#when i was younger i did wonder how the story books world worked and worried it was frozen without and author
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A short messy ramble on why Rue's ending makes me heartbreak
@jackalope-antlers reblogged my tags from a princess tutu post so I shall answer them!
Heads up I'm sick with a cold atm and very anxious with current events so most of what's below is very much a word barf.
Okay, rue's ending is something that always felt very bittersweet to me. We know she was a human girl the raven took away at a young age so her disappearing into the story feels odd. Compared to Fakir and Duck who agree to let the story end. Rue goes with Mytho. I don't think she was ready to step out of the framework of the "fairytale princess". She's young, still hurting, and needs to heal. So I can't say I don't see how running off to a simpler world isn't appealing. Staying in Gold Crown Town would mean digging up a lot of old wounds.
Rue never lets the story end, just letting the finale/happy ending play on a loop. I wish she stayed behind got the world she was taken from a new light. Make new relationships on her own not seeing her sole source of love being dependent on the prince. The prince who she's been told since she was little loves everyone and, thus is the only person she thinks can love her. She still ends the story thinking way, that she has nowhere else to go to be happy but the story.
A story where she knows she's the only "real" person. Mytho is still someone Drosselmyer created. Even in the ending slides where sees many characters living their lives she just performs the wedding pas de deux with mytho and they freeze in place. The story can't continue, it will be frozen in one spot without a writer. It felt like a very stagnant ending for her and Mytho. They've grown so much, so going to World Drosselmyer created seems sad in a way.
#maybe im being too dower#when i was younger i did wonder how the story books world worked and worried it was frozen without and author#i got a semi canon answer with post ending skit the author made#which just made me more sad for rue and duck#i just want rue to live her life meet many different people who will love her#that her sole source of love doesnt have to only be mytho#i need to rewatch princess tutu#princess tutu#i might remove the tag
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Gaz taking care of his babies while his wife has a birthday spa day? 🥹🥹🥹🥹
this is... something? i tried okay <3
you'd heard horror stories from other wives about leaving your kids alone with your kids alone with just their dad, but you knew that when it came to kyle--you didn't have a single thing to worry about.
that man had the kids routines memorised, even when he was off on the other side of the world fighting the monsters that hide in the dark. he knew when to call to say goodnight, if he could, when not to call because it would be bath time, and what football team his sons under 7's team were playing every week.
kyle garrick was a great father and a fantastic husband--having sent you off for a birthday spa retreat where you could truly have some time off from being a mother. you carried the family when he was away, so when he wasn't deployed he made every second count, and took on the weight of the family.
he hadn't wanted to bother you with updates during your day and night away, so he and the kids had instead taken plenty of photos and videos to show you when you came back.
you sit now on your family's couch, snuggled up to kyle while your kids cuddle up on each side of you, and you all watch the video kyle had put together.
the first shot is a video of you driving away, them saying they loved you and to have a good time, then the camera immediately cut to a video of them all in the kitchen, baking a cake for you'd return. both of your children throw flour at each other, while kyle films the whole thing. then it shifts to a picture of him back in the kitchen, the entire place spotless with him and the kids grinning.
after the cake chaos, there are clips of them all gaming together for their allotted screen time. kyle had used the couch cushions to construct makeshift cars while the kids played mario kart. your son let his younger sister win at least once, and the image of the characters on the podium makes you smile. the camera was even left running to capture the kids not complaining even once when their dad tells them it's time to finish.
and then came the clips of bedtime--your daughters first. her and kyle were currently working through a re-read of her set of bluey books. there's one book in the set she never lets you read, only her dada. you watch kyle sit next to your girl, reading the story with such enthusiasm and even doing his terribly amazing australian accent.
next was your son's bedtime, and seeing your two boys together always warms your heart. kyle is always teaching your son to be the best little man he can be, even if it's not the traditional way of being. you watch as your son asks questions about how much his dada loves you, as he wonders aloud about his future spouse.
the video comes to a close with a shot of kyle in your shared bed, clutching your pillow close to him as he cuddles up for the night.
"aww, I love it. I'm so glad you all had such a good time while I was gone!" you smile from ear to ear, heart completely full at the video made by your family.
"we did!" your son cheers, just a touch too loudly in your ear. "did you have a good time?"
you nod fervently, your smile mirrored on your kids faces. you pull your son in for a smooch to the cheek, as your daughter cuddles close to her dadam "yes baby, i did, though i missed you all so much."
which is the truth, you did miss your family while you were gone, but you also really appreciated some time just for yourself. you make a mental note to return the favour for kyle, or to arrange something for just the two of you.
"go grab your mum's cake from the fridge, yeah?" kyle says, sending the kids out of the living room and into the kitchen, giving the two of you time alone.
you turn to your husband, about to thank him when he pulls you in for a deep, sensual kiss. your eyes flutter shut, as kyle kisses you like he's missed you for so long, not just a night.
"i love you, kyle." you sigh into his lips.
"love you too." he replies, before smirking filthily. "got a video to show you later though, your eyes only."
#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick fanfic#kyle garrick#bunny writes
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Ok now for a list of things that I'm kind of iffy about or wish they had kept from the books. It's worth noting that I can't think of a single show exclusive scene they added that I did not like, and most of the changes were integrated flawlessly.
Starting out, the pacing. I'm hoping this gets better with time, especially given that the second episode has much more time to breathe. The whole first episode felt a little cramped, and some of the exposition felt a bit... exposition-y. I don' t think there is much they could have done to get around this though so I'm not gonna dwell on it.
As a fan of the series, I love how they introduced the structure and function of the PJO world with the intro, but I think the jump from "Percy sees things" to "everything is all real" felt a bit abrupt. I am curious what first time fans think about this, and again the first episode covers a lot more ground page-wise than ep 2.
Manchild Gabe... I am not sure how I feel about this. In the books he seemed downright threatening and even with Percy's 12yo bravado, he was still an intimidating figure. His bickering with Sally seemed more like your typical dysfunctional relationship than a power imbalance... both can be harmful in their own way, but I'm still undecided on how much giving Sally a bit more agency in her relationship with him effects the larger story. The whole "not all monsters look like monsters" thing works well in the books with Gabe, but I guess they were redirecting it to foreshadow Luke's betrayal? I'm not sure.
...which brings me to Sally. I was unsure about the casting, but she has earned her stay to me. I always imagined her as a bit more subdued, especially with the more intense iterations of Gabe. She's kind and gentle and has a rebellious streak, but as worried as she might be for Percy she hides it inside of herself. I think her being a bit more expressive as a character works in this setting though, especially since we aren't seeing her through Percy's kid colored lenses. She feels a bit less like the perfect, kind, and understanding mother Percy sees, and a bit more like a real-life single mother trying to keep some of that childhood wonder alive despite everything. She does seem younger than I would have expected, but that's a nitpick on my end. I think she is one character that I will always have a separate book/show counterpart for in my mind.
Ok. Now for Clarisse. Out of all the characters I was skeptic about, I think she's the only one who didn't win me over. This is a writing issue, nothing at all to do with the actress. She was characterized more as a 'queen bee' type mean girl than a bully who picks fights just to feel worthy of her father's approval. She would be better fit for a vindictive daughter of Aphrodite than a daughter of Ares. My mind might be changed in the future but we got most of her scenes in these first two episodes so I'm doubtful. The one moment that had potential was when Percy broke her spear, but the Clarisse I know would not back off just because there is an audience.
There was no hellhound... I was kinda looking forward to it, and it does emphasize that even camp isn't really safe for Percy and is a catalyst for both his quest and the idea that there is a traitor. I can kind of see why the cut it for thematic purposes so Percy feels safe for once in his life, but that's only if I squint.
The scene cuts. I know, I know they're supposed to mimic book chapters. I get it. But it just doesn't work for me, it feels like there's a lack of establishing shots and the black screen is long enough you think the tv is buffering. It's an interesting idea in concept, but the execution falls flat.
OH also as far as things that were missing- the 3 fates. I know this is in the show since it was in the trailers, but I'm curious as to where they're gonna put it now.
Anyways minor nitpicks aside these two episodes were an emotional roller coaster and absolute masterpieces of television cinema.
#pjo#percy series#pjo tv show#pjo tv spoilers#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo episode 1#pjo episode 2#pjo tv ep1#pjo tv ep2#pjo analysis#pjo meta#percy jackson#sally jackson#gabe ugliano#clarisse la rue#jess's thoughts
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𝙎𝙖𝙪𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙚
(N): a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved then lost; “the love that remains.
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff (I think)
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Silver (vanrouge)
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On
𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Oneshot.
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: They/them
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s you and I, keeping our story under the wraps
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: None.
What else were you gonna say about your life? That you wish it didn’t have to be like this or that you’re bored out of your mind? You liar~ Nothing was boring with him around, wasn’t it?
Your prince, Silver was everything you wanted in a lover and more, opposite to most of the student at NRC he was a pure gentleman to you and a sweet lover even with his strange sleeping schedule. Despite being in a secret relationship, having it well kept between you and him only, you both can’t help but make a few people stare at you with the look of ‘something feels weird’
Maybe we should go back to the start of how you both came to be? It’s not a long story when you think about it, in fact he was the one who approached you, just after Leona’s overblot.
“Silver, thank you for helping us, Prefect…?” Silver hair and aurora eyes, he was breathing taking for a first meeting.
“(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n). Glad to be of service to you and Diasomnia.” You quickly brushed it off though, back then you still hadn’t entirely gotten over the overblot situation and was still so scared.
“…Are you okay?” If he hadn’t asked that would he have made an impact on you? Would you still have remembered those lilac eyes? Maybe you would, but you also wouldn’t.
“Ah I’m good! Thank you for worrying.” You had no choice but to keep to yourself, a world you’re unfamiliar with, did Silver saw his younger self in you?
It was a strange meeting maybe but, just with those little words you kept hearing over and over again, your heart began to loosen up a bit. After that meeting, you both coincidentally kept meeting each other, what was it they often say?
Once was chance, you never thought you’d see him again after the spell drive tournament, neither did he, in all honesty you had already kind of liked him like how friends would.
“Oh it’s you prefect, what brings you to the library?” You happen to visit the library to review for the mid-terms, looks like you happen to meet him again.
“Mid-terms, I just needed something on the ‘New age of Lacuna’” since being a first year focused more on information and writing you had no choice but to read references for history class.
“I have it, you wanna read it together?” What’s the worse that could happen between sharing and reading a book? The spark to your relationship of course.
Twice is a coincidence, your relationship started to bloom as you both kept in touch for school problems, you began to talk to him more about your problems with unable to handle most of the work handed, he talked to you about his sleeping problems.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Poker face from start to end, every time you saw him you wonder what he would like liked if he started smiling.
“Haha I’m kind of just buying essentials but nice to see you to, Silver.” Sam came back and handed you a bag filled with hygiene things as well as a separate box for Tuna cans.
“You need help?” Despite protesting, Silver still carried the heavy box of tuna cans for you, at this point you were already somewhere on the verge of falling in love.
“ You really don’t have to help me.” All you had as an answer was his hunm in agreement.
“So? I wanted to help you.” Honestly it’s a miracle you haven’t started staring at him up and down, or maybe you did? Either way you were sure your heart was beating of your rib cage when you saw those lovely eyes.
Thrice was fate, the third time you met and afterwards all you could began to think was about him. You did consider the chances of being in a relationship with him, you really did but you were just so afraid of breaking your heart for so many reasons that you started distancing yourself from him.
“Prefect, what are you hiding here for?” That afternoon you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t even attend class, you just had to make a deal with Azul and was facing a huge chance of losing the Ramshackle dorm.
“…” you didn’t know what to do other than stare at the ground, as you sat on the grassy field all alone with your thoughts.
“I happened to hear about your situation… if you want you could stay with me.” His words surprised you, however it wasn’t the fact that you could have the potential of losing your dorm that made you so tired, it was the planning on breaking in a museum.
“I- really thank you, but I’m fine, I don’t want to bother you.” He looked bothered by your words, was it something you said?
“Idiot, you can’t keep going on like this, you’ll burn yourself out.” With that said though you thought he’d go away, but it surprisingly he stayed there, he stayed there for you.
Let’s just say after your fourth meeting, you and him just closer and closer than before, how were you so lucky as to meet him?
More and on about your relationship, you both felt like there was no reason to announce it and just left it just as it is, however when you both eventually started dating there was a big talk about how you both were gonna meet each other with your schedules being a bit different and busy.
In the end, you both just decided to go on dates at night, most of them were picnic dates, some times a walk in the woods, there were also study dates. Although his strange sleeping habit of falling asleep in the middle of nowhere gave you a heart attack, you found it quite cute, you avoided walks after his last falling asleep in the woods.
It would have been fun if you could have continued keeping your relationship just low-key, but it didn’t stay as a secret for long. Just somewhere around winter break, your lover wanted to bring you home with him however you couldn’t agree.
“Are you sure, darling? It’s rough staying at the school in breaks, I’m not forcing you but are you sure?” You felt his hands in your hair, untangling the knots and giving you a gentle head massage.
“Yes, I’m sure, I’ll be fine sweetie. Don’t worry too much about me.” You wished moments like these would last forever, they can last right?
“If you ever change your mind just give me a call alright?” You really wanted to go with him, but the crow really just had to make you babysit the school while he was away.
“Am I interrupting something?” Out of the dark and dimness of the lounge where you laid on your lover’s chest, Grim stood at the door annoyed and probably hungry.
That night you had to try and bribe grim from saying anything about your relationship, why you did that? You had no idea but just felt like it. Silver on the other hand didn’t really mind if news about your relationship got out, but since it looked like you didn’t enjoy it he just let you do as you pleased.
“Is there a reason why we should keep our relationship a secret?” Scribbling away you don’t seem to hear much of what he was saying, maybe it was something about his side of work?
“Not really, I’m not sure why… I’ve rarely been in a relationship before so I guess I was just worried?” When you managed to make out what he was saying you kind of just answered what you thought of first, should have payed attention to what he said.
“So you don’t mind if we made it public?”
“Well.. no, I really don’t mind”
“Hm”
Maybe if you were more conscious and thought careful about why he asked that, then maybe you could hold have been more mentally prepared. Because that was how you got into your current situation.
On the day of him going back home, you were also invited by some of your friends as well, mainly Deuce and Ace and just like with Silver you declined them, saying goodbye to your friends was like parents seeing their children off on a trip, ‘thank god they’re gone’.
“(Y/n), mind if I talked to you for a second?” He tapped on your shoulder, Ace and Deuce didn’t really noticed and just thought Silver needed something from you.
“Yeah su-“ All he needed from you was a goodbye kiss, and one that you didn’t even had the chance to react or explain to them, they all just stared at you as if you grew multiple heads.
What you technically didn’t expect was him giving you pda in public, that was one way of telling the world you both were dating but can’t he tell you beforehand? Now you’re as red as a tomato.
“SILVER, WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE BENEVOLENT THORN WITCH WAS THAT?!” Sebek gently asked in a not so gentle way, you just hid your face in Silver’s chest out of malfunctioning.
“A goodbye kiss, have Lilia and Malleus arrived?” He still hugged you, warm hands around your waist, you would have hit him but you loved him too much to do so.
You felt stares that seemed to burn into your skull, Ace and Deuce really wanted answers to what they just witnessed, they felt betrayed, how dare you keep your love life away from them?
“(Y/n)…”
“I can explain, hear me out.”
Despite saying that they still bombarded you with more questions you didn’t know how to answer, your lover just chuckled and had a rare smile on his face, oh no, you think you just fell harder in love with him.
“I’ll see you after break, remember, call me if you need anything” leaving you he began to walk away, perhaps you were feeling bold and didn’t notice Lilia right away.
“Hold on now, here’s one more goodbye kiss from me” kissing his cheek you chuckled as his face grew a bit red as well.
“You didn’t tell me you had a lover Silver, you wound this old bat” a smirk from Lilia, a grumble of embarrassment from your lover, he was definitely gonna get teased by Lilia later.
Thanks for reading! Please like and reblog it would help me out so much, thank you!
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#silver x reader#twst fluff#silver vanrouge x reader#silver twst
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Healing Blood Facts
Just like with the Cat Facts, this one is so you can understand what it's like to have healing blood and how it will affect the flow of the stories. I hope that this will help the stories be more immersive for you, as the reader, when you delve into this little world of mine that I intertwined with Supernatural.
Word Count: 1042
No warnings here. This is just infomation on how having healing blood works. If you have questions I haven't addressed, please share them in the comments. I don't always think of everything, and your questions, as the reader, help me think outside my little world.
----------------------------------------- Healing Blood Facts
So, having healing blood was interesting. There were things it worked on and things it didn’t. Plus, it made it so that some things still affected you normally while others did nothing for you, like some medications.
Injuries were also interesting. If you got a cut, that would heal. So would broken bones. But a headache, those you had to deal with. However, if you did something like stub your toe, that didn’t heal either. And you felt everything. Your nerves almost seemed more sensitive. That was why you typically always wore jeans and always had a flannel on over whatever shirt you were wearing, to keep as much of your skin covered as possible.
Emotional things weren’t healable, so to speak. Neither was how your brain was wired. So, if you had something like executive dysfunction, you just had to find a way to live with it. The same was true for things like insomnia, autism, ADHD, and a slew of other mental disorders that weren’t injuries. Amnesia, though, that would heal, but it would take time, depending on just how bad the injury was.
Then there were things like alcohol or “mind-altering substances.” Beer did nothing for you. You even tested it a few times, and after almost two dozen beers in one sitting, you didn’t even feel buzzed, so you had given up. Spirits, however, almost had the opposite effect, like you were more susceptible to the effects of them. (A/N: In some stories, alcohol barely affects you, and you have to drink far more just to get a buzz, like two full bottles of whiskey, as an example. I will make sure to clarify in the given story.)
Now, there were things on the microscopic level. Scientific things you had delved into so you could understand why you seemed to stop aging once you hit twenty-five, and still looked a little younger than that. Most of it gave you a headache, but it had to do with Telomeres and how they repaired themselves. Since your blood healed you, you didn’t experience the same deterioration that a normal person did. You did learn that your blood healed things that had to do with damage to your body. Not natural damage, like building muscles. So, if something was damaged, your blood healed it. That meant no aging, no disease, and you began questioning if you could die or be killed. Your only main worry there was the Colt, as there were only five things it couldn’t kill, and as far as you knew, you weren’t one of those things. You briefly wondered if an angel could smite you, or if a demon could use some weird power, but you didn’t want to find out. It wasn’t like you’d run into an angel, even if you weren’t sure they were real.
However, that came with drawbacks. If a vampire got a hold of you, it meant you were a never-ending food source as long as they kept you fed. But, if they kept you just weak enough, you couldn’t escape either. You were also pretty sure that your blood would be a valuable asset in spells, for a multitude of reasons. Then there were other monsters that fed on humans in different ways and you really didn’t want to find out just how far your healing ability went.
You wondered if there were spells that could possibly nullify your healing ability. There were spells for everything, but it wasn’t like you had access to books to look into it. Could a witch counter the powers of the Gods? Was that even possible? But in all honesty, you didn’t want to find out. So, you typically stayed away from witches.
Something interesting you discovered on a hunt was that your blood had the ability to heal others if they were injured. You’d gotten a cut, but the innocent you were trying to save from a werewolf had been hurt far worse. You were looking over their wound when some of your blood got into it. The wound had started to stitch itself together, right before your eyes.
That had your mind racing with questions. Just how far did your healing ability go when it came to others? However, it was something you didn’t want to test. The last thing you needed was to end up in some government facility as some lab rat. Or worse, caged by some human on a power trip who wanted to market your blood as the fountain of youth or a cure-all.
It wasn’t even about your heart pumping your blood. It was your blood, period. So, that was where crazy questions came to mind. Could you regrow body parts? Could you regrow organs if they were removed? Like, if someone or something cut out your heart, would it regrow? And, during that time, would you be conscious, or would you be in a state of sleep? Or, crazier yet, would you “see” heaven like others do in their near-death experiences? If one of your limbs or organs was removed and put onto someone else, would your blood affect that person, and for how long? Then there were the insane questions. Oh, you thought those were insane. Those were mild. The most insane one that crossed your mind was when you wondered if consistent transfusions of your blood would reverse aging in someone. That, too, was something you didn’t want to test or get captured and have someone or something test it out.
The other insane question, could your blood cure people who had been turned into vampires or, werewolves, or any other monster that originally started out as human? See, it’s one thing to ingest something, digest it. It’s different when it’s injected directly into the bloodstream. So that was how your mind had ended up on that line of thinking. It was something you weren’t sure you wanted to test, though, at least not alone.
Most of the time, though, you never thought about these things. It wasn’t until one of these things was staring you in the face that it would cross your mind. So, yeah, having healing blood made your mind spin with questions, most of which you didn’t want answers to.
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Thanks to a ✨depression haze✨ taking its sweet time to vamoosh from my mind i am only now able to form words about the Doctor Who trailer.
Fifteen has been in the grand total of the last quarter of The Giggle, The Church On Ruby Road & (2) trailers & he’s my second favourite Doctor of all time. I. Love. This. Version. Abolish UNIT's flooring king & leave the bill for your younger self <3 Every time I think of Fifteen, I think back to 2021 where me & my housemate were standing in the kitchen saying based on our mutual love for Eric Effiong that Ncuti Gatwa would be a good Doctor Who.
THE MUSIC 🎵 CHANGES🎵 honestly I went feral as soon as it started playing. For YEARS I have associated different Bowie songs with Twelve, Bill Potts & Danny Pink so I was screeching like a person deranged.
Will say though considering The Goblin Song, the musical notes around Ruby & the trip to The Beatles I wonder if music will play a core theme in this season? Little things like words on posters & names said aloud throughout the first RTD era turned out to be vital elements so I’m wondering if we’ll get something similar like that again.
VERY happy to see Cherry & Carla back. I always thought they would be seeing as RTD clearly loves his companions to have families & love that he’s returned to writing about & showing the importance of found/adoptive families like he did for The Sarah Jane Adventures 😊 did not get great vibes from the “I’m still her mum, I need to know she’ll be ok.” Line & the promise but again it’s RTD’s writing, he made it seem like Rose & Donna would be dead within their respective seasons & both of them are thriving with their respective versions of the Doctor.
THE SHOT OF HOLOGRAM!TEN/METATEN/FOURTEEN/FOURTENTH?!? love them, love him LOVE THEM but I hope it's just an image or someone flickering through & showing Fifteen pictures of his past selves like they’ve done in The Eleventh Hour, Nightmare In Silver, Twice Upon A Time, The Timeless Children etc & not a “Fifteen & Fourteen work on a UNIT mission together via holograms.” To me at least, it seems a little too soon to do another multi Doctor story especially when it’s only Fifteen’s first season.
THE CALLBACK TO MARTHA JONES & BILL POTTS WORRYING ABOUT STEPPING ON THE BUTTERFLY 😂🤩😂 me & my mum laughed so hard at this but at the same time, it’s adding to my theory that “doing the salt” at the edge of the universe IS responsible for myths/legends/theories actually happening in the Whoniverse now like the salt, the bi-regeneration, The Goblin King because in the song there’s a line that gave me this theory the “he’s not a myth, he’s an actual thing.” This will definitely be me reading too much into it but that’s just the conclusion I’ve come to.
I saw Indira Varma in (1) frame 😳 I had IMMEDIATE ✨gay thoughts✨ she is so beautiful 😍 BUT she started turning into a creature & I am not & never shall be a monsterfucker (even though admittedly the carrionites had me questioning things) but it will be a TEST OF STRENGTH.
There was what looked to be a flesh bowl & I immediately thought of The Gangers & seeing as Moffat’s emerging perhaps they’re making their return. After what happened with Bill Potts, Danny Pink & certain favourite characters of mine from my second favourite book in the entire world back in 2020 I am on the ✨fence✨ about The Return Of Moffat but he is ultimately incredible at writing a good horror story so if he does another one episode horror that’ll traumatise me for life & after, fair enough.
The alienvenom being in the corridor near made me yeet behind my sofa so I’m looking forward to seeing that story.
I’ve seen horror films I’ve gone through an ACTUAL HAUNTING & still nothing prepared me from how i nearly expired when i realised that THERE'S SOMETHING STANDING IN THE BACKGROUND IN TWO RUBY SCENES 😨
I’m gonna talk about ✨the scream✨ @ the Ruby of it all in another couple of posts.
Saw the Tardis console sparking: immediately wondered if there was any left over coffee in there 😅
I AM GOING TO LOSE IT WHEN I SEE ROSE NOBLE AGAIN 🥹 MY BEST GIRL IS COMING BACK 🥹 Lovely to see Mel! Hope this means more Classic Who companions will return at some stage (for the sake of how funny it would be unleash a NewNewWho Doctor on Jamie McCrimmon whilst the actor is still alive & willing to be part of the Whoniverse)
Fifteen saluting in his regency outfit (In the realm of fanfic in my head I am imagining Captain Jack Harkness being on the receiving end of that salute) but maybe it’ll be Jonathan Groffs new character? Whoever they are I hope him & The Doctor have enough gay activity between them that’ll make my family members who don’t like Fifteen when they “come across as gay” uncomfortable <3
The weathered Tardis near the sea reminds me of The Ghost Monument. I hope they make a figure/pop of the weathered Tardis, I need it for my collection 😅 I hope we get a The Ghost Monument mention just to annoy my family who still actively talk about how much they disliked 13’s era.
I am going to go a new level of feral in May, Fifteen ily so much 🥹
#fifteenth doctor#ruby sunday#carla sunday#cherry sunday#new new who#ncuti gatwa#moffat critical#doctor who#whoniverse#kat’s thoughts 🍄#long post
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Adventures of Chika Hanabusa: The Restoration of Earth
Disclaimer: This book follows the events of Percy Jackson and Heros of Olympus fanfic, this fanfic will not include Trails of Apollo, The Kane Chronicles, and Magnus Chase.
Chapter 18: Relaxing Day
Reyna PoV
As Chika and I get off the bus, we walk back to the 2-story house with the same highchair at the front. We went inside and we saw Isshin wearing stained jeans and a flannel full of holes. Isshin is a buff Japanese man with silky hair tied in a ponytail, Chika does share her eye shape and head shape with her father. I also noticed some scars around his body, like my deceased father.
“Evening girls, how was you day?” Isshin asked with a lighthearted tone and a similar smile like Chika.
“It was nice, I missed school so much. I can’t wait to go back to cheer and the environmental club. My friends offered Reyna to join either cheer or volleyball. My friends love Reyna, and it seems my English teacher is fond of her as well. I don’t blame all of them. Reyna is the sweetest, kindest, smartest, and most beautiful girl in the world.” Isshin looked on in a knowing smile and lightly chuckled. I felt my heart pound much faster than usual, and my body feels warm. Chika is one of the few people who openly says nice things about me, and I appreciate her a lot.
“My day was fine, and you have raised a kind girl Mr. Hanabusa. I want to say thank you to the both of you for letting me stay at your home and I want to contribute to this family and household.” I say with determination while both Chika and her father look in surprise.
“Well, you can stay forever and marry my daughter.” Chika covered her face with embarrassment, and I nervously stroke my hair and I felt my face become red.
“Forgive my father Reyna, he’sjust like messing with us. Isn’t that right dad.”
“Sure, I’m just messing around girls. You are always welcome to this household Reyna.” I felt warm and tingly in this body, these people have constantly been kind to me. I do want to repay their kindness someday.
“Say if you girls have time, do you mind helping me clean up horse dung and feeding them hay?” Isshin asked while he analyzed both of our faces. Chika did a huge smile and look relive.
“Oh, thank God you asked, I miss doing farm chores and seeing my horse friends again. Though I’m not sure if it is appropriate to ask our guest to clean up after horses and feeding them.” Chika has the worry expression is if she is communicating that you don’t have to do this.
“I don’t mind assisting you, when I was younger, I did have to clean up after animals for my former employer. I can do it done in a couple of minutes.”
Isshin leads Chika to the barn, which looks like a normal barn with red paint with some white paint around the doors. Chika and I nodded to each other and both her and I quickly got the shovels. There are only about four horses, Chika shovels out the poop of two horses and puts the poop in the black trash bag while I feed them hay. For the other two horses, I swoop up the poop and put them in the black trash bags, I also fed them hay. There was no poop, but there are many hay that is stuck on my dress. No big deal, I have many clothes and I don’t mind dirtying myself for the sake of chores. Even as Praetor, I am not above doing dirty work. Chika quickly took away the trash bags and ran to the front of the house and put it in the trashcans outside. I move back into Chika’s house, and I sit on the couch waiting for her. Chika came back to the house, and she was a bit sweaty and catching her breath.
“Now that it is done, there is something I want to ask you.” Chika sit next to me at the couch and its like her eyes staring at your soul.
“What is it?” I asked in quiet determination. I’m curious what it is that she desires from me. Whatever it is, I will fulfill the request with efficiency.
“I was wondering….someday…. that we could… hang out by ourselves someday? I meant outside of my hero and outside from the craziness from the demigod world.” Chika stutter between the word. I find it very endearing and adorable, words I never thought to describe to someone. Chika is shy around me for some reason, I don’t want to come off cold and intimidating with her. If I answer this question well, our relationship could improve and maybe we could become closer. I can’t explain it, but she calms me, and I don’t have to worry about New Rome and monsters trying to consume me. I truly just like spending time with her.
“Sure, whenever you find the time and place, then we can ‘hang out’, I trust you find the right place” Chika jumped in excitement and did a pose in the air.
“Yes, I did it. I finally asked the coolest girl to hang out with me.” I chuckled, she’s too amusing and lighthearted. Her energy might even put Leo to shame, I have no date that our quality time together will be interesting.
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[ciswoman, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [EDEN O’CONNELL]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [KATHRYN NEWTON]. You must be the [TWENTY-FOUR] year old [STUDENT, BARISTA AT DRIFTWOOD COFFEE SHOP]. Word is you’re [STRONG-WILLED] but can also be a bit [BITTER] and your favorite song is [TOLERATE IT BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY TOWERS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!
Basic:
Full name: Eden Lily O’Connell
Age: 24
Birthday: June 30th
Height: 5’5
Family:
Mother: Janey O'Connell
Father: Keith O'Connell (deceased)
Brother: Arkin O'Connell (@arkin-oconnell)
Sister: Addison O’Connell ( @addisonxoconnell )
Cousins: Nikki Keaton (@ambivalenceshefelt), Erica Manning ( @ericaxmanning ), Damian Keaton ( @damiankeaton )
Romantic:
Ex boyfriend: Robbie Becker ( @robbie-becker )
Platonic:
Friends: Amelia Evans ( @theameliaxevans ), Clayton Jeong ( @claytonjeong ), Emerson Cassidy ( @emersonxcassidy ), Lucy Driscoll ( @lucydriscoll ), Clark Hale ( @clarkxhale ), Victoria Sanchez ( @victoriaxsanchez ), Noah Atwood ( @noah-atwood )
Wanted Connections:
Study buddies
A bad boy/girl to let her be wild for the first time with
Exes (men or women)
roommates (Aurora Bay Towers)
Friends
Enemies
Someone she's competing with in the school paper (she's an aspiring journalist. Yes, I got this idea from Divine Rivals)
Classmates
Regulars at the coffee shop
I'm open to so much! Let's plot
Bio:
Trigger Warnings: neglect, mentions overdose, mentions cheating, mentions parental abandonment
Eden was a shy kid growing up. She liked to pretend the world wasn’t falling apart around her while she fully immersed herself in the books she borrowed from the library. She liked to come up with stories about characters to get the happy endings she was sure she would never be able to find herself. She would write about brave women saving the day or about two people falling in love and living happily ever after. She wrote of happy families who were always there for one another. And then when she would finally put down the pencil, she would read over her work and cry.
When Eden got older, she took an interest in more than just reading and writing fiction. She joined the paper in high school and she found a great fulfillment in writing about events happening around her, even if they weren’t grand adventures like she was used to writing. When she realized that it could be a career path for her, she decided she was going to be a journalist- no. A writer. Eden never wanted to give up writing her little stories and books, so she promised herself she wouldn’t. Even if sometimes how happy they were made her sad.
So much was happening in Eden’s life that she liked to escape into her books whether she was reading or writing them, but she also loved diving into things in the real world as well, focusing on things that had nothing to do with her or how her family was seemingly falling apart. Focusing on other people’s problems helped her run away from her own.
See, Eden’s father had left when she was younger and he started a whole other family. It was something she had to live with every day, along with the thoughts that made her wonder why she wasn’t good enough for him or what she could have done to keep her family together rather than letting her siblings go off the deep end and try to self destruct; or what she could do to get her mother to stop drinking herself into oblivion. Or, of course, what could she have done to keep her father from leaving? The devastating answer was always… nothing.
It was a shame, considering Eden always felt as though she had to clean up everyone else’s messes. She had to take care of their mother, she had to worry about her brother and sister, but did anyone care to think about her for even a second? She felt as though her heart cracked more and more each day.
It was when her brother overdosed that she truly thought her heart would completely shatter and never be put back together again. While he was in rehab, Eden desperately needed something to get her mind off of it all. So what did she do? Well, she joined NanoWrimo and she started her very first fantasy novel. And the moment Arkin left rehab, she begged and begged and begged him to come home.
Now that Arkin is back in Aurora Bay, Eden feels a bit more relaxed, although she still worries over her brother’s wellbeing. On top of it all, she’s still in college, she’s working for the school paper, babysitting and working at her part-time job, all while trying to finish up her first novel. After nearly losing her brother, Eden has found it harder to be angry with him for essentially abandoning her to deal with their mother all these years, but she is just glad he’s okay for now.
@aurorabayaesthetic
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"I mean, there was the time I caught my mom and dad's restaurant on fire. Then the time I ended up catching the neighbor's back yard, also that car, the time I burned my ex's stuff, and I did light this bounty hunter on fire one time. Honestly, I'm like fifty fifty when it comes to that." Poppy could say the last two were on purpose as she was pretty mad at her ex and that bounty hunter had it coming for busting down her door while she was in the middle of frying something. "I'll try to keep from lighting anything on fire here, promise." Fresh start meant the opossum needed to try even harder to stay out of trouble.
"I hope not, though I wasn't around anyone when I got pulled into whatever it was that sent me here. Even then while the warding stone thing wouldn't work on me, it should've worked on anyone else." Unless someone was in contact with Poppy, though she would've noticed that as it would be hard to ignore someone on you. "Wait, I didn't break it did I? I don't remember hitting anything." The opossum couldn't remember coming into contact with anything, though if she did then logically the warding stone would've been drained of all magic.
"Yeah, though I still try to keep myself out of trouble if I can help it. Then again I guess here I won't have to worry about all the normal problems I had to." Poppy was most grateful she wouldn't have to deal with any bounty hunters coming after her head, though she'd keep that to herself seeing as that'd just paint an even worse picture of her world. "Though I do got some pretty funny stories from when I was a teen and a kid." The opossum would save those for when Lily wasn't around.
"Well, you've help keep an entire kingdom running and in a state of peace so I'd say you're making the right choices. I can't say I'd be able to do anything like that as sometimes I struggle to keep Lily under control." Poppy could say she was extremely good at keeping her daughter under control, though sometimes Lily can be a bit much even for her to handle so she couldn't imagine what it'd be like to run an entire kingdom full of people as it sounded like a lot of pressure. "Still not sure who this Sonic person is, though sounds like we'd get along great." This was only the second time the opossum heard Blaze speak on him, though he sounded like a stand up guy.
Poppy offered a smile as Blazed nodded her head in response to her saying not to mention what they talked about in private to Lily. The opossum was sure it was still such a large request, though was thankful the princess was thinking about it despite fully agreeing with the request. She'd just have to hope that the cards were in her favor for once and things would go her way, though only time would tell.
"Wow, that does sound like a lot of books." Lily couldn't even begin to imagine just how big the library was or how many books were in it, though she was still trying to form a picture in her head. "Oh, can we add some of our books too? Mom always picks super cool ones as well as stories about the Gods from our world." The younger opossum could recall all the stories her mom had read to her, though the ones about the Gods were the easiest to recall as they sounded cool, though also kinda mean.
"Oh, I think we'd have to talk to Blaze's mom before we did that." That was Poppy's way of trying to give a subtle hint that Blaze's mom might have a problem with some of the books about the Gods from her world and would hope she caught on to that.
"Oh, okay, I'll make sure to ask her then." Lily wasn't sure if she'd get to meet Blaze's mom, though hoped she get to. The younger opossum always wondered what a God even looks like so now she really wanted to meet them. "Alright Miss Blaze. Thank you very much." She almost forgot about her manners for a second.
"Oh, don't let us hold you up. I wouldn't want you to get behind on your work." The last thing Poppy wanted to do was cause Blaze to be behind on whatever her duties where for the day. "Yeah, that sounds good. I honestly can't wait to try some food from a different world." The opossum wondered if a lot of the foods would be the same or if they were have completely different things from her world. "Me too, though I'm hopefully a little surgery is all that's needed to fix that eye of hers."
If Poppy only knew the Temper of Blaze she might be less inclined to feel bad about her own. It was true Blaze had a violent temper, and it could be quite frightening since her powers often flared and grew wild with her rage. Though luckily she rarely got that upset at anyone and it was a rare sight. There were some older Priests that told horror stories about her tantrums when she was smaller. Those few who saw her rage as an adult rarely brought it up for fear of upsetting the Princess. So she could hardly speak on poppys own anger, though she believed the other had a better handle on it then she was admitting to.
" At least things don't catch fire when you grow angry. It's quite embarrassing to explain to the staff whey there was a fire in your room, or in the study... "
She sighed but didn't dwell on that moment longer then she had to thankfully.
" As for your home, if i can reach it or locate your home world ill do what i can. Though as of now i can't say one way or the other. Time shall tell i suppose. Still if you bypassed the barriers... chances are others can to. "
Her eyes turned to the Possum, and she covered her lips in soft amusement. So she was quite the flirt was she? Well who would have thought? Perhaps it is what lead her to having sweet Lilly, but the image of her jumping out a window, or bursting naked out a bedroom was fairly amusing to Blaze! though she likely put to much thought into it then she should have.
" More common then you might think Poppy... Emotions often lead us Mortals to do wild things. I have had my share of Embarrassing moments... I think its quite a normal thing in fact. Though it sounds like you have more then a few fun stories to tell. Perhaps i'll share one of my own with you someday in return..."
She paused and held her hands up in a more defensive posture for Poppy as she was quite happy with her position and duties. It just wore on her somedays or made her wonder about her life. But she did not regret her place or her creation.
" I suppose i do, i just wonder sometimes if i couldn't do more or if i'm making the right choices. I suppose its something we all wonder as we grow older isn't it? But i do appreciate your willingness to help me branch out. Sounds almost like something my friend Sonic would do... i do wonder what he's up to these days. "
She reached over and gave the possum a little pat on the shoulder to help her relax. There was no need to speak on matters that were between just them and she nodded her head in response. She would remember and keep it between them. Poppy could relax with that, if the worst happened she'd simply adopt Lilly and there would be no questions to her remaining at that point. If she had to, she would but she wished to avoid it if she could.
" More books then most could read in a life time. I enjoy reading and as a child many royals and nobles donated rare books, stories and histories of all kinds as gifts. So many in fact we had to expand several times to fit them all. Now it is a repository of some of the rarest and most wonderful books from across the land. But what good is a book if it is not read..."
She knelt down to Lilly and gave her hair a little ruffle
" Tomorrow i'll see you get to see the Garden and the Library... and maybe i'll even tell you a few stories all my own. I know a fair few that i'm sure you would delight in. "
She always did have a soft spot for kids, and Lilly would be no different in her eyes. She was bright and joyful and full of life and it brought joy to Blaze to see her so happy. She slowly stood up to give Poppy a soft sigh.
" Unfortunately, my duties call... and i must return to the throne room. For now you are my guests, and you may explore the castle and make yourselves at home. Doc Maple will be here shortly i'm sure... so for now i bid you farewell... and i'll speak with you again at dinner time. I trust you'll me then? Hopefully Doc will have good news for you "
#atangledfate#citizensofeggton#poppy o'possum#sturdy opossum#lily possum#curious opossum#rp#ic#crossover#Poppy#IDW Sonic
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Trauma really does bond
The umbrella academy x teen!reader
Summary: It’s time for you to meet your siblings. But what happen when your introductions don’t exactly go as planned?
You were trembling as you walked behind Pogo and Grace. Its ironic, you’ve waited your whole life for this moment. To finally meet your siblings and expand your family. A childish hope of your siblings one day returning to the mansion and accepting you with open arms.
But now that you actually have a chance to meet them, you’re terrified. You realized that you have no idea how to talk to people. It’s different than when you talk to Pogo or your mother. These are complete strangers. No matter how many stories you’ve been told, how many times you read Vanyas book, you truly didn’t know these people. How were you meant to be a family? How are you supposed to-
“Y/n? Dear?”
You’re snapped from your thoughts by your mother calling you.
“Yes, momma?”
“Momma? Pogo, who’s that?”
You turn, again surprised by an unfamiliar voice. There she was. Alison Hargreeves. She’s beautiful.
Her hair is curly and blonde, with beautiful high cheekbones and glowing brown skin. Her as were kind even as she squinted at you skeptically in confusion.
“Alison, this is Y/n Hargreeves, or Number Eight. She’s your sister.”
Grace again gives you a light nudge, and you move in front of her. It was then that you realized that you are shorter than Alison, having to glance up to meet her eyes.
“My sister?” She looks at you in disbelief, “How come we didn’t know? This wasn’t mentioned by the press or anything...”
“Your father decided to keep our dear Y/n a secret.” Grace said wrapping her arm around you, “ She’s been our little secret for 17 years and 4 months.”
“A secret? But why? I mean, what was the reason?”
“Your father, believed that the world wasn’t ready for a new superhero. Nor was Y/n ready to face the world.” Pogo said with a grim face, “ He had hoped though, that one day he would be able to take her out...but it seems that for now, Y/n shall remain inside.”
You frowned, holding back tears at the thought. You didn’t know that your father had wanted to let you out, nor that he wanted to be there when you were. But, what truly upset you, was that you had to stay in the mansion. Freedom was at the tip of your fingers and you didn’t even know it.
“Stay inside? You mean she’s never been outside?” Alison said horrified.
“Well she has been out in the courtyard and such, but Mr. Hargreeves prohibited her to leave the premises. Nor was she allowed to be in contact with the citizens”
“She’s been here all alone?” Alison asks sadly, “ With no one to talk to? No one her age?”
“I’m afraid not” Pogo says sadly, looking at you.
You didn’t understand the big deal. Of course you were lonely, and wanted to explore the world, but you knew why you had to stay. You can just hear your fathers words.
“You have a duty Number Eight. A duty to your people and to me. It may not be ideal but sacrifices are hardly ideal.”
And everytime you thought about leaving, you’d remember his words and stay put. Besides you wouldn’t dare disobey your father.
Not after the last time.
“Well,” Alison says gently, leaning down to your eye level, “ Hello Y/n, I’m Alison Hargreeves, your big sister.”
Your eyes widened at her words as your heart filled with joy. For so many years you imagined those words. You wondered how this whole thing would play out, how meeting your siblings might be. And to hear Alison so readily accept you, it brought tears to your eyes.
“Hello, Alison” You say beaming as you carefully step forward, “ I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Momma says you live in California, what is it like?”
Alison smiles at your question, your demeanor like a small child. It reminded her of Claire...
“It’s very nice, maybe when we have time I’ll be able to tell you all about it.”
Your smile widens as you turn to your mother excitedly, she smiles back and says, “ That sounds wonderful dear, but you should go and change. You know the rules. You don’t want your father finding you in your night clothes, now would you?”
You furrow your brows,” Momma...”
“No buts now march” She says with a grin. You smile at Alison but see the worried look on her face.
“So she did notice how weird momma acting” You think to yourself. You stay in a daze as you walk towards your room. Worrying about your mother, grieving your father, and thinking about how you’re finally meeting all your siblings. Then as you turn a corner into the hallway that leads to your room, you’re knocked to the ground as you bump into a wall of a body.
“Ow!” you squeal as you hit the ground, rubbing the back of your head and peering up at the person you bumped into.
“Uh..sorry Y/n”
“Luther!” You shout, your pain overridden by the happiness you felt at seeing your brother, one that actually knows you exist.
He helps you up, which to him is like picking up a feather, and before he knew it, your arms are wrapped around his midsection. Luther awkwardly pats your back, not really expecting to be hugged.
“It's great to see you Luther! I read all your mission reports, or rather the ones that Father let me read. I always wished you good night though! Pogo always caught me looking at the moon with that telescope, I hope you don’t mind that I used it. It's just that I missed you so-” Your happy ramblings cut off by a Luther clearing his throat.
“Ahem...right, um hey Y/n, I gotta go...check on something.” He says gently pushing you away, “It was nice seeing you though.”
And with that he walks away, leaving you in the hallway as you stare at his retreating form.
“oh...okay then! I’ll see...see you later.” You say, disheartened by his brief acknowledgement. You sigh, walking into your room.
“I don’t know why I try...” You mumble to yourself. “ It’s not like he was ever happy to see me before.”
You go into your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Usually, Grace picked out your outfits, ordered by your father, but she didn’t leave anything out for you today. So, you settled for a black turtleneck sweater, a black and white plaid skirt, black knee high socks with some mary janes. It wasn’t really your go to look, but you felt like it was appropriate given the circumstance. You let your hair loose, curls falling into your face as you let it out of the bun you quickly put it in.
You go to walk out of the room when you’re stopped by a gleam. You see the necklace your father gave to you after the incident. You stare at it, debating on whether you should put it on or not. You sigh, deciding to wear it, it was his funeral after all. You put it on, the cold metal never truly seem to heat up, the pendant heavy on your chest. You never grew attached to it. It just served as a reminder that you’re stuck in the mansion. You can never leave. Not until he let you and now...
You shake your head. Trying not to get into your thoughts, that's when you heard it. Little scratching at your window. You turn to see Despereaux, the little mouse you saved when you were younger. Ever since that day it was like you and him formed a bond.
You open the window excited to see your little friend.
“Hello Despereaux, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” You whisper as you let him climb on to your shoulder. “ you’ve missed quite a bit since I’ve last seen you. How about some cheese?”
You walk out of your room, Despereaux nestled on your shoulder. As you walk through the long hallways, you bump into another body.
“Ouch, again?” You whisper to yourself, rubbing your forehead.
“Hey watch it...teenage girl?” A male voice said in a perplexed tone.
You look up to see a man in some rather tight clothes and kohl ringed eyes.
“Hello” You quietly mutter with a soft smile. “I’m Y/n”
“You are adorable.” The man says, “ Where has the old man been hiding you?”
You blush looking down at your feet, you were never really complimented. Only by Grace.
“ Aww” The man squeals, squishing you to his body. He smelled like booze and sweat but the hug was nice, “ I have no idea who you are but I’m your uncle Klaus from now on.”
“You’re Klaus?” You say excitedly, “ I’m so glad to meet you!”
You wrap your arms around him, feeling the outline of something hard and metal in the back of his pants. You ignored it though, happy to meet another one of your siblings.
“Ugh it’s so nice to be around someone who isn’t a total stick in the mud.” Klaus says letting go of you, “ Like Luther, all that rage in that big body”
You giggle at his words and eccentric behavior. It was a stark contrast to the ridgid stoic behavior that you’re used to. Klaus’ grand gestures and silly nature was new to you.
“I’ve heard alot about you.” You say happily, “ Mama always tells me stories about how you used to steal her shoes and skirts and Father said--”
“Father?” Klaus asked, “ You mean ol’ Reggie bought you too? Or are you like..his offspring? Eww! I don’t want to think about that, shut up Ben.”
Ben?
“Father adopted me, I was born with powers like you.” You clarify for him.
“Huh, so he managed to create another trauma case before he croaked.” Klaus said in a light voice, “Well. I always wanted a little sister.”
You smile, glad that at least two of your siblings liked you. But what did he mean by trauma case.
“Anywho, I have some... inheritance I need to collect. I, will see you at the funeral, das Kind”
And with a wiggle of his fingers he was off, gone as quick as when you met him. Leaving you yet again, alone. You shrug off his odd behavior when you heard two voices speaking.
“ah no, not to my knowledge.”
“But..the spine is broken and there's notes in the margins.”
“ Yes, that would be the work of.. ah Y/n, there you are.”
You jump in surprise, although you should’ve know. You can never eavesdrop with Pogo around.
You walk down the stairs, slowly towards Pogo and.. Vanya!
Out of all the siblings, she’s the one you wanted to meet the most. She, like you was isolated in this mansion. You felt a connection to her as soon as you were able to pick up that book. Your heart raced as you made it to the final step, reaching the first flower and into the living room where Vanya and Pogo were talking. You can see that she is shocked, as all your other siblings were.
“Pogo, who is this?”
“Go ahead dear, introduce yourself. Just like you practiced.”
You smile widely, “Hi I’m Y/n Hargreeves, I love your book. I’ve read it almost five times now. You’re Vanya! I’ve been waiting to meet you! You look exactly like the picture on the back of the book! It really is a good book, I-”
“Y/n, take a breath. Let her get a word in.” Pogo chuckled, glad to see that you’re comfortable around Vanya.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry, father did always say I..tend to talk to much” You say looking down at your shoes. You didn’t notice the frown on both Pogo and Vanyas face.
“You...you read my book?” Vanya asked, still trying to figure out who you are.
“Yes, multiple times. It...well, besides the stories Mama and Pogo told me, this was the only way I got to know all of you.”
“Why didn’t you just come find us?”
“Oh well..I wasn’t really allowed outside”, you say glancing at Pogo, “ Father said the world and I weren’t ready for each other.”
“You mean, you’ve been alone...all these year?”
“No, not totally alone! I had Pogo, and Mama, and and father too. Plus there were the robots he built, although I did destroy them...and the books and and..”
“Y/n...that’s..that’s not..” Vanya stopped herself. She knew that this must be a sensitive subject for you. The way you listed everyone in your life was practiced. Like you’ve said it to yourself over and over again. And by the grim look on Pogos face, she can tell it wasn’t only you who was sensitive about this subject.
“Well, Y/n..perhaps you should go on in the kitchen and help your mother. Your siblings will be meeting here shortly, it would be nice if they had some snacks, don’t you agree?” Pogo says, forcing a smile at you.
“Oh! Okay” You beam, “ It was nice meeting you Vanya!”
And with that you scurry off into the kitchen, leaving Vanya and Pogo behind in silence.
“She’s been alone for...”
“For seventeen years. Yes”
“Pogo...”
“You know your father...once he made up his mind...there was little I can do.”
Vanya sighs and pats Pogo on the shoulder, “It’s good to see you Pogo.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You skip into the kitchen, seeing your mother humming at the sink. You walk up to her and notice that she’s cleaning the same plate over and over again.
“Hi momma!” you say suddenly
“Oh, hello dear. What are you doing in here?” Grace asks putting the plate in the drying rack.
Pogo said it would be nice to make snacks for my siblings” You ask, then feeling movement around your neck, “Oh and some cheese please.”
You forgot Despereaux was on your shoulder, its a wonder that no one has seen him yet.
“hmm snacks we can do.” Grace says with a smile. She goes to the fridge and pulls out some cheese.
“How about some cheese and crackers? Its simple.” she says, “ ans Despereaux here can have his fill as well”
You freeze, caught again by your mother, “ Thanks momma.”
You both giggle, and side by side you work on cutting the cheese and presenting the crackers. You feel a sense of calm wash over you. You usually do when you’re around your mother. She makes you feel safe.
“Ahem.”
You both turn to see Diego in the kitchen doorway.
“Diego dear, you startled us.” Grace said with a smile, “ Come help, we’re making you kids some snacks.”
He barely spares a glance at you.
“Pogo wanted me to come tell you that the meetings starting.”
“Oh, well go on darling, run along and I’ll bring out the snacks later.”
And with that she kisses your forehead and waves you away. She turns back to the sink and starts humming again.
You glance back at Diego. He’s glaring at the wall and to be honest you’re surprised he even waited for you. You pick up Despereaux and put him on your shoulder again, and grab some grapes and cheese then stuff it in your skirt pocket. Then you walk up to Diego with a small smile.
He glances at you and scoffs, then walks away. You have to jog to catch up to him.
“You uh, you walk pretty fast” You say huffing a bit.
He doesn’t answer you, he just keeps walking in the same pace. You stay silent as well, the trip to the living room longer than you remember.
You finally make it, and you see all your siblings in the room, spread out. You take a seat next to Vanya. You smile at her and take a glance around the room. Luther is sat at the couch across from you and Vanya. Allison and Diego are sat on some chairs, and Klaus is at the bar.
The six of you sit in an awkward silence until Luther clears his throat.
“ So I guess we should get this started.” He says standing up, “ So I figured we can have sort of a memorial service. At the courtyard at sundown, say a few words. At dad’s favorite spot.”
You nod along and hear Alison speak up, “ Dad had a favorite spot?”
“Yeh at the oak tree, we used to sit out there all the time. None of you did that?” Luther asks.
“Oh yeah, after training” you chime in, causing the adults to look at you. You heard Diego scoff again and saw Luther quickly furrow his brow then smooth out his face again.
“Will there be refreshments?” Klaus asks walking out from behind the bar, “ Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner.”
He goes to take a seat next to you when Luther speaks up
“What? No, and put that out. You know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.”
You roll your eyes. If you had to choose one thing to hate about Luther, you’d choose his insistent need to always be on your Father's good side. He can be such a downer sometimes.
“Is that my skirt?”
You hadn’t even noticed Klaus in the skirt. If you had to be honest, it did really suit him. You let out a small laugh, hearing Klaus mention his “bits”.
“Listen up.”
Oh boy, you’ve heard this tone before. You really forgot how stern Luther could be.
“There’s still some important things that we need to discuss alright ?”
“Um Luther” you squeak out, “ what more is there to talk about? Its not like Father had many friends we can invite. And his only family is us...”
“Yeah. The kids right, what else is there to discuss?” Diego asks.
You turn to him in surprise, this is basically the first time he acknowledged you unprompted. You send him a smile that, as expected, he ignores.
Oh well, small steps.
“ The way he died.”
“ And here we go”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “the way he died?”
Klaus sits next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as Vanya speaks up,
“I don’t understand, I thought they said it was a heart attack...”
“A heart attack?” You ask, realizing that no one’s really did tell you how your father died..
You’re question gained a suspicious look from Luther and confusion from the rest.
“ Y/n...you didn’t know?” Alison asked gently.
“ no one told me...” You say quietly, feeling nervous from the sudden attention.
“Well, According or to the coroner it was.” Luther continues.
“Well wouldn’t they know?”
“Theoretically..”
“Theoretically??”
You don’t understand. You don’t understand why nobody told you how your father died. You don’t understand why everyone was acting weird. And you don’t understand why Luther was bringing this up.
You feel a hand on your forearm, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn your head to see Klaus.
“ you lost in space?” He whispers playfully, “ I would be too, having to listen to Detective Daddy issues over here.”
You let out a small chuckle and whisper back, “ well technically we all have daddy issues.”
This earned you a quiet laugh and a pat on the arm. Then Klaus went to drink whatever was in his cup. And you tuned in again.
“ i’m just saying at the very least something happened. ” Luther says looking around the room, “ The last time I talk to dad he sounded strange.”
“Oh quelle surprise!” Klaus gurgles through his drink.
The rest of the adult ignored him, only sparing him a quick glance.
“Strange how?” Alison asked, continuing the conversation.
“ he sounded on edge”, Luther said, “ told me to be careful who to trust.”
He then gave you pointed look. You looked back at him perplexed, not knowing why he looked at you that way.
“Luther,” Diego chimed in, “ he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles. ”
You frown at that statement. Sure your father was old and sort of eccentric, but his mind was sharp.
But come to think of it he was acting really weird the week before he died. He started telling you more about your siblings, about your place in the world and how you were meant to help it. He spent more time with you more than he ever has your whole life. He was, in his own way, nicer to you. Nicer in training, nicer on your free time, nicer in general. He took you out to the old oak tree more often, and just sat there with you, no lectures, no tirades, he just sat in silence.
It was almost like... like he knew he was going to die. 

“I can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like, “ hey dad can you stop playing tennis with Hitler really quick and take a quick call?’” Klaus says exasperatedly.
Oh right you forgot, he can talk to ghosts.
“ since when? that’s your thing.” Luther asks
“ i’m not in the right... Frame of mind!!” 
“ You’re high?” Alison asks
“Yeah!” Klaus laughs, “ Who wouldn’t be listening to this nonsense. Right kiddo?”
He nudged you gently look at you for confirmation.
Your eyes widen and before you can even answer Diego cut you off,
“ Don’t bring her in this, she probably isn’t even know what being high is.”
You most certainly do. You’re not a child.
“ Look, just sober up this is important!” Luther demands , then continues on, “ and then there’s the missing monocle.”
“Who gives a shit about the missing monocle?” Diego mutters.
“ Father is missing his monocle?” You ask, getting ignored again.
“Exactly, it’s worthless.” Luther states, “ so whoever took it it must’ve been personal.”
The group starts to actually pay attention to him
“ Someone close to him, someone with a grudge.” He determines.
Wait...he’s not implying..
“Where are you going with this?” Klaus asks
“Oh, isn’t obvious Klaus?” Diego taunts, “ He thinks one of us killed dad.”
Luther grunts, but doesn’t deny his accusation.
The room goes silent as everyone tries to come to terms with what was revealed.
“ Luther...” you start sadly, feeling hurt and betrayed.
“You do?” Klaus asks in disbelief
“How could you think that?” Vanya chimes in
“ is it really that far-fetched?” Luther defends himself, “ I mean, it’s not secret how much you all hate him.”
“Luther.” Alison says sternly
“ That’s not fair accusation, there’s no evidence or anything...” you say defending your siblings, “ Besides, no one came home until today. Trust me, I’d know.”
But that just turned him on you 
“ And where were you when he died?”
Your breath hitched, “ what?”
“ You’re the one who can heal people right? So where were you? Why didn’t you heal him?” He demands, “ Or did you let him die?”
“ Luther!” Alison shouts at him
You stay silent as you can’t think of anything to say. You already felt horrible about not being able to save your father. But yo hear it from Luther...
“I..” you start to say but get choked up. You feel the walls close up around you and the heavy gaze of these adults. You quickly stand up and run out of the room sniffing.
It was then that Luther realized what he just accused you of.
“Y/n wait..” he starts but you’re already gone by the time he spoke up. He turns to the rest of his siblings, facing their glares and betrayed looks.
“ Great job Luther.” Diego says sarcastically, “ Way to lead.”
And with that he walks out the room.
“That’s..that’s not what I’m saying”
“You’re crazy man. You’re crazy.” Klaus said getting up from his spot and grabbing his things. “Crazy”
“I..I wasn’t finished”
“ Okay, sorry I’m just gonna go get Y/n and have her help me murder mom.” Klaus sneers, “ You know, after I get her to stop crying, be right back.”
“That’s not what I was saying!” Luther says, “ I didn’t—“ he cuts himself off, seeing as everyone but Alison left.
Then she gets up to leave, but says this
“ That little girl has had it rough enough growing up here, she doesn’t need anymore from you.”
Then she walks out ignoring what Luther tries to say.
Leaving him all alone.
“That went well.”

#the umbrella academy x reader#the umbrella academy#klaus hargreeves x reader#diego hargreeves x reader#alison hargreeves x reader#vanya hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x reader#luther hargeeves x r#klaus hargreeves#five hargreeves#comics#netflix
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Impostor Syndrome, Or Being a Writer
So lately I've been feeling like I'm an awful writer. That every single word I have ever written is absolute shit. That my stories are bad and anyone who says otherwise is just being nice.
I know that objectively, these feelings don't reflect reality. Lots of people have enjoyed my stories. I have a couple pieces that have been accepted for publication in anthologies later this year. Even still, I'm hit by the feeling that I'll never be good enough.
I think every writer feels like this sometimes, so I'm going to offer some words of encouragement.
Your writing matters. Even if you get a dozen rejection letters, even if you don't get any likes, reblogs, kudos, etc. Even if you never share it with another soul. You know why? It's because you wrote it. You're the only person in the entire world who would put those words together exactly in that way.
Writing is difficult and sometimes you'll feel like giving up. Like you should delete everything and never write again. Don't do it, my friend. What you feel is valid, but remember that feelings are temporary. Take a break from writing if you need to. But don't delete you work. Because if you do, one day the joy of writing will start to make it's way back into your heart, and you'll be sad that the younger you didn't save it.
Write what you want to read. Don't worry about it being too weird, too dark, too fluffy. Someone out there will be ecstatic to read it. In publishing circles, they talk about the ideal reader. The person who will absolutely love your story, who will give it five stars, who will gush about it to their friends. Don't write your story to appeal to everybody, because then it will appeal to nobody. Write your story for that one person, your ideal reader. And if your ideal reader is yourself, that's okay.
Stop minimizing your writing. Stop saying things like "oh, it's only fanfiction" or "it's just smut" or "this is self-indulgent and therefore bad" or "since this wasn't traditionally published it isn't a "real" book/story/piece of art." Stop it. Your writing is important, no matter the genre or your motivation for writing it or how your share it (or don't) with the world.
If you are submitting your writing to publications, you will get rejections. Lots of people will tell you to shrug them off. I'm not going to tell you that. It's okay to be disappointed or be a little sad if your story is rejected. I got six rejections letters for the first story I tried to submit for publication. I was ready to give up, sure that I wasn't a good enough writer to have my stories published. But then I did some edits and submitted it to one final publication. And it got accepted. So acknowledge your feelings, but don't give up. It might take a while, but someday your story will click with an editor.
Sometimes you'll be working on a piece and you'll hit a wall. You'll stare at the screen for hours, wondering why you can't seem to get words on the page. My advice? Don't force it. Take a walk, a nap, a shower. Start another writing project. It's okay if you set aside a WIP for a bit. Really. Every writer is hit by writer's block sometimes. It's okay, I promise. And it can be frustrating and demoralizing, but remember that it doesn't reflect on your worth as a writer or the quality of your story.
Whatever else you do, remember to take care of yourself mentally, emotionally, and physically. Sometimes this will mean stepping away from writing for a bit, and that's okay.
Dear friend, you are an awesome, intelligent, badass writer. Even on those days you don't feel like it. Those days when you want to throw your laptop or notebook at the wall. Those days when you feel like no one will ever want to read your story. Even on those days, you are still worthy to call yourself a writer. You are still good enough. So keep going. I believe in you.
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changes (best friend!harry)
Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol
Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader
Word Count: 17k (holy shit)
A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3
{masterlist}
Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.
This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London. However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.
Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor. Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas. Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.
This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.
Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother. Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off. Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there. Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world. Just typical teen things.
However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever. They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother). Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition. Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.
They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating. Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other. However, their answers were always the same. Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more. Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything. Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.
Until now.
Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest. His entire body glistens with water from the shower. Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—
Her breath catches in her throat. Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.
“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.
Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”
“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”
Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.
Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.
It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes. Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times. The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times. But she’s never seen him like that.
When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child. Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.
Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror. She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did. Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.
As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up? Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman? Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?
Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago? That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?
The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed. Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before. She likes it more than she should.
After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child. She isn’t a child.
Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.
Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.
Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.
And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.
“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”
Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did. Woke up a bit early, though. Thought I’d shower before brunch.”
Right. Brunch. They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before. Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.
“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked. I forgot you slept over, and—”
“It’s fine, Y/N. I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”
Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No. You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”
“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”
“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.
The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”
Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love. It’s fine, promise. I don’t mind that you saw. I’m very comfortable in my body.”
Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”
“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.
“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes. There is.”
“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”
Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.
For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone. The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night. Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.
Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted. There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.
And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.
I’m on the last flight back to London. Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together. You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.
Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through. Harry’s already on the plane. So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.
Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life. She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks. She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes. She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.
When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago. The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.
“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug. One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”
“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States. I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”
“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”
“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone. And I wanted to be with you.”
Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon. I have dinner ready.”
Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.
“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”
Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six. Stop pouting to get what you want.”
“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”
Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first. You smell like a plane.”
Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely. Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.
Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV. When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first. It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.
As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second. They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous. And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them. They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.
Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.
“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent. His words slur together as well
“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer? Feels nice.”
The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says. Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.
Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes. Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.
“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.
“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”
Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”
“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”
If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him. She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.
But Harry is hardly awake right now. And it wouldn’t be fair.
“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.
…
It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time. While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal. While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.
A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple. He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.
Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”
Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out. Not anything good, anyways.”
“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”
Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”
“We can go out. We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard. Why don’t you use it?”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”
Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job. I’m on the clock for another two hours.”
“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”
Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”
Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini. However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency. Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning. She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.
Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you. Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”
“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water. Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.
“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day. You really would’ve liked it.”
“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”
“All musicians are narcissists, love. At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”
“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.
Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry. The pool is for swimming only.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do. She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.
She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool. Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.
“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”
“The pool is for swimming only. I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”
“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”
“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”
“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”
“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”
“Right. Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”
Harry just grins at you.
…
“Want one?”
Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.
“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.
Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah. I’m not very good, though. Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”
“So high maintenance.”
Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha. High maintenance.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”
“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.
Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly. To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.
“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now. I’m sophisticated.”
Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”
Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”
“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”
His Y/N. That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core. Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.
“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.
“She doesn’t take shit from anyone. She gets drunk fast and high faster. She’s always down for a laugh. And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.
“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.
The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.
“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.
Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah. Just haven’t done that in a while.”
“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.
Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly. She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.
Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.
Y/N really doubts it.
“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”
Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face. Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.
“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that. Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”
“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”
“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul. Neither was I, honestly.”
“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”
Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”
“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”
As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her. He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.
“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall. Did you two ever…?”
“What? Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.
Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah. I guess so.”
“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun. But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”
Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip. Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes. His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.
“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter. Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”
“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”
The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.
“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”
“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why. You usually tell me everything. You always have.”
Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”
Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.
After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright. I’ll be up in a little bit.”
“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater. Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it. Social distancing, and all that.”
Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No. I sleep better with you beside me.”
When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall. She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.
Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her. Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.
Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done. The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry. Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.
Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers. He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders. Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.
The tender action leaves Y/N speechless. The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other. But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.
Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again. Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly. It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.
…
“You’re still working?”
Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout. His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face. His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.
“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”
“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”
Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.
Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.
Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.
“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later. It’ll be fun.”
…
“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”
“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”
“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone. Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface. There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.
“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon. Try a cupcake.”
Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth. She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.
Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah. They’re good.”
Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing. He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah. Sweet.”
The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk. They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.
“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”
“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”
Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”
Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”
Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know. I miss sex so much.”
“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”
A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face. Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching. I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”
Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”
“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching. It’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.
She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”
“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”
Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass. You know exactly what I meant.”
A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge. He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that. If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.
“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”
Y/N runs a hand through her hair. She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping. The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”
Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else. He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”
Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”
Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”
“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching. Intimate touching. And…being touched intimately.”
Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah. I miss that too. Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”
“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.
Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”
Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”
Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair. You know that.”
Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass. Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions. And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.
“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”
Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too. That’s always nice. I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”
“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”
“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H. Isn’t that strange?”
Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control. Have someone else…”
“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah. I’m more like that, I think. I usually let someone else decide. But I like the in-between, too. Like…both exploring each other.”
“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.
Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”
Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”
“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”
Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah. I do.”
“And remember how nervous you were?”
“Yeah.”
“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you. Kind of like…a breathlessness. And you looked at the other person and knew they…”
Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”
“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know. I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice. I like it.”
“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually. But nice.”
“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine. What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”
“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee. He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”
“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me. And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”
“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”
Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H. That’s good. That’s…brave. You’re not afraid of how you feel. Most people are.”
“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.
Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth. She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.
Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position. His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Who have you been in love with?” He asks. His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.
“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university. We were together for two years. That’s it, I think.”
Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really? No one else? No one since Christian?”
Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know. I didn’t love any of them. I was…infatuated. But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark. Nothing prolonged.”
Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment. He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”
Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”
“Yeah. Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left. Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”
“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry. We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”
“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you. And you were…”
“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”
“Yeah.”
Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”
Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression. His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.
“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”
…
“Good morning.”
“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”
“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”
“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”
When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.
“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.
“I’m used to it. I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”
“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”
“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”
“Shut up.”
Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites. She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.
“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”
“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.
Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink. You chose to.”
“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”
“Exactly.”
Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”
Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”
“Of course not. I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”
“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”
It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other. They’ve never acted any other way.
Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.
Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry. But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before? Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?
Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.
“Look at them. Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose. Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.
“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms. She likes how warm he feels.
“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her. Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”
Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so. Do you?”
“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice. He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.
They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.
“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”
Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it. This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”
“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.
Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls. She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this. She wonders if he notices it, too.
Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.
…
The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side. What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.
“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”
Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Probably.”
“I’m a terrible artist, Harry. You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”
“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”
“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”
“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”
“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.
“That’s why I want you to do it. I want it in your handwriting.”
Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.
“You do?”
“Yeah. I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”
Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”
“No. Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.
“Why do I have to be creative?”
“Because I want you to decide what I get.”
Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”
“I am! Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
…
“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.
Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”
“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”
Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”
Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.
Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”
“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters. She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”
“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.
“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.
“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”
“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.
“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”
“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”
Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose. Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.
“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”
True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish. When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.
“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”
Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face. There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”
“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”
“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”
“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”
Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”
Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”
Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.
They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them. It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.
“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”
“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right? Being touched?”
Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah. I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done. Find someone there.”
He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”
“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”
Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan. Not right now, at least. It’s not what I…want.”
“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”
“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random. I want sex, but I want to be…intimate. Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”
Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”
“No. It would be nice, but no. That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares. I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”
“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.
Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah. Intimately touched.”
“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”
The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”
“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks. And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”
“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…? I mean…”
“I—yeah. I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that. We’ve just never…discussed it.”
“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild. If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”
“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.
Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”
“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”
“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”
Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”
Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged. His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.
Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly. His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions. However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.
“Like this. Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly. His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”
“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.
Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch. His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.
“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.
“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah. Good. But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck. If you’d like.”
Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck. He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body. Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.
Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.
She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.
“H…”
“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.
“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.
For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him. She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now. Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more. She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.
Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.
After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed. Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.
“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.
“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly. If anything, she thinks, it’s worse. She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.
“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.
Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was. She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.
“Is it okay if I…?”
The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love. Go ahead.”
Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch. Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others. She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore. She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.
Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles. She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.
Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.
“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish. He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.
“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.
“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”
Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm. Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.
“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.
Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance. His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed. His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.
Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own. Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose. Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.
Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.
“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.
Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”
Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath. He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.
“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.
“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”
Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”
Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach. His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once. She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.
“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.
Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body. When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.
Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”
“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”
“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones. She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair. She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.
Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular. Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.
“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.
Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching. She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts. Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him. However, she’s not sure if they should.
Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”
Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”
“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”
“Yeah. It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”
“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you. I’ve always wondered if—we—”
“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves. Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”
“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry���s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day. I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”
A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”
“This isn’t the alcohol talking. I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you. And I think…I think you need me too.”
“I do. I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends. This is going to change that.”
“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless. You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I want you.”
Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.
“I want you, too.” She says simply.
Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”
Y/N nods. She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.
Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away. Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.
When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.
Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement. Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation. This kiss is the exact opposite.
Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate. Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top. His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.
Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before. Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time. Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark. She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.
Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.
Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side. Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.
“You’re not done.” She says simply.
He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again. This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.
Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure. With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.
With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious. His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.
“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”
“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.
“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that. Touch me like that.”
Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.
Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction. Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.
Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them. Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence. She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to in the slightest.
Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.
“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”
He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep. Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.
Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple. He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.
When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.
“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger. The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”
Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth. He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.
“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”
Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”
“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad. Yeah.”
Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed. Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.
Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top. When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.
“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”
Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there. In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.
Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes. She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.
When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair. She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.
“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down. Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.
Y/N loves him for it.
Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair. She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.
“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”
Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.
“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”
Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”
Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.
“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.
Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”
“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry. Just relax, yeah? It’s just me. I got you.”
Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center. When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.
“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.
Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.
The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties. Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.
The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure. Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.
“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”
Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”
“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.
“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”
Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her. YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.
“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”
Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”
“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”
He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt. His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.
“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”
He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can. Y/N continues to whimper above him.
“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”
Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him. However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.
“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”
Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.
“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”
Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”
“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”
Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H. I’m going—”
Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before. Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.
Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.
Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes. Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.
Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness. He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.
“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again. She doesn’t know what else to say.
Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently. She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.
“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”
Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”
“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”
The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H. I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours. Always.”
Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”
“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you. Feel your weight. Feel you close.”
With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between. He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them. He’s teasing himself just as much as her.
“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”
“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”
“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”
As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between. I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling. A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.
The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before. Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete. He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.
“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”
Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”
Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up. While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her. This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.
Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her. Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer. As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her. As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop. Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.
They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible. Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication. Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language. When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being. When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.
Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.
Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”
Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.
“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.
Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge. He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.
Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”
“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you. Yours.”
Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her. He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.
As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again. He can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t think of anything else worth saying.
When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her. She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance. It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.
They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are. Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one. The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm. Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring. And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.
Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.
Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.
“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”
Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom. Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes. Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.
Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed. He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.
“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”
Y/N nods again. She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.
Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know. Almost done.”
Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later. His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.
He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.
“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H. Just…tired.”
“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”
“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”
Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.
…
The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.
She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. In every way.
Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry. She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.
“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.
Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm. Barely.”
A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“A little hungover. A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.
Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers. She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time. He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.
Y/N wonders if she looks the same. If she looks as pretty.
“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.
“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.
“Well…it is, actually. I made your drinks. And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.
“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”
Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”
Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”
“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”
Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No. I don’t. Do you?”
“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”
“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”
A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it. It felt—you felt like heaven.”
Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms. So that was a first for me.”
Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment. It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.
“I did.”
“You said you were mine.”
Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.
“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”
Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”
Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead. Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H. Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”
Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”
“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”
Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach. Not right now. And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N. I still would, and I always will.”
Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out. Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.
“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl. You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always. Don’t you know that?”
Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.
“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost. I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll make it work. I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”
Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H. I do. I need you. I told you that last night.”
“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”
Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this. I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”
Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”
His low voice makes her shiver. “No. It feels right. Really right.”
“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”
Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”
“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”
Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”
“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”
“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.
“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it. At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”
“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent. Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”
Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t. But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N. I think we’re perfect for each other.”
Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something. I’ve loved it. I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll never get sick of you.”
Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”
“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”
“Yeah. It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”
Harry nods. “I am.”
“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”
Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”
“I’m just saying! We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”
“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”
Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”
A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.
Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”
“I’ve already admitted it!”
“So have I!”
“Not as well as I have!”
“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”
“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”
“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”
“Just—”
“You’re so irritating—”
“I’m irritating? You—”
“You’re the worst!”
“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”
“Okay. Nope. Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”
“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love. Come back to bed.”
“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.
“Come here!”
“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”
Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.
“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”
Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body. He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”
Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together. One less record for you.”
“Good. Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”
Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”
“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”
“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”
She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”
“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”
A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”
“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”
“Harry!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”
“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.
Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”
#feedback is appreciated and use a condom kids#harry styles oneshot#bestfriend!harry#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles preference#one direction imagine#one direction preference#one direction fic#one direction fanfiction#one direction#best friend!harry sty;es#watermelon sugar#watermelon sugar music video#fine line album
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And the first place story is called I Put a Spell on You. I'm posting what I have finished so far, which is a Prologue and three Chapters:
I Put A Spell On You
Prologue
Blaine frowned at the Asian boy sitting across the classroom from him in third period. Wes was staring at him intently, but Blaine just shook his head imperceptibly. He knew what the older boy wanted, but now was not the time. Wes arched an eyebrow at his audacity, but Blaine ignored him and turned back to his own paper. Wes would just have to wait the ten minutes until time was up and class let out, and then he could have Blaine’s full attention, like any other normal student.
The bell rang, and Blaine took his time gathering his books and papers as the council leader approached him. “That was impertinent, Anderson.”
Blaine just rolled his eyes, but stood. “I’ve told you before, Montgomery, not during class. Unlike you, some of us only have a limited amount of time to gain their education. Granted, History is probably the one class I don’t have to worry too much about, considering how much my father has drummed it into me from the cradle.”
Wes let out a sigh. “Fine, I’m sorry. You know the deal, though. I take my oath seriously.”
“As do I, Wes, despite how unnecessary I find it. And besides, we still have time. I promise I will fulfill my part of the oath soon. Now if you don’t mind, some of us actually have to eat.”
Wes sighed and shook his head. “I eat too, you know.”
“A liquid diet is not eating,” Blaine teased, and walked away.
In spite of their peculiar differences, and the circumstances of their acquaintance, Blaine did consider Wes to be a friend of sorts, but sometimes the other boy could be a nuisance.
“I can hear what you are thinking, Blaine.”
“Stop poking in my mind then.”
“You know it’s necessary.”
Blaine just shook his head without looking back at the other boy. “Why don’t you go find David and practice your sucking on him. Your choice of anatomy.”
“Ass.”
“Whatever rocks your world.” Blaine blocked the other boy from his mind and got in line for lunch. Trent slipped into line behind him.
“Hey Blaine!” the always bubbly boy said.
“What’s up Trent?” Blaine asked, taking a tray as the line moved forward.
“Mrs. Bellmont’s great dane is going to have puppies, and she’s worried about who the father might be. I’m debating whether to tell her it was the neighbor’s pomeranian or not.”
“Probably not,” Blaine said. “She might wonder how you know.”
“True. I can’t really tell her that the little brat was bragging about ‘boning her big mutt,’ can I?”
“Not without a trip to the psychiatrist’s office, no. You don’t want your mother to have to come down and make them all forget again, do you?”
The younger boy sighed and frowned. “No, I guess not.”
Blaine smiled at him. “Cheer up. Look, they have apple pie. Your favorite. And Abigail is working the dessert station. Smile and she’ll double your whipped cream.”
Trent perked up. “Ooh! Apple pie! See you later Blaine! And don’t forget, senior comm-”
“I know, immediately after sixth period. I’ll be there.”
Trent nodded and skipped the rest of the lunch line and went straight for the desserts. Blaine smiled at the other boy. He hoped Trent never lost that innocent, happy go lucky spirit. It was hard for his kind to be around others and not be affected by their lack of empathy.
Blaine finished making his selections and paid, then went to sit with Nick and Jeff at their usual table. He noticed that Nick was feeding Jeff strawberries.
“You know those are out of season, right?” Blaine said, glancing around.
Nick just shrugged. “Not in South America.” He wiggled his fingers, and another fat berry appeared out of thin air.
Jeff smiled. “I love it when he does that. And I can’t help that strawberries are my favorite treat. Nicky likes to spoil me.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re taking those from someone’s garden again,” Blaine said.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Relax, Jiminy Cricket, they’re from a massive commercial grower who won’t notice a few missing from their bumper crop. Stop trying to be my conscience.”
Blaine just shook his head. “Sorry if some of us happen to think taking from a little old lady is wrong. My father might not give a damn, but my mother taught me better.”
“She wasn’t a little old lady. She was a busybody who hoarded her berries and wouldn’t share with her neighbors.”
“Come on, Blaine,” Jeff conjoled. “Don’t be such a downer. Lately you seem to always have your panties in a twist. What’s wrong?”
Blaine sighed. He didn’t know how to explain things to the other boy. Nick would probably understand, being somewhat distantly related, in a manner of speaking. As it was, the brunette haired boy was studying him, his eye color seeming to shift with the light.
“The Awakening?” Nick asked.
Blaine just shrugged. “My birthday is still months away, but it has happened early before. I know it’s different for your kind, obviously.”
Jeff’s ears were perked up. “What are you guys even referring to? What awakening? And what does your birthday have to do with it?” he asked.
Nick leaned in and whispered into the blonde boy’s ear, and Jeff blushed. “Oh. So that’s why you wanted to spend the entire weekend at your family’s cabin last month? Alone?”
Nick winked at him and kissed his cheek. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
Jeff grinned, but then the grin turned to confusion again. “But you weren’t mopey before that. You just seemed to be happy to see me.”
Blaine almost choked on his bite of BLT. “Yes, well, it’s different for his kind, and it helped that he already had you, so…”
Nick studied him again for a moment. “What if this just means that yours is close by? Maybe you’re just sensing them drawing nearer?”
Blaine frowned. “I don’t see how. There are no others of my kind in this region. My father made sure of that. He said that if I insisted on an education in ‘this world,’ that he would be damned if there would be any distractions to interfere with my studies. That was the whole reason he struck the deal with Wes’ dad.”
Nick continued to study him, one eye arching. “He does realize that it doesn’t necessarily have to be one of your kind, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, he knows alright,” Blaine said. “But according to him, it bloody better well be one of our own, or he will remove the temptation before it can take hold and find a suitable replacement.”
Jeff looked from his boyfriend to Blaine and back. “Why do I feel like I am missing half the conversation?”
Blaine smiled at him. “Let’s just say you’re lucky Nick’s family is much more progressive than mine. Well, more so than my father, anyway. My mother will just be happy, no matter who it is. Of course, it’s not only a matter of the what, but the who for my father. He still insists that I’m just going through a phase, and that when it does happen, I’ll realize my confusion.”
Jeff let out a sigh. “I still don’t understand what the difference between you and Nick is. I mean, you both can do things I can’t do.”
Nick ran his hand over Jeff’s back. “It’s how we do them that is different, sweetheart. I’m a mage. I draw on the power of the things around me to use my magic. Blaine is a Warlock, which means his power comes from within him.”
Jeff frowned. “And I’m just a plain human, and until a few months ago I didn’t have a clue magic existed. It’s going to take me years to understand how you do what you do.”
Nick smiled. “All you have to understand is I love you, and nothing will ever change that.” He kissed the blonde boy on the forehead.
Blaine sighed. He hoped one day he would have something like what Nick and Jeff had. He didn’t care if it was with one of his own kind, or someone else. He just wanted the promise that he wouldn’t be alone for the rest of his life.
Chapter One
Kurt was tired. Between the bullying, and not fitting in with the boys in Glee, and not being accepted with the girls, he just didn’t care any more. He was tired of fighting for a place to belong, so when Puck had told him to make himself useful and go spy on the competition, he figured why not? At least it would give him a break from the constant pressure to be something he wasn’t and could never be. That was how he found himself standing just inside the main doors of Dalton Academy not long after lunch time.
He just stood there for a few minutes, glancing around, not sure where to go. He supposed he could ask someone in the office where the music room was, but there were two problems with that. One, he’d have to have an awfully good reason to be asking where the music room was or they were going to be suspicious, and two, he didn’t see anyone in the office area. What he assumed was the receptionist’s desk was currently unoccupied, and there were no signs of anyone anywhere else.
He almost decided to turn around and go home, but something compelled him to keep going, and he found himself wandering the halls of the large building that was supposed to be a school, but seemed more like a grand old manor house in the English Countryside. At least the main building did, anyway. He knew from his hasty Google search that there were four other buildings on the property, including two dorm houses. Not every student boarded there, but there were many who did.
He had no idea where to begin to search for the music room, or any signs of the Warblers, but his feet seemed to be carrying him along of their own intention, and he was too lost in thought to really pay attention.
Why did he always feel like he would never fit in anywhere? It couldn’t be just because he was gay. Granted, with the ratio of homophobes to openly gay teens in this state, that was probably a large part of it. Maybe a small part had to do with not having a mother. After his mom passed away, many of his friends treated him differently, not really knowing what to say to him, some even seeming to think that if they hung around him, they’d lose their mom too. Kurt didn’t blame them, but he thought they were dumb for thinking that was how it worked.
Maybe it was because he no longer believed. Once upon a time he believed in the fairy tales his mother read him. He even believed in God for a while. But after his mother died, he stopped believing in anything intangible. No god, no fairy tale prince to sweep him off his feet, and no magic. If he couldn’t see it, hear it, feel it, smell it, or taste it, it wasn’t real.
As his feet guided him down a winding staircase, a dismissal bell rang, and he was suddenly surrounded by boys in uniform. He hadn’t considered a uniform when he decided to come on this mission. No one really seemed to be paying attention to him, though, so he decided not to panic. Instead, he was curious where they all seemed to be heading, as they all were going in the same direction.
A sense of anticipation suddenly filled him, as if he knew something important was about to happen. It was as if a small voice in the back of his mind was whispering, ‘follow them. They will lead you to your destiny.’
He shrugged off the feeling and paused on the stairs, calling out to one of the passing boys. “Excuse me.”
…
Blaine’s footsteps slowed at the voice, and he turned to look up at the unfamiliar boy.
“Can I ask you a question? I’m new here.”
Blaine knew in an instant that was a lie. This boy wasn’t a student here. Yet. But something about him made Blaine curious, so he pretended to go along with the boy’s tale. “I’m Blaine,” he said, holding his hand out to the beautiful boy before him. He suddenly wanted to know what that pale skin felt like under his fingers.
The pale boy glanced down at the hand briefly before taking it. There was a brief frisson of awareness as their hands touched, and Blaine wondered if the other boy felt it too. He thought he must, as when he spoke next, there was a barely contained breathiness to his speech as he spoke his name. “Kurt.”
Blaine smiled as the other boy quickly composed himself.
“Where is everyone going?”
“Blaine, hurry up. It’s nearly time.”
Blaine ignored Wes’ voice in his head, focusing on the boy before him. “The Warblers. Every now and then they give an impromptu performance. Tends to shut the school down.”
This seemed to surprise the boy, although Blaine wasn’t surprised that Kurt was surprised. He could hear the echo of another boy telling Kurt to ‘make yourself useful and go spy on the Garglers.”
“Wait, your choir is cool here?”
Blaine laughed slightly. “The Warblers are like rock stars!” On impulse he reached for the boy’s hand again. “Come on, I know a shortcut.”
“Blaine, I will be very upset if you are late.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, fang boy.”
“Well, your attitude has improved. What happened?”
“I caught a spy. Change of plans. I assume you can manage to make everyone fall into line.”
There was a pause as Blaine rushed down the portrait corridor, pulling Kurt behind him.
“Done. You owe me big time.”
Blaine blocked the other boy from his mind again as they approached the senior commons. He felt Kurt pulling back as they entered the crowded room.
“Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb,” the pale boy muttered.
Blaine chuckled. “Well next time, don’t forget your jacket, new kid,” he teased, straightening the lapel on Kurt's attempt at fitting in. He saw the flash of something in the faceted blue eyes that stared back at him, and wondered if that was something Kurt always tried for, but never achieved. Did he not fit in at his school? Blaine could definitely understand that. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He smiled again as the Warblers began to harmonize, and he fell into position.
I put a spell on you
And now you're mine.
You can't stop the things I do,
I ain't lyin'.
…
Kurt felt a chill run down his spine as Blaine began singing, and for a moment, he almost believed the lyrics. He couldn’t look away from the dark haired boy with the bewitching hazel eyes. Even as he danced, Blaine never seemed to blink or break eye contact with him.
I put a spell on you
And now you're gone.
(Gone, gone, gone, so long!)
My whammy fell on you
And it was strong.
(So strong, so strong, so strong!)
(Watch out!, watch out!,
Watch out!, watch out!
He ain't lying!)
If you don't believe,
you'd better get superstitious.
Ask my Brothers!
"Ooh, he's vicious!"
I put a spell on you,
I put a spell on you,
Ah say ento pi alpha mabi upendi
(Ah say ento pi alpha mabi upendi)
In comma coriyama
(In comma coriyama)
Hey, hey, high, high!
Say bye-bye, bye bye!
The song came to an end, and Kurt had to blink the room back into focus. It seemed to have gone fuzzy for a moment as the other boys gathered began to cheer and whistle their appreciation. Kurt enthusiastically joined in the applause.
He saw Blaine whisper something to one of the other boys, who glanced over at him, and then nodded. The Asian boy and Blaine made their way over to Kurt.
“Hi. I’m Wes. Won’t you join us for coffee?”
Twenty minutes later, Kurt found himself sitting across from Blaine and Wes, along with another boy they introduced as David.
“It’s awfully kind of you to buy me coffee before beating me up for spying.”
The three boys laughed. “We’re not going to beat you up,” David said. “Your attempt at spying was actually a little endearing. Which is why we believe that wasn’t why you really came here.”
Kurt studied the three boys for a moment. “Can I ask you a question? Are you all gay?”
Again the other three boys laughed. Blaine shook his head. “No. I mean, I am, but David here goes through girlfriends like tissues, and Wes is such a grouchy old man, no one wants to date him.”
The Asian boy rolled his eyes, but David just grinned. “This isn’t a gay school. We just have a zero tolerance, no bullying policy. Everyone gets treated the same, no matter what.”
…
Blaine watched as Kurt pulled in on himself a little, and a protective streak immediately rose up in him. “Would you two mind leaving us?” he asked the two council members.
Wes glanced at him, raising one eyebrow. “You were the one who wanted us here in the first place.”
Blaine just glared at him. “And now I’m asking you to leave. David is looking a bit sleepy. You can tuck him in for a nap and invade his dreams again. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it. When are you going to get your head out of your ass and tell him what you are? You know the reason he goes through girls so fast is because he’s so confused about his feelings for you.”
“Yeah, that will be an interesting conversation. ‘Hey David, I’m a vampire, you’re my soulmate, but I’m stuck being blood bound oathed to a Warlock for the next hundred years because his daddy is a powerful bastard who doesn’t trust him not to go screwing any mere mortal.’”
“Fuck you, too,” Blaine retorted.
“No thanks, not even if you were the last blood bag on the planet.” Wes stood and David followed him out of the room, leaving Blaine shaking his head for a moment. He looked back at Kurt.
“Kurt?”
The pale boy took a shuddering breath. “I’m the only out kid at my school. There’s this one jock, a Neanderthal who has made it his life's work to torment me and make my life a living hell.”
Blaine could feel his power growing as the urge to lash out at whoever hurt this boy rose up inside him, but refused to give in to the darkness. Wouldn’t that make daddy dearest proud? His troubled younger son following in his footsteps and letting the darkness seep in? Would he approve of that?
Blaine shook away the thoughts and focused on Kurt. “Humans are the most vicious creatures on the planet. They’re supposed to be the sentient ones, but sometimes I wonder how they ever evolved as far as they have without killing themselves off.”
Kurt looked at him strangely, and Blaine realized he was letting his father’s words get to him. He smiled reassuringly at the blue eyed boy. “Sorry, that did sound a bit dramatic, didn’t it?”
“A little,” Kurt said, chuckling slightly.
Blaine leaned forward, reaching across the table to place his hand on Kurt’s. “I wish I could just tell you to transfer here, to Dalton, but I know that’s not possible for everyone. What I can tell you is that you aren’t alone. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I do understand what you are going through.”
As he spoke, he could hear other echoes, slurs and insults being thrown at Kurt, even from those who consider themselves his so-called friends. There was one boy in particular, he assumed it was the Neanderthal Kurt mentioned, who was particularly harsh, and Blaine worried about that one.
He gave Kurt his phone number, and walked him out of the building. He shook his hand once more before he left, leaving a little trace of magic on Kurt’s skin, so that Blaine would know if the boy ever needed help.
…
“So, is he the one?” Nick asked later, after dinner. Jeff was busy with his calculus tutor, so he and Blaine were alone in their dorm house’s common room.
Blaine frowned. He knew what Nick was asking, he just wasn’t certain how to answer him. “I don’t know. There is something about him that draws me, but I’m not sure it is the Awakening. I mean, I didn’t turn into a mindless idiot, laser focused on the boy the way you did with Jeff.”
“That was different, and you know it. Mages mature faster than Warlocks. Not all of us can live as long as you do.”
Blaine sighed. It was true, warlocks could live up to five hundred years. Not as long as vampires, but longer than the average lifespan of a mage, who only lived for about a hundred and fifty years.
“Sometimes I think it’s our longevity that makes us miserable old bastards. My father is just over two hundred years old, but you would think he woke up with the dawn of time the way he goes on and on about the past.”
“Your brother isn’t miserable,” Nick pointed out.
“That’s because my brother escaped. He bound his magic and gave up his long life to live one lifetime with his true love.”
“Maybe that is why your father clings to you so hard.”
Blaine sighed again. He wanted to change the subject. “What was it like?”
“What?”
“When you realized Jeff was your soulmate. I mean, did it just kind of hit you out of the blue, or was it a slow realization?”
“I can tell you what it was like for me, but again, it will be different for you.”
“Just tell me what made you certain it was him?”
Nick thought about the first moment he saw Jeff. The blonde boy had been a late term transfer, his family having just moved to Ohio from California. Jeff was younger than Nick, only fourteen when they had met, to Nick’s fifteen.
Jeff hadn’t even realized he was gay at the time. Oh, he’d been curious in a ‘what is it like for them’ kind of way, but hadn’t really applied the thought to himself. He was a little bit of a late bloomer, and hadn’t really had any sexual interest before. At least not until Nick. Nick could literally see the fact that Jeff was untouched, not even by his own hand. It had radiated out of the boy, and been one of the things that had made Nick really notice him.
Had he realized that first day that Jeff was his?
“I don’t think I knew right away, no. I knew he was important, but not why. I knew every time he was near, I could sense his emotions. I knew he was confused by my attention to him. It wasn’t until about a week later, maybe a little longer, that I realized what was happening. Remember, I had only turned fifteen a few weeks before he came here. With my kind, the Awakening doesn’t necessarily happen on your birthday, it can take weeks, months, or even years once you turn fifteen.
“What I didn’t know at the time was that Jeff being younger had something to do with that. By the time he turned fifteen, I knew what he was, and we’d been together for a couple of months, and we’d messed around some, but nothing more than exploring, you know? And then on his fifteenth birthday, that was when the Awakening happened. That was when things really changed between us.”
“You mean when you turned into a sex addict?” Blaine teased.
Nick slapped him on the shoulder. “You know sex is only part of it. It was when we bonded, when our souls connected. For mages, it is when our magic finds its anchor, what we focus our magic through. Instead of drawing on the chaos power around us and having limited control over our abilities, we filter the magic through them, removing the chaos, and giving us the control. I don’t know what it’s like for warlocks, other than for you, it usually doesn’t happen until your sixteenth birthday, but as you said, it can occasionally happen before. Aren’t there any other warlocks you can speak to about this?”
Blaine sighed. “They’re all too afraid of my father. His word is law. They’re afraid that if they say the wrong thing, my father will annihilate them.”
Nick frowned. “Have you tried speaking to him about it?”
“Of course, but it is always the same thing every time I ask. ‘When it happens, you will gain unlimited power, and any flaws and imperfections will be burned away.’ Of course by that, he means my attraction to males. Because darkness forbid if I taint the family line, as Cooper did.”
“What about Cooper? Have you tried talking to him?”
Blaine sighed. “I can’t. Father banished him, and set forth wards to prevent me from contacting him.”
“Your father is psycho,” Nick replied.
“Who, Blaine’s dad?” Trent asked, startling them. They turned to where the younger boy was standing by the balcony doors. He was covered in dirt.
“What on earth have you been doing?” Nick asked.
Trent shrugged. “When the gardener trimmed the oak tree today, he dislodged a squirrel’s nest, dumping all the nuts the poor thing had been storing for winter, so I offered to help him gather what I could. He was very grateful, and promised to repay me in the spring by showing me where the best wild blackberries can be found.”
Blaine smiled at the excited look on Trent’s face. He looked like any other fourteen year old boy, but in terms of Nymph and Satyr lifespans, Trent was the emotional equivalent of a four year old. Now, that wasn’t to say that he was intellectually slow, no. On the contrary, he was exceptionally smart, he wouldn’t be at Dalton if he wasn’t, but he had the emotional range and innocence of a toddler, which made him very endearing to Blaine and his friends.
“You are a kind person, Trent,” Nick said. “Don’t ever change.”
“Why would I change?” Trent asked, genuinely confused.
Blaine stood up and went over to hug his friend. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just an expression. Come on, let’s get you to your room before the RA comes and makes a fuss about the mess.” He paused as he glanced behind the boy at the balcony door. “Did you climb the tree to get up here?”
“Yes!” Trent said, looking pleased with himself. “It was fun!”
Nick chuckled as Blaine led the other boy away.
…
Blaine waited until his friend had gotten into the tub before gathering the younger boy’s dirty clothes and putting them in the hamper, and laying out his pajamas. He also hung a fresh uniform on the inside of Trent’s closet door for the next morning.
Sometimes he envied his friend’s happy go lucky, no-cares-at-all life. Trent would never have to fret about his sexuality, or if he’ll be accepted. All Nymphs and Satyrs were bisexual, so no one among his kind would bat an eyelash at him for falling in love with someone of his own gender.
Trent also never gave a damn about what anyone else thought about him. If someone didn’t like him, then oh well, it’s their loss. Some people mistakenly thought that Trent was mentally slow because of the way he talked, or wondered if he was on the autism spectrum, but they quickly learned that Trent could teach the teachers a few things about math, science, geology, entomology, ornithology, biology, and almost every other -ology known to humankind, and a few human’s hadn’t even discovered yet.
“Blaine, where are you?”
He let out a sigh. “I’m with Trent right now.”
“Well, come to me when you finish with him.”
“Tonight? There are still five days before the full moon, and I have a lot on my mind right now, Wes.”
He could feel the older boy’s frustration. “You know it’s not a good idea to wait until the last minute, Blaine. Remember what happened the last time?”
Blaine rolled his eyes. “I said I was sorry. You know this is just as difficult for me as it is for you. I will come to you when I am ready! Stop pressuring me!”
“Fine, but I will not be held accountable for the consequences!”
Blaine felt the other boy block him out, knowing that he’d angered him. He knew Wes suffered more from their agreement than he did, but Blaine couldn’t help being repulsed by the prospect of letting the other boy feed from him once a month to maintain their blood bond, and worse, having to drink his blood in return, even if it was only a drop or two. He hated his father forcing the oath on him, on them, just to be able to spy on Blaine.
That’s what it came down to; keeping tabs on Blaine. The blood exchange meant that Blaine’s mind would be open to Wes, that he would know everything in Blaine’s mind, his secrets, most private thoughts. And Wes would be obligated to tell Blaine’s father anything that might interfere with Blaine’s studies, or that would indicate that Blaine was following in his brother’s footsteps.
He heard the bathroom door open and Trent emerged, dressed in the pajama’s Blaine had set out. The younger boy smiled at him.
“Thanks Blaine. I know sometimes I forget what humans will think about the things I say and do. You shouldn’t feel obligated to look after me.”
“I don’t feel obligated, Trent. I do it because we’re friends, and friends look out for each other.”
“I’m glad we’re friends. I like you. You don’t talk to me like I’m dumb.”
“You’re not dumb. Heck, you’re smarter than I am in most subjects. People just don’t understand that you see the world a little differently. That doesn’t mean you don’t understand things, it just means you are you. Sometimes I wish I could see the world through your eyes.”
“Really?”
Blaine shrugged. “Yeah. It would be interesting to see the world without the jadedness my father has instilled in me, or without the various prejudices we all have. To actually see the world with innocence and wonder. You don’t realize just how lucky you are.”
Trent sat on his bed. “You make it sound like the world is really a terrible place. You don’t see how beautiful everything is?”
Blaine sat in the desk chair, facing him. “It’s not a terrible place, no, just not as perfect as you see it. And I do see beauty in some things, but sometimes you have to scrape away the grime first before you find it.”
“How sad that must be. But you are wrong about one thing.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I know the world isn’t a perfect place. I just prefer to see the good in everything.”
Blaine laughed. “You’ve obviously never met my dad. But thanks.”
“For what?” Trent was clearly confused.
“For giving me a glimpse into your world, even for a fraction of a second.”
…
Kurt rubbed his palm on his thigh again as he served dinner that night. It had been tingling most of the day, ever since he’d left Dalton. It wasn’t an annoying sensation, like an itch would be, but more like…he couldn’t describe it. It was a pleasant warmth, almost what he imagined a kiss on the hand would feel like.
The thought made him blush and rub it again.
“Something wrong with your hand, kiddo?” his dad asked. “Got an itch? You know what they say, if your palm itches, someone is going to give you money.”
“Yeah, you. I haven’t gotten paid for working at the garage last weekend yet.”
“Payday is Friday, same as everyone else,” Burt said.
“I know, and I’m not asking you to front the money. If I wait till Friday, I’ll be less likely to spend it before the big sale on Saturday.”
“Oh, is that the sale at Neiman Marcus?” Carole asked. Kurt had almost forgotten she was coming to dinner that night, and was glad he remembered to make extra. Finn was supposed to have been there as well, but had opted for a gaming marathon at Puck’s instead. “I need a new light weight sweater for work. The new charge nurse keeps turning the fan on high at the nurses’ station and it gets just a little chilly.”
Kurt smiled at her. “Yes, Mercedes and I were planning on making a day out of it. You can tag along for a bit if you’d like.”
She laughed and reached out to pat his hand, pulling back almost immediately as she felt a little zap. “Ooh!” she said, startled.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” Kurt said, almost as shocked as she was.
“N-no, no, it’s okay, just static electricity. No harm done.” She was still giving him a curious look, though. “So, anything interesting happen today?”
Kurt fought to keep the blush off his face. He couldn’t admit that he had left school to go spy on another show choir, nor could he admit that he had met a cute boy who was actually gay.
“No, not really. Mr. Schue is doing the boys vs girls challenge again, and again he is making me sing with the boys, who don’t appreciate my talents.”
Burt frowned. “Do I need to have another talk with him about respecting your choices?”
Kurt sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes you have to pick your battles. This one isn’t worth the effort, but thanks dad. Nice to know I always have someone on my side.”
Carole gave him another assessing look, but then changed the subject, talking about the new charge nurse who thinks she’s a drill sergeant rather than a nurse.
After Carole left and Kurt finished the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, he went upstairs to his room to do his homework, still absently rubbing his palm over his thigh. He no longer even seemed to realize he was doing it.
When he lay down for bed that night, he tucked the hand up under his chin, almost protectively, and dreamed of a dark prince.
Chapter Two
It had been two days since the spy had come to Dalton, and things had been rather…uneventful since. Blaine had been monitoring Kurt’s emotions through the mark he’d left. There had been a couple flashes of anger and frustration, but for the most part he seemed to be okay. Blaine had sent him a text earlier that morning, reminding him to have courage. He felt the other boy’s warmth and appreciation at the message.
Wes was staring at him again in third period. Blaine sighed.
“Fine, I’ll meet you in your dorm after class. Make it fast, though. I’ll need to eat lunch afterwards.”
“Thank you for being reasonable.”
“I’m just sick and tired of seeing you mope around.”
When the class finished twenty minutes later, Blaine was once again slow to gather his books. He was not looking forward to what was about to happen. It wasn’t painful, it just made him uncomfortable. Of course if he waited too much longer, it wouldn’t just be uncomfortable, it would make him sick, and Wes would be hard pressed to control his urges, and Blaine would be left weaker than usual afterwards.
He stood up slowly, and almost collapsed back in his seat at the rush of terror that overwhelmed him. He was momentarily stunned, confused by the sensation.
“Blaine? What has happened? I can hear your heart racing from down the hall.”
“It’s not me. It’s Kurt. I have to go to him. He needs help!”
“But what about-”
“Tonight, I promise. Kurt needs me now!”
There was a moment of stillness in his mind.
“Fine, but if you do not come to me by midnight, I will come to you, no matter what.”
Blaine didn’t care. He shut the other boy out of his head and staggered out of the building to his car. He was already on the freeway when his phone rang. He knew it was Kurt.
He took a deep breath before answering, knowing he had to play ignorant.
“Hey, Kurt, what’s up?”
“Blaine?” He really sounded shaken.
“Kurt? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Not physically, no. Emotionally, I don’t know. I don’t have anyone else I can talk to.”
“You can talk to me. What happened?”
“I was walking down the hall, and that Neanderthal I was telling you about knocked my phone out of my hands and walked away. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. I chased him into the locker room. We were yelling in each other’s face, and then he did something I still can’t believe.”
“Calm down. Take a deep breath. What did he do?”
He could hear the other boy taking a few deep breaths. “He…he kissed me.” The words were barely spoken above a whisper.
Blaine’s fists tightened on the steering wheel as his vision went momentarily red. He was the one who needed to take calming breaths now. “He did what?”
“He kissed me,” Kurt said a little louder. “I freaked out. I think he freaked out too. He punched the locker next to my head and ran away. I’m terrified he’s going to come back and try to make sure I can’t tell anyone. I don’t know what to do!”
“I’m on my way. We’ll talk to him in a public place where he can’t do anything. Try to reason with him.”
“I don’t know if that is a good idea. What if he retaliates?”
“If he’s smart, he’ll realize someone else knows, and will leave you alone.”
“What if he isn’t that smart?”
Blaine bit his lip. “I won’t let him hurt you. I promise. You have to trust me.”
There was a moment of silence. “I do.”
“Good. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
…
Kurt let out a sigh of relief when he spotted Blaine walking towards him about an hour later. He didn’t know how the boy had gotten there from Westerville so fast, but he was just grateful he’d come.
Blaine smiled and hugged him. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. Thank you for coming.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I was coming this way anyway. Where is he?”
Kurt was a bit confused by that reply. Wasn’t he supposed to be at school? He just shook it off. “He should be heading to lunch now.”
“Perfect, show me the way?”
They found Karofsky on the stairs leading to the outdoor tables by the cafeteria.
“Let me handle this,” Blaine said. He walked up to the much larger boy. “Excuse me, Kurt told me what happened, and I think we should talk.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Karofsky growled, glaring at Kurt.
Blaine put himself between them. “Listen, I think you may be a little confused about your feelings. A lot of guys find it difficult to come to terms with it.”
Karofsky shoved Blaine against the fence. “Stay out of my business!”
Kurt rushed to intervene, afraid the jock would hurt Blaine, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Blaine’s face. His warm eyes had gone black.
“Stop.” The word wasn’t shouted. Blaine spoke in a deep, commanding voice, and Karofsky froze in his tracks. “Walk away, and forget about this incident.”
Karofsky immediately let go and walked away. Blaine took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“Blaine?” Kurt asked, almost in a state of shock.
The shorter boy slowly opened his eyes, which were back to their rich honey hazel color. “I’m sorry, Kurt. Maybe confronting him wasn’t the best idea.”
“Blaine, what was that? Your eyes, they turned black…”
Blaine sighed. “I had hoped you were too distracted to notice that.”
“Yeah, well, even without the weird eye thing, the fact that you made Karofsky walk away like a robot just by telling him to is a bit unnerving. What are you?”
The shorter boy glanced around, and Kurt realized there were people watching them.
“Come on,” Blaine said. “I’ll buy you lunch and we’ll talk about it.”
Kurt hesitated a moment. Blaine had asked him to trust him, and he had said he did. Did he still trust him now that he knew there was something…different about the boy? He just nodded and followed Blaine out of the building. Neither of them spoke until they were in Blaine’s car.
“So, what was that back there? Hypnosis, mind control?” Kurt asked.
The other boy sighed. “Magic, and I’m ashamed I let myself give in to my urges.”
Kurt frowned. “Magic? And why are you ashamed? You didn’t hurt him, did you? He’s not suddenly going to go jump off the school roof, is he?”
“No!” Blaine said, sounding a little insulted. “I’m not my father! I would never willingly harm a mortal!”
“Sorry, but that doesn’t really ease my mind much. Does your father harm ‘mortals’ often?”
…
Blaine sighed internally. This was off to a bad start. “Only one, but in his defense, the mortal murdered his parents in front of him, and tried to kill him as well. It’s kind of made my father a little jaded towards your people.”
“My people? What exactly are you?”
“I’m a warlock.”
He could tell Kurt was trying to process that information, but most mortals didn’t believe in the supernatural. With another sigh, he pulled over to the side of the road.
“Hold out your hand.”
Kurt studied him warily for a moment, but slowly reached out his hand. Blaine cupped his hand over the top of Kurt’s palm, and concentrated for a moment. A second later a large, bright red apple appeared in the other boy’s hand.
Kurt looked startled.
“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” Blaine said. “I can feel how hungry you are.”
Kurt studied the apple from several different angles. “Where did it come from? Is it real?”
“As real as if you bought it at the store. As for where it came from, there is an orchard in Tuscany my family visited once. I pulled it from one of the trees there.”
Kurt looked at him, still somewhat skeptically. “You pulled the apple from an orchard somewhere in Italy?”
“It’s called manipulative magic,” Blaine explained as he pulled back onto the road. “I made a fold in relative space, and pulled the apple through it.”
“How exactly does that work?”
Blaine sighed. “It’s really hard to explain. Have you ever heard of the dimensional theory? That this is only one of many dimensions?”
“Kind of. I never really understood it. My friend Artie would probably know more about it. He’s the brainiac.”
“Well,” Blaine said, “it’s real. Mortals are unaware of the dimensions surrounding them, but my kind can manipulate them. Imagine a dimension is just a piece of fabric that can be folded. I basically just folded the dimension, or relative space, between here and Tuscany.” He glanced at Kurt to see if he was following. The blue eyed boy was still studying the apple. “Try it. I seem to recall that that variety of apple was very delicious, with almost a caramel-like flavor to it.”
Kurt glanced at him, then back at the apple. He took a small, hesitant bite, and almost immediately hmmed in surprised delight as the smooth, sweet, creamy flavor reached his taste buds. Blaine smiled as Kurt took another, bigger bite.
Once he swallowed, Kurt glanced at him again. “So, you’re a warlock? What is that, exactly? I mean, I know in folklore, a warlock is basically the male version of a witch, but in reality, witches are just practitioners of the Pagan faith known as Wiccan.”
“You’re partially correct. A warlock is the male version of a witch, but we’re not members of the Wiccan faith. Somewhere in your history the two words got confused. Wiccans are mortals who practice a nature based religion similar to the druids. They worship the earth and every living thing. There is no magic in the Wiccan religion.”
“So what are witches and warlocks?”
“We possess powers, what mortals call magic, that we can call on and manipulate to do our bidding. We actually originally came from one of those other dimensions I mentioned. We can travel back and forth between this dimension and our own.”
Kurt frowned. “You almost make it sound like you come from an alien planet.”
Blaine shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot of a diner. “We come from Earth, just not this Earth.”
“How many Earths are there?”
That actually made Blaine laugh. “That’s something even my people have never figured out. I’ve personally only been to three, not counting my own.”
“Are there other beings on the other Earths?”
Blaine didn’t answer right away, instead, getting out of the car and walking around to open the door for Kurt. “There are others, yes. Sometimes the Earths intersect, and people unwittingly cross over to another dimension.”
“The Bermuda Triangle?” Kurt asked, sounding intrigued.
“That is one of the spots, yes. There are a few others. I’m sure you recall some rather famous disappearances throughout your people’s history.”
Kurt considered for a moment. “Amelia Earheart?”
“Landed safely on one of the other Earths, but unfortunately, when she tried to return, crashed on an uncharted island.”
“Oh. What about Jimmy Hoffa?”
“Stepped into another dimension and never looked back.”
They stopped talking as they entered the building and were led to a booth in the back.
“Okay, so why are you here?” Kurt asked, looking down at the menu. “Why come to our Earth?”
Blaine sighed. “Partly to get out from my father’s oppressive thumb. Your Earth and mine are very similar, evolution wise, and I wanted to get my education without the jadedness my father and our kind often have towards other beings. Our people and yours haven’t always had the best of relationships.”
Kurt snorted. “Most of us believe you all are just myths.”
“That’s because we prefer it that way. Once mortals learn what we are capable of, they tend to become irrationally afraid of us, and burn us at the stake, or hang us, or press us to death. Although most of the ones murdered by mortals were actually other mortals. Wiccans were especially vulnerable targets, since they were often confused for our people.”
“I’m sorry.” Kurt said, and Blaine was surprised by the actual sincerity of the apology.
“Don’t be, Kurt. The vast majority of mortals are like you, not scared little beings who try to destroy anyone or anything that is different or believe a different way than they do. Unfortunately you know what they say. One bad apple. Many of the older witches and warlocks just can’t see past the one rotten barrel to the fresh, ripe orchard beyond.”
They were silent for a while after they placed their orders.
“So, you keep referring to my kind as mortals,” Kurt started, a little uncertain. “Does that mean you are immortal?”
Blaine sighed and shook his head. “Not in the sense you are using the word. My kind does tend to live for a long time, about five hundred years, but we can die or be killed, obviously, hence my father’s dislike of mortals in general.”
“Oh. So, um, how old are you?”
Blaine smiled. “Three hundred.”
“What?” Kurt looked shocked, and Blaine had to laugh.
“I’m kidding. I’m fifteen. My father is just over two hundred years old, my mother will be one hundred and sixty three next month, and my brother just turned fifty one this year.”
Kurt still looked a little stunned. “I’m not sure what to think right now.”
“You’ve had a rather eventful day. Maybe we should talk about something else for a while.”
…
At first Kurt found the shift in conversation a bit disjointed, but as they talked about music, movies, and books, Kurt was astounded to find he and Blaine had very similar tastes, and soon they were talking animatedly about all kinds of topics as they ate. When the bill arrived, Kurt tried to pay his portion, but Blaine wouldn’t let him.
“Fine,” Kurt said. “But you have to let me pay you back some time.”
Blaine chuckled. “Fine. At least it took your mind off of your bully problem for a while.”
The reminder made Kurt stop in his tracks.
“Kurt? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s not that. Well, it is, kind of. It’s just, until today, I’d never been kissed. At least one that counts.”
Blaine looked at him curiously. “Why should this one count? You didn’t want it, you didn’t ask for it. You weren’t a willing participant. One day, you will have one that really counts.”
That made Kurt smile. He liked that reasoning. “Thank you, Blaine.”
Blaine smiled back, and opened the car door for him.
…
Blaine dropped Kurt off at McKinley, then drove back to Dalton. Nick and Jeff were waiting for him by the main doors.
“So, it is him,” Nick said.
Blaine sighed. “I don’t know, maybe? All I know was he had a very bad experience today, and he was terrified and needed someone to talk to.”
Nick’s eye color shifted as he studied the curly haired boy. “You told him?”
Blaine shrugged. “I had to, he saw me using my powers.”
“Oh geez!” Nick said. “You better hope your father doesn’t find out!”
“Why do you guys talk about Blaine’s dad like he’s some scary boogeyman?” Jeff asked.
Blaine and Nick exchanged a look. “Because he is a scary boogeyman who can destroy us with a snap of his fingers?” Blaine said.
Jeff went pale. “Oh.”
“So what are you going to do about Kurt?” Nick asked.
Blaine sighed. “I don’t know. He won’t tell anyone, I’m sure about that. I just feel like he needs to be protected.”
Nick gave him another appraising look, his eye color seeming to shift with the light. “Then we will do everything we can to help you protect him.”
…
Blaine only stopped by his dorm room long enough to change out of his uniform before going to Wes’ room. The older boy opened the door before Blaine could even knock.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Blaine began. “Kurt needed my help.”
“So I heard,” Wes replied. “Tell me, before we go through with this, am I going to have to report this to your father as a distraction?”
Blaine’s eyes went wide. “Of course not!”
Wes just studied him for a moment. “We shall see. Let’s get this over with.” He turned and moved towards the overstuffed chair in the sitting area of his dorm.
“Got a hot date in David’s dreams tonight or something?” Blaine said, taking two steps to follow him, only to stop when the vampire suddenly swung around faster than the eye could see and grabbed Blaine by the throat.
“You would do well to remember that it is because of you that I can not claim my mate!”
Blaine didn’t even flinch, instead allowed his eyes to turn black. “I like this situation no more than you do. You and I know you can’t harm me, so take a chill pill and relax. Save your anger for my father for forcing this on us.”
Wes slowly let him go and turned away. He sat down in the chair, and Blaine positioned himself on the footstool in front of him, holding up his wrist for the older boy to feed from. Wes took a breath as he reached for the proffered arm, allowing his fangs to descend. If he used a little more force than necessary to sink them into Blaine’s wrist, Blaine wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of showing any pain.
The feeding lasted no more than a minute, but as Wes took the first swallow, Blaine felt the boy invade his mind, finding every memory, no matter how hard Blaine tried to keep his mind blank. He knew it was involuntary, Wes couldn’t control it. The blood bond required the sharing of memories, as much as the blood.
Wes retracted his fangs, releasing Blaine quickly. As Blaine wrapped the wound with a linen cloth, Wes picked up a long, thin needle and pricked his thumb. A bead of reddish black blood formed. Blaine knew it was futile to try and resist, and allowed the other boy to place his thumb in his mouth. Blaine drew the blood in, forcing himself not to gag at the taste.
As soon as it was done, Blaine stood, moving to the door.
“So, this Kurt, are you certain he is nothing more than a friend you want to help?”
Blaine froze, turning slowly back to the other boy. “He is not a distraction. You will not have to report this to my father. If any harm comes to him because of you, I will stake you myself.”
Wes studied him appraisingly, and then simply turned his back, dismissing the younger boy.
Chapter Three
“Are you done shopping already, Boo?” Mercedes asked Saturday as they sat down in the food court.
“Almost. Carole said she needed a new light weight sweater for work, but she got called in to work a double and can’t make it before the sale ends, so I thought I’d try and find one for her.”
“That’s sweet of you.” She picked a tot off her tray and popped it into her mouth. “So, are you going to tell me what happened yesterday? And who was that cutie I saw you leaving with?”
Kurt sighed. “I’d rather not talk about what started it all, if it’s okay with you. Let’s just say I was very upset about something, and I needed someone outside of school to talk to, so I called an…acquaintance for help.”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Acquaintance? Why have I never heard you mention him before?”
“We only just met a few days ago.”
“Oh? And he just dropped everything to rush to your aid? What is this knight in prep school blazer’s name? And how did you meet him?”
“His name is Blaine. I met him when Puck told me to go to Dalton and spy on our competition. Blaine knew I was a spy, but he was nice, and we talked for a while. He understands some of the stuff I’ve gone through.”
“Is he gay?”
“Yes, but we’re just friends.”
“Uh huh, just friends. The way you were looking at him wasn’t a ‘let’s hang out and be best buddies’ look, it was an ‘I want to see you sweaty and dirty’ look.”
“Mercedes!” Kurt said, sounding shocked.
“What? It’s the truth!”
Kurt blushed. “Okay, I may have a little crush on him. But I don’t think he feels the same way.”
“Why not?”
Kurt couldn’t tell her that Blaine wasn’t human, she’d think he was insane. “It’s complicated.”
She studied him for a moment. “Fine, but try not to get your heart broken.”
“It’s not like that, ‘Cedes. He’s just a friend.”
“That you have a crush on.”
Kurt sighed. “I’ll be careful.”
…
Kurt found a lightweight royal blue button up sweater for Carole, and headed home. He was surprised to find the woman in question there already.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to get off for another two hours,” he said, setting his shopping bags down on the kitchen table.
“I was, yes, but Delores came in early and relieved me. I stopped by here to ask your dad for a favor.”
“Oh?” he said, glancing at his dad.
“Yes, we’re having a charity rummage sale to raise money for the new children’s wing music and crafts center, and I was asking him if there were some things he’d like to donate.”
Burt shrugged. “I told her you and I could go through a few of those boxes in the attic from Grandma Winnie later and see if there is anything we can part with.”
“Sure. Mom always meant to go through those boxes after Grandma passed away, but she never got around to it.”
“You don’t mind parting with a few things?” Carole asked.
Kurt knew she was worried about his attachment to his mother’s stuff. “It’s okay. Those boxes have just been sitting there since I was six. There’s nothing sentimental in there, at least that I’m aware of.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Kurt. I should get going. I’m sure Finn is wasting away from starvation with me having been gone all day and him not wanting to part from his video games long enough to nuke a TV dinner.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Okay, we’ll check out the attic after dinner, and I’ll call you if we find anything that might bring in some money.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She hugged Kurt, kissed Burt on the cheek, and was about to leave when Kurt remembered the sweater.
“Oh, wait! Here,” he rummaged in his bag until he found the item, and handed it to her.
“Oh Kurt, thank you! It’s perfect! How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. Consider it an early birthday present.”
She hugged him again, said goodbye once more, and left. Kurt closed the door softly behind her.
…
“What are you doing?” Blaine asked, watching Trent. They were eating dinner Saturday night in the cafeteria, and the younger boy kept looking down into his pocket, and dropping little bits of food into it.
Trent blushed at having gotten caught. “I was just feeding my new friend.” He carefully pulled a small, grayish-tan mouse from his pocket. “This is Willow. He’s a long ways from home, and he’s tired and hungry.”
“Where did you find him?” Nick asked.
“Outside my window, this morning. He said he traveled all night to get here. He was sent to watch over someone, but he won’t tell me who, or who sent him.”
“Someone sent a mouse here?” Jeff asked. “Is it some kind of magical creature?”
Trent shook his head. “No, he’s just a mouse, but the one who cares for him is most likely magic in some way. He says they are kind to him, so he is willing to do this task for them.”
Blaine studied the mouse, contemplating who might have sent it, and why. The mouse seemed to study him at the same time. It made a little squeaking sound, then began cleaning its fur. Trent frowned.
“Huh, that’s funny.”
“What?” Blaine asked.
“Willow says you are an idiot, but he didn’t say why.”
Nick and Jeff laughed. “Well, Blaine can be clueless sometimes,” Jeff said.
Blaine frowned. “I’m being insulted by a mouse?”
Trent giggled, and Blaine shook his head. His phone vibrated in his pocket, signaling an incoming text. He pulled it out, smiling when he read it.
Want to get coffee tomorrow afternoon? My treat!- Kurt
Blaine tapped out a reply.
Sure! One o’clock, at the Lima Bean?- Blaine
The reply came quickly.
Perfect! See you there!- Kurt
Willow made another squeaking sound as Blaine put the phone away. Trent laughed.
“What did he say this time?”
“Nothing you want to know,” Trent said, trying not to grin.
Blaine rolled his eyes and excused himself to go finish his homework. Before he left the dining hall, he glanced back at his friends just in time to see Trent say something to Nick and Jeff, and the two boys burst into laughter.
…
They’d gone through most of the boxes and found several items that might sell for a decent price when Burt’s pager went off, signaling an emergency tow request.
“Go on,” Kurt said. “There are only three boxes left. I can finish them up.”
Burt nodded and left Kurt sorting through a box of baby clothes. They were old, from the early 1900’s by Kurt’s guess. They were in good condition, so he decided to add the entire box to the pile of stuff to donate, then moved onto the next box. This one held what appeared to be old cookbooks and handwritten recipe cards. He set that box with the last one to donate as well, then opened the last box.
The items in this one were newer, and he realized they were some of his baby things. There was the outfit his parents brought him home from the hospital in, along with a certificate with his tiny little footprints on it. There was a tiny, soft bristled brush, a little ceramic pot that had a clipping from his very first haircut, and another with the first baby tooth he lost. There were also a few toys, a couple of small blankets, and a book.
He picked up the book, smiling fondly. It was the book of faerie tales his mother used to read to him when he was younger. He opened the book, and flipped through pages, stopping when he found his favorite story, The Lost Prince.
He settled more comfortably among the boxes and read the story of a boy who grew up never knowing that he was the lost son of a queen. The boy had been stolen by an evil witch when he was only a few days old because she thought he was the key to an ancient prophecy that would unite two worlds. In the end, a good faerie casts a spell on the boy and puts him to sleep until his true love finds him and awakens him. The story ends there, and Kurt always wondered if his true love ever came for him.
…
He sat in the darkest corner of the coffee shop and observed the two boys on the far side of the seating area. Despite the distance between them and the conversations of the other patrons, he could hear them clearly.
For the most part their conversation was just drivel; music, movies, fashion, and general banality. But then the auburn haired boy began asking Blaine about magic, and Dalton, and other realm creatures.
“Are there others like you at Dalton?” Kurt asked.
“A few, although I’m the only warlock there. I can’t tell you about the others, though. If you meet them, and they decide to reveal themselves to you, that is their choice.”
Kurt nodded. “I understand.” He sighed. “Dalton sounds like a nice school. Everyone seemed so friendly.”
“It is a nice school. Everyone is treated equally, and made to feel like they fit in,” Blaine said.
Kurt sat back in his seat. “I wish I knew where I fit in. It seems like no matter where I am, something always makes me feel like an outsider.”
The watcher raised an eyebrow at that. Blaine had said the boy wouldn’t be a distraction, but he could see that wasn’t true. Kurt Hummel was going to be a major distraction.
…
Dave Karofsky glanced around the empty locker room nervously Monday morning, a sense of dread filling him. Had Kurt told anyone what he had done? Did everyone know his secret now?
He hurriedly stuffed his gym bag into his locker and shut it, wanting out of that space which usually felt so comforting, but now was stifling and cramped. He turned to flee, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the Asian boy standing directly behind him. He was startled. He would have sworn he was alone in the locker room just a second ago.
“Dave Karofsky, I presume.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is, you and I have a mutual problem. One that goes by the name of Kurt Hummel.”
Unpublished WiPs
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Not sure if you write for Melina from Black Widow but if you do could you please write a Melina x Reader where they are both locked in the cells in the red room and confess to each other and kiss
Destined to Lose | m.v fic
Summary: Melina recalls the love that she once shared with a Red Room agent years ago.
Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, as the Red Room focuses on girls, the reader will be female.
Warning: Implications of some malnourishment.
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
Ever since the Red Room had been stopped once and for all, there seemed to be the fragrance of calm in the air, washing over Mother Russia . . . or maybe it had just washed over Melina, Alexei, and Yelena, as everything had been shifted now. They were all free and had the opportunity to work on their shattered relationships - and to work on their shattered selves. Each one had coped in their own way, discovering and rediscovering their interests and who they were outside the Red Room, outside KGB.
One of the ways that Melina chose to heal was to take time for herself, and that included reading. More often than not, she’d be curled up in an armchair in the living room, entranced as her eyes swept over the ink printed on every page. The stories, whether they be fiction or non, always captivated her, and she soaked in every word.
That is the precise reason that despite being a highly trained and experienced spy, she didn’t notice that her youngest daughter was in the room until she piped up and spoke.
“Melina?”
Instantly the brunette was tugged from the faraway world she was in and her head snapped up, eyes holding a gaze of alarm for just a moment before they stilled. Melina took in Yelena’s state. The younger woman was standing confidently but her face told a different story. She was concentrating on something, Melina could tell from the way that her muscles were pulled, and there was an inner dialogue going on, troubling her.
“Yes, dear?” Melina said, carefully turning over the corner of the page and closing the book on her lap, as she could tell that this conversation wouldn’t be over in a minute.
“I had a question,” Yelena began, pausing for a moment and then sitting in the armchair across from her mother. She continued when she was comfortable. “-which you don’t have to answer.” She reeled in her worried gaze and made it more neutral.
Melina allowed her shoulders to slump into a relaxed posture and drew her bushy eyebrows together, her chin jutting down ever so slightly. “What is it?” She asked, the curiosity gnawing at her, since this wasn’t Yelena’s typical behavior.
Yelena seemed to be collecting her thoughts and, when she was finished, spoke in a delicate manner. “When I was looking at the Red Room’s files that Natasha got, I . . . I came across yours. It had said that you had been through the Red Room five times and . . . It mentioned someone named Y/N Y/L/N? I was wondering-” she cut herself off abruptly when she saw the solemn and serious look on her mother’s face.
The moment she heard that name, it struck something inside Melina. The memory, the feelings, it all came hurtling back with a force that had been absent for years. Y/N.
Y/N was the name that caused her stomach to twist and turn as the wound was ripped open. Y/N was the name that put a smile on her lips through the tears and reminded her how far she came when she was sad. Y/N was the name she thought of as a battle cry when she jumped into a fight against those Red Room agents. Y/N was the name she focussed on, like one would stare at a point on the wall to keep focus, as she got through the hardest times in her life, motivated her to push through with all her might.
With all those thoughts running through Melina’s head, she finally looked up, met Yelena’s gaze with her own, and parted her lips to tell her a story.
Melina had long since given up keeping track of the days at this point. There was no use, for by this time the days had all blurred into one. She could only differentiate the day and the night because every night is when someone with a deep frown on their face would walk in and give her a tray of food, and every morning was when someone else would arrive and take said tray away. She had barely moved from the position she sat in: back against the chain wall that seperated her cell and the one right next to hers and her knees drawn to her chest. She’d tune in to any sound she could hear and fixate.
She had been thrown into this cell because of her attempt to escape the Red Room. It wouldn’t be the first time she tried to escape, nor would it be the first time she sat in this cell, but it was the first time that she had gotten as far as she did, since she had help.
Melina could only wonder why she was here and Y/N wasn’t, and those wonderings always ended up with her conjuring thoughts and ideas that frightened her.
She ended up having the endless questions crawling at the back of her mind come to a halt when she heard pounding footsteps one day. Despite being in a tired haze, Melina snapped right out of it and became alert, watching and waiting with anticipation as their footsteps got closer, and closer, and closer.
The person - or people - belonging to those footsteps came into sight and Melina couldn’t stop the gasp before it escaped her lips when she saw what was happening.
A man, a Red Room agent, was practically dragging Y/N who was thrashing about, doing her best to put up a fight, but ultimately losing it when he carelessly tossed her into the cell next to Melina’s, locked the door, and walked away.
Only after his receding footsteps could be heard no more did Y/N look up from her tears, only for her eyes to widen and for her to lurch towards the chain wall, fingers grasping around it, when she laid eyes on Melina. Melina did the same and, after a little struggle, they managed to hold hands in a steel grip through the chain.
“Mel,” Y/N breathed, but her hoarse voice caused her to cough.
“Y/N,” Melina whispered, tightening her grip and scooting as close to the chain wall - as close to Y/N - as she could. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Y/N let out a shaky sigh, alarming Melina, and rested her forehead against the chain. “I wasn’t thrown into the cell immediately because you’ve been through the Red Room five times now, but I haven’t. They wanted to train me more and they did their best, but when I kept on fighting them they decided to put me in here.” she answered tiredly.
Melina thought this over and let out a sigh of her own, but this was a sigh of relief. She was glad that she no longer had to worry about Y/N and thankful that Y/N was with her so she could make sure that nothing bad would happen to her.
After a couple moments of the silence beginning to creep in again, Melina decided that she needed to tell Y/N something. “I have to tell you something, love.”
Y/N looked up, a beautiful glint in her eyes telling that she was intrigued. God, Melina had missed seeing that look on her face.
“Don’t feel pressured to respond, just, after I’ve been away from you, I really, really have to say this: I . . . I love you,” Melina confessed, bravely meeting Y/N’s gaze.
Y/N blinked, but that glint did not go away. In fact, it seemed to get bigger, making the smile on her lips reach her eyes, and she squeezed Melina’s hands as best she could.
“I love you, too.”
Those four words were probably the softest words she had ever spoken, but they were beyond true.
Melina leaned forward and Y/N after a moment did too. They did their best and managed to meet each other with a kiss. The two cherished it - the kiss was sweet and simple and not over-the-top. Perfect. They each leaned back.
Then, the silence came again, but this time, to Melina, it was more comfortable.
“I have something to tell you, also”
Melina looked up, expecting the smile to still be on Y/N’s face, but it was faltering. She tilted her head to the side.
“I insisted to them that you not be put through the Red Room a sixth time. I’m not sure if they’re going to do anything, but I wanted to stop what they were doing to you and-”
“That you did. They’ve listened.”
Both looked up to see a Red Room agent standing outside Melina’s cell. He unlocked it and she instantly scurried back, but couldn’t do anything to prevent him from grabbing her and yanking her up. “Y/N!” She yelled as she was half-dragged, half-carried away.
Y/N sat up, banging on the chain. Tears started streaming down her face. It was happening far too fast. “MELINA!” She yelled. “I’M SORRY!”
There was fear in her voice. Oh, god, what had she done?
Melina paused for a moment, eyes focussed on Y/N as they went down the hall. She then said calmly, but with a firmness, “Don’t be!”
“And that was the last time I saw her,” Melina concluded her story, not meeting Yelena’s eyes, but with tears threatening to spill.
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Reverse transmigration wangxian where LWJ who cultivates to immortality found an old summoning array where mxy fails to summon wwx but the whole thing with JGY still got revealed. LWJ in his grief summons WWX in our modern world, and the rest is up to you :) Maybe get WWX some therapy and loving family and how different modern days people are
This one is a bit angsty and has vague descriptions of sex. Modern AU.
“The Tragedy of Wei Wuxian - The Man Behind the Legend”
Lan Wangji caresses the title of the book with a thumb, eyes tracing a name he has always held close to heart but hasn’t heard for a long time.
“We all know of Wei Ying, courtesy Wuxian as Yiling Laozu. He’s one of the first to cultivate successfully with ‘resentful’ energy. His theories and papers helped us develop a greater understanding of yin energy, Qi deviation, and resentful spirits. He was a visionary, a man ahead of his time, someone who thought outside the box and looked for solutions instead of sticking to the norm. He’s also the first known person to donate his Golden Core.”
Wangji looks away for a moment, remembering Wen Ning’s snarling face and Jiang Wanyin’s rage, denial, and guilt.
“But we don’t talk about what brought that great visionary down. Society, as it did with many great thinkers, turned against him. In his youth, Wei Wuxian was one of the most accomplished cultivators of his generation. No one knows exactly what happened for him to develop the so-called ‘Ghostly Path’. His loss of the Golden Core may have been a factor, but the actual circumstances are shrouded in mystery.
What follows after the War of the Five Great Clans, known as the Sunshot Campaign, is nothing short of a tragedy. Wei Wuxian saw injustice happening and decided to fight against it. Society tore him up for it. At that time, all actions against him were justified and considered righteous. Those actions don’t stand up to scrutiny under the modern lens. Like all great and radical thinkers, Wei Wuxian ideals made him the enemy and that led to this tragic death, along with the murder of innocent war prisoners he sought to protect. There are unconfirmed reports of there being a child among the Wens.”
Wangji’s eyes flicker over to a picture frame sitting on his desk, an image of Sizhui and Jingyi smiling up at him through the glossy image. They’re well, he knows. Last he heard from them, they were in South Korea and having a great time.
Sizhui must not know of this book or he would’ve called immediately, always so concerned about his a’die.
“It was later revealed that hunger for power and political maneuvering led to his death. When we study the historical records, it is obvious that the man was pushed into the corner and was forced to retaliate. Unfortunately, no one cared about his fate-”
“I did,” Wangji whispered to himself, thinking back on silver eyes in an indistinct face. He loved - still loves Wei Ying - but the physical aspects of him have long since faded from his memory. He sometimes remembers Wei Ying’s laugh. Sometimes, he dreams of his smile. He doesn’t recall what Wei Ying sounded like, only remembering his tone when he said ‘Lan Zhan.’
And yet, Lan Wangji hasn’t forgotten love.
He reads the book in silence, going through all 375 pages of it without pausing to eat or sleep. It tells the story of Wei Ying in stark, blunt terms. There are a few facts missing or erroneous. He wasn’t the adopted child of the Jiangs. There was certainly no unrequited love between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli.
There’s very little mention of him. According to this book, Lan Wangji is a mere footnote in Wei Wuxian’s life; a childhood acquaintance, a disapproving comrade, and later a man who unraveled the truth because he pursued justice.
“He was just 23 years old when he died,” Wangji lingers over that statement, “23-year-olds are barely adults. They hold the promise of a bright future. They have so much potential inside of them. At 23, some people graduate from college, some take up their first serious job. At 23, young people fall in love and maybe form a life-long bond. Wei Wuxian became a key player in a big conflict at 17, he donated his core at 17. At 17, we still have children in high school. Our seventeen-year-olds aren’t even allowed to drink or drive. Our seventeen-year-olds are still protected and sheltered by their parents.
That is perhaps the biggest tragedy of Wei Wuxian’s life. He was only allowed to live a carefree life for seven years, from the day he was taken off the streets to the day the YunmengJiang Sect was attacked. After that and until his death, his life was marked by war, strife, betrayal, and persecution.
A visionary, a hero, a brilliant mind, dead by what most would consider suicide.” Wangji’s breath hitches and he takes a moment to collect himself, the sentence ringing in his head.
“He deserved better.”
---
He deserved better, Wangji thinks as he walks sedately towards his library.
There had been a glimmer of hope, all those years ago when Mo Xuanyu attempted to resurrect Wei Ying, but when he failed to do so, Wangji felt something shatter in him.
Whatever Wei Ying had done had completely destroyed his soul. His precious, noble soul. One that was formed for justice and kindness.
He deserved better.
He knows what he must do.
---
An immortal’s Golden Core has immeasurable power. It is the result of several hundred years of Cultivation and diligence. Wangji is more powerful than most, having survived through war, strife, grief, and loss.
An immortal’s Golden Core can also be an ingredient.
‘Draw the talismans shown below in the blood of your heart. Pin them in eight directions, north, northwest, west, southwest, south, southeast, east, and northeast. Sit in the exact center of this circle and sacrifice half of your cultivation to the being you wish to summon.’’
Wangji’s heart and hands are steady as he draws the talismans from blood drawn directly from the artery. He pins them in all eight directions and sits down in the middle, his hands moving elegantly to summon his Qi. He breathes in and breathes out, sinking into meditation with habitual ease.
It will work.
It has to.
The room floods with Resentful Energy.
---
He deserves better.
Wangji feels torn apart in ways he has never experienced before. The ritual summoning carves something out of his chest and drags it away. His mouth floods with blood and his body weakens alarmingly.
But it doesn’t matter.
Wei Ying.
---
Wei Ying is more beautiful than Wangji remembers. He is bloodsoaked, covered in cuts and bruises, saturated with Resentful Energy, but he’s alive.
And he’s beautiful.
Wangji stumbles to his feet, shakily walking into the bathroom to fetch some warm water. He walks back, his arms feeling the weight of the bucket like they have never carried such weight before. With every step that he takes towards Wei Ying, his heartbeat spikes up a little. He doesn’t know if he chose the right time. He doesn’t know if Wei Ying’s spirit had shattered before his death and dying had just been the aftermath.
Maybe Wei Ying’s body is here and not his soul.
Wangji cannot bear thinking about it.
With weak, shaking hands and the taste of blood lingering in his mouth, he slowly reaches forward. Layer by layer, he removes Wei Ying’s clothes, his fingertips tingling because his beloved’s body is warm.
He deserves better.
With aching tenderness, he wipes Wei Ying clean, removes all blood, grime, and mud from his body.
Wei Ying doesn’t stir.
---
There’s a gentle touch against his cheek. It is strange enough to wake him up because few people dare touch Lan Wangji. Slender fingers tap once, twice, almost playfully and Wangji knows who it is even before he opens his eyes.
Like a sun emerging from the horizon, Wei Ying appears before him, his smile bright and questioning.
“Wei Ying,” He breathes and Wei Ying nods, eyes a sparkling silver. There is so much beauty in that face that he can’t help but reach forward. Ignoring Wei Ying’s surprise, he cups his face and leans forward pressing his forehead against his beloved’s.
Wei Ying is still for a long moment, but he moves eventually, setting hands on Wangji’s shoulder. He doesn’t push him away, just huffing in soft amusement.
“Wei Ying,” He whispers, closing his stinging eyes, “Forgive Wangji for his selfishness.” He says, “I summoned you.” I summoned you without asking, knowing you wouldn’t desire it.
Wei Ying huffs again and that’s when it strikes him.
He pulls back and looks at his beloved in concern, scanning his eyes, face, neck, and chest quickly, his heart racing.
Why wasn’t Wei Ying speaking?
---
“You’re right in suspecting that his spirit sustained some sort of injury even before he was… killed.” Lan Jingyi says softly, pulling away from the sleeping Wei Ying, “There’s nothing physically wrong with him, Hanguang-jun, please don’t worry! His spirit just needs a little bit of time to recover.”
Wangji nods gratefully as he watches Sizhui lean over Wei Ying, his expression full of wonder and desperate happiness. As Sizhui’s cultivation grew, he started remembering more things from his childhood. They have never spoken on the matter of Wei Ying, but Wangji knows his son remembers more than he did when he was a child.
“Now, please let me check you.”
He levels a sharp look at the younger man but Lan Jingyi is no longer the adoring and naive student Wangji taught all those years ago. He’s a strong, accomplished cultivator and an avid researcher.
Lan Jingyi ignores him cheerfully and checks his core, stepping into Wangji's personal space without a care.
He narrows his eyes at the steely glint in the boy's eyes.
"I know you love him, Hanguang-jun," Lan Jingyi says, "And love is worth a life." They're immortals, life has little meaning for people who have lived for centuries, "But I wonder if the Wei Wuxian that you so adore will be happy about you risking your life for him."
Wangji's eyes flicker towards Wei Ying, who looks exhausted even in his sleep. "He deserved better."
Lan Jingyi is silent for a moment before he speaks, "Sizhui and I read the book on our flight back. Everything was horrible, I'm not surprised that his spirit sustained so much damage. But it is almost entirely intact now. It shows how much he wants to live, Hanguang-jun."
It's a relief.
---
Wei Ying can't speak but his presence is still loud. He rests for a few weeks to recover from his injuries. During that time, Wangji spends most of his days moving from Wei Ying's bedside to the library and back again.
His beloved has an insatiable hunger for knowledge. He wants to know everything about the modern world.
Every morning, Wangji is confronted with a bright face with sparkling eyes waving a book or a scroll in his direction.
Wangji hasn't experienced such liveliness in centuries. The very air of his home glows with Wei Ying's vitality. Wei Ying's body recovers quickly and soon the man is out of bed and following Wangji around.
His heart feels too big for his chest.
By all appearances, Wei Ying is perfectly content. He walks around Cloud Recesses, visits Caiyi Town, and is happy to watch the sunset with Wangji every evening.
That had been Wangji's wish when he performed that summoning.
He wanted Wei Ying to have another chance to live free and happy.
Looking at him now, Wangji wants to reach out, cup that cheerful face, and pepper kisses all over it. He wants to kiss those fluttering eyelids, smooth cheeks, sharp jawline-
That soft, smiling mouth.
Wangji is an immortal. He has endless patience. He can wait for Wei Ying to come to him.
He must wait.
---
The modern world fascinates Wei Ying. His beloved looks at everything from tall buildings to food stalls with wide, stunned eyes. Cloud Recesses and Caiyi Town are still relatively untouched by the passage of time, but Wei Ying has free access to the internet and has learned how to use it within two months of his arrival.
Wangji doesn't restrain him.
He just watches as Wei Ying, his brilliant and enthusiastic love, learns to thrive in his new world.
His voice has still not returned but that doesn't seem to bother Wei Ying. He is delighted to learn that there's a way to communicate nonetheless.
He starts learning sign language and Lan Wangji, with patient and steady hands, practices with him.
---
Lan Sizhui follows Wei Ying around with quiet affection and aching tenderness. He's much older than Wei Ying now, but he remains their son in spirit. He treats Wei Ying like a senior, with respect and adoration.
His Wei Ying notices, of course. At first, he finds the situation quite strange but Wei Ying isn't stupid.
'Lan Zhan,' He asks, 'Who is Sizhui?'
Wangji brings his fingers up and replies, 'He's your a-Yuan. I went looking for you but found him instead.'
Wei Ying's eyes widen and he spins around, running out of the room to seek Sizhui.
Wangji follows sedately and when he finds his love and his son, they're embracing while crying tears of joy.
---
'Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!'
Wangji huffs under his breath and carefully sets his brush down, tucking the scroll away before turning to meet bright silver eyes.
Wei Ying leans forward with an eager expression, 'Do you know where Suibian is?'
Wangji nods, 'In storage. I was able to retrieve it from the Jin Clan.'
'Can I have it?'
Wangji rises smoothly to his feet and leads Wei Ying to storage where both Suibian and Chenqing.
Wei Ying only glances at Chenqing for a moment before reaching for Suibian with a desperate expression.
Suibian, a blade that has remained sealed since Jiang Wanyin unsheathed it once, easily reveals itself again.
Wei Ying spins around eagerly and looks at him with pleading eyes.
As Wangji is able to deny Wei Ying nothing, he reaches for Bichen and they immediately head for the training grounds.
It has been a long time since Wangji has really used Bichen to its full capacity. With half of his core pulsing within Wei Ying, they're almost evenly matched.
Wangji has not fought in ages but Wei Ying is still a Cultivator. The spar is fast-paced and thrilling. Wangji acquaints himself with Wei Ying as his love becomes reacquainted with his sword.
Wei Wuxian had been one of the best swordsmen of his generation. He has lost none of his elegance and skill. Wangji presses him and Wei Ying laughs soundlessly, twirling around him in white GusuLan robes, bright and joyful.
He breaks Wangji's heart and mends it at the same time.
---
Wangji has missed Wei Ying for hundreds of years.
He can't resist the urge to touch. He keeps it chaste and respectful but his hands have a mind of their own in Wei Ying's vicinity.
When they're out and about, Wangji guides Wei Ying with a hand on his back. It becomes natural to grasp his love's elbow if he wants Wei Ying's attention.
His touches can easily be dismissed as gestures of friendship by most. But Wei Ying knows him.
'er-gege,' Wei Ying's smile is sweet, 'Wei Ying is cold.'
Wangji's eyes flicker over to the lit fire briefly before landing on his love, 'Are you feeling well?' He asks in concern, reaching forward to place the back of his hand on Wei Ying's forehead.
His beloved laughs and nods, leaning into the touch with a sly smile, 'I'm well, just cold.'
Wangji feels a stir in his chest at the intent look in Wei Ying's eyes. Hesitantly, he cups Wei Ying's cheek in silent question.
Wei Ying nuzzles his palm, his eyelids fluttering close gently.
Desperation and elation flood him and Wangji sucks in a sharp breath. He moves in a blur, lifting Wei Ying off his seat and placing him on his lap.
Wei Ying gasps and giggles, his tall, strong body seeming to almost shrink as he cuddles close. Wangji wraps both arms around his love and squeezes him tight, rocking them gently as he is assaulted with painful love.
"Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying," He chants in Wei Ying's hair, holding him so close, it feels like there's no part of him not touching his love.
When Wei Ying turns to him with a smile in his eyes, Wangji doesn't hesitate to lean forward, bringing their lips together in a long-awaited kiss.
He presses Wei Ying back against the crook of his elbow and tastes his silent laugh on his tongue.
Wangji has never felt so blissful and complete.
---
Jingyi convinces Wei Ying to go to therapy.
Eager to learn and curious, Wei Ying agrees.
He returns from every session with a thoughtful expression.
Months pass but his voice is still lost.
---
They make love and Wei Ying mouths the words he wants to speak. He smiles, sobs, laughs, and pouts as Wangji takes him apart bit by bit.
Wangji has never known such pleasure. He loses himself, drowning in Wei Ying's scent and finding heaven in his body.
He enjoys feeling smooth skin. He sinks his fingers into Wei Ying's silken hair. He tastes the sharp edge of his jaw. He bites. He drives in and takes ownership of Wei Ying's pleasure.
He presses his mischievous sprite into their bed and doesn't hold back, centuries of love pouring out of him.
---
A combination of therapy and Wei Ying's natural approach to life makes his recovery quick. Within a year, he's well-adjusted and happy.
He laughs at almost everything. The first time they fly, the first time they visit an amusement park, the first time they go to an aquarium.
He laughs and Wangji starts noticing the color of his voice returning to it.
Wangji is grateful for what he has. He's grateful that Wei Ying is back, safe, and happy. He is grateful that Wei Ying is unharmed.
But he cannot lie to himself. He misses Wei Ying's voice.
---
"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,"
Wangji almost misses it, as engrossed as he is. He presses in deep and feels a shiver of pleasure race down his spine. Wei Ying's fingers curl around Wangji's nape and his lips caress his ear.
"Lan Zhan,"
He stills.
Wangji takes a deep, bracing breath and pulls back a little, balancing on his arms to peer down at his lover.
Wei Ying is a vision. His cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and dark with passion, his lips bitten red from Wangji's kisses. His long hair is scattered and wild, a tangle of glossy strands across Wangji's pillow.
"Lan Zhan,"
Wei Ying's lips move and a voice accompanies that movement. It is slightly hoarse, somewhat weak, but it is still the voice he barely remembers.
Heat flares in him and he sinks deeper, pulling a sharp gasp from Wei Ying.
He spends the entire night filling their room with that precious voice.
---
Wei Ying doesn't ask questions. He doesn't ask why Wangji did what he did. He doesn't ask how he did it. His beloved has always been perspective and he understood Wangji's desperation from the moment he woke.
He reads the book that triggered it all and laughs, "Aiya, they make me out to be some sort of martyr for justice." He says fondly, for he is very fond of the modern world.
Sizhui is sitting at his feet, eyes closed in bliss as Wei Ying gently combs his hair, styling it into an intricate braid.
"They're not wrong, though." Jingyi can never sit straight and he has forgotten all of his Lan teachings over the years. He has his legs thrown over the arm of his chair and his head is dangling over another arm, his hair sweeping the floor as he nods.
Ridiculous.
"I never asked to be glorified in such a way." Wei Ying protests with a chuckle.
"Baba should be grateful no one knows about his resurrection." Sizhui pipes up, "At least, you don't have to deal with modern stans."
Wangji arches a brow at the word and Wei Ying laughs, already more accustomed to the Internet language than Wangji is. "Oh, heaven forbid!"
"But listen, you and Hanguang-jun have the greatest love story ever, you could write a book about it, Wei-quanbei!"
Wei Ying tilts his head to the side and Wangji urges him to consider it with a subtle nod. Wei Ying is happy but he's never content to be idle. The modern world doesn't need cultivation, but perhaps it can benefit from their stories.
---
‘Once you summon successfully, you belong to this being for all eternity as payment for the one wish they may grant. Half of your core will live within them. If they die, you die. If they live, you live. If they hurt, you hurt. If they become corrupt, you become corrupt.
You will sacrifice immortality, but not the eternal bond. Every time you are reincarnated into this world, you will be tethered to the being.
Beware.
Wangji tucks the scroll away, sealing it so that it is never discovered again.
He has no regrets.
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Love To Hate You ~ A Chris Evans Story ~ Chapter 2
Pairing: Chris Evans/OFC Angela Wagner
Summary: Angela Wagner has been best friends with Sebastian Stan for years. Meeting in Vienna and following each other around the world has formed a bond that couldn't be broken. No matter how much Sebastian's other best friend, Chris Evans, tries.
A cruel comment sets the stage, and the frenemies makes sure to let each other know how much they love to hate each other.
*** this story will have situations and scenes that are not suitable for younger readers. Smut, infidelity, degradation, dirty talk and foul language are your warnings.
Chapter 2 of 13 - Chapter 1 Here
Playlist available on Spotify.
Chapter 2 - Trouble's Coming
Chris had always been hesitant to accept a role that could radically change his career. He really didn’t want to play another superhero but when Robert Downy Jr. takes the time to convince you differently, you go for it. So here he was, boarding a plane to London from New York, for something that would change his world forever.
Sitting in the first class seat purchased by the studio, he went through his routine of flying. Stretching out, making sure his music and book were easily reachable, pillow and blanket for sleep. He didn’t noticed the guy who sat next to him until he accidentally bumped him.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” The guy reached over to put his bag under his seat and put what looked like a script into the pocket of the seat in front of him.
“It’s all right.” He looked up at the guy. “You look familiar.”
“So do you. I’m Sebastian,” offering his hand for a shake.
“Chris,” taking his hand. “Wait, didn’t I audition with you?”
“Umm,” Sebastian studied his face. “Yes, for the role of Steve!”
“Right! Hey man, how’s it going?”
“Good, man, really good. How about yourself?”
“Same. Just headed to London for filming. You?”
“The same. What film?”
“Captain America. I got Steve.”
“No shit! Bucky,” he pointed to himself. They shared a laugh and talked the rest of the flight, getting to know one another.
Chris took a sip of his beer. “Did you leave a girl behind?”
“My best friend, Angela.” Sebastian showed a picture. Chris looked at the phone. The girl in the picture was smoking hot. Fiery copper hair, bright green eyes, creamy complexion. Chris felt his pants tighten slightly at her image.
“Oh, you guys really serious?” Please don’t be, he thought
“No, I’ve known her since I was twelve. We met before we moved to the States together.”
“Well, she’s smoking hot.”
“I’ll let her know. I don’t see her that way.” Sebastian shook his head and laughed. “Been too long and she knows too many secrets.”
“I hear you, man. But at least I know I got a wingman in you, Stan.” Maybe I’ll get to meet this girl soon.
“Same, Evans, Same.”
Chris and Sebastian became close friends in the months of working together. On their nights off, they would hit the town, picking up girls, drinking, smoking. It was easy for them, two single guys in London. Chris could have sworn that the pussy in London was way better than in the States. And he tested the theory every night.
A couple of months in, Sebastian started to freak out. “Seb, what the fuck is your problem?”
“Sorry, its just, I got a message from Angela. She’ll be here at the end of the week. I’m just so excited to see her.”
“Does that mean I’m losing my wingman?”
“No, just means I’ll bring her along. She used to live here when she was a kid. But she’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”
Chris thought about the girl from the photo and wondered how she would be in real life. He had already managed to think of all the things he would like to do to her, ruin her for anyone else. But he didn’t want to ask Sebastian if it was cool to ask her out. Seb, unfortunately, had already seen the womanizer in Chris and would probably flip at the idea. Didn’t mean that Angela wouldn’t want it though.
On the day she was due to arrive, Chris was at Seb’s flat, watching him run around. He wanted to laugh at the effort Sebastian was putting in for this girl.
“Chris, seriously, can you at least use a napkin when you drink that?” Sebastian was exasperated with his new friend.
“I dunno why you are making such an effort for the girl you don’t even bang.” Chris took a swig of his Boddingtons and kept his eye on the TV.
“Chris, I beg you, don’t talk like that in front of her. She is my absolute best friend and I want you to like her and her like you.”
“Fine, Stan whatever.” Chris waved his hand around. He didn’t understand the dynamic of Sebastian and this chick but he respected Sebastian enough to respect his wishes. Sebastian took off to Heathrow and Chris headed to his own flat. He couldn’t get Angela off of his mind. It was like she was unattainable and that made him want her even more.
The next day, he arrived on set, waiting for his call, when he heard a commotion outside the trailers. A crowd had gathered around. He headed over.
Dominic, Neal, JJ and Hayley were crowded around another pair. When they parted, he saw Sebastian and what he could only describe as an angel. “Angie, this is Chris. Chris, this is my Angela.”
“Its nice to meet you, Chris.” Angela spoke with a faint accent, which made Chris want to drool and she extended her hand and looked at the man in front of him. Chris kept his composure and subtly checked the object of his wet dreams out.
“Nice to meet you too.” Chris took her hand. “I feel like I know you Angela. Sebastian is always talking about you.”
“Same.” He took her in, more beautiful than he had imagined. Sebastian pulled her away from Chris, talking about visiting other cast mates and other parts of the set. Angela had turned to look back at him and his heart leaped. He never felt like this about anyone.
The next couple of weeks were torture for Chris. All he wanted was to bury himself in Angela but she didn’t show any outward desire of him. He went along with the hanging out, just as Sebastian suggested and got to know her. A hot shot photographer, making a name for herself. A former Londoner, but he quickly learned that she had been well traveled due to her father being an ambassador. His desire of her went up and up.
A few nights before she was due to leave, Chris arrived to the party Sebastian was hosting for the crew. He hoped to make his play for Angela tonight. He spotted her. She was wearing a white, off-shoulder wrap top and skinny jeans with black heels. Her copper hair was up in a long ponytail that gave Chris wicked thoughts.
All night, they just kept missing each other, being pulled in different directions by different people. At one point, he watched her leap into Sebastian’s arms. His furrowed his brow until Sebastian yelled out, “Hey everyone! My best friend is going to be photographer for Vanity Fair!” Everyone clapped and cheered for Angela, who blushed from the attention.
As the party went on, Chris decided to wait until the crowd thinned out to talk to Angela. He was near the bathroom when Dominic approached him. “You’ve been quiet, Evans. Usually, I see you with a girl or two wrapped around you.”
“I’m just taking it easy tonight.” Chris smirked. “A quiet night hurt never hurt anyone.”
“Yeah right, ok.” Dominic rolled his eyes. “What do you think of Sebastian’s friend?”
“Who? Angela?”
“Yeah, that Angela girl is hot.”
“She so is.” Chris took a drink.
“I wouldn’t mind getting to know her if you know what I mean,” Dominic said with a wink.
Chris laughed. “I would tap that if I didn’t think it would cause problems with Seb.”
“You are a love them and leave them kinda guy, Evans.” Dominic said with a laugh.
“What can I say? Too many girls out there, so little time.” Chris smirked. “Maybe she wants it. She is a fine piece of ass.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to get whatever you have, Evans,” Angela said with venom from behind him.
Oh fuck. Chris closed his eyes and turned around. “Angela.”
“Don’t talk to me Captain Asshat!” Angela spun around went to her room and closed the door.
Chris followed her to her room and opened the door. He saw Angela sitting on the window seat with a tear falling. “Angela, I…”
“Get out Evans! Get the fuck out!”
Chris knew what he said was not the nicest but the anger coming out was not what he had expected. “What is your problem? It was a compliment.”
“Compliment? Are you serious? Objectifying a woman is not a compliment.”
Chris started to get mad. “I wasn’t.”
“You think I would want a fuckboy like you?”
He saw red. Who the hell did she think she is calling he names? He didn’t know what he saw in her anymore. She had been so closed off the whole time she had been here which at first Chris found sexy and now just bitchy. “Watch your mouth, ice queen. You’re such an icy bitch, you should be happy that someone wants you.”
Angela scoffed. “Please. I know I can do better. The girls only want you because you’re a movie star. If they got to know you they would move on to better things.”
Chris and Angela squared off in the room. Sebastian stood in the doorway, opened mouth. “Chris, Angie…”
“Stay out of this Rață. This had nothing to do with you,” Angela said.
“Finally, something I can agree with,” Chris said, his tone laced with hate.
Sebastian didn’t listen. He moved in between them with Dominic and Hayley following suit. Dominic put his hands on Chris’s chest to push him towards the door. Hayley stayed in the middle with Sebastian pulling Angela closer to the window. “C’mon Duck, just stop.”
“He started it.” Angela pointed at Chris. Chris balled his fist up but allowed himself to be pushed out of her room. He paced in the living room with everyone staring at him. He could hear the conversation happening in her room.
“He thinks I’m just some piece of ass, Sebastian.”
“I’m sorry Duck. I didn’t know…”
“I want him gone.”
“Duck, please.”
“Sebastian, either he leaves or I’m going to a hotel.”
“Ok, ok.”
Sebastian walked into the living room and saw Chris. He pulled him into the hallway and closed the door. “What the fuck!”
“Seb, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was behind me when I was talking to Dominic.”
“You need to go Chris.”
“Seb…”
“Chris, look I figured you liked her but seriously man, you couldn’t just shut up for a few hours.”
“So you’re taking her side?”
Sebastian sighed. “I’m not taking any sides. I’m going to talk to her when everyone leaves.”
“Whatever.” Chris started to make his way out of the building. Who the hell does Angela think she is?
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