t like the constant stares he received, even if they were all with good thoughts in mind.

Even still, while not having people despise him left and right was kinda nice, he knew none of them genuinely liked him. Maybe the old hag took a small liking to him for his ‘good deeds’, but he didn’t have anyone close to him. Last person like that was his mother, and she died long ago.

Sometimes, he wonders what it’d be like… Ugh, no! He shakes his head back and forth to rid of his train of thought. He was constantly pushing the thought out of his mind; he didn’t do mushy stuff like that! But after a while, as he was about to close his eyes for the night, not even bothering to head back to his hidden cave he called home, he wondered what it’d be like…

To be loved again.

_____________

Her alarm brings her out of her odd dream. Originally it had started out weird, like usual, more or less a nightmare of her quiz today, but then it suddenly changed to a calm and peaceful forest, high up above the trees. The stars and moon lit the whole sky, and she was honestly disappointed to be awoken from that serene scene.

She yawns and stretches, her pink tank top riding up above the band of her bright green shorts. She swings her legs over the side of her bed and reaches to itch the side of her head when she feels something soft brush her cheek. Perplexed, she glances at her hand. Wrapped around her pinky in a perfect knot is that red thread from yesterday.

“Ugh, Souta probably thought this’d be funny.” She mutters tiredly. She goes to pull out the knot, but it doesn’t budge. “Dang, he really knows his knots…”

She spots some scissors on her desk and gets up to grab them. She puts them around the knot and… snip! Wait.

Snip!

…

Snipsnipsnipsnipsnipsnipsni—

“SOUTAAAA!”

“What is it, Sis?” The third grader quickly rushes into her room, not heeding the anger in her voice.

“What is this? What’d you do?! I can’t cut it!” She screams, showing him her pinky finger angrily.

“What are you talking about, ‘Gome? I didn’t do that! Why can’t you just cut it?” He replies meekly.

“I tried! It won’t come off! Help me!”

He nods and moves to help untie the knot. He touches the tip and yelps. “It stung me!”

“What? What do you mean it stung you, it’s thread!”

“I don’t know, it just shocked me when I touched it!”

“Quit being a brat and help me!”

“I can’t! Here, I’ll go get Mom or something. Be right back!” He darts out of her room before she can stop him.

“Argh, Souta! Wait!” She begins to run after him when she notices the string leading out of her room and down the stairs. “Huh?”

Curiously, she begins to follow it. It leads right out her backdoor, across the shrine grounds (and at this point she’s wondering just how long this piece of string is), past the sacred tree, and disappears into the well house.

“The well house? What’s in here?” She opens the door. The thread leads up and over the lip of the old well. She mutters under her breath, “Alright, even Souta is too scared to go near the well…”

But that begs the question, who did it? For some reason, she felt that her answer would lie at the end of this thread… That was down the well…

Surely she’s dreaming.

And if it’s a dream, then… Screw it.

She leaps down the stairs and before she can change her mind, swings herself over the edge of the well and falls.

______________

He had an odd dream. Usually he sleeps so light he doesn’t dream at all, but this time, he was somewhere very strange. It was like he was looking through someone else’s eyes. A room, but not like any room he’s ever seen, that’s for sure.

He sits up from his reclining position against the trunk of what the villagers call a ‘Goshinboku’. He moves to pop his neck when he notices something on his right hand. A red thread tied around his pinky finger.

It takes his groggy mind a moment to understand what exactly is wrapped around his finger, and as his eyes follow the path of the thread somewhere down into the forest, one thought enters his mind.

The fuck?

He snaps out of his stupor and tries to cut the string with his claw. He tries again and again and again and—

“Alright, what the Hell?!” He snarls at the innocent thread so desperately clinging to his hand. Suddenly, he feels a tug.

And then a stronger one.

Somewhere not too far, a voice reaches his keen ears.

“I know you’re out there! Come out already!”

Gathering his wits and wondering what a young girl would be doing in his forest yelling at this hour in the morning, he leaps from the tree towards the voice.

A moment later, he lands outside of the clearing of the Bone Eater’s Well, the woven red following the whole way.

He spots a girl and sputters, her revealing clothes something he’s not used to seeing. He notices the thread move again as she does, and his eyes track the movement to her own pinky finger.

Bingo.

“Oi!” He jumps out of the tree and lands in front of the girl.

“AH! GET AWAY!” She attempts to push him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you know somethin’ about this piece of thread?!” He shoves his finger in her face, and her blue eyes widen.

“How did you… Did you pull this prank?!” She shrieks, holding up her own finger. “I can’t get the stupid thing off!”

“Neither can I, woman! What’re you yelling at me for?” He barks.

“Well, what are you yelling at ME for?! I didn’t do it! I came here looking for the person who did!” She yells back.

“It wasn’t me! I was asleep!”

“I was, too!” She argues.

It’s at this point when they glance down at their respective pinkies that they notice the length of the thread.

What once stretched nearly a mile was now only maybe a foot in length.

“You can’t get it off, can you?” She mumbles dejectedly.

He looks at her questioningly, and shakes his head no. “You?”

“Not at all.”

They stand there quiet for a moment, contemplating their situation.

“Well, this is gonna be a strange day... Either way…” She straightens up and quickly nods her head with a small smile. “Sorry for yelling at you, you seem like you’re telling the truth. I’m Kagome.”

Her smile stirs something in his chest, and he grunts in acknowledgement. “Don’t worry ‘bout it… Inuyasha.”

“Inuyasha? Hm, now that’s a name I’ve never heard before.” She giggles.

He’s not sure whether to blush or be insulted.

She looks around, and she shoots him another dazzling smile. “So, what exactly is this place? We’re not in Tokyo, are we?”

“I… I dunno what that is.” He stutters. Even the villagers never smile at him like this, usually just mutual nods… What’s with this girl?!

“Huh, I guess not then.” She attempts to wander when she’s halted by his hand, or, more so, by the thread attached to it. “Uh, that’s strange. It stretched really far earlier, why won’t it now?”

“Not sure, but I saw it change length when I ran over here. It’s gotta be magical in some way, I guess.” He growls under his breath as a thought enters his mind. “I pray to whatever Kami there is that this isn’t a damned curse.”

Kagome frowns. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure this is the same thread that my grandfather gave to me for my birthday today, but it was just a wadded-up piece of string just last night. I woke up with it tied around my little finger.”

He cocks a brow at that. “And, no one tied it?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I know of, at least. I know my little brother didn’t do it, he was just as freaked out as I was!”

He rubs his chin for a moment, and his head pops up with an idea. “I think I know someone who can help us with this problem.” He points with his free hand behind her towards a path in a grove of trees. “There’s an old miko in a village just a ways from here, she’ll probably help us out. Maybe a spell or something.”

“That’s great and all, but I think we have another problem…” She mumbles softly, tugging to try and stretch the string again.

“And just what might that be?” He sighs, his face void of emotion.

“I have to use the bathroom…” She softly shrugs.

Maybe this is a curse.

[kathemy]

Gotham: One of my Three Soups

Full unabridged review

Leave it to a show like Gotham to force me to go political.

I would like to preface the following: I absolutely hate writing negative reviews of a show most dear to my heart, and I really wish I could stop.

So why don't I?

In starting, this will likely be my longest review to date. You may accuse me of navel-gazing. If this isn't your cup of tea, move away. However... This is that dialectical cusp where I have to break down everything in order to continue, and it'll be messy.

I've loved Gotham from season one episode seven. I've loved Batcat since episode nine. I started posting about both - after having sunk deep into the stinking swamp of the Vampire Diaries fandom - in anticipation of the second season, which turned out to be fantastic. I joined the Doux team specifically to cover my favorite show in the middle of that season.

Once I was hooked... That was it. There was no going back. I've never stopped loving Gotham. When it comes to this enterprise, the sky's the limit - it can produce astonishingly beautiful, content-rich, engaging television, a subtle evolution of relationships, fantastic characters, and it's populated by arguably the best main cast on network television.

That's probably why I'm harsh at it at times. I know the show's upper ceiling is so high, and I just wish for it to realize itself in every outing, which is probably impossible. In retrospect, I was picky in my season two reviews, but back then we were all on such a high that if I weren't I'd been reduced to raving nonstop, and that's not a hallmark of a good critic. However, the second part is that Gotham has been stumbling, it's made catastrophic mistakes and it's sometimes painful to watch, even as there are glimpses or more of its trademark excellence left.

And I guess that's what keeps me here. I'm so in love with the cast, the characters and the show's flashes of brilliance that I will never abandon it, even if the show occasionally hurts me.

Long ago, back in 2015, I made a tumblr post about everything that was right with Gotham. This was in response to some senseless bashing which was all-too-prevalent those days. It's a bit twisted that back then, I was fighting the haters and considered a die-hard fanboy, and now, people try to pick fights with me for daring to talk shit about a show which I still love. 

Two selling points in that piece were how Gotham ignored age- and gender-based stereotypes, and here by season four, Gotham has betrayed both of these qualities, albeit in very different ways.

It betrayed the first one by insisting that a young girl could not be allowed a seductress storyline - a clear shift from season two where Silver St. Cloud did just that - and expulsed Clare Foley for bikini model Maggie Geha. The result was a train wreck.

It betrayed the second one by buying hook line and sinker into the new gender stereotypes of the Hollywood chic, though it's ironic how Patryk commented on my last review how maybe they were going for that "Sixties sexist vibe". Those traditions have some points in common, and curiously Gotham almost seems to lean on both.

Anyway... if you're still here... this is where I'm starting my real review. Here goes.

'One of my Three Soups'. Only in Gotham. When I first read that title, I thought "well, they probably just wanted to figure out the weirdest possible name for an episode; God knows if it'll actually mean anything." Color me surprised when it was actually a clean reference to a scene, and a good one too!

This is the first episode introducing the terrible trio of Jerome, Scarecrow and Mad Hatter, and they really work well together. Scarecrow looks and sounds like lifted straight out of Arkham Knight. Jervis Tetch never had smarter turns of dialog - the content may be another matter - and Jerome is, well, Jerome, giving anyone a run for their money at overacting. These are actual, raving mad supervillains and they certainly are both menacing and entertaining. Their "plan" is signature Gotham - ostensibly clever while not making much sense if you think it over, but it provides for lots of fun.

The triple treat of the evening is Tetch jerking around with Gordon, Bruce and Selina trying to catch Jerome, and Barbara's adventures with the League of Shadows. The first two parts are pretty good or better.

It seems that Gotham is close to figuring out what to do with its chief protagonist; it only took four seasons! The gist that it's selling is Jim's realization that "I'm a little shit, but I have to pretend to be a hero and do my job anyway," and that's a damn good look on him. Jim's never exactly sold "jaded" before - he's sold "tired", "angry", "self-righteous", "more angry" and "apathetic", but here he's finally starting to come through as something that could lead up to his comic book role, as well as someone having a great deal in common with a younger Harvey Bullock. Speaking of Bullock, their conflict seems mostly resolved, but it also seems he's been cast in the role of Jim's eternal bad conscience.

In conclusion it's quite poetic how Jim wins his fight with the Mad Hatter exactly by resigning to the fact that he is helpless - "I can't save you. Save each other." As well as being actually clever, this is the single most powerful line Jim Gordon's delivered in the run of the show.

Bruce's quest for Jerome is classic boneheaded Batman territory, with Bruce both steadfastly determined to bring in Jerome by himself rather than leave it to the cops as well as being completely unable to entertain the notion that anyone will be allowed to die in the process. The cool thing about it, though, is that now we actually have a reason for it - he's simply so traumatized over the fallout of him killing Ra's Al Ghul that he's terrified that something like that might ever happen again.

Baby Batcat's little flirt keeps on escalating, as it's done over the show's whole run. If the show won't soon act on all that tension, it'll win the prize for "worst string-along in television history." Their dialog is extremely "Batman/Catwoman"-esque here, even mimicking a heated scene from 'Batman Returns', but the main takeaway isn't that. If I'm to pick one key part of their conversation, it would be Bruce telling Selina that "you don't owe me anything... You never did," and Selina lighting up like a sun. This is final closure for all of their contrived excuses to spend time together, as Selina is now absolute sure that Bruce is there because he wants her.

The other major thing's the evolution of how they relate to each other wordlessly. In all that matters, their age difference has vanished, and for the first time in the show's history, their connection is borderline sexual. This episode also marks the first time Bruce actually teases Selina in a romantic fashion, pulling the old "pretend-kiss" trick, rather than the other way around, and that's a very amusing touch. Also, David's scenes with Cameron are damn well-acted, and for some reason I found the scene with Jerome terrorizing his uncle, with the grunts of the fight and Bruce basically flying all over the cafeteria in the background, hysterically funny.

... and then we have Barbara And The Ninjas, which is the figurative straw to break my camel's back.

I think what makes me most angry about this episode is how it somehow manages to push me, kicking and screaming, straight into the filthy arms of the MRA crowd. I don't want to be here. I have avoided to tackle this issue head on for the longest time. Maybe I'm a coward. All I know is I can't pretend anymore, and if that pisses people off, so be it.

Here we have what Ben McKenzie refers to as a "bit of a female empowerment storyline" about Barbara Kean ascending to the post of the First Female Demon's Head of the resurgent League of Shadows. We have the straw misogynist character of the captain challenging her authority and then we have - wait for it - all the women shooting all the men in the back because they are weak and weak men must die.

This whole scene is insanely cringe-worthy; whole slews of dialog seemingly just written to tick off a checklist. I actually fast-forwarded it at my first watching once I saw where it was headed, but then I had to steel myself and power it through for the review. One of the more plain-disgusting aspects of it all is how all men are murdered only after she's easily dispatched of the token male asshole and scared all the rest of them into crawling before her in fear, effectively tripling down on the punch with three perverted Girl Power triumphs in one single set.

This discourse is toxic, and it’s hard not to get toxic in return. This is what produces tumblr posts like this:

... and reddit threads like this:

That last one is a new one, isn't it?!

It's especially interesting how Gotham's subreddit, which contrary to public thought isn't normally a woman-hating hellhole, nevertheless responds positively to the thread in question, if contentious. Likewise how nobody seemingly will challenge the gross statement of the first post in the tumblr echo chamber.

There's a standing obsession in Hollywood with writing "strong female characters" - just look at the discourse behind and after 'The Last Jedi'. Obviously that's laudable, but this is most often "realized" by appealing to the basest, most shallow, most vulgar undercurrents of the liberal-bourgeoise, identitarian pseudo-left.

In short, Hollywood rarely writes "strong women" as in believable, complex characters that you can root for. They are far more on-the-nose about it. Maybe she can lift a really heavy object?? Mostly, though, the women are shown as being "strong" by effortlessly annihilating all men looking at them the wrong way, and ironically that makes them weaker characters.

Gotham has steadily slumped into this bankrupt black pit since the third season. In fact, you can probably date it back to when Bruno Heller lost all creative power over the show, with things now seemingly run-by-committee or possibly just by Danny Cannon.

For example, see the Bruce/Selina discourse. Now, first, their scenes are magic this episode, and I love, love, love them, but this narrative remains: Bruce struggles, while Selina just wins. I don't believe we've ever seen Selina with a mark on her face after a fight. That means that Bruce has character development in that department, while Selina's just an auto-win button to use as needed.

The scene with Bruce tackling the circus strongman is perfect. It is perfect just because it is tough. The dude is three times his size!!! Bruce doesn't even win, he's about to get choked to death, and then Selina just shows up the knight in shining armor with a whip and everything's roses. But the point is Bruce tries, he doesn't give up, and we get to see this evolution first-hand. We hardly ever get the same with poor Catgirl.

However, Gotham goes one step beyond the normal discourse by taking storylines that should have rightfully belonged to male characters and giving them to women as part of the "female empowerment" shtick, and this is where it hurts the show the most, as well as where we find out how the writing truly is at fault.

Just as the grudge match between Jim, Ozzie and Sofia would ideally have been symbolically resolved between those three characters - and if the lead protagonist were female, it would have; just imagine the outcry if Luke swoops in to save the day and murder Kilgrave in the Jessica Jones finale because last episode, Kevin kicked him in the nuts! - so too the "Demon's Head" storyline rightfully belongs to Bruce.

Ra's Al Ghul forced Bruce Wayne, his prince and chosen heir, to murder him in order to succeed him. This was the most potent and original development of early season four given massive attention through several episodes, and Gotham now cheats their viewers out of the juicy consequences of that story - which would go perfectly in line with the fallout of that act according to the established mythos - with Bruce suddenly thrust into the role of the leader of some weird supernatural villain army, by handing it all over to Barbara. 

I believe the reason this is happening is that Gotham doesn't bother to create believable grudge matches for their female characters to win, nor does the show care to craft the grand arcs that could make them earn these moments on their own merits. Unlike Bruce, who made the conscious choice to kill Ra's, Barbara didn't choose to come back to life, nor did she choose this power. Ra's was her Deus ex machina, and now she's a figurehead heeding his silent whispers. In summary it's an afterthought that doesn't even win the character any agency, plastered-on to win cheap representation points.

This type of writing hurts Gotham's core fanbase. A significant chunk of that are young-to-middle-aged men. They don't want to be belittled for the deplorable act of owning a penis, and they don't want to hear that they are all evil, weak, expendable and useless. They hear that all the time, both in news and in fiction, and it's not right that they should be demonized for a collective, historical sin. As much as I hate using the term, Gotham's been a "safe space."

It also hurts the women watching the show, in part by saddling them with poorly-developed psychopaths for role models and by indoctrinating them in the belief that "men are scum who are only out to get us", but I am choosing not to go into that overtly, as I've discussed some of this numerous times in the past.

This concludes my breakdown of the current gender discourse of Gotham. I verily don't want to have to write more about it, which is part of the reason I chose to go into such detail here. I'd much rather concentrate on good, relatable stories. 

Now we have Bruce and Jim both gearing up for the fight with Jerome, Jonathan and Jervis. We have Riddler and Penguin returning to the scene. Hell, I think we might even get some progression with Bruce and Selina. As has been the case all season, next episode could very well be fantastic. Gotham has that ability to surprise you with a spectacular home run now and again.

If not for one atrocious scene I'd rated this one highly, but in a way I guess it's worth banging your head on the table for five straight minutes to get the pleasure of forty good minutes of Gotham.

P.S. Aren't the screenshot edits spiffy? I got really pleased with them. D.S.

[sobdasha]

i got caught up with this not because i did better but because i’ve had no time/watched some tv

War for the Oaks, Emma Bull I began reading this book at the same time as The Innkeeper's Song, listed below. I started out dragging my feet on this one and racing through TIS. But one book got progressively more amazing while the other book got progressively less impressive and my better book is this one. This was the roomie's first brush with urban fantasy, and one of her friends got her a second-hand first edition paperback, and so she talked about it a lot until I finally picked it up and she said "Uh but also I haven't read it in forever so I uh. Don't know how it holds up." (She rightly fears me because as you will have noticed I am a Very Particular Reader.) Reasons I disliked this book at first: - fashion choices that scream "1980s" and fashion choices that scream "lesbian" are incredibly similar and guess which of the two I am not getting, seeing as this was published in 1987. - Eddie is breaking up with her garbage boyfriend which is good but she has an incredible amount of chemistry with Carla which is disheartening given that I know I won't get sapphics and Eddie will end up dating some other boy with whom there is no chemistry. - This is a book about rock-n-roll bands I don't know any of these songs (okay I might know these songs but I don't know artists or titles so I may as well not know any of these songs) it's kinda wasted on me. - oh boy I'm so excited to watch her and the phouka fight like Kagome and Inuyasha or any other pair with this dynamic yaaaaay /sarcasm Reasons this came to be a Good Read: - Everyone dresses so goddamn queer in this book that you know what, everyone except that jerkass Stuart is queer. He's garbage so he can be straight or whatever. It's my reading experience I do what I want. There's no way these people aren't bi. Also it's canon because everyone takes one look at the phouka and assumes he's gay. …………………………with slurs but still. - Good supporting cast. - I both failed to give the phouka a deep voice and also to sustain a Stereotypical Gay voice (which, the dialogue will totally 100% support), but I did accidentally voice him with Tatum's dub of Tomoe from Kamisama Kiss which was completely appropriate in the "vaguely gay vaguely British unambiguously prissy" department, and also entertaining because it reminded me of the dynamics in that anime but, y'know, better. - I almost gave up when the romance hit hardcore but it turned out later that was actually a fake-out that was meant to be garbage and set us up for the endgame much later, by which point Eddie and the phouka actually had the same level of chemistry as Eddie and Carla, so I could actively enjoy the ship. A win! Anyway it was fun. It may not have aged the best in the sense that it strove to be accurate to time and place (see: homophobic slurs), but the character dynamics held up pretty dang well. I would definitely read this again and enjoy myself; in fact I plan to.

The Innkeeper's Song, Peter S. Beagle I was very excited to read this because I was so blown away by The Last Unicorn but the more I read the more disappointed I got. Half the time I feel like that weeb who is like "hello I only like your fanfic you wrote when you were 13 and high on pixie stixs, all your stuff now sucks", and half the time I tell myself, "Maybe there is a reason I've only ever heard of The Last Unicorn and had no idea he'd actually written other books." As you have probably picked up by now, I have a knee-jerk dislike of first person PoV where it must prove itself worthy to me first, despite the fact that I like plenty of things written in first person. I also have a knee-jerk dislike of "I will change the narrator every chapter and announce loudly who it is instead of doing it subtly but unmistakably in the content of the text itself." This book had both. Despite all my harsh judgment, it would be incorrect of me to say that this writing choice is not valid. That this writing choice cannot be used to amazing effect. I do not believe that is what happened here. I did not feel it was adding much to the story to begin with (other than being the shortest and straightest path to advancing a narrative with many fronts), and I was definitely unimpressed when we got to the string of chapters, all of them less than a page and some no more than a paragraph, during the orgy scene where the 3 women have sex with 1 teen boy who's been thirsting after them, and they pay him a lot of worshipful attention in the orgy even though none of them actually like him, and also this is when we reveal one of the women is a man in disguise in the most confusing way possible so my cringe got even deeper as I waited for Beagle to fuck up a trans storyline. (It was literally just "I'm on the run so I'm magically dressing as a girl" but it took a really long time to clarify that after.) In addition to not liking the narrative structure, I just wasn't interested or invested in the actual plot. It didn't feel very urgent or important and at the end I was like "what even happened and also why did it happen." I was underwhelmed. I was definitely the wrong audience for this book. Oh also because I was not enjoying myself I started to get really irrationally annoyed by the way fantasy fauna and flora would have fantasy names and they would be italicized. In a first person PoV. Where the narrator is literally speaking the language that this word is native to. It half felt pretentious, and half highlighted what felt like a loose thread: everyone is literally narrating to someone (presumably collecting the story, after everyone has gone their separate ways) and this has all been woven together into a proper narrative, but our story collector is absent despite addresses to such a person. What purpose does this serve? Does it make it more ~authentic~ fantasy? Because I don't buy it. Now my suspension of disbelief is snapped; I'd have preferred it was either left out entirely, or made into a brilliant framing device like in The Name of the Wind.

Giant Bones, Peter S. Beagle This one was short stories "set in the same universe as The Innkeeper's Song", which basically meant some city names were reused, as well as all those italicized fantasy names and the "I am narrating my story to an audience in-story" frame. You know, all the things I didn't particularly care for. I pressed on to see if there was anything I might like, but since I can't remember, I assume there wasn't. Because this left me wanting, and the title was Giant Bones, I went to reread Conservation of Shadows by Lee instead, starting with "The Bones of Giants," which was greatly preferable, so much more my speed. That's when I did the write-up for the last round of books lol.

Nimona, Noelle Stevenson This has been on my list for Forever but I'm bad at reading new books. Anyway! Nimona was very good!! It felt, hm, very self-indulgent in the way that is amazing, where the creator gives themself whatever they want and the work turns out brilliantly because of it. I didn't think I was into friends to enemies to lovers but apparently I love it wen Stevenson handles it (see: She Ra reboot). Speaking of She Ra, I probably would have figured out where the end game was going if I'd read Nimona before looool. I know people referenced it when they talked ships but I just….didn't...pay enough attention. There was found family stuff I enjoyed, dad stuff, I'm finding that I am liking a lot of takes on monster girls, etc. Anyway it gave me a lot of feelings, it was funny, it was good, I need to get a copy.

The Dragon Pearl, Yoon Ha Lee The first time I talked about this book I mentioned something about the pacing and suspending disbelief or whatever, but I want to note that this time the pacing felt perfect and the plot didn't seem weird at all, it flowed very smoothly. I don't know if that's because it was a reread and I knew where it was going, or because I just read it awkwardly the first time. Anyway. Something that stood out to me this time is that, near the end, I realized this story is a bit animated Disney Mulan. There's even the "you broke this you broke that you impersonated a soldier but also you saved China so thanks" bit. Where The Dragon Pearl is wildly different from other Mulan-type stories that I like (see: Monstrous Regiment) is that it is entirely ungendered. (There are some mentions of gender in the book. These amount mostly to, "most foxes choose to be female because Tradition but one of my cousins decided to be male like my brother and no one mocks him for it" and "official name tags also include handy signifiers of which personal pronouns a person prefers.") What I'm trying to say is, a lot of other stuff when dealing with/trying to deconstruct gender stereotyping, ends up reinforcing it in a way. In order to illustrate why the stereotypes are wrong, they end up repeating the stereotypes a lot in order to argue against them. The Dragon Pearl, on the other hand, is genderless in a way that doesn't reinforce the gender binary. There are no gendered clothes. There are no gendered bathrooms. There are no gendered hairstyles or accessories. There are no gendered actions or emotions or stereotypes. There are no gendered bodies (the differences highlighted between Min and Jang-who-she's-shapeshifting-into are of build ie, height, center of gravity, not of private bits). No plot points revolve around the maleness of the person Min is impersonating; no plot points revolve around the femaleness of Min. And they/them? It's never explained why any person uses that pronoun. They just do so that's just how it is. I just think this is amazingly neat and I wanna applaud Lee for this finesse.

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, Mackenzi Lee I put this on my list because Queer and people were recommending it, but it was not well-advertized to me. I was expecting shallow teen romance, but dressed in historical clothes and unsubtly, unabashedly, unashamedly GAY. So I was expecting some gay. I was not expecting gay pining I actually enjoyed, I was not expecting call-outs for privilege of wealth and class and sex and color, I was not expecting the drama of the romance to not be stupidly fabricated misunderstandings but instead be driven by the need for character development and personal growth, I had forgotten I was expecting people of color, people with disabilities, badass women, I was not expecting a nuanced call-out of ableism ("I don't believe I need to be well to be happy", etc). I was not expecting a reversal of gender stereotypes that avoided saying "X gender is bad." Like, Monty is the team weakest link. Monty faints at the sight of blood. Monty is romantic and emotional and swoons at the slightest provocation. Monty uses his wiles to seduce people, that's the main skill he actually brings to the party. Monty cries. Aside from probably Monty's asshole dad who hates him for being gay, no one else nor the narrative calls these traits out as being Feminine (And Therefore Bad). Like, haha, We All Know These Are All Stereotypes Of Women At The Time, but no one says it. I find there's something really nice about no one saying it. Meanwhile, Percy and Felicity are competent and cool and I heart them. (What the hell, I heart Monty too. He really grows on you. He's so soft and in love and pathetic.) Anyway going back to the privilege thing, I love that Percy and Felicity and others constantly call Monty out on his privilege and refuse to coddle him over it. But they also care about him and they are very tender to him, not because of his privilege, but because he is a person who deserves basic person things, when he has his own issues. Your issues don't excuse your behavior, but yikes we deeply underestimated the sheer depth of your PTSD and we're gentler with you because of it. So try to stop being an ass. This book is just super wholesome and I can already tell this will be one of my new go-to's when I need a comfort book. Like Ancillary Justice etc.

The Gentleman's Guide to Getting Lucky, Mackenzi Lee This is not a fanfiction in the sense that is it written by the author and not a fan, but you need to understand, as part of me selling this to you as earnestly as I can, this is a fanfiction set after The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue which involves hijinks as Monty and Percy try and fail hilariously to have their first time having sex together, Felicity tries to wingman, there are miscommunications and nervous breakdowns and tender resolutions and it is absolutely a perfect indulgence. Because it was written by the actual author everyone is 100% in character and the narrative voice is spot-on. Kudos!

The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy, Mackenzi Lee Ace/aro Felicity???? ACE/ARO FELICITY!!! TBH I only vaguely remembered the descriptions for this one, ie "this time it's lesbians," and I was reading this going "there is a suspicious lack of lesbians but so much platonic vibes and also…..maybe…..maybe…????" and like I got both lesbians AND ace/aro Felicity????? Lee wrote this book? As a gift? For me???? I cannot believe I was blessed with "not like other girls"!Felicity as a vehicle for calling out the internalized misogyny inherent in the Not Like Other Girls mindset, and it is glorious. You can like pretty dresses and running around doing science, or you can hate dresses and only love science, or you can only like pretty dresses, or you can like whatever the heck you want in whatever combo, doesn't matter you're still a girl you're still valid and this shit isn't mutually exclusive. Much as I don't wear makeup (I've slowly learned to wear dresses again) in real life, gosh I love Johanna for being like "I love dresses and I love science and what if I was a badass adventurer but also got to be rescued a lot" because that was bitty me. Gimme a princess dress and a sword and a bow and arrows but also a tower to be rescued from and then various adventures. I want it both ways! And that's okay!! Also this is a critique I have apparently wanted since at least 3rd grade, see this proof from my daily journal prompts, I apologize for my lack of attention to spelling and forming letters: "Girls are what ever girls are. Girls like different things so I con't judge them all. Some girls like barbies. Just becaus you my not like barbies dosn't mean those girls aren't girls, it means they like more things that hove barbies. I like nintendo and I'm a girl." Apparently I was a Not Like Other Girls who thought Other Girls were still extremely valid. (that's kind of hilarious though because like, child, you had Barbies and didn't hate Barbies, you are just bad at playing with dolls and props. You're also bad at playing Nintendo.) Other stuff specifically, hm, it was refreshing to not have "I am skinny and perfect and clearly ugly" or even "I am legitimately ugly." Instead we have, "You do realize my torso is a solid rectangle, it laughs at this corset which I guess we are going to put on anyway, also my football player shoulders are going to literally pop the sleeves off that dress" and "I am built like a corgi dog, this is simply a fact of my proportions." Like, Felicity definitely has Issues with her traditional femininity and lack thereof, but I feel like it was never specifically tied to "my body shape is ugly." Also to go back to this book being written for me personally. You know they always say to write things that only you could write, that are self-indulgent, write what you want to see? It's really hard to do without a template to follow. Right before I picked up this book I realized that maybe The Thing Only I Would Write would be saying "a Skadi-and-Njord marriage is in fact a valid happy ending," but I've never seen that before and I don't know what it would look like even if I kind of understand the concept. All the media I consume, if not ending in romantic soulmates, is at least found family. If you are a loner, if you like being alone, your happy ending is to get a manic-pixie-dream-anything (girl, grandson, grandma, dog, whathaveyou) and integrate back into being social. There are no happy endings where a loner stays alone, where you get married but live separately and see each other very rarely because you love them but can't stand to live with them and you need to be alone to exist as you. And Mackenzi Lee just up and wrote it. It's valid to want to live in a house by yourself filled with bookshelves and have friends. It's valid for a girl to marry another girl who is a pirate and sails around most of the time and only comes to visit on occasion so you don't get sick of her and you keep loving her. This is an okay thing for an ace/aro to want, and it's valid to be happy with this. I can't even, y'all. I'm still marveling. I finally have seen a picture of the life I know would make me happy, and it's finally been acknowledged that I can be happy. (The amount of time I've spent, knowing I hate being social, and wondering--how many years down the line, when I'm living alone and content, will the switch suddenly flip? How many bridges will I have left behind when it turns out that I actually feel loneliness, and I'm miserable and unable to make friends and it turns out there are no manic pixie dream whatevers in real life and I fucked myself over forever because I was wrong and I should have been maintaining these social ties now and turning into someone I'm sure I'm not? What if people like me, who don't really get lonely without people, don't actually exist??) Anyway representation matters. Also Felicity being blindsided with Callum's proposal was, wow, okay I should have caught on to ace!Felicity then because that was so very accurate to my life experience minus people cutting fingers off. Look I was quoting stuff at the end to a friend and she was like "maybe that's why there's aces on the cover" and I am a very stupid ace okay. Felicity and Johanna's intense queerplatonic friendship that they keep trying to take up again in among the same sort of "you need character growth" drama that Monty needed re: Percy is also just, chef kiss, god I love this book. I need to buy this book. I haven't yet so what I did is I renewed all the books so I could immediately reread them after I finished them the first time.