#I also had a link for the polaroid but when I checked it again the other day it was broken so idk....not my fault honestly 🤷‍♀️

[samanthamulder]

THE X-FILES 30th ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION

DAY 6: favourite monsters of the week

credit: concept insp. - layout insp. - paper - paper clip

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

okay so a couple of days ago i saw this ask on @fellshish's blog about a need for a full 1941 discorporated aziraphale angst fic, realized i had an entire outline already in the hull, and... this happened:

a "what if crowley didn't miss in 1941" fic, including but not exclusive to the moment itself, the hours leading up to it, and the aftermath; a fanfiction (chapter 3/4)

summary:

It's Fell the Marvelous' awaited debut performance on the West End. He has his marksman, his turnips, and things appear to be going as planned—that is, until said marksman does the one thing he was supposed to avoid. Not missing. (or: the bullet catch goes wrong, and due to a tiny technicality, crowley's afraid aziraphale is gone for good. and crowley himself—for the first time in quite a while—is well and truly alone.)

warnings: full of blood, sweat, kissing while crying, blown up heads, prayers, nostalgic churches, polaroids, alcohol, and aziraphale being a discorporated bastard and bitching his way back to earth while a plot we should probably be focusing occurs as we ignore it entirely. and written extremely slowly. oxymoron but i couldnt get this out of my head fast enough and now you must endure it (should you choose to accept). i think i'm gonna be pretty proud of this though. excited!

(also thank @tforthetea for the inspiration because a conversation with them helped spark this the first time. all hail)

ao3 link for those who didn't check the title, and fic under the cut! :)

chapter 1: number thirteen

One of the things Crowley liked gloating about on occasion was that he was older than Death Itself.

He wasn’t technically wrong, per se. The humans think him mad, and the demons think him stupid, but he was still right. Human concepts, despite their hold on the population and overall importance, were non-existent before or even during the Beginning. The Four Horsemen and other ideas evolved right alongside the humans, so technically, Crowley was older than all of them. He rather liked having something to lord over War (in his head), during the few unfortunate meetings he would have with her. Famine was a non-issue, and Death could not touch him regardless of how much he didn’t like him. There were failsafes.

Now, however, actually being in the room that Aziraphale could potentially walk into and never come out of, Crowley would gladly take all of it back and pretend he never even thought about it at all.

The damned magician. Crowley never caught his name, but if he had, he would wrought him with the most annoyingly small curses that no one would ever believe to be true after today. Tonight wasn’t just about impressing the audience or even repaying that wine-filled debt, it was about them. Tonight, Crowley was to play the trusted stooge, and…shoot the angel. Point blank. In the face. And make it look real. And not discorporate him. And not get them fired. And—

There were a lot of things to consider, alright? To contrary belief, Crowley did, in fact, not think Death was silly or stupid. He’d also been there when It was born, you know. Crowley liked Abel. Watching It happen was, plainly, fucking terrifying. It brought up something new, and change was just as scary as Death. Ask anyone, and they’d tell you.

Crowley has been running that unfortunate meeting involuntarily through his head for the first ten or so minutes of waiting for the actual show to begin, while also listing out the terrible things he would do to the magician man had he ever held the opportunity again. He’d been sort of gunning (no pun intended) to stay backstage and avoid the riffraff, but been ushered out the dressing room the second he’d given his (admittingly harsh) two cents on the situation. Aziraphale said he wanted privacy before the big show, but Crowley knew he was just ticked. Aziraphale was an angel who thrived with a supportive devil over his shoulder.

So, Crowley is just milling around in the crowd as the Allied soldiers and their companions filter in. They come and go—a Lady even comes to check on him at point, mentioning odd vacant gazes and looking over shoulders paranoid-like, but he waves them off before they can pry. He really shouldn’t be so worried—even if Aziraphale…‘didn’t make it through the night’, he’d eventually be fine. As long as he discorporated a certain way, nothing too lethal—some deaths were harder to come back from others.

They’ve been discorporated before, of course. That was how Crowley knew this. Six millennia offered many opportunities for the event. But never, and it was never, at each other's hand. On paper, yeah, they killed each other on occasion, but truly…

Crowley shifts nervously, sending a glare at anyone who got a bit too close, but the brief discomforts aren’t enough to lift his spirits. There was one entity faffing about who refused to bugger off even with direct acknowledgements, though that might be because Crowley was imagining It. Or It really was here, and interested in the affairs of potential angel discorporation. Or a bomb was going to fall here and It was just beating the rush. The theories were far from endless.

Death appeared back there as soon as Crowley had been kicked out. He’s simply been dealing with it since then, and It probably wasn’t helping to lift his spirits. He shouldn’t be so antsy—both logic and mechanics deemed it so.

They’d be fine, Crowley repeats to himself near constantly, finding a proper seat in direct line of sight where Aziraphale will be standing. He readjusts his tie as the humans sit around him, creating a perfectly isolated bubble of red velvet seats. What did it matter that twelve humans died doing this before? They weren’t human. Death had no claim on them. It couldn’t take them even if It so desired.

Crowley scowls at the hooded figure standing near the entrance of the theater, cold scythe gleaming under the warm bulbs of the West End. Its just…standing there. Making no move to come closer, either. Odd.

Crowley sinks lower into his plush seat, as if trying to avoid Death’s gaze. But being one of two immovable objects on this Earth, It’s always on him. If Death had a goal, there would be no point in warding It away.

Seeing Death is a famous bad omen, and would send a chill down his spine had it been anywhere else. At this moment, however, Crowley is simply irritated. If It was looking for another soul in this theater, that was fine by him, let It take them, but It would not be ruining whatever this was. Humans were ever plentiful—there was only one angel deserving of Earth.

Before Crowley can decide whether or not he should be stupid and confront the omen in the room, the lights go dim. The crowd’s murmurs die down, and Crowley has no choice but to stay seated and watch the show. Aziraphale wouldn’t be coming on until the Ladies of Camelot had their first number, but Crowley could easily endure it. The gaze aimed straight at his head could be ignored.

World be damned if It took the angel’s enthusiasm. They’d be fine. Crowley just has to remember that.

-----

Things are, indeed, not going fine.

Crowley is meant to go up on stage any second now. Aziraphale has no inkwell in his gloved hand. No amount of snapping is removing said turnip from line of sight. He reads the pamphlet—then again, then again, then again, but there is no second option for apparently miracleless individuals.

Fucking. Hell.

Whatever false bravado Aziraphale is spewing is null and void compared to the should-be-non-existent nerves running through frantic hands and finding absolutely nothing useful. Crowley flips through the same two pages—give the stooge the bullet, poise, and shoot. The miracle would’ve ensure that the bullet would never leave the barrel. But now—now, well, he really regrets not considering a Plan B. Did they ever consider a Plan B? Apparently not.

Getting there is a blur. Aziraphale is essentially shoving the rifle into Crowley’s care, which is honestly becoming a worse idea by the second. He’s switching between the demon and the audience so quickly that Crowley can’t tell who he’s addressing. They’re deathly quiet, and Crowley would feel embarrassed if his heart that shouldn’t be there wasn’t pounding with too much blood in too little time. His mind is a soup. Muddled, feverish, and incredibly foul tasting. You wouldn’t want to drink it even if you were starving.

“I would ask you,” Aziraphale says loudly, cutting through the fog of utter mental mush, “to take this bullet, and load it into the rifle. Very carefully.”

Crowley nods belatedly, squeezing and turning parts of the gun to get the non-existent warmth running back through his fingers. He takes the bullet, and turns it round a few times while Aziraphale stares at him with excruciating anxiety. Is he stalling? Honestly, even Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“It's perfectly simple,” Aziraphale mutters softly, pushing the gun a bit closer. “Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.”

Crowley can’t find himself to agree here. He’s staring at him, and that would usually get him to listen regardless of shades, but Death is boring into them like the harshest of theater critics. His skin is slick, almost clammy, threatening to let the gun slip and fire a stray bullet anywhere but its intended target. His back is sore, oddly enough. Irritating.

Crowley has questions, like he always does, but the time has long passed. What he wants to ask is ‘do I just squeeze that little bit there?’ pointing at (what looks like) to be the trigger—but then that would just make Crowley look incompetent, so he swallows it back and nodly lightly. He’s never fired a gun like Aziraphale seems to believe whole-heartedly, but he’s certainly watched it happen. He’s picked up enough of the motions to figure it out on his own.

That thought still doesn’t help when he’s being told to insert the bullet, though. Crowley fumbles through it, opening a mislaid hatch or two, but manages before Aziraphale could raise any alarms. He’s already stood back in position (when did that happen?) when Crowley raises the loaded rifle for all to see, proclaiming as such. He bites back the tremor threatening to appear—he wasn’t nervous. Excited, more like it. Excited to finally get an excuse to make a throw at the angel non-suspicious like.

That was all it was. Really.

Crowley turns the rifle one last time as Aziraphale spins more useless pageantry for the audience to woo at. They’re both grinning, but tightly and annoyingly false. It wasn’t the eyes that were the problem—what, do you think that demons ever got stage fright? Absurd!

It was just...well, there weren’t just humans in this audience. Crowley couldn’t forget the shadow looming at the end of the theater no matter how tight he grips the side of the weapon. But, just like Someone had laid out all that Time ago—Death could only perceive them.

It could not touch them.

It would not touch them.

It would not touch him, if he could help it.

The drums begin their incessant titter as Aziraphale finally turns to Crowley properly, blue cloak glimmering under the warm light of the stage before them. “A-are you ready, sir?”

Crowley would scoff at this if he could. Sir. Only humans ever addressed him that way; angels look down on him, demons sneer at him. Though he supposes this angel would be different—always throwing the curveballs, him.

“When you hear my signal,” the angel says, voice growing quieter, “shoot.”

Aziraphale removes his tophat, revealing preciously white curls. This pings something, the remaining traces of damned sense he’s got buried inside. Crowley isn’t sure what has possessed him—but he shakes his head. It’s all he can do. Don’t make me do it, he nearly warns out loud. Not if you know what’s good for you.

Aziraphale stills, but not before mouthing words that would be akin to an ashamed mumble if he were close enough. Trust me.

Trust me.

Satan, he got him there. That’s why Crowley was here, after all. Stooge. 100% Reliable Marksman.

Right.

Aziraphale isn’t nearly as good as Crowley at hiding his anxious gaze. “Ready?”

Oh, Heavens no. He never would be, but no better time than the present. Or something like that. He can’t recall where it came from.

“Aim…”

Crowley can’t ignore it anymore—he’s shaking. Extremely so, at that. It’s knocking around the air in his lungs very unkindly. It’s quite difficult to aim. His head is bobbing around in the scope.

Just about…

There it is.

Crowley waits—just like he’s done for the last…however long. A long time. His arms are starting to hurt, frankly. He rests his finger over the trigger to ease the trembling a tad.

And the magician remains silent.

Crowley ignores the sweat crawling down his neck. (Wasn’t it supposed to be freezing?) He waits some more—it’s not like one can forget where you are. Benefit of the doubt and such.

Nothing still. Nary a nod.

He’s been staring at him for a minute. The crowd hasn’t uttered a peep. Is Crowley just supposed to…do it? Did they talk about this? They must have. They talked about this. They talked about it, right? Yeah. Yeah, they must have—

"Fire!"

He startled him.

The reason why he listens is easy to explain. Aziraphale made Crowley flinch. A bit of a spook, really, not that bad of a fright. A sudden jolt—a tap on the shoulder, one that said ‘oh, look, you’ve got perfect aim already! Shoot!’

And he did.

What’s the first rule of approaching someone with a weapon again?

Right. Don’t fucking scare them.

The handle is warm. Slick, heavy, shaky. The scope aims with guilty target missing at the helm. A puff of smoke is spewing from the barrel. A thump, a sickening thump, deafening in the cricket silence of a post-trick world.

And Aziraphale…is on the floor.

(Where else would he be, really?)

There, obviously. On the floor. With a blown-up head. Bleeding like blessed Heaven. Bleeding like bloody Heaven, while Crowley has to take in the sight and smell the blessed thing.

It fits. They fit. Like a perfect crown on a decapitated head.

God, his head’s just gone, isn’t it?

A noise cuts through the thick silence like a stubbornly determined knife. Far away, above it all, there it rings. It’s muffled, soft, and almost awkward in the way it cuts through the air. A camera click. A reluctant, malicious camera click.

And that was just the perfect way to say it, no? He blew his brains out. Crowley blew his angel’s fucking brains out with a fucking gun that he’s never fucking held before.

Trust me.

Well. That, no doubt, was Aziraphale’s fault—it’d be a funny old world if angels and demons went around trusting one another.

-----

hgh. hope that was decent. chapter two coming as soon as it can because im invested now :))

[gf-seasons-zine]

We had SUCH a fantastic response from the interest check, we thought it would be fun to share it with you!

Check out under the cut for both the results and a sneak peek into the epic aesthetic planned for the zine with the gorgeous graphics designed by Mod Berry (this is Mod Jade, so I can gush ;) ) Enjoy!

How many responses did we get? 169! (Wow, thank you!)

When we asked how interested you were in the seasons theme, with 1 being "not my thing" and 5 being "super excited", 119 of you answered with a 5, 44 answered with a 4, and 6 answered with a 3- and no one answered a 1 or a 2!

6.5% of you wanted just a digital zine, 18.9% wanted just a physical zine, and 74.6% wanted both digital and physical!

104 of you wanted to show your interest by buying and 103 wanted to show your interest by applying to contribute! 13 of you were interested as moderators, 82 as page artists, 48 as merch artists, 48 as writers, and 54 just wanted to buy!

When it came to how much you would be willing to pay (in USD):

For the Physical Zine with merch, 58 of you (34%) said you'd be willing to pay $50-55, 55 of you (32.5%) would be willing to pay $55-60, 34 of you (20.1%) said you'd be willing to pay $60-65, 11 of you (6.5%) would be willing to pay $65-70, and 11 (6.5%) of you also said you'd pay more than $70.

For the Physical Zine without merch, 68 of you (40.2%) said you'd be willing to pay $20-25, 78 of you (46.2%) said you'd pay $25-30, and 23 of you (13.6%) said you'd pay $30-35.

For the Digital Zine, 142 of you (84%) said you'd pay $15-20, 24 of you (14.2%) said you'd pay $20-25, and 3 of you (1.8%) said you'd pay $25-30.

117 of you (69.2%) said you wanted merch, 48 (28.4%) of you said maybe you wanted merch, and 4 of you (2.4%) said merch wasn't necessary!

Your top 5 digital merch items were screensavers, colouring sheets, seasonal checklists, printable stickers, and a printable standee.

Your top 5 physical merch items were acrylic charms, sticker sheets, fake polaroids, prints, and badges/buttons.

Your top 5 stretch goal items were an enamel pin, an acrylic charm, a shaker charm, an acrylic standee, and a themed sticky note pad!

We had some amazing additional suggestions for merch, but sadly a lot of them would require a huge number of orders... If you really fancy a notebook, help us keep the interest high!

We asked for a vote on what other characters you wanted to see hanging out with the Pines Family enjoying the seasons! It was great to see the list! Many of you suggested fantastic characters we didn't even have on the list!

Soos had 144 votes, Wendy had 141, Fiddleford had 112, Mabel's friends (Candy and Grenda) had 87 votes, Pacifica had 76 votes, Bill Cipher had 61 votes, Wendy's friends (the teens) had 39 votes, Cryptids (like the Multibear, Sev'ral Times, and Giffany) had 7 votes, Melody had 4, Waddles had 4, Gideon had 3, Gompers had 1, and Abuelita (Soos' Grandma!) had 1.

And finally- the answer to the classic question: What is your favourite season? 19.2% of you said Spring was your favourite, 26.9% said Summer was your favourite, 15% loved Winter the best, and 38.9% said your favourite season was Autumn!

Here are some links to the wonderful fonts we used in the graphics!

Stanford Font: @tsunamiholmes

https://tsunamiholmes.tumblr.com/post/621743237851398144/after-many-hours-of-tedious-work-i-can-finally

Substitution Ciphers: @sovonight

https://sovonight.tumblr.com/post/161811701510/whats-this-yet-another-variant-on-gravity-falls

Thank you again for taking the time to answer the interest check, and for sharing it so others could answer it too! We are thrilled with the response and so excited to create this zine with and for you all!

Mods Berry and Jade

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Disclaimer: We are not affiliated with Disney in any way. The zine will be a charity zine with all surplus going to charity- no one will profit from this zine.

CARRD TWITTER RETROSPRING

[hseungi]

Polaroid Love — chapter 08 — nnie

"Yn!" Jungwon called

"Oh, wonie! Do you know where to meet? I'm quite lost."

"Don't worry! We can go together. Let'a go before we're late." He said, but not before holding my hand and dragging me away.

—

"You guys did great today!" One of the directors happily told us.

"Thank you for having us! Everyone did such a great job."

"I agree, without everyone's help we wouldn't be able to do our best. See you on friday!" Jungwon smiled, which made the director and me small at him, too.

—

"Nnie, do you have any plans later? We ended quite early, to be honest. And I still have time to spare."

"No, actually. Do you have an idea on what we should do?" I turned my head to look at him, but he was already staring at me.

"Let's go to the night market?"

Today was one of the best days for Yang Jungwon. You called him "wonie", and he called you "nnie". He saw your smile, heard your laugh, and listened to everything you said. And that's when he knew, he likes you.

masterlist | 07 | 09

As a rookie idol, taking pictures is a must for fan service! When Y/n plans to take polaroid pictures in the HYBE hallways, she didn't expect Yang Jungwon (aka the person she had beef with in middle school) to photobomb her picture. Again.

PAIRING: jungwon x f!reader

GENRE: idol au, enemies to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, smau

WARNING/S: swearing, (friendly) teasing (lmk if i missed any!)

NOTE: it may seems like niki's mean in this fic, but he's just very playful and loves teasing his hyungs 💗 also im gonna be missing jinni 😭😭😭

speaking of stars, check out my lhs drabble/one-shot (idk what to call it 😕 tbh) link here

[chaotic-super]

Equations

“Hey! Don’t stop!”

Kara whines as Lena pulls her hands away from her, having previously been gently running her nails up and down Kara’s back soothingly.

“What am I, you’re personal back scratcher?” Lena laughs at Kara’s indignant stare coming from in her lap, where the blonde is laying, effectively pinning her down.

“That’s what you agreed to when you started dating me.” Kara sticks out her tongue before dropping her head back down and closing her eyes. “I’m not moving so you might as well carry on.”

Lena giggles at her antics, “Oh is that so?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And that doesn’t sound slightly unreasonable to you?” Lena quirks her eyebrow as she smirks down at the blonde, still closing her eyes to avoid eye contact.

“Not at all.” She states bluntly.

Lena goes back to gently scratching at her back, getting a little bit bored, not having anything to keep her mind occupied. “I’m bored. Can we please do something else?”

Kara let’s out a sigh, sitting up and facing Lena. “Fine. What do you want to do instead?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we could use those body paints that you ordered. They arrived last week, and I know you’ve been looking for an excuse to use them. “

Before Kara can even respond, Lena is already up and going to the spare room where all of Kara’s art stuff is kept, making it her own art studio. It’s Kara’s favourite room in the penthouse, Lena having set it up for her as a surprise when they had decided to move in together.

Lena casually strolls back into the living room a minute later, her arms stretched around the box of paints and one of Kara’s protective sheets draped over her arm.

She sets the box down and holds the sheet up to Kara. “So, where do you want to do this?”

“The floor is probably the easiest for access, just put the sheet over the rug so it’s soft beneath us.”

Lena mock salutes and together they lift the coffee table out of the way, pressing it closer to the floor to ceiling windows then she spreads the sheet over the rug, pausing for a second before grabbing a cushion from the L shaped couch and tosses it onto the sheet.

“I didn’t tell you that I ordered body paints, I was going to ask you to be my canvas in a super romantic sexy way.” Kara whines as she begins looking through the cardboard box that the paints were delivered in. “These paints look epic though, look at the quality.” She squirts a little bit of black paint onto her paint palette.

Lena smiles at the new knowledge that Kara was going to use the paints to woo her, she has a way of making her feel loved and wanted that she doesn’t ever want to be void of again.

“Sorry Darling, you know security goes through all of the packages to make sure they are safe, the only difference is that this time the head of security sent me a text asking where we got them from because his wife is an artist and they had wanted to try body paint before but never got around to it. He was a little disappointed that I couldn’t tell him.”

Kara shrugs her shoulders, “That’s life I guess, no harm done. I’ll send him the link to the set later, or better yet, I’ll just gift him one after all he was very discreet that one time I sent you that sexy package with the lingerie before I knew security checked your packages.”

Lena laughs at the memory. “You did traumatize him, he couldn’t look me in the eyes for weeks and he couldn’t look anywhere near you for several months because of the polaroid pictures you added.”

“Good times. Now lie down, I want to do you first.”

Lena takes off her shirt and her bra in preparation. “I still have those pictures by the way, they keep me company on business trips. Also, that’s not something you say very often.”

Kara pinches the back of Lena’s thigh playfully as she takes her place face down on the sheet, resting her head on the cushion.

“That’s not true!”

Lena holds her hand up, bringing her thumb and forefinger together in a pinching motion. “Just a bit true.”

In response Kara takes a bottle of blue paint and dollops a drop in the centre of Lena’s back. Lena jumps at the sudden cold splatter hitting her bare skin. Her shock quickly turns to giggles.

“I thought reporters are supposed to like the truth?”

Kara takes her brush and swipes the paint across her skin. “Do you really want to ruin this romantic bonding activity with teasing?”

Lena chuckles, folding her arms under her head. “I love you.”

Kara mutters under her breath as she continues adding different coloured paints to Lena’s back, mixing in greens and purples. “That’s what I thought.” She pauses for a second. “I love you too, even if you pick on me sometimes.”

Lena hums happily under Kara’s gentle brush strokes. She can feel the bristles dancing across her back, each stroke is so sure in its movement as the picture in Kara’s mind makes its way into reality. “Who would’ve guessed that you can pick on the girl of steel and get away with it?”

“Shh, I’m busy.”

Lena happily closes her eyes, trying to decipher what Kara is painting from the strokes alone, the curved lines and small areas where the brush is switched out for a smaller one as more details are added.

She listens intently to her girlfriend’s steady breaths, feeling the warmth of her legs as they press into hers and the pressure of her as she sits on the back of her thighs, straddling her but she can tell that she isn’t using her full weight, always too afraid that she is hurting her.

When Kara works up to the top of her back, Lena can feel the tips of her hair dangling down, tickling her skin. She worries for a second about her getting paint in her hair but then remembers that it is all quick dry, it only takes a one to two minutes before it is safe to touch.

She may have done a little bit of research on the body paint once she realized that Kara had bought some. She didn’t want to put anything on her skin that would damage it, so sue her, but luckily it all came back safe, and she actually found that Kara must have done her own research since she had specifically chosen some that was better for her skin, even though she must have had to pay extra.

Lena can feel herself drifting off so she tries to think of something else to wake her up, if she goes to sleep now she will ruin her sleep schedule that she has specifically manufactured to maximize her Kara cuddling time. If she doesn’t get at least five extra minutes in the morning after her alarm wakes her up to enjoy her snuggles she gets grouchy.

She thinks of work, Imagining herself working on her new project; there has been new cases of anti-alien groups using technology to block image inducers to out aliens to their peers and she wants to work on something to block their technology without affecting the image inducers’ technology.

She is picturing schematics in her head as Kara keeps working on her painting, slowly moving across Lena’s back as she adds more and more paint until she has finished.

She leans down and places a chaste kiss to the back of her neck.

“OK babe, I’m done.”

Lena hums happily in response, unfolding her arms from under hear head and stretching them out in front of her, shaking away the pins and needles that have formed from her laying on them.

“Will you take a picture? I want to see.” She mumbles, not willing to move until Kara has taken a picture.

Lena feels Kara’s weight shift as she reaches for her phone, then she hears the sound of the picture being taken.

“You can sit up now.” Kara helps her roll over and sit up onto her knees. When she is settled, she finds a phone pressed beneath her nose.

She leans back from the phone that is way too close to her face so she can actually take in what is on the screen.

It’s beautiful.

It’s a mountain range but not any ordinary mountain range. If it were ordinary it would still be incredible, but this really takes her breath away. It’s clearly from another planet, obviously it’s Krypton.

“This is your home?” She whispers to Kara, in complete awe.

“It’s the Jewel Mountains. My father took me there once, we spent a week up there collecting samples of the different rocks and jewels themselves, even. I had the best time. When I first started painting Krypton, I could only picture the destruction but over time I managed to paint some nicer memories, but this is the first time I’ve tried with this memory. I think it’s my favourite.”

“It’s a shame we can’t hang me on a wall, it should be displayed in a fancy gallery somewhere, it’s so amazing.” She can feel the tears welling in her eyes when she hears the background to the amazing piece of artwork on her back. She tries to swallow down her tears but a couple of them escape down her cheeks.

Kara is quick to wipe them away. “No, no, don’t cry.”

“It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Lena leans in and kisses her. It’s wet from the tears but neither of them care. Lena grasps either side of Kara’s face as their lips are locked and Kara holds onto Lena’s wrists gently.

“I don’t ever want to wash it off. It seems like such a shame.”

Kara smiles shyly at her. “I don’t think I would have even had the confidence to try to paint the Jewel Mountains if it weren’t for the fact that it can be washed off.”

“Well maybe now you will have a little bit more confidence…maybe even enough to try to paint the mountains on a canvas next time?”

Kara ducks her head as she laughs to herself, her cheeks bright red. “I guess I know what you want for Christmas.”

“I’ve been looking for something to put on the wall opposite our bed since you moved in so long ago.”

“You act like it’s been a lifetime, we’ve only been living together for four months, you weirdo.”

Lena suddenly looks very serious. “Four amazingly long months.” She nods her head along with the words. “And you have to admit that it would be perfect.”

Kara knows she is going to give in and do it, she knew she would from the first look Lena ever gave her that she would do anything for her. “You also said we should have a naked portrait of me opposite our bed last week.”

“That’s a close second and I would have very much enjoyed it if you hadn’t vetoed it.”

Lena folds her arms which draws Kara’s attention down to her very attractive, very naked chest. Kara just stares for a few seconds, speechless by her beauty before Lena clears her throat.

“Are you finished?”

“What? Me? Yeah! Your turn.”

Lena raises her eyebrow at her teasingly. “My turn? To stare at you naked and then blush about it despite the fact we’ve been together over a year?”

“What? No. To paint on my back.” She unbuttons her shirt quickly and unsnaps her bra, looking at Lena expectantly, needing her to move so she can lie down in her place.

“I thought you were going to be the only one to do that. I can’t paint very well.”

Kara pouts. It’s her weapon of mass destruction, and much more deadly and effective than any of her actual powers. Lena often wonders if Kara’s pout would have worked better than her freeze breath or heat vision after watching her fight.

“Please? This is meant to be a bonding experience and I want us both to try it out.”

Lena smirks, her eyes darkening. “You could’ve just said that you wanted me on top of you, you know?”

Kara sticks out her tongue as Lena finally moves out of the way, flourishing her hand toward the recently vacated spot in invitation.

“You’re going to regret letting me draw on you, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just follow your heart.”

“Sap.”

Kara hums happily in confirmation as she feel Lena get into place behind her, straddling her hips just as she had done earlier.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lena gets back up quickly and hurries towards the kitchen. Kara leans up to see what she is doing, luckily she can see because the penthouse is open plan.

Lena is reaching up into a cupboard for glasses when she finally let’s Kara into her plan. “Wine makes everything more tolerable.”

“It’s meant to be romantic not tolerable.”

“Same difference, Darling.”

Lena heads back with two very full glasses on wine, placing them on the floor beside them before resettling back into her position above Kara.

She picks her wine back up and takes a big gulp before placing it back down and grabbing a paint brush. She goes straight for the neon colours, finding that they suit her golden retriever of a puppy much better than the duller ones.

She adds green first, going for a more abstract art piece. She is definitely not going for anything even similar to what Kara did, she would just show herself up, even though Kara would never make fun of her or even compare the two, her competitive brain just won’t let her do it.

She starts with a simple oval, adding random lines and circles here and there, changing the colours to make the lines look cool, just for fun. She is really starting to relax into it, when she hears one of her favourite sounds of all time. Kara is snoring.

It’s just a little quiet snore from the back of her throat but no matter how many times Lena tells her that she finds it cute, she always denies doing it altogether, which makes it even cuter.

She finishes her painting much quicker than she thought she would, having not gone into the detail that Kara had before her. She doesn’t want to wake up her girlfriend though, she needs all the sleep she can get since she has had to rush out in the middle of the night three times already this week for her Supergirl duties and other two times because Cat Grant found a new case to work on and needed her star reporter with her for it.

That woman really doesn’t care what you’re doing or what time it is, if she calls you and tells you to get your ass somewhere, you do it.

She tries adding a little more detail but got bored quickly so she instead starts to mentally work on her plans for the device to block the image-inducer blocker device.

She comes up with a basic plan pretty quickly, she is a genius after all, but in order to advance she needs to see it laid out in front of her. She mentally calculates the risk of what she wants to do and decides that the end outcome of decent schematics for a device to protect aliens is much more important than dealing with her girlfriend’s wrath, so she picks up a thin paintbrush and brushes Kara’s hair out of the way to expose the bare top of her back.

Without further ado she begins to do her calculations and equations to figure out what kind of power source she needs to use and what electromagnetic field strength she needs.

She is only aware of how long she has been sat there when the two wine glasses were empty, Lena having taken Kara’s too, and her legs started to cramp from being in the same position for so long.

She is pretty much finished, so she powers through, finishing up to a good point for restarting when she has a chance to get in her lab.

When she sets down her brush, she stands, trying to increase the blood flow back to her poor legs. She massages them with rough hands until she can feel them again.

Lena looks down at Kara, taking a picture of her work and praying that she actually will be able to finish it before Kara murders her.

Her next goal is to wake her girlfriend up, they really need to wash off the paint before bed, it may be safe for skin but that doesn’t mean sleeping with it on isn’t gross.

“Hey, wake up Kara.” She strokes her hair gently. “Come on Darling, let’s get you up now.”

Kara stirs with a happy smile, always glad to see Lena.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. The paintbrush gave me great back scratchies and it made me tired.” She sits up, using her powers to float upwards so she doesn’t have to use as much effort.

“That’s ok. I know you’ve had a rough week with everyone needing you. I wanted to let you rest a while, but we should go shower and go to bed.”

Kara shakes her head at her with a big smile. “Not until you show me what you did, I want to see your masterpiece.”

Lena rubs the back of her neck with one hand nervously, an apologetic smile on her face as she slowly opens her photo gallery on her phone. She finds the picture and nervously holds the phone out to Kara for her to take.

“Lena Luthor what have you done? Why do you look guilty?”

She gets her answer when she sees the picture. There is a vague, elephant head shaped outline in the centre of her back made out of random shapes and it is completely bordered by equations. The most impressive part was the fact that Lena had fit the device blueprints inside the elephant head, effectively creating the device in the shape of the elephant head.

“I wish I could say that I’m surprised.” Lena is surprised she isn’t using her grumpy tone. “I’m just happy that there is an actual picture in there…just about.”

She begins to giggle as she looks at the picture more closely. “You’re going to have to pitch this device to the board and when you show them the blueprints you’ll have to explain why it’s in the shape of an elephant!”

Her giggles turn into full belly laughs and every time it dies down she takes another look at the picture and starts up again, making Lena laugh along with her. They can’t image how they must look, both laughing hysterically, faces flushed bright red and completely topless.

When she finally stops she sends herself the picture. “I think you should do a paper copy of the blueprints to put on the wall with the canvas of my picture.”

“I tried my best, I couldn’t help it, it just popped into my head.” Lena whines when Kara starts to tease her.

“I know, it’s why I love you. You have a very fascinating brain and a very hot body.” Kara smacks Lena’s ass gently which Lena promptly returns.

“Right back at you. I love you too.”

[allmightydepression]

Continuing with headcanon series here's part 2, in honour of nobara's birthday (I'm late sorry queen) here are some nobara headcanons

She and megumi have met once though neither of them remember in middle school during their school trips and started a huge fight ending up with both of em getting a detention.

Nobara can match anyone's energy and I do mean anyone's energy and is really good at reading people.

Gojo had to pay the bail for nobara to get out of juvenile detention because she thought it would be a cool idea to fake a bank heist in broad daylight (he's very proud of her he said he'll join her the next time all of them are idiots).

Nobara always takes the lead when it comes to sleepover, outings or any group activity in general .

She is in a closet made of glass and megumi always makes fun of her when she ends up staring too much at maki only to backfire when his dumbass does the same with yuuji, these two are wlw🤝🏻mlm solidarity as well as hostility.

she is a very recognized street dancer who has her roots in tutting popping and hip hop genre but surprised everyone when they discovered that she also is a top ballroom dancer and has competed in dancesports.

She may not be the best singer but dominates the room whenever the gang does karaoke sessions.

Her room is filled with Polaroid pictures that she takes of the gang when they're having a fun time and not realize it and will openly deny that she likes the group they've formed.

Nobara is your go to person if you need any life advice.

When yuuji "died" she used to go all the places they hanged out and sat there for hours at end, till either megumi gojo maki inumaki or panda checked upon her

That's it for now once again happy birthday queen

I'll be linking the posts if this turns into a series

Part 1

[ofmermaidstories]

13, 16, and 23!

Also omg merm I read that…….. 20k review of Lightlark that u linked in an ask recently and goddamn. I am utterly fascinated and mourning the current state of the publishing industry 🫣

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Okay okay okay, like, here’s the thing: given enough incentive, I will happily ignore my own boundaries just to try something new. so if you were like, “Hey Merms, I bet you couldn’t write a Bakugou/Reader fic where Bakugou cheats on us and ALSO it ends with cannibalism” I would immediately rise to the defensive and be like, ok ur on. I would be incredibly unhappy doing it, and would do my best to try and make as many other people as possible unhappy too, LOL, but I would do it.

The problem is that it would make me miserable and peevish and depressed. Like, that would spill out from my writing time and I would go about the rest of my day—if not days—acting like I was the one who’d been cheated on and cannibalised, and simmering in that anger.

I like writing about intense things. I find it (relatively) easy to do. The difficult part is regulating how I feel about it afterwards, depending on what kind of intense it is. 🥹

(I do also wonder if this is an age thing, too. Like, When I was fifteen and a kissless virgin and writing fic, one of my most popular stories involved cheating. It was very melodramatic, and I would trot out the same trope/circumstances (our MC is cheated on by their beloved partner with someone said partner has history with) again and again over the next few years. I’ve never been cheated on! I mean, that I know of (🔪). But it was such an easy to-go for me, because it always meant instant emotional validation, right? Whereas now as an adult I prefer the relationships in my stories to either be the fun thing we’re chasing, or to be the supportive bedrock we need and NOT the source of angst, because if it’s going to hurt, then it needs to hurt in a im-going-to-cannibalise-you-and-then-kill-myself kinda way and not a we’re-gonna-break-up-and-you’re-gonna-be-a-jerk boring kinda way).

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

A plate and it was one time and I was desperate (and in the kitchen).

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

My desk is in the corner; it’s covered with letters and sketchbooks and magazines and I have four BNHA figures scattered around and one little Slyvanian baby in a blue duck costume and a ceramic jar that used to be an expensive candle that now holds a variety of lip balms and ibuprofen and also a random diamond ring that I don’t wear. I’m under a window—in the afternoon the light hits the wall and lights up my corner. Next to me I have a corkboard filled with cards and polaroids from and of my friends and also a bunch of postage stamps from Japan that I collected back when I was super into stationary.

But omg, pluvi, RE: Lightlark and the publishing industry—like, we all know that the publishing industry is there to make money, we get it. And I think that Alex Aster was probably, what, one of the first in that tiktok trend to be like, “would you read [insert tropes and Pinterest moodboard here]?” so I get it, on a purely business scale, why a publisher would swoop in and offer her money and then rush to get to get the book out. Like!!! Things and trends and interest move fast!!! You have to get that book into the hot lil hands of the teenage booktokers ASAP to make that 100k advance worth it.

But it’s so jarring to see in action! Because if Aster had an editor who cared, like, maybe a few of the bigger, more jarring problems would be tightened or changed. And idk, maybe it’s hypocritical to stand here in my un-beta’d, fanficy corner and be like, “check yourself!!!!” but???????? I will always, always be more ruthless with a traditionally published piece of work because they simply have more resources to do better. They have more eyes on it (which means, theoretically, more helpful critiquing), they have the time to write it (theoretically thanks to that advance), like—there’s just more. I expect more because they have more in which to tell this story with. If you want my money (new paperback books in Australia are easily within the $18-$30 range depending on size and genre!!!) then you have to show me that you have cared enough about this product to make it satisfying to read.

[theloveoftoms]

Karaoke - maverick x reader

Summary: When at a bar, you and maverick decide to sing a little karaoke.

A/N: Okay I'm not really sure what this is but it was fun to write! Also I am going on vacation today and I am super excited!!! If you like this feel free to check out my masterlist and if you want go send me a request for a top gun story - I would love to try writing another one! I hope you all have a gorgeous day, and remember, you are beautiful and loved :) xxx- m

"Okay fellas," you said, moving your hips as you walked up to your group of friends, "The party's finally here!"

Maverick rolled his eyes, and iceman's lips were drawn into a smirk.

"So," you begun, taking a seat in-between maverick and Slider, "What did you guys thing about the flight challenges today?"

Goose groaned, "I respect viper and all, but shit if we have to fly up with him again, I may have to look for another career path."

Maverick shook his head, "It wasn't that bad goose, just not as fun as when we were up against the MiG."

Goose pulled a polaroid out of his jacket pocket, and flashed it to us. The photo was of a stunned looking enemy pilot, eyes filled with shock, looking widely at the camera.

Goose then pulled out another Polaroid, "And here's the second part of it," he said, showing us a picture of maverick giving the pilot the finger.

You laughed with the others, "Tell me goose," you begun, "Why the hell did you have a camera up there with you anyways?"

Goose shook his head in laughter, "You know, to capture the day and all that."

Your conversation was interrupted my the waitress, "Would you guys like something to drink?"

The guys already had their beers which they had been tentatively sipping at, so you were surprised when slider piped up, "Five shots of fireball would be great."

You looked at him with wide eyes. I guess tonight is going to get more interesting.

"And I'll take a beer please," you said, earning a nod from the tired looking girl.

Soon enough, she returned back with your beer and five shots of ember liquid, all on a platter. "Oh yeah," she said, "If you guys are into it, we're just setting up the karaoke machine, so feel free to go give it a try tonight!"

Maverick and you exchanged a look, one that said; Do you know what I'm thinking?

"Okay boys," you said, "First one finished gets to pick the song for karaoke."

Each of you grabbed your shot glasses, "three," iceman began, counting down, "two, one!"

You quickly brought the glass up to your lips to be met by the burning taste of cinnamon liquor cutting through your throat as you swallowed. It felt like little pits of fire were charing the inside of you mouth as you pounded the drink back. When you finally had drunken it all, you slammed your shot-glass to the table to signal your finish.

You looked around, to see that iceman and goose had already finished, maverick finishing just seconds after you.

"Ahh," goose said drawing in a a breath of air.

"Shit that stuffs strong," Ice said.

You lips felt tingly and hot and you throat felt cool. Quite the sensation.

"I guess you're the winner," slider said to iceman, "what song will it be?"

Ice looked to us, all with a glint go mischief in his eye, "The song you'll be singing is," he paused dramatically, "My Heart Will Go On."

Goose looked to him with wide eyes and a smirk on his face, "the titanic song?"

Ice nodded, "Yep. And it looks like we can only go in pairs to sing, so up first, I pick for maverick and y/n to go."

You looked to maverick, giving him a coy grin, "Shall we?" you asked.

maverick nodded, throwing on his leather jacket over his tee and jeans.

The two of you got up, you linked your arm through mavericks and walked up the the stage. You told the guy working the machine what song you wanted, which in this case, was what iceman had picked for you. "My heart will go on?" the worker had repeated back to you, "That's quite the popular pick," handing you and maverick each a microphone, "Have at 'er."

You walked up to the stage beside maverick and grabbed on of the microphones for yourself. You tapped on the mic lightly to get everyones attention, "people of the bar," you said clearly, "tonight me and maverick have a very special song to sing for you all."

Maverick took his microphone, "Dedicated to the one and only iceman, who thank god, is a better pilot than singer."

Maverick's line earned a light chuckle from the audience and the music kicked in.

You couldn't help but laugh as the flute began playing in the karaoke song, laughing as you sang the first verse.

"Every night in my dreams,

I see you, I feel you,

That is how I know you go on."

Now it was maverick's turn,

"Far across the distance,

And spaces between us,

You have come to show you go on."

Now the both of you, singing loudly and slightly out of tune as you began the famous chorus.

"Near, far, wherever you are,

I believe that the heart will go on.

Once more, you open the door,

And you're here in my hear,

And my heart will go on and on!"

[kreidewaltz]

skyblue + thorns + tsukishima <3 congrats sm on 200 luv ily

COTTAGECORE DREAM | T.K.

about. he knows you're exhausted from all the work you're doing. he decided to bring you to a flower field and he thought he might fall in love all over again.

word count. 1.6k

genre & warnings. fluff, timeskip, comedy, established relationship, mentions of overworking, teeny tiny suggestive.

author's note. i was abt to make this angst but changed the last minute >< sorry for getting to this vv late pls enjoy this bc he's done w all the angst we're giving him he says <3 not prfr as usual okay

“be careful, dumbass.” he expected you to frown at his choice of words, instead you give him a wide smile before doing dances in the middle of the flower field. he pushes his glasses up to his nose to distract himself since he hears the wild beating of his heart. a gasp leaves your lips when your hand touches the different kinds of flowers and you get enchanted when you look at them closely. the azaleas are your favorite because of the bright color it brings to the field and it blends in beautifully. when your boyfriend mentions you’re going here, the hitachi seaside park, it felt like the worries and problems stacking up in your life disappeared for a moment.

you grabbed your blue instax camera and took pictures of the flowers dancing with the wind and took a picture of your boyfriend under the bright sun. you move the polaroid for a few minutes before hiding it in your tote bag before running through the field and imagine as if you were on a music video. he shoved his hands in his pockets, watching you get exhilarated with a smile dancing on his lips. he trails behind you and glance at the tulips few meters from him. he thinks of picking it but he didn't want to cause worry in the field that's suppose to distract you from work. he recalls the trouble he's forced to go through with you since you became a little reckless but he has no regrets, he's done those things with you after all.

"kei! come here!" you wave your hands while he chuckles to himself before taking large strides towards you. you loop your arms together, walking around the field which looks amazing when you're in it. we should come here again, you noted. 

a part of you is relieved that he thought of going here with you to unwind from everything. you recall the time he carried you in bridal style and covered you with blankets, with that you learned that you have no one to blame but yourself. his preposition began when you keep doing that one thing he tells you not to—overworking then excuse it as a way to be productive.

-

he wasn’t supposed to find you like this.

he wasn’t supposed to see papers and pens scattered around your desk, the cup of coffee in your coaster that he never saw empty in the time he checked up on you. “kei, ten minutes!” you pleaded with a pout on your lips and look at him, your voice laced with desperation because you really needed to finish this email tonight or as your friend quotes, you’re damned. you rub your hands together and shut your eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t protest or flick you in the forehead. your boyfriend sighs in defeat before going back to your shared bedroom, a joyful aura surrounding your face when he didn’t react violently. 

your co-worker messaged you earlier asking about the client’s response about the presentation he did a few days prior. he spams you with messages asking why it is taking so long to hear about the response and while you’re typing, you remembered your conversation with him last friday. you were supposed to email the client and provide him basic information about the presentation and add the link so he can thoroughly look at it. for once, oikawa wasn’t the irresponsible one between the two of you and you swear he’s not going to let you forget about this. damn oikawa, you curse in your head before stretching your arms.

you shoot him a text saying i’ll send it tonight and add emoticons even though it contradicts on what you’re feeling right now. you went through your emails and drafted what you wanted to say, the link, and double checked if there are grammatical mistakes and whatnot. when you’re sending an email to a client without checking the message and the information, it lacks decency and poor time management, that’s what you tell yourself. 

luckily when you overwork you don’t do it for weeks but you force your work and deadlines on a day. when he heard you saying this, you hear his caring boyfriend scolding as you call it and flicks your forehead with a frown on his face but you got a glimpse of his lips twitching afterwards. while you’re mentally panicking on how to finish the email that reaches your standards, tsukishima is laying down, staring at the ceiling with his hand running on the (your) empty side of the bed, looking for your warmth. he misses your gentle touch when you draw miscellaneous shapes on his back.

he hopes you get yourself together and actually takes care of you but he doubts you’ll do that, you’re stubborn and prioritize work over yourself. he slowly sits up and grabs a pillow to put in between his legs before opening his phone, thinking of what to say that’ll get you out of your desk. he tries to remember an activity or a place that you’ve mentioned because he misses seeing you being happy without worrying about deadlines or your co-workers. after looking around the room he sees the tulips he gave a month ago, looking bright and healthy since you insisted on not letting the flowers die. ah i’ve got it she’ll like this, he thought of a place he knows you’ll enjoy and begins to search on his phone, knowing he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

-

“hey, c’mere for a second.” your boyfriend rests his hands around your shoulders while you hum, your eyes going back and forth to your laptop and the papers around your desk. he knows you wouldn’t budge so he propped his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his long arms around you. “don’t be a brat.” he whispers too close to your ear which makes you pause on typing and look away because now you’re only thinking about how close he is and the way his voice gets low. 

“consider this as your break, you dork.” he lightly flick your forehead before leading you to the room and the way his face turned to a serious one after locking the door raised suspicions in your head. he grabs the wooden stool and sat there while you’re on the edge of the bed, wanting to know his intentions for locking the two of you. “i’m thinking of going out tomorrow,” he started off gently, and right now he waits for your—

“what about my work?” 

“ah ah, stop talking about work, idiot.” he effectively shuts you up when he rests his finger above your lips and when your shoulders slump and let out a sigh, he knows he’s got your full attention. he pushes his glasses up to his nose to focus himself and clears his throat to continue. he’s getting distracted with the way you look adorable with lounge wear.

“we’ll go to the hitachi seaside park, to get your mind off work and stuff…” you couldn’t hide your enthusiasm and squeal repeatedly while moving your feet around the air. the fondness you have for him never decreases but it grew more and more, but you don’t mind at all. your first reaction was to jump at him and wrap your arms around him but seeing the stool he’s sitting on, you didn’t want to risk having injuries. he remembered, you thought while he looks to the side and act nonchalant about it, but the faint redness to his ears going to his neck failed his cover. you opted to grab the dinosaur plush sitting quietly on the bed and lightly hit him with it, convincing him to let loose. the two of you made eye contact and mouthed thanks and your eyes full of sincerity is more than enough for him. he holds your hand and gives it two squeezes, his way of saying no problem, i got you. 

-

and we ended up here. 

“babe, i know i’m great and i’m flattered but,” you couldn’t continue to talk as laughter bubbles up your chest and clutch your stomach to laugh out loud. he looks like a long stick a few meters away and you walk back to him, twirling so your dress can spin gracefully. he quickly looks at you when he realized what he did, one is stare at you for too long, and two he got caught. you bat your eyelashes to tease him while he curses under his breath. 

you take a quick glance at your bag to see if the polaroid showed the picture already and your mouth parted seeing the result. the picture looks ethereal, the left side too bright because of the sun, the colors of nature and your boyfriend tying everything together. after hiding it in your bag, you offer your hand. 

“let’s go! don’t leave me there.” a pout coming to your lips before intertwining your fingers together and walking around the field in silence. this is what he needed after the games he had, a day to indulge in whatever he wanted, what you wanted. earlier, you're on your favorite restaurant and got a box of desserts to enjoy when you got home. you’re pulling him where the narcissuses flowers are gathered. 

“mhm, hey give me your camera.” you hum to his question, completely focused on the narcissuses. he presses the button beside the camera and tries to find the angle he’s looking for, he also wears the strap to prevent it from falling. it’s his gift to you in the first place. he takes a few steps to the side and angles the camera to his chest and when he takes a look at it, he wants that scene imprinted on his memory forever. your hands almost cupping the white petals, and pretend to blow it and giggles slip from your lips, thinking you look hilarious. the sky behind you creates a happy yet calming atmosphere to the picture, and there’s one thing left to do—

click. 

[sunlightwoo]

Going High

☀︎ pairing: sunwoo x reader

☀︎ genre: summer fling au,  fluff, some angst, theme is kinda like the one that got away type of thing?

☀︎ wc: 1.7k

☀︎ plot: summer flings are meant to be flings, nothing more than what it should’ve been known for. however you somehow found yourself reminiscing all those times that you have encountered the red headed boy that always took your breath away at the beach house you find yourself going to whenever you wanted a breather from the hard life you endured.

☀︎ a/n: before i say anything else and forget, there is a section between the breaks that is all italicized and in quotes!! that’s just a long dialogue of sunwoo’s pov of their relationship from the cassette tape. secondly: i hope that you guys liked this piece even though i feel as though it wasn’t my best HOGSJNGshuo it was really fun writing this though and would like to thank @atbzkingdom​​ for hosting the lovely collab with the other amazing writers in it!! be sure to check out everyone’s works as well in the link to the collab masterlist!!

collab masterlist | my tbz masterlist

The smell of the salty beach air fills your nose as the sun is slowly setting in the scenery in front of your eyes, your own body slightly leaning against the railing that was underneath your arms on the balcony at your beach house. You think that this might be the one place that you could call your comfort space.

Memories of being in the exact spot over the years come to mind as you reminisced all of them, wondering how long it has been since you had last been here. Was it a year? Maybe three?

You decide to head back into your room when you notice something sticking out from the floorboard that you didn’t notice earlier. Walking over towards it, you looked to see that there was a box that was visibly hidden underneath the floorboard, making you lean down to take it out from the loose wood and bring it out to your lap.

Opening it up while sitting on the floor, you noticed the various polaroids and notes that were in there along with a cassette tape that was taped against the box. You looked at it in confusion, not knowing where it had originated from or what it could’ve contained but you assumed it had once belonged to you in the past.

Getting up to play it on the cassette player that was on your desk, you carefully inserted it and plugged in your headphones before pressing play, waiting for whatever audio to appear as you flipped through the familiar polaroids. Brinks of red paint your eyes as you wonder who the red headed male in the photos with you were, your mind looking for the answers that you had needed when suddenly a deep voice interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Your eyes widened as it finally clicked in your head who it was, hearing the evident smirk in his voice mirroring the one that you were staring at in one of the polaroids. Kim Sunwoo, better known to be your first love, as you can recall clearly from your past memories. He was the one person that happened to be your escapist from the real world after the many times you sought out this house as your getaway from your family and school.

“By the time that you’re listening to this, it must’ve been a while then since I never told you about this tape.”

He was right.

The last time that you saw him was back in 2017, which was roughly four years from how much you could remember. That was your last year of college, and you could remember all of the days that you had spent with him, endless mornings and starry nights that you stayed up for and got away from the reality that you had faced when you left him.

You wonder if he was doing well without you, knowing that you were the one that left him first.

“I don’t think I’m doing okay without you, sweetheart,” His voice vibrates from a pitied chuckle that left his chest as you could feel your heart clench in your chest at how sad his smile must’ve been while recording this.

“You were asking a lot when you told me to wait for you when you’ve finally answered my question from that night. Do you still remember it?”

“Of course I do,” You say out loud as if he were with you right now to hear your response, and you were brought back to the last memories of him that year before you left him once again.

“I hated myself for it because of how much I had hurt you, Sunwoo.”

“I remember the first time that we had met at the beach house. You thought that I was an intruder, when I had only come over to welcome you into the area knowing that the previous owners of it happened to be your distant family members.

There were tales that they used to tell me before you had arrived, different praises and stories that made you seem as though you were a cold person that only kept their nose into a book for fun. However, I think it was that first night where you had proven me wrong by being the complete opposite of what I had assumed of you.

And I think that’s when I might’ve fallen in love with you.

From all the nights that we spent stargazing, to all the times we messed around in the early mornings of sunrise by slashing water at the shorelines, to the campfires with the boys that we’d whisper our secrets to… I think I knew that I had fallen in love with you that night when we kissed under the moonlight of a full moon… until you had asked me about playing a game.

The long game, sweetheart… I think that was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard from your mouth, considering you were, ya know, the smarter one. You knew that I loved you in that moment, and I think that was the reason why you pushed me away from getting even closer to you by wanting to keep in touch with you after you leave this time around.

Was it something that I shouldn’t have done?

You haven’t been here in over a year now, and I miss you, sweetheart. Maybe I should’ve just let you go and keep whatever we had a summer fling, but I can’t help but wonder if you ever felt the same sparks that I felt every time we came close with one another.

That’s my question to you, in which I just want to know the simple answer to.

I don’t care how long it may take to get your answer, whether it be months after hearing this, or a couple years. Hell you can be married already, and I’d rather just let it be told that it was just me that had felt all the highs and the warm feelings of being free whenever we were together.

You already know where to find me, Y/N… and I’ll be waiting there whenever you figure it out on your own terms.

The moment that you hear the sound of a click of the cassette player finally stopping, you realized that your cheeks were wet as you moved your hand back up to wipe the tears away from your face. You couldn’t tell when you started to cry, but you sat in your chair while staring at the sunset that was setting outside of your balcony, thinking about the available choices that you were given in the moment that you were in.

For one part of your heart, there was the fear of him just being a fling that scared you; the fact that he was the one person that you had always relied on every summer when you came to get relief and happened to be available at the time. However, you also pondered about how much love you had felt with him, knowing that you had never been able to find someone like him in the reality of your world that had loved you the way that he did, made you feel as though you were high on cloud nine the way that he had.

Getting up from your chair almost abruptly, you grabbed your phone and made your way out to the familiar cliffs that weren’t too far away from the beach house.  The entire time that you had speed walked over to them had been filled with nervous thoughts and many ways to come up with the right words to say if he were to be there.

You weren’t even sure if he was still going to be there in the first place, cause you felt as though you had waited for too long in order to find the answer to the question.

You make it to the cliffs and get a better view of the sunset that was behind the horizons of the ocean, eyes darting across the waters when footsteps are made from behind you. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you hoped that maybe you weren’t just hearing things; if the person that was close was actually him, you weren’t sure what to say to him because of the lump that was caught in your throat.

“It took you long enough to find your answer.” You hear the person say and turn around slowly to see him once again, this time a coat of black painting his hair as it was no longer the bright red you were used to.

There’s a breath that escapes from your lips as you stare at him in a feeling that was similar to relief with the way that he stood in front of you with his hands in his jean pockets. Clad in a simple white tee like you remember seeing before in your polaroids, the small smirk that was so familiar to your heart and eyes was still painted across his lips as he raises an eyebrow at your somewhat disheveled figure.

“Am I too late?” You whisper, watching as he walks over towards you with an amused look and takes your hands into his before placing a chaste kiss on them and then on your lips slightly, making you relish in the memories of you kissing him all those years ago.

He pulls away slightly, eyes bored right into yours as the loud pounding in your chest was evident from how fast your heart was beating, and you had a feeling that he was able to feel it too. However, you were somewhat elated that he was here in front of you again, ready to hear your answer after years of waiting and you wonder if he’d still keep those same feelings just as you did for him.

“Not one second later,” He grins as he held a pinky up in front of you both with a teasing grin on his face just seconds before looping it with your own, “Are we finally done playing the long game?”

“Yeah… We’re finished playing, and my answer is that I love you too.”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Boys and sticks - Chapter 52 ❤️

Fandom: Hobbit (College AU)

Characters: @linasofia x Thorin, @laurfilijames x Fíli, me x Ori

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: Fluff for your soul & reference to toxic gender stereotypes

Previous chapters

“What?” Thorin could be a nosy bastard when he wanted to, but having met Kíli, I guessed it ran in the family and they just grew out of showing it quite so openly as time went by.

“I am not fond of the darkness,” I admitted readily enough as I had decided that it made no sense to hide such inconsequential details from a man who would share a living space with me.

“Oh, we could light the candle again and put it in the shower?” Thorin offered immediately which made me smile.

“I am alright actually,” I replied, shuffling closer to the warm body by my side, “with Ori and you here, what is there to dread in the darkness?”

“Oh, careful, Jia, that almost sounded like a compliment. If you start saying nice things to me now, you’ll never get rid of me,” Thorin joked, but there was a serious note of desperately held-back need in his voice.

“I do not want to get rid of you; I like it when you’re around,” I laughed and closed my eyes.

“Are you really okay?” Ori whispered gently, his arm snaking around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest.

“Hmmm, you’re pure light, there cannot be darkness where you are,” I murmured sleepily, cuddling in even closer and letting sleep wash over me.

Alarm clock. Tuesday. Ori.

My mind was a jumble as I woke up to see Tova sitting on her bed and stretching like a cat.

“I had the most amazing dream, Tov’,” I yawned, sitting up and lifting my own arms over my head slowly as the haze cleared.

“Hmm, to do with that one?” She asked and pointed at the polaroid prominently displayed on my corkboard.

All at once, the memories came flooding back, all the things that had happened and all the words I hadn’t said out loud.

“Good morning,” the door to the bathroom opened and there he was, backlit by the lights that had started working again sometime during the night and gleaming like someone had dipped him in gold and amber.

The very next moment, the door to the room flew open as well and Thorin strode in, holding one of those flimsy cardboard holders containing 4 cups of coffee in his huge hand. He was also wearing Tova’s sweatshirt which made him look like he had jumped out of an 80’s workout video; the only thing missing was a pair of neon-pink legwarmers.

“Oh, you’re up and awake, did I wake you?” Thorin asked, startled to see my wide, questioning eyes.

“Dude, you were literally the only person who was not here,” I laughed, “I woke up, because…”

What had woken me? I could not remember; I was used to Tova moving around and – on Tuesdays at least – I slept right through it, no, it had been the dream and that awful sense of loss that had broken my heart.

“I guess I woke up because my mind wanted me to do things rather than sleep, there’s a lot of planning to do and,” I checked my phone that someone had plugged into the regular charger in the meantime, “Lo is already on her way to the electronics store.”

Things were coming together quite nicely, I found.

“You being in love with Ori and all, Tova said to get you a cinnamon mocha, is that alright?” Thorin handed me a cup.

I blinked a few times before wrapping my fingers around it and taking a sip; was that who I was now? The girl who was in love with the sweet blend of cinnamon and chocolate swirling in the bitterness of black coffee?

“Good?” Thorin grinned and patted my hand shortly and handed the others their order as well.

I wondered if Tova drank a tall, black, strong coffee with a load of sugar and a hint of spice; it seemed that our taste in men could be directly linked to our taste in morning brews.

“I gotta go to class, see you at lunch?” Tova grinned and bent down to breathe a kiss on my cheek, something she had done before but usually didn’t before breezing out the door with a foolish-looking Thorin.

How I loved them.

“Don’t you have a class?” I then asked Ori who was sipping his coffee calmly.

“Nope, I’m skipping,” he grinned carelessly and strolled over to press a kiss onto the crown of my head, “watching you sleep was much, much better.”

“Hmmm,” I hummed, leaning the side of my head against his hip, and nearly purring when his fingers carded through my tangled hair carefully.

“Do you want to come to the furniture store with me after English Lit?” I then asked and I wasn’t even surprised when he agreed immediately. God, I really was relying on him being there to get me through the day.

“So…what do you intend to do in that time between now and our first class?” I grinned, throwing back the blanket and cheering when he just slipped into the hollow of warmth eagerly.

“Oh, hey you!”

Tova looked at a man she had never consciously seen before in her life.

“So, you are dating the beefcake? How’s my friend Jia doing? Is she still hankering after that wet rag of a half-girl?” he smirked.

Tova gave a short, cruel laugh before grinning: “So, Thorin is too much for you, but Ori is too little?”

She took a step towards him, not letting go of Thorin’s hand, and purred: “Are you usually so threatened by other men’s masculinity?” she tapped his nose patronisingly, “Are you sad because no girl has ever made you feel pretty? Are you jealous because Jia would let that porcelain doll sit on her face any day of the week?”

“Disgusting,” the man hissed, retreating.

“Hmmmm, I agree,” Tova grinned, looking him up and down with blatant distaste.

“Do not call Jia your friend; you’re not a friend to her,” Thorin interjected harshly, his brow darkened by anger and his lips pale.

“Oh, and by the way, she’s not hankering after him; she was doing just fine when we left them in our room just now…alone,” and with that, Tova walked away.

“My queen,” Thorin grinned as he caught up to her and slung his arm around her shoulder.

“Are you going to class in my sweatshirt?” Tova asked, pulling at the hem of the garment teasingly.

“I think I rather rock it, don’t you?” Thorin cocked one eyebrow as he pushed back his unbound hair from his luminous face.

“I think you look wonderful,” she laughed and gave him a long, ardent kiss before entering her classroom.

“Lo, you cannot be serious,” Fíli hissed as Lo made a beeline for the nearest shop-assistant.

“I want to purchase a TV,” she informed him, “and a gaming console.”

“Oh? How old is the little rascal?” the young lady in her hideous, green shirt asked with a bright smile.

Lo wondered for a second if she looked anywhere near old enough to have a child who would have any need or use for this kind of device, but she decided not to make a fuss about it.

“They’re three fully grown men, I am afraid to say,” Lo replied with her best public-relations-smile plastered on her face.

“Oh, well, come with me then,” the woman invited – masking any potential shock instantly – and leading Lo to a row of black boxes of various shapes and designs.

“Boring,” she muttered under her breath, but Fí’s eyes were gleaming with barely contained desire now.

“Choose one that might please everyone,” she encouraged him and browsed the corresponding games.

“They have pony-games,” his voice came from just behind her right shoulder, his nose grazing up her throat until he could press his lips against the edge of her jaw tenderly.

“I have pony games,” Lo smiled without turning around, “I have literal horses and I have…you.”

Her voice was dark and voluptuous on that last word that dripped like honey from her lips, trapping Fíli’s senses like flies.

“Hmmm, choose something you like, love, I need to get to class, and I’d rather get this over with,” she repeated and went to pick lamps and other knickknacks one might welcome in a new home.

Maybe, she thought, they should invite Kíli and Dwalin over; it might well make them less uncomfortable if they had the numbers in their favour? She was still afraid that Fíli would leg it when the moment came, and she was willing to do whatever she could to make him as comfortable as she could.

The sheer pleasure in his eyes as he – in turn – browsed the different games available filled her heart with joy; really, she couldn��t wait for this day to be done.

I slipped off-campus like a thief in the night.

Ori thought I had a class, but that had been a white lie. Actually, there was something I wanted to get done before lunch.

Words were cheap, I knew, and – either way – I would never have been able to express how amazed I was with their quick and – above all – selfless reaction of the previous evening.

I came from a world of careful planning, of rituals, of keeping a stiff upper lip no matter the circumstances, but these people? They were nothing like me, barging into auditoriums and climbing up windowsills.

Also, I could not get over the tenderness with which Ori had held me, the utter certainty in his movements and actions as if he didn’t doubt me, or rather, as if he didn’t question my being deserving of that kind of protection.

Lying in bed and cuddling, talking about our friends and the danger we had overcome unscathed, it had all been like a fever dream and my skin was prickling still at the memory of effortless intimacy.

Myself, I was not so sure of being worthy, but I decidedly was thankful for the affectionate care he granted me on a daily basis.

And so it came that I ran down the street to express all I couldn’t say without having to borrow words I’d never be able to string into a coherent sentence.

[outofsstyles]

CITY OF LOVE

{part 1 }

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! This is the second and final part of my friends to lovers fic featuring italy!Harry!! If you haven’t read the first part (When In Rome) make sure to click on the link above before coming back to this one  :)) As usual, feedback is always welcome,  hope everyone enjoys this one!

tag list: @rainsoncornelias​ @mellamolayla​ @sushiabby​

Word count: 13.1k (got a bit carried away, oops?)

Pairing: best friend!Harry + reader

Rating: M

You visit the notorious City Of Love and Harry’s infatuated.

“We’re almost there,” Harry says, interrupting your daydreams as you stare out the window of the moving train.

You give him a small smile, checking the time on your wrist clock before going back to your previous position.

He loves catching you in moments like this. When you’re so focused on your own thoughts you become unaware of the world around you. It’s one of those moments where you look the prettiest, he thinks — not that you ever look anything below gorgeous to him. But there’s something about it, when you’re just so lost inside your head, not even trying to look beautiful, something about these moments makes his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could open up your head and read your mind like it was his favorite book. Learn your thoughts and your feelings. He wishes it so badly.

Instead, he takes the opportunity to admire your figure without the risk of getting caught staring — knowing you’d tease him to no end if you did. He takes notice of all the details in you he’s memorized over and over through the years you’ve known each other, but somehow never got tired of it. He doesn’t want to seem like a creep. And it’s not as if he does it on purpose either. He tries to concentrate on the book open in front of him, but only manages to skip through a few words before finding himself glancing up at you again.

It’s unfair to him how beautiful you look this early in the morning. The sunlight shining through the window next to you hitting your face so perfectly it makes his heart jump on his chest. Your hair’s cascading down your shoulders in a way that not even the most skilled painter could replicate in one of his masterpieces.  The dress you chose for the day hugs your body loosely enough so you have space to breathe underneath but still tight enough that makes him twitch on his trousers every time his eyes wander to your chest.

The scene seems as it should belong on the walls of an art museum. You’re glowing.

He makes a subtle move to reach for his bag next to him, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you don’t notice whilst he retrieves his small camera.

Pressing the camera against his face, he quickly pushes the button, capturing the sight in front of him. The ‘click’ sound of the photo being taken catches your attention, making you throw him a pointed look, lips parting with a small gasp.

“Harry!” You call out when you see him moving the camera from his face. “A warning wouldn’t hurt!”

“And what’s the fun in that?” He grins down at the picture shown on the small screen. “Don’t get to capture your natural beauty.”

He glances up at you, catching a blush creeping on your cheeks as you try to hold back a smile. “Does that mean I’m not pretty when I pose?”

“Course not,” he quickly denies, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re always beautiful it’s just-”

“Harry,” you giggle as he nervously stumbles on his words. “I was just teasing.”

He shakes his head at you, “Just like the spontaneous moments s’all.”

“I know,” you smile fondly at him.

Now he feels like he’s the one blushing. Not even because of anything that’s being said but just by the way you’re smiling at him. It fills his stomach with the most beautiful butterflies. He glances down again so you don’t notice it, pretending he’s doing something on the camera, digits fidgeting with the buttons, mindlessly going through the menu that pops up. He peeks his eyes back up subtly, only to find you looking back out the window, but this time with the loveliest smile on your face.

It doesn’t take much longer until the train slowly comes to a stop. A vocal announcement coming from the tiny speaker above your heads lets you know it’s your stop, urging the passengers to step carefully out of the cabins. You quickly gather your belongings, joining the small crowd that’s drifting out to the platform.

The change in the atmosphere is abrupt when you step out. It almost feels as if you hit a wall of heat, the air around you is thick — making you reach for your water bottle hanging on the side of your backpack.

“Benvenuta a Verona!” Harry’s voice chirps from behind you, his hand adjusting his sunglasses on his face as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close as you begin to follow the group moving towards the exit of the station. You arch your brows at him in a wordless question while you sip from the bottle in your hands. It doesn’t take more than that for him to understand your request, translating his previous words. “Welcome to Verona, darling.”

It makes an elated sigh to escape from your lips, “Fair Verona,” you say. “The city of love.”

“The city of love,” Harry repeats, letting his arm fall back to the side of his body once you turn to place your bottle back where you retrieved it from. “Excited?”

“Very,” you squeal, grabbing his arm and giving it a squeeze. “Only know this city through the words of our good old friend, William.”

He chuckles, “please stop referring to Shakespeare by his first name.”

“You know I won’t.” You joke, biting back a smile as you look up at him.

The shimmering sunlight hits the two of you as you walk out of the station, the sky painted a beautiful tone of blue. There’s a slight breeze hitting the spot on top of the entrance stairs, causing your dress to dance around your thighs as you step down to the sidewalk. You giggle as you bring your hands down, trying to keep the skirt from rolling up and revealing much more than you’d intended when you chose the outfit for the day. A few children run down the steps to catch the bubbles a smiley old lady blows from what seems to be a sweets stand, the sound of their laughter filling the surrounding space.

It seems like the perfect beginning for what Harry intends to be the perfect day. It nearly makes him sigh in relief when you glance at him with a bright smile adorning your face. If there’s anything he wants to get it right for you during your stay, it’s Verona.

He first visited the city when his previous roommate, Peter (a tall lanky Canadian boy that was almost as bad with Italian as Harry at first — and always managed to bring a laugh out of him) got offered a job at a small atelier located in the center of the city. Harry helped him with the moving part and in the midst of putting together wooden shelves and relocating couches, he found some time to wander around the streets nearby. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love with every corner, beguiled by every slight detail he noticed.

And it didn’t help how much of it reminded him of you, only consolidating how captivated he felt about it.

**

“This camera is so confusing,” you say once Harry approaches you.

You’re frowning down at the gadget in your hands, fingers pressing one of the multiple buttons next to the display screen, opening a menu screen that only reinforces your puzzled expression. It makes him smile; you look so fucking cute.

Harry makes a move to sit down next to you on the step next to the sidewalk, plopping in his mouth a piece of pineapple from the fruit bowl he had just purchased. He reaches for the camera in your hands, quickly pressing a few buttons so that the screen is back to displaying the pictures instead of the menu you had just opened. You mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as you shield your vision from the sun with your hand, squinting your eyes in a try to take a look at the screen under the bright sunlight.

“Why didn’t you bring your Polaroid?” You question, analyzing the photo shown on the small screen. It’s one he took of you when you walked into a no exit street because you loved the look of the flowers hanging from the balconies on the old buildings all the way down to the floor. You’re laughing at some dumb joke he had made, your eyes scrunched and your head thrown back in a big smile — it was probably his favorite picture he took of you. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts when he doesn’t answer right away. “Just would’ve been so much easier to use.”

“It’s broken,” he announces, focusing back on the fruits in front of him as he grabs a bite of a half-cut grape.

“What?” You gaze up at him in shock. “How?”

“Matteo,” he says, glancing up at you only to find your arched eyebrow. “My flatmate.”

You roll your eyes slightly, “I know who he is, Harry.” You say, “did he break it?”

“Sort of,” he starts, “we were drunk one night, and he wanted to take like some pictures on the staircase,” you frown at him, “don’t ask,” he chuckles, “long story short, he let the Polaroid fall down the steps, and she was never the same after that.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle. “Rest in peace, poor camera.”

“He bought me this one though, so it’s all good.” Harry motions to the device in your hands. “Was the cheapest nicest camera he could find, but it does the job just fine.”

You smile at him, moving your eyes back down to the small screen as you continue to go through the photos. Harry takes in the sight from where you two sit in comfortable silence, the loud mixture of different chatter surrounding the space. A crowd of people wanders around the small fair that covers the center of the open plaza. Some of them are clearly tourists with sunburnt skin and selfie sticks, he chuckles at a specific family wearing bright matching outfits, the two kids eating their small scoops of ice cream, but seeming to get it more on their own faces and clothes than inside their mouths. He can also pick out some that most likely are locals from around the area, ones that come with their reusable bags to pick out the fresh vegetables offered in the tents.

Harry picks up a piece of the fruit on the bowl with the plastic fork, holding it up near your mouth as an offer.

You peek at the food quickly, not really registering before wrapping your lips around it. “What is it?” Your voice is muffled as you chew.

“Watermelon,” Harry chuckles, “Do you not know how watermelon tastes?”

“Shut up.” He feels your elbow pushing him playfully as you let out a short laugh. “Just took me a second,” you look down at the bowl on his lap before meeting his again with a pout on your lips. “Can I have another one?”

And there’s no fucking way he could ever refuse. “Sure.”

He picks up another piece of watermelon, purposefully choosing the biggest one on the bowl, raising it up to offer you again. You lean towards the fork, your tongue poking out just a bit as you bite into the fruit presented to you. This would be fine, just a simple action, if you didn’t make sure to stare into his eyes while you do it.

The intention behind the gesture is unknown to him, but it doesn’t stop his breath from catching on his throat. He can feel his blood rush down his body, his cock plumping just slightly as he peeks down to watch your tongue poking out to lick a bit of the juice that’s on your lips, you chuckle slightly. The scene seems to happen almost in slow motion to him, and he can’t help but start feeling flustered, breaking his gaze away from you quickly. Of course, you couldn’t have done it on purpose, and he wonders if it was all a speck of his love deprived imagination once he peeks up to find you fiddling with your backpack sitting by your feet.

A blush in creeping on his cheeks as he looks down again, resting the fork back inside the bowl to reach for his sunglasses that rest on top of his head - with the purpose of holding back his curls.

“God, why did I pack so much stuff?” You ask yourself, completely unaware of his pounding heart, closing the backpack with a small laugh. “we’re only staying for a night and I brought like, three shirts.”

“Is it too heavy? I can carry it for you,” he offers, mentally cussing himself out for not doing it sooner.

“It’s fine, H, I can manage it.” You assure.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” he insists. “Should’ve asked Peter to leave a copy of his key under the doormat or summat, so you wouldn’t have to carry your stuff around all day.”

“Harry,” you giggle as he stops rambling. “It’s fine, not heavy at all.”

You reach to pick another piece of fruit from his almost empty bowl - this time a squared-cut apple.

“So, where are we headed next, boss?” You inquire, leaning your body against his.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, taking a second to recompose himself. “You’ll see.”

You buff out an annoyed breath, “thought we agreed to stop with the surprises.”

“This is a special one, though,”  he smirks. “You’ll like it, don’t worry.”

**

Just as he predicted he hears a gasp leave your lips as you turn around the tunnel, your face lighting up in excitement as you recognize the place standing in front of you.

Juliet’s house.

The building is simple, nothing too out of the ordinary when compared to other houses around the city. Except it’s the meaning behind the exposed brick walls and the notorious balcony poking out from the second floor that makes it so memorable. In the courtyard in front of the entrance, there’s a small group gathered up, some lining up in front of the house to go into the museum, and some crowded around the statue of Juliet positioned across from the front door. It’s not nearly as packed as it can usually get, though, and for that Harry lets out a relieved sigh, not wanting the mass amount of bodies crushed together in the limited space to spoil your experience.

This was the place Harry was most excited for you to visit, imagining how it would be to watch your glistening eyes from the moment you’d announced you had bought the tickets to visit him.

He knows how much you loved Romeo and Juliet, even being probably one of the most overused love stories ever written, you still gushed about it since the moment you first read it way back when you were in high school. It was the story that sparked in you the love for literature. The one you used in your final thesis - which even though Harry couldn’t really understand much of, he still read all the way through.

“This is amazing,” you breathe out, your eyes scanning every inch of the place around you — so caught up at the moment, you don’t even realize Harry’s watching you.

“Is it like how you imagined it?” He asks, biting into his cheek to stop him from smiling too hard when you look up with a slight grin.

“Well, I’ve seen it before, you know,” you say, gazing around the graffiti-filled walls. Harry raises his brows at you in a silent question,  “I’ve watched Letters For Juliet.”

“Oh,” he follows you as you amble around. “Do they show this house in it?”

You gasp, turning to look at him with a dramatic shock in your face. “You’re telling me, Harry Styles, the king of romcoms, has never seen Letters For Juliet?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, chuckling softly, “unfortunately not.” He rests his hand over his heart, looking down, feigning shame. “Guess I have lost my crown.”

A giggle erupts from your lips, he looks up to watch you shake your head at him. “It’s just like I thought it would be, though,” you say, voice softer. “It’s beautiful.”

“You have to get your picture on Juliet’s statue,” he motions in the direction of the monument as you get closer to it, reaching for his bag to retrieve his camera. “Go grab her boob.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You snort, poking him playfully as you move to stand next to the motionless figure.

“But that’s the ritual!” He giggles, pointing the camera at you when you position your hand over her bust -- the bronze on the region already worn out from the numerous people that touch it every day.

You wait for the camera’s click, indicating the picture had been taken before jumping down from the step. “You rub her right breast to have luck in love, it’s a tradition,” you tell him, walking around the statue to glance at the wall, facing away from him. “You say it like it’s something… Cheeky.”

“So it isn’t cheeky?” You throw him a pointed look, causing him to chuckle as he raises his arms in defense. “It’s just an odd tradition, that’s all,” he glances down at the small camera screen to check the photo that was taken. It takes a moment of him smiling at it to himself before he realizes you didn’t say anything in response to his tease.

The silence makes him look up, searching around for you, quickly finding you standing not too far by the tunnel you had come from, your eyes focused on the ancient wall. He approaches you, earning a quick glance as you sense his presence getting closer. His eyes wander to the surface you’re focusing on. Every inch of it is covered with notes, some written in paper and glued to the surface, the edges of it marked with time stains, some written directly on the bricks. But all of them had the same feeling draped all over their words: love. It being the uncertainty of finding their other half, or the heartbreak of being separated from them. Most of them were as simple as just two initials, meant to mark the passion of a couple that had been in this exact same spot he stands on somewhere in time. A few of them, however, - mostly the ones written on paper - go more in dept in all kinds of tales of love.

Harry feels as if he could waste days just reading them all, and for your similar fascination, he assumes you could, as well.

“Look at all of those, H,” you gesture at the notes covering every inch of the stone walls. “Each one of them tells a different love story, isn’t it crazy?”

“It is,” he answers, his eyes focusing on a particular pink note in front of him. The writing is a bit smudged from time but he can still understand the words of a woman professing her love for her partner, their names written inside of a heart at the bottom of the paper. He finds himself wondering more about their story beyond the words written. “Do you think some of these couples are not together anymore?”

“Absolutely,” you say without skipping a beat, causing Harry’s eyes to peak over to you. You glance up at him, a small smile taking over your lips. “But you know what’s nice?”

“What?”

“Even if they’re not together anymore,” you begin, gazing back at the wall. “A part of their love will always stay here. Intact.”

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air as he gazes back at the note he was looking at. “That’s true.”

There’s a silence between you two, both quietly admiring all the different stories told in the few-worded messages splattered in front of you. It seems like something he could get lost for hours, just imagining how they all played out. Thinking about the moment that brought all of them to this place.

“Don’t waste your love on somebody who doesn’t value it,” you break the silence, reading the words written a bit lower in dirty white paint — the writing is big, taking over some of the notes. You let out a quiet sigh, voice so low he almost misses it, “William Shakespeare.”

Harry gazes down at you, trying to find some sort of indication on your intentions behind reading those words out loud but only being met with the side of your face, your eyes never leaving the words written in front of you.

“Maybe I should’ve listened to him, huh?” you let out a dry laugh as an attempt to mask the meaning of your words with humor, but your voice gives out just a bit, unveiling the hurt behind it.

The words you say hit Harry like a truck, his heart twisting as if someone had just ripped it out of his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, knitting his brows together as he calls out your name just above a whisper. His voice is soft and tender, and he holds back the heaviness in his heart because this isn’t about him, you’re the one that needs to be comforted.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer,” you chuckle again, looking down at your shoes and facing away from Harry, your hands quickly moving up to rub your eyes. He calls you again, this time making a move to reach for your shoulder, but you turn around suddenly, giving him your best smile in an attempt to distract him from your watery eyes. “I’m fine, H, really. It’s just the feeling of this place making me a bit emotional,” it’s bullshit, you know it, he knows it. “How about we go back to that ice cream place we saw on our way over?”

“Do you not want to go inside the museum?” He inquires, the worry still visible in his features.

“It’s fine, I’ve read it’s mostly a cash grab, anyway,” you let out a dry laugh. You’re trying to make him smile, he can tell. “So, what do you say? Gelato?”

He wants to pry, wants to question you. But he swallows back his words, something he’s been perfecting with you over the years. Holding back his feelings, pretending they’re not there. It suffocates him sometimes, but he knows losing you is not worth it. So he does the same as always, smiling down at you and ignoring the knives on his heart. “That sounds lovely.”

**

There’s no mention of the occurrence at Juliet’s courtyard for the rest of the day. You don’t give him any opening to even bring it up as well, immediately changing the subject as soon as you go through the tunnel again. So Harry just pushes the subject to the back of his mind, in order to enjoy your company.

Eventually, you’re both sitting at a stone bench in front of Peter’s apartment building, waiting for him to come home so you can relax from walking around all day. He had been clear on his texts to Harry as for him not to take you out for dinner, arguing he wanted to teach you his - now improved, in his words - old spaghetti recipe. It’s something that brings a smile to his face, how his friends are so welcoming to you, being eager to meet the girl he rambles about so much.

So as the twilight settles on the sky above, and just in time for when you first complain about your groaning stomach, a loud voice greets the two of you. It makes you jump in your seat, causing Harry to laugh, recognizing his friend’s voice.

Peter greets you with a tight hug, barely giving you any time to get up from the seat. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” His voice sharp next to your ear. You gaze at Harry with slightly widening eyes from over his shoulder, only to be met with an amused grin as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Peter pulls back from you, holding into your shoulder as he bends to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Heard so much about you, it’s almost as if I know you already!”

“Good things, I hope,” you chuckle, the earring dangling from his ear catching your attention as it shimmers with the bit of sunlight still glaring.

He reaches for Harry to give him a quick hug, quickly focusing back on you. “As if this man could ever say a single bad word about you.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, watching a blush creep on his cheeks as he shakes his head. “Everyone is out to embarrass me in this country.”

“Spare me of your drama tonight, Styles,” he reaches to lock his arm around yours, guiding you inside the building. “She’s the star today.”

You look over your shoulder to Harry’s face, a grin eminent on his lips as he follows behind. The way up the staircase to the apartment is spent with Peter’s voice echoing around the flat stone walls, babbling about a story of when he used to live in Rome. More specifically, one that involved Harry having too much to drink and rambling to him for hours about you. He doesn’t get to go into much detail, though, with Harry himself interrupting him with warm cheeks and eyes glancing at the back of his friend’s head, refusing to meet yours every time you smirk down at him.

You walk into his apartment and are instantly hit with a small furry cat snuggling against your legs, making you coo as you crouch to scratch behind its ears.

“That’s Romeo,” Peter points, reaching to pull the strap of his bag over his shoulder, throwing it on the couch next to him. “I’m very creative with names, as you can tell.”

“I love it,” you say, murmuring some compliments to the tiny creature before getting up.

“I’m gonna get everything started for dinner, your room is the first door on the right down the hall, you can get settled and meet me in the kitchen for your culinary lessons.” Peter doesn’t leave any room for questions, striding towards an arched entrance you didn’t notice next to you.

Harry starts to follow you as you go to the place Peter had indicated, but as he gets close, he notices Romeo chasing you curiously, trying to reach for your untied shoelace. He crouches down much to play with the cat, not paying much notice to you as you enter the room. The animal pursues his wiggly fingers, as Harry waves them in the air, moving them away in sudden movements every time Romeo get close to catching them.

“Uhm… Harry?” You call him from inside the room, appearing at the doorframe with a frown between your brows. You look in the direction of where Peter had disappeared, lowering your voice a bit. “I think we might have a little problem.”

“What is it?” he gets up, nearing you and stopping next to the open doorway.

“There’s only one bed here,” you step away to give him a visual of the room.

“Oh,” he walks in, taking a look into the small guest room, and just as you said, he only spots a single bed tucked right under the big window. He hadn’t even thought about that detail, “That’s a problem.”

You nod at him, eyes moving back to the bed a frown trying to find a solution for the issue in question. The bed is just simply too narrow for the two of you to even share without one having to sleep on top of the other, and as much as Harry wouldn’t mind that he would never suggest it out loud. So he just follows your gaze, as if staring at it would magically bring a resolution — apart from the most obvious one.

“Is everything okay in there?” Peter’s voice echoes at the end of the hallway once he spots the two of you hovering by the door.

You part your lips gazing at Harry expectantly. “Kind of,” he begins, “Is there only one bed here?”

Peter chuckles, leaving the books in his hand on top of a shelf before making his way to where you stand. “Forgot to show you, sorry about that.” He says, walking past you as he enters the room, leaning forward, he pulls out a mattress from under the bed. “There we go, no need to break your back on my tiny couch, H.”

“Hey!” Harry drags the word out in a dramatic manner, “who said I would be the one on the couch?”

A chuckle leaves your lips, your hand patting his chest playfully, “always a gentleman.”

“I would never let a guest sleep on the couch, Styles,” Peter argues. “As far as I know she is the guest here.”

You smile brightly at his words, bringing your hand up to meet his in a high-five. Harry rolls his eyes at the scene, “I should’ve never introduced you too.”

As promised, Peter teaches you how to make his improved sauce recipe, the kitchen quickly becoming filled with your giggles as you try to follow his instructions. Harry watches you two as he makes the pasta, every so often sneaking to your counter to steal a piece of whatever you’re cutting, earning a playful scolding from you. And soon, the scent of boiling tomato and fresh herbs takes over the air, Stevie Nicks’ voice singing lowly in the background while you chat. It’s such a simple moment, but he just feels so happy he wishes he could live the rest of his life like this.

After dinner, he notices your heavy eyelids and eventual yawns signaling your sleepy state. Still, you insist on washing your dishes, even after Harry persisting on doing it for you. So you stand quietly side by side, washing the plates and humming along to Dreams, bumping occasionally on each other hips. And not long after, you’re finally changing into your nightwear and tucking yourselves in your respective beds. Harry takes the mattress on the floor, not leaving any room for you to argue with his decision.

He can almost feel the sleep taking over his body, the soft sound of his own breathing and the low humming of the small fan tucked in the corner lulling him into slumber.

“I’m sorry for today,” your voice suddenly breaks into the quiet room, making him open his eyes to see you’ve moved to the edge of your bed, looking down at him. The moonlight from outside shines through the cracks of the closed curtains behind you, allowing him to only make out your silhouette, but not quite see your face. His lips part, but before he can say anything you whisper again, “Didn’t mean to cry.”

His face softens at your words, body shifting to get closer to you. “Don’t have to apologize for that,” he reassures, “Never have to apologize for it, love.”

He can tell your smiling, even with the shadow casting on your face. “I know,” you say. “Just didn’t want to be a downer.”

“You’re not,” he says in a heartbeat, “If anything you’re the one who brightens my day.”

You breathe out a laugh, “always a charmer, aren’t you?” You bring your hand to rest under your head. “Don’t have to use that with me.”

“I’m serious,” he props himself up on his elbow.

“Thank you, H,” you reach a hand down, to which he grabs it without a thought, enlacing your fingers together.

The room falls silent again. You stare into the ceiling, Harry’s thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand as he watches you. He watches your chest moving with your breathing; the frown adorning your face makes him want to reach up and caress it away, but he holds it back.

“I don’t think I ever even loved him, you know?” You confess quietly, the words coming out of your mouth quietly but rushed as if you’d been holding them back.

It takes him back a bit, not just due to new information presented to him but the meaning behind it. He lets it linger in the air for a moment, not sure how to respond. It’s the first time you’re even openly discussing your past relationship with him. He hesitates, but feels like it’s best to ask what he’s always wondered, “Why were you with him for so long then?”

“I-” you stop, exhaling when you turn to gaze at him once again. “I don’t know,” it comes out in a whisper, yet he can still sense the vulnerability in your voice. “I guess-” you begin, sighing frustratedly. “I guess I just didn’t want to be alone.”

There’s a familiar pang in his heart at the way you say it, knowing how deeply he could relate to the words but hating it that you had to go through it. He squeezes you hand in a silent attempt of comforting you, “you weren’t alone.” He asserts, “always here with you.”

You squeeze his hand back, “I know.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours, even in the dark he can still make out the glistening in them as you stare down at him. A part of him wants to question you more, ask why you never told him you felt like that, and then he asks himself how could he not notice it? He can feel himself frowning, his thoughts rushing inside his head. But before he could even begin beating himself up for it, your voice interrupts him.

“Harry?” You say a bit hesitantly, he hums in response, blinking the invasive thoughts away. “I know this might be a bit weird.” Your voice traces off.

“What is it?”

“Do you think-” you gaze down to where your hands are grasped together, avoiding his eyes. “Do you think I could sleep down there… with you?”

His breath hitches on his throat, “Oh.”

“It’s just- I just- Dunno… wanted to be close,” you breathe out a nervous laugh. “God that was weird, I’m sorry, just- forget it.”

You try to pull your hand back but he prevents you from doing so, tightening his hold just slightly. “Hey, stop that,” he shimmers back on the mattress. “not weird at all, come here.”

He lets go of your hand to pull back the thin sheet draped over his body, inviting you in. He ignores the ways his heartbeat picks up when you drape a leg down, allowing yourself to fall next to him, not wasting a minute as you snuggle closer to his body. The citric scent of your hotel shampoo mixed faintly with sunscreen takes over his senses once you lay your head down on his shoulder.

It’s not the ideal position to be in on a warm summer night, the heat of your bodies only enhancing the high temperature. But Harry doesn’t mind in the slightest, only pulling you closer as he fights the urge to press a kiss on your head.

**

Your last day comes with a sorrowful feeling settling itself on Harry’s mouth.

It’s true what they say about time flying by when you’re having fun, the whole week of your stay seeming like had gone through in a blink of an eye for him. The simple thought of having to see you through the screen of his computer, face pixelated due to the poor internet connection, brings an unsettling ache to his chest. And he doesn’t like it one bit. As much as your visit wasn’t nearly as long as he wishes it could’ve been -- granted if it was in his way you would’ve moved in with him since the very beginning. Still, it was enough time for him to grow used to your presence every day. Enough for him to know what it feels like to wake up in his favorite place with his favorite person around. To know how it is to have you wander around the narrow streets of the city, and he fears your absence will just make them look dull in comparison.

He tries not to think about it. To waver off the thoughts of you leaving as soon as they prompt themselves into his mind. But it’s hard not to let reality hit him when he has to watch you pack your bags. Sitting in the old armchair arranged at the corner of your cramped hotel room. You try to make a light conversation, joking around about the number of souvenirs you bought as gifts — most of it being small magnets for your mom’s fridge collection. He only manages to force a short chuckle out of him, focusing back on the small window to watch the movement (or lack of) on the street.

The midday sun was shimmering proudly on top of the sky, reminding him the morning had already come and gone. He had told you the day prior that there was no need to wake up early for the day, telling you to rest so you could enjoy the night out Giorgia had invited you to. You were grateful for the extra hours of sleep, considering the hectic schedule of early rising and walking around all day was already starting to take a toll on you. But you still managed to wake up not so late, wanting to use the morning to pack your bags. Sealing the fact that it was almost time for you to leave him.

“You know, pouting in the corner is not a lot of help,” you say, a smirk adorning your face letting him know you’re just teasing him.

“Not pouting,” he mutters turning his face from you and snuggling further into the chair.

“I can see that,” you giggle, reaching for a cushion from the bad and throwing it at his lap, making him shoot a look at you, a small ‘hey!’ leaving his lips. “C’mon, the sooner I’m done with this, the sooner we can start the day properly.”

With that, he gets up from the chair just to plop himself back down on the bed in front of you. He takes a look at your clothes neatly folded next to him, watching as you grab a sock to wrap around a small statue of Romeo and Juliet so it wouldn’t break on your trip back home. He can’t help the sigh that escapes, “Not much planned til later in the afternoon, though, so you’re good.”

You raise your brows at him, “yeah?” A grin grows on your lips. “No more surprises up your sleeve?”

He breathes out a laugh, “thought I could give you a break on your last day,” his voice is soft, not matching your playful tone. “just want to hang out in my apartment for a bit before we have to leave to meet everyone.”

“Oh, so will I finally get the honor to visit the Styles private residence?” you gasp.

“It’s nothing much, you’ll see,” he says, fidgeting with his nails. “But I do have the slimmest balcony in the world, that we can partially sit on.”

“Well, I better hurry up and finish with this then,” you gather a pile of clothing lying on the bed and place it inside the open luggage resting on the floor.

It doesn’t take you much longer to finish up arranging your clothes back inside your bag, leaving a few pieces out for you to change into when you eventually go to sleep. You don’t bother to pick out a different outfit to catch your flight in the early morning, arguing that you’re not trying to impress anyone at the plane so you might as well just go in your pajamas and make your life a bit easier.

And soon, Harry guides you around the familiar blocks that lead back to his apartment building. Just like he had warned you about, it’s very much a student’s home, the best one he could afford with his savings from some jobs he could get here and there. It’s still more than enough for him to fill the sense of being home after a stressful day. He’s got a few plants around that he bought from a girl in his photojournalism class that was obsessed with botanics. There are a few books splattered around his center table and he realizes he had completely forgotten to clean around before having you here.

“Is Mateo in here?” You ask as he urges you in the direction of his room before you can take notice of the mess in the living room.

“I think he’s out with his girlfriend,” he rushes you in, closing the door behind in once you enter the room. “It’s just us here.”

You hum in response, looking around the place he’s been making his own for months. He reaches for the folded chairs leaning against his closet doors. They’re usually used by him and Mateo during the weekends when they feel like staying home and drinking as they watch the sky turn dark around them. But now he gets to do it with you — except the night sky, considering there are still hours left of sunlight upon you.

“Look at her!” You utter suddenly, causing Harry to glance at you over his shoulder as he opens the glass doors that lead to his balcony. He catches a glimpse of his broken Polaroid camera in your hands — having completely forgotten about it. “Can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Me neither,” he sets the chairs down on opposite ends, but still close enough thanks to the narrow space. “I’ll get someone to fix her soon enough, though.”

“I’m glad,” you set the camera back down to where you found it. Harry leans back on the open door behind him, watching as you snoop around his room.

He can’t contain the smile that rips through his lips when you look at the pictures he had spattered on the wall next to his bed, reaching to touch one of the two of you. It’s a picture from your last birthday before he left for Italy, ironic enough, one that had been taken but your then-boyfriend. Harry had his arms wrapped around your shoulders, chin resting on top of them as you both smiled widely to the camera.

Your back faces him as you keep looking around, preventing him from knowing your reaction. He zooms out for a moment, eyes fixed on a random point of his wooden floor of the quiet room. A gasp from you causes him to break away from his thoughts, jumping a bit with the sudden sound.

You turn to look at him, mouth agape in shock, your hold up a small bottle of black nail polish — something that Harry had completely forgotten about it. “Is this yours?”

“Yup,” he nods. “Peter gave it to me a couple months ago.”

“You’ve never told me you painted your nails!” You shake your face in disbelief. “I’ve never even seen you with your nails painted!”

He chuckles, “Haven’t done it a lot, love, probably just once or twice.” he shrugs, looking down at his clear nails, “I’m proper shit at it, if I’m honest, always get it all smudged.”

“Not anymore,” your grin grows. “You gotta let me do your nails, H.”

“Course you can,” he breathes out a laugh. “When do I ever tell you no?”

A squeak leaves your mouth as you jump to him, giving him a quick hug. “You’re gonna look so good with your nails done.”

Harry simply rolls his eyes, ignoring your comment as he feels a familiar warm feeling on his ears. You motion towards the chair he had prompted on the balcony, bouncing to the other one as he props himself down on it. Crossing your legs under your bum, you take one of his hands, resting it gently over your knee as you bend down to start the process. He stares down at you, appreciating your concentrated features, a frown adorning your forehead, tongue sticking out just barely as you focus on applying a thin coat over his nails. His heart skipping a beat as you peek at him from under your lashes, making him look away quickly, eyes wandering mindlessly through the surroundings.

The apartment is not high enough so you can have a perfect overlook of the city from it, but it’s still a nice view nonetheless. There’s a modest park just by the corner of his street, and from where he sits there’s a perfect view of the greenery arranged around the perimeters. At this time he can discern some families enjoying their summer, some children’s pitched screams as they run around in the small playground echoing through the otherwise quiet street.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me,” your voice breaks the silence between you two.

He glances back at you, meeting your eyes as you lean down briefly to blow air at his nails, making him realize that you were done with the hand. He places his other one on top of your knee before you even tell him to switch, arching his brows at your words. “Hardly a secret, told I don’t do it a lot.”

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say as you start to work on the blank nails presented in front of you. “If it was for me you’d never leave your nails unpainted ever again.”

A short laugh erupts from his lips, “if only I knew how to paint them properly.”

You click your tongue, holding his ring finger as you flick the brush carefully over the nail. “Guess I’ll have to move here then,” you joke, looking up with a smirk. “So I can be your personal nail technician.”

He bites back a smile, dismissing the warmth in his chest from the simple suggestion behind your words. “Guess you’ll have to.”

**

Harry’s upset.

And he knows he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t want to be. But he can’t help it.

It’s your last night before you catch an early flight back home, and he’s barely seen you since the moment you stepped in the bar.

And what’s even more upsetting to him is that going out to this place wasn’t even in his plans, to begin with. Originally, he had planned on having a simple relaxing day, just the two of you. To have you sitting next to him on the terrace of his building, feeding you his perfected recipe of bruschetta while you share a bottle of wine. He can almost picture it, the sky a perfect mix of colors as the sun sets behind the buildings, your cheeks flushed and lips reddened from the alcohol. He can see your full smile whilst you exchange stories from the time you’ve spent apart or recall fondly memories of the times you were together as the night flies by without either of you noticing.

But none of that actually happened, of course. All due to his inability to say ‘no’.

Instead, here he is, in a bar he doesn’t even like that much — it’s always way too crowded and the music is way too loud to even attempt on having a conversation.

It was Giorgia’s idea; she insisted you had to experience a night out in Rome, and with her being so excited to meet you he couldn’t find it in his heart to say no. At the time he didn’t even consider the possibility of not being by your side. Thinking it would be nice to go out with you for the last time, expecting to have a fun night drinking fruity shots of unknown drinks. Maybe deep down he even thought about the possibility of being able to have you all over him, knowing how clingy you can get after a few drinks.

But those thoughts were snatched away from him almost as quickly as you were once the two of you stepped into the bar. The girls pulled you from his side to show you around, and all he was left with was a quick glance from over your shoulder before you disappeared into the crowd.

So here he is. Sitting at the table with a bloke he doesn’t even know (he was presented to him at some point, but Harry didn’t really bother to register his name). The man was rambling about something Harry couldn’t really care less at the moment, only nodding along to his words and offering short replies every so often. He’s aware of the deep frown between his brows, his eyes peeking at you every minute or so.

You’re standing near the bar with Giorgia leaning in to say something into your ear. He can see a smile breaking into your face and at this point, he’s aware that he’s staring. Your eyes meet his and for the first time, he doesn’t break eye contact when you catch him watching you, offering a weak smile instead. He can tell even from afar that you notice his grouchy expression, saying something back to the girl next to you before you strut in his direction.

“Are you okay?” You question as you get close to him, your brows meeting in a frown, and your worried eyes meeting his own. “You’ve been a bit distant, what’s wrong?”

His heart flutters in his chest, just the fact that you’re checking up on him is enough to make him feel warm in all the nicest ways. He takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly as he breaks his gaze from you. “I’m fine,” he begins, knowing he would never tell you in a million years what’s really making him so grumpy. “Just not feeling so well.”

You don’t believe him, of course you don’t, knowing him way too well to figure out he’s lying through his teeth. But thankfully for him, you don’t press it further, knowing this isn’t the best place for this discussion. Instead, you place your hand on his knee, rubbing it softly before you lean in. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to your apartment.”

“It’s okay, love,” he reassures, “can’t waste your last night here.”

“Wouldn’t be a waste,” you argue back, so quickly he knows there’s not a doubt in your mind as you say it. “Just wanna spend it with you, doesn’t matter how.”

And now he feels as if his heart could beat right out of his chest, just rip a hole right through it and give itself to you. He feels his bloodstream running through his veins, his whole body warming up to it as if every cell was lighting up with the words coming out of your lips.

He wants to tell you that’s all he needs as well. He wants to tell you how being with you it’s enough for him. He opens his lips to do it, but one look into your eyes just makes his mind go blank. So instead, he just blurts out, “I’m gonna take a wee.”

And just like that, he gets up from the booth, barely giving you enough time to nod in response as he rushes towards the bathrooms. The sound of the shame in his mind for choosing the easy way out is so loud he can almost hear ringing in his ears. He thanks all the outer forces in the world when he finds the man’s room unoccupied, walking into it before closing the door behind him with a shaky breath leaving his lips.

Harry doesn’t know what exactly is making him feel like this. If it’s the fact that it’s your last night with him and he’s barely got a single minute with you. Or if it’s the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you starting to overwhelm him. It’s almost like a game you two play, tiptoeing around the emotions that dare to appear every time there’s a lingering touch or a knowingly look shared between the two of you. It’s those moments of intimacy without necessarily touching each other, when you allow yourself to feel vulnerable with a simple act of sharing words. There’s something overpowering about those moments, Harry thinks. And it’s all coming to him now.

He looks up to meet his eyes on the small dirty mirror hanged on the bathroom wall. There’s nothing much different from the reflection he saw before leaving his apartment to come to the bar, maybe apart from the deep frown still marking the skin between his brows, and his hair a bit messier from running his hands through it so much. His eyes hold back an ache from the thoughts wavering around his mind.

It’s pathetic, really. That’s the best word he can come up to describe how he feels. Being in a grimy bathroom on a packed bar the moment he realizes how in love he is with his best friend. This is not a new discovery for him, of course, he was gone for you since the very first moment you got introduced to each other. But this was a feeling that, as time passed by, he’s learned to overlook for the sake of keeping you close, even if it wasn’t the way he yearned for.

Maybe he perfected his own capacity of ignoring his emotions that for a moment he convinced himself they weren’t there anymore. He scoffs at himself, shaking his head almost in disbelief. Pathetic.

He really thought that the distance it would just eventually dull the longing in his heart, but what he didn’t expect was for it to have the complete opposite effect. Seeing you just lit up this part of him he had buried deep inside of his heart.

There’s no reason anymore keeping him from telling you. There hasn’t been one for months now, ever since your last breakup.

He takes a deep breath, splashing a bit of water on his face as he wishes he could’ve had enough to drink to give him the burst of courage to even face you after this moment of realization with himself. He’s aware of how long it’s been since he excused himself, so with a final look to his reflection he leaves the small bathroom with the same rush he had gotten in.

His mind is rushing with too many thoughts for him to even keep up with as he approaches the booth he left you waiting in. But as soon as the table comes into his vision he freezes in his place, taking in the sight in front of him.

You’re sitting there in the exact same spot you were when he left. What unsettles him is the figure sitting next to you. It’s the same bloke that was talking to him after you left with the other girls - the one he still couldn’t remember the name if his life depended on it.

The man had clearly scooped closer to you after Harry left the scene, his arm conventionally resting on top of your seat. It’s evident on the stupid smirk growing on his face as he pushes his dirty blond locks from his face, his undoubtfully charming Italian accent probably apparent while he chats you up. You don’t seem to be minding the attention either, your lips turning into a smile as your fingers fiddle with the straw of your drink.

It feels like someone punched Harry in the stomach, maybe even the actual act wouldn’t hurt him as much as it does to see you flirt with a guy equivalent of a Hollister model. It brings a suffocating ugly feeling to take over every cell of his being. The words that had been playing in his mind completely disappearing.

It’s at this moment he wishes he could’ve drunk enough to cloud his senses. Wishes he could blame the drinks for his irrational decision of intervening the conversation. But it’s not the alcohol that makes him stride in the direction of the booth, it’s something much stronger - jealousy.

You can feel his presence as soon as he gets close, turning around to look at him with the smile still splattered on your face. He doesn’t even register how your eyes light up, shooting a stern look at the man still leaning towards you. “Harry—”

“We should go,” he interrupts you, cringing as his voice leaves harder than he had intended to.

“Oh,” your smile drops, frowning at him. “Are you still not feeling well?”

“I just--” he softens his expression when he meets your eyes. Looking down, the embarrassment of his thoughtless reaction getting to him as he tries to find an excuse for his request, breathing out in frustration when he can’t think of one. “Just think we should go.”

“Okay,” your voice is calm and causes a pang to hit his heart when you shoot him an understanding smile, not questioning the reasoning behind his words any further.

Soon, after saying your goodbyes, you are walking silently side by side on the sidewalk that quickly had become so familiar for the two of you - the one leading to your hotel. Harry can’t help but beat himself up the whole way back. He mindlessly pokes at his nails - a bad habit of his when he’s too anxious - not even realizing he was chipping the nail polish you had carefully applied earlier.

He can feel you gaze up at him every so often, your lips parting as if to say something but never doing it. And as the lights from inside the glass front doors of your hotel get closer, he can feel the heaviness in his heart weighing down, the guilt of cutting short your last night together settling into his mind. He keeps his eyes glued to the sidewalk as you come to a stop just before you reach the entrance of the building.

It takes him a second to notice you stayed behind, making him stop in his tracks and look up to meet your eyes. The lighting on the street is dim, but it’s enough for him to make out clearly the worry in your expression.

“Harry,” you call him, your voice small but tender. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

His eyes break from yours, focusing on the detail of the exposed bricks behind you, moving to the streetlight a few meters away, looking at anything but you. After his scene back in the bar, he doesn’t even know what to tell you, racking his brain for the right words but whenever he thinks of a way to confessing the truth, there’s something holding him back.

It’s the second time in the night he wishes he had more to drink earlier in the evening. Maybe with a few drops of alcohol on his bloodstream, the words would fly easier from his lips.

From the corner of his vision, he can see you step closer to him. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, moving his head gently so his eyes are locked on yours once again. “Please, H, I know something is up,” you plead, retracting your hand leaving only the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin. “Don’t wanna leave with this weird feeling between us.”

You’re right, and he’d be damned if he lets you go with this last impression of him. “I don’t think there’s a right way for me to say this,” he says his thoughts out loud, “seeing you again — having you here with me, just made me, I guess, admit to myself something I’ve been holding back for way too long now.” his heart pounds in his chest as he searches into your eyes for a single clue of your feelings.

He can tell you’re confused, your brows arching up as you wait for him to continue, but any other thought going through your mind is a mystery to him, which only makes it harder for him to get the words out.

“I just--” he lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, fuck it. “I just don’t think I can go another minute without knowing how it feels to kiss you.”

The words come out near to a whisper, visibly taking you back as you widen your eyes slightly at the confession. It takes you a moment to process, his eyes looking desperately into yours in a search for a trace of reciprocity, or rejection, or anything really.

“Harry,” you finally say, after what seemed like an eternity to him. “Is this — does this mean—”

He allows himself to take a step closer to you, this time he’s the one reaching to caress your cheeks. His moves are still hesitant, but once he realizes you’re not pulling back he cups your face, thumbs rubbing lovingly at your cheekbone. “Means I’m in love with you, darling,” he’s done holding back.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, the closeness between you two makes him aware of the tears that poll up on your waterline. “I love you too,” your voice cracks, the word coming low as you swallow back a cry.

He still hears them, though, he hears them just fine. His own eyes well up as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his lips parting in a smile so big it almost rips his face in half. “Oh baby,” he lets out a relieved chuckle, “could get used to hearing that.”

The most beautiful giggle comes out of your mouth, your hand moving to the back of his neck pulling him in. “Thought you said you couldn’t take another minute without kissing me,” you bite down a smile.

He gives you one last look, his eyes so loving it feels as if there’s nothing else in this world apart from the two of you. His hand moves to tangle into your hair when he finally leans down to close the space, meeting your mouths in the middle. The kiss is soft and slow, the nerves behind it still radiating from the two of you, but slowly fading away with the excitement of fulfilling the long-overdue desire shared.

It’s a new feeling to you, knowing how it is to have his lips against yours, but somehow it still gives you a sense of familiarity. The excitement of a new discovery, yet the comfort of the intimacy. But the last thing occupying your mind is the duality of emotions in your heart as his tongue smooths your bottom lip. He steps forward, gently pushing you until you can feel your back against the wall of the long-forgotten building behind you.

Not once does he breaks the kiss, only deepening it when your back meets the exposed bricks. His hand massages the hair on the back of your neck as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you as close as possible — almost as if to convince himself that this was, indeed, real.

You stay like this for a moment, exploring each other’s mouths, getting used to the feeling of being closer than you’ve ever been in the years of friendship. Eventually, he pulls back to catch his breath, pecking your lips softly before he lets his forehead rests against yours.

For a moment, you just stay like this. Looking at the other without being able to hold back a smile. Simple enjoying the exciting bliss surrounding you with heavy breaths and puffy lips.

You decide to break the silence, your voice low. “Would you like to come up to my room?”

The cutest giggle erupts from his lips, “so polite.” He leans to give another peck at your lips. “Of course I would, baby.”

The way up to your room is a bit of a blur. Both too entranced on one another to pay attention to it, sneaking touches on the elevator ride while exchanging knowing glares. You feel like a teenager sneaking with her boyfriend without her parent’s knowledge, both trying to keep their hands to themselves, that is until you open the door to your room.

At the moment your door clicks behind you his lips are back on yours, this time more desperate, not wasting a second as he licks into your mouth. His hands grip onto your waist moving up to rub at the side of your breasts.

You move your own hands to grab at the hem of his shirt before slipping the underneath it, scratching where you know his inked ferns lie upon his skin. He grunts softly into your lips, breaking the kiss to slip the shirt off of him completely.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease, smoothing your palms over his chest as you push him gently in the bed's direction.

He throws the clothing blindly on the floor before reaching his hand on your jawline. A smirk grows on his face, his irises dilated with lust staring down at you. “Been waiting for this for too fucking long, darling.”

Once the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sits back on it, pulling you in by the back of your thighs so you’re on top of his lap. As you relax into him, his hands reaching for your hips to pull you closer, the new position makes you well aware of the growing bulge under his trousers. He leans forward to connect his lips on your neck, spattering kisses down the side of your neck, sucking a few spots on your skin.

You tangle your hand into his hair, pulling at it with a small whine when he bites into the one spot under your jawline. He grunts into your skin, sucking on it again this time causing an actual whimper escape from your throat.

“Christ, baby,” he pulls back to look up at you, his rosy lips forming a cocky grin. “You’re a fucking dream, aren’t you?”

You just giggle in response, drawing him in to connect your lips once again. His hands move on your back as if he’s trying to touch you everywhere at once, settling themselves on the straps of your dress, playing with it for a second before pulling it down your shoulders. What he’s not expecting is to be met with your bare chest underneath, nipples hardening from the exposure.

He breaks the kiss to look down shamelessly, hands moving to the side of your breasts. “Fuck—” he mutters under his breath, bringing his thumb to hover over your nipple, barely touching it. “Trying to kill me, angel?”

Harry’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in so you arch your back towards him, almost seeming like an invitation. To which he gladly accepts, leaning now to envelop one of your buds with his mouth. He sways his tongue over it, the warm feeling enhancing the sensitivity of it. You don’t hold back the moan that escapes your throat, grinding your hips down at his in a quick movement. This makes him pull off with a groan, spattering open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts.

“Arms up, babe,” he says, pulling back to look at you as you oblige, holding your arms above your head. His hands fiddle with the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head so quickly you barely register the piece of clothing leaving your body.

Once you’re almost naked apart from your simple pastel pink underwear, he wraps an arm around your waist once more. This time, however, instead of pulling you close, he turns his torso, making a move as if to get up, but only switching positions so that you’re lying on the bed. You back hits the covers maybe a bit too harsher than he had intended too, but you don’t mind one bit, the roughness in his actions only contributing to the growing damp on your core.

He stands at the end of the bed, shifting off of his trousers as he looks down at you. It’s not simply a lustful gaze, from having you laid out in front of him — a thought he had entertained himself with for years. It’s more than anything a loving gaze, his darkened eyes glistening at you as he gives you the sweetest smile, causing his dimple to mark his cheek. He takes a moment after getting rid of his pants to just take your sight in, just for a second. You get shy under his eyes, but before you can even think of hiding away from it he’s crawling towards you.

Once he gets to your eye level again, hovering above you, silver cross hanging from his neck, he kisses you. But unlike the other hungry filled ones, this time it’s tender, his mouth moving so slow it makes you melt under his touch. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” his lips brush against yours. “The most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

You chuckle, pulling back to look at him. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” he spatters kisses along your cheek before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “Reckon I could hang your picture on the walls of a museum, let everyone see how beautiful you are.”

There’s a blush creeping on your cheek, the warmth taking over the back of your neck as you feel goosebumps rising on your skin due to the low tone of his voice. You’ve always known Harry for being a sweet talker, knowing he could charm anyone with his words. But something about hearing him say it to you in such an intimate moment, voice raspy as he mutters in your ear, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You wrap your legs around his ass, pulling him down so his crotch meets yours above the fabric of your underwear. He grinds down slightly, grunting down as he lets his head fall on your shoulder, mouthing down at your neck.

“Wanna taste every inch of you,” he moves to kiss the corner of your lips.

His lips start to move down, peppering kisses along your jawline, but you only let him get as far as the base of your neck, pulling at his shoulders to prevent from moving further. “Later,” you whimper when he brings his hips down to meet yours again, the action only building up the desire bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “We have all night for that.” He looks at you with arched brows, “just need you close.”

“You have me,” he says, his words somehow seeming like much more than just lustful thinking.

His hands hold on to your thighs, digits digging into your skin. He sits back on his calves, leaning in to suck into a spot on your stomach before straightening his posture so he stands tall above you. There’s a moment of teasing when his fingers waver over your skin, the ghost of his touch sending chills down your spine straight to your damped center. It makes you whimper with anticipation, raising your hips upward.

“Someone’s eager,” he repeats your words with a smirk, bringing his fingers to meet the waistband of your underwear.

You lift your hips when he begins to pull the material out of your body, raising your legs so he can pull it off completely. His breath noticeably hitches once he takes a look down at your glistening folds, your arousal beginning to pool.

“Shit, baby--” his fingertip brushes over your core, gathering some of the wetness. You inhale sharply, moving to support your body on your forearms, looking down to watch his moves. “Fucking drenched for me, look at that,” he breathes out.

He eases two fingers into you, without much of a warning. The easiness to which you take him makes him mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He starts with a slow but steady rhythm, stretching you out. There’s a needy moan that leaves your lips once he brings his thumb to nudge at your clit, hands grasping the covers. The sound makes him snap his eyes at you, crawling back to hover above you without stopping the movement of his digits inside of you.

You move your hands to clutch at his hips when he’s in your eye level again, nails digging into the skin as you try to bring him down, but he’s restricted by the position of his own hand between your thighs.

“Harry,” you cry out, opening your eyes you didn’t even register had been closed. “More, please—” you grip at his hips again as if to assert your request.

His fingers pull out of you completely, you clench around the emptiness, sighing in frustration. He makes a show of bringing them between his lips, sucking into them and letting out a satisfied hum. Your eyes keep locked in his, nails clutching at his briefs, trying to pull them down.

He supports himself above you with one arm moving the hand that was previously in his mouth to meet your desperate one grabbing at his underwear. He shifts awkwardly as he removes the last piece of clothing separating you two. His cock slaps back at his stomach, a line of precum already accumulating at the reddened tip.

You hold your breath when he wraps his hand around himself, giving it a few pumps. He lets out a pleased breath, smiling cockily as your hips buck towards him impatiently. A few strands of his hair fall charmingly against his forehead when he looks back at you, lips puffy when he leans to give you a peck.

“Ready?” He rasps, lips brushing against yours. You nod almost desperately, trying to bring him closer. “Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”

Your head falls back on the cushions once you feel him glaze his tip between your folds, circling it at your clit before he finally nudges his hips forward. A gasp escapes from your throat as his length fills you in, his forehead falling against yours with a low moan. He pushes it all the way in, allowing you a moment to get used to it. He reaches for your hands, enlacing your fingers together and lifting them just above your head.

“God,” he chokes once he’s fully inside, thrusting his hips involuntarily when you clench around him, earning a low mewl from you. “Feel that, baby? Feel me all the way in your belly?”

You whine his name, “So good, please--” you grind your hips in a silent plead to get him to move.

He doesn’t waste another second, pulling back only to thrust in again. You let out a high moan this time, hands gripping tighter on his, noses brushing. He drives his hips down at your in a slow but hard pace, the sound of your skin slapping mixing with your whimpers in the hot air surrounding the two of you. With each thrust, there’s a delicious burn between your thighs, only helping to heighten the rush of pleasure taking over your body.

“So good— Feel so good around me,” Harry groans, quickening the pace in which his hips meet yours. “Thought about it for so long, baby. — fuck, needed you for so long.”

“You have me,” you let out a sharp pant, cursing his name when he hits a spot inside of you, toes curling on the back of his thighs. You repeat with a quiet moan, your mind hazy with desire. “You have me.”

“I love you,” he says with a sharp grunt, and you feel like your heart might hammer right out of chest at any moment. “Christ, darling, hear that? So wet around me, gonna make me slip right off.”

His words only intensify the bubbly feeling taking over your stomach, your walls pulsating around him. He swears with a pleased moan, rhythm faltering. One of his hands untangles itself from your fingers, moving down to rub swift circles over your clit. You cry out, arching your back, feeling an electric bliss consuming every cell of your body.

“Cum for me,” he pleads, only increasing his movements when you feel you burst under him, riding out your high with sloppy thrusts, feeling his own orgasm creep at the pit of his stomach.

“Harry,” you let out a mewl once you come down, the sensitivity becoming almost overwhelming.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to quiver above you, his cock twitching inside of you. His face buries on your throat, a drawn-out whine vibrating on your skin as he releases his orgasm.

You stay like that for a while, a mess of sweaty limbs, trying to catch your breaths. Your mind is still cloudy from the bliss, trying to wrap itself around what just happened. With a pleased sigh, you unwrap your shaky legs from around his waist, letting them fall limply on the covers.

With that, Harry shifts his body with a tiny grunt, weakly rolling on his back so he’s lying on the spot next to you. You turn on your side to face him. There’s a tender smile painted on his face when you lock eyes, his arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, pressing his lips on the top of your head.

“Maybe they’ll delay your flight again,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of hope sweeping in the back of his mind. “So you can stay longer.”

“Shh,” you bring your hand to caress his cheek, poking out your thumb to line at his bottom lip. “Let’s not think about that just yet.”

“Okay.”

And for a moment you two just stay there, admiring each other without saying a word. There are a thousand unanswered questions waving around the room, but none of you feels like going into them. So instead, you just enjoy the other, your breaths still a bit heavy and chests fluttered. But melting into each other's touch.

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they smooth on your cheek, the feeling so soothing it makes you close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he pleas, his voice just above a whisper. “Don’t want this to be over.”

Your smile is tender and warms his heart in the most beautiful ways, your eyes fluttering open as your hand reaches up to move a strand of his hair from his forehead. “It doesn’t have to be.”

[sa-nddd]

Bestie Headcanons

being besties with the dream smp characters.

idk, I was looking through pintrest and saw a bunch of bestie pics, so I thought I'd write something 'bout it.

Dream

would totally be the kind to carry you everywhere.

just walks up to you, leans down and throws you over his shoulder.

"Where are we going, again?"

if you are wearing a skirt or dress, he would pick you up bridal style, making sure to be wary of the length of it.

this mf-

he would be a meanie.

but like, also a sweetie.

would steal your food, then offer you the rest of his meal.

if you need anything, he's got it.

cuddles. all day. every day. 25/8

man's just wants attention.

would force you to get into the cart to push you around the store.

Sapnap

definetly the type to wanna wear matching fits.

if he sees a shirt he likes, he gets one in your size, too.

When he's streaming, you are in the room or house.

If he's not, you two are at your place

not ashamed to ask for affection.

you guys go on drives and listen to different playlist depending on your moods.

you have eachothers passwords to everything.

he constantly posts from your account.

the fans love when he does.

he sometimes posts without knowing it's yours LMAO

you guys always make eachother playlists.

he probably forced you to start streaming with him.

if you aren't together, you are definitely on facetime.

he would let you paint his nails tbh.

George

He seems like he wouldn't be clingy, but i think otherwise.

Man's just has trouble trusting people.

He needs comfort, so you provide that for him.

his pets love you.

would be the type to buy something if it reminds him of you.

he's a bit of a introvert, so you guys stay home alot.

when he's streaming, you are either making a cameo in the background, or doing something around the house.

you just lay in his bed on your phone, or doing school work or something.

maybe fixing a shirt or sewing something.

chat always says hi to you.

then he got his green screen.

chat was upset that they couldn't see you, so he had to lower it to get you to wave from your spot on the bed.

chat was happy after.

Quackity

Alex definitely has you on his streams.

whether it be a short cameo or a bit he thought of, he likes your company.

on stream, he would be annoying, yelling for a CapriSun or something.

off stream, he's a sweetheart.

If you even mention something, he's bringing it to you.

You guys go shopping together.

You always steal his button ups. they low-key really comfy.

he constantly steals your phone.

you tease him alot, just like chat.

chat fucking loves you.

if he starts streaming and you haven't showed up, they are yelling at him.

Sometimes, you dress up to match Alex.

Like during his cooking stream, you randomly popped up in the middle of it wearing a nice black dress.

you guys play music together often.

you sing along to the songs he plays, and chat loves it.

they beg you to sing together every stream.

Karl

oh boy

this man, this man

fucking sweetheart all around.

always puts you first.

the type to physically perk up when your are with him.

when you walk in when he's streaming,

"Y/N!!!"

*tackles you*

"karl I saw you five minutes ago-"

"and?"

...

he's adorable. a smol puppy.

he's constantly clinging to you.

at the store? arms linked.

streaming? holding your hand.

no seriously, if you guys got in an argument you would sit with your backs together and pinkies linked.

he would probably drag you to his Mr. Beast things.

you are like his emotional support human :>

he also likes to match.

he makes you wear outfits he picked out to do insta photoshoots.

mirror pics. that's it. that's the post.

the fans love it.

another to let you paint his nails.

he shows chat when you do.

"LOOK CHAT!!!" *shows off his purple nails*

y'all use nicknames.

like, mine irl is nana, so I'ma use that one.

"Nana, can you tell dream to stop killing me?" *pouts*

"Of course, bubba." *proceeds to murder dream for fucking with karl*

Tommy

he is totally not clingy.

you can totally go hang out with other people.

it's not like he blows up your phone and whines when you do.

totally not

anyways

he's the kind to bully you, but it's somehow affectionate?

going by my height, you are short. 5'1 to be exact.

so obviously, he's gonna tease you about it

"You are so fucking short lmaooo fucking ant"

*cue you kicking his ankles*

"WHAT THE FUCK Y/N"

he's actually very different off camera.

he's a lot quieter, and he is very passionate.

he likes to give you hugs.

hugs you at least 40 times a day.

I don't make the rules :)

Tubbo

chaotic asf

cuddly asf

and overall just a bundle of sunshine.

he be the kind to learn different things to do them for you.

he watched a bunch of videos to learn how to braid your hair.

he's a professional now.

he also learned how to paint nails, do makeup, and straighten hair.

he is full of surprises.

you two have a modded server with a bunch of his streamer friends, but it's not public info.

You were the one who introduced him to ukulele and the keyboard.

you have the friendship where you do everything together.

if one of you wants to try something, the other will, too.

Ranboo

you guys' humor? immaculate.

the type of friends who are akward with everyone BUT eachother.

you guys can be so awkward, but that all goes put the window when you are together.

you go on random trips to Walmart just to run around the toy isle.

you guys take turns pushing the basket and being in it.

basically yin and yang.

you are the more out going person, and he's more self reserved.

Your parents are so used to you guys being together, that they don't question when one of you comes over anymore.

your texts are so fucking chaotic

no one can understand them but you two.

you guys are the type to make up a secret code LMAO

he got his fashion sense from you.

Wilbur

your friendship is iconic.

the type of friends that would most likely end up in jail together KEKW

everyone is envy of you two.

he taught you how to sing and play guitar.

you do vocals for his songs sometimes.

You go ghost hunting together often

you have so many aesthetically pleasing polaroids of eachother.

Chat loves when you appear on his streams.

you are constantly checking oh his mental health, because knowing your best friend was hurting badly at one point hurts you.

just the thought that he was in so much pain at one point makes you physically ill.

He worries for you, too.

He knows what it feels like, and he doesn't want you to go through that.

you guys support eachother so much it's wholesome

when he does singing streams, he sometimes drags you to sing with him.

you guys cry together sometimes, and it is honestly refreshing.

over all very chaotic and emotional.

Niki

besties.

people wish they had your friendship.

you both can't stick to one aesthetic LMAO

you share clothes and things alot.

she loves having you on her streams, her chat does aswell.

you take alot of pictures together.

you both do alot of wholesome things, like bake and plant.

you are eachother's hype women.

she's taller than you, so her clothes are more baggy.

which you love, it's apart of your main aesthetic.

you have a ton of sleepovers.

you paint eachother's nails often.

you love her hugs, they are so warm and comforting.

you make sure she's happy, and she does the same to you.

you both speak in german alot, and if you didn't know it, she taught you it.

very wholesome and cute. 10/10 recommend.

[katahnisharma]

gone (4) | t.h.

Summary: tom is back from shooting cherry, but he’s not okay.

Warnings: this started as my entry to the lovely b’s writing challenge @worldoftom, but you guys were so amazing and wanted a second part. this is a very emotional chapter and there are mentions of anxiety, depression, and overall intense emotions so please be careful loveys ♡

A/N: hey guys it’s been a while but life has been really really difficult so i'm sorry for the wait! i'm not entirely sure if anyone still cares about this series so here’s hoping :) for this chapter i listened to light of love by florence + the machine and all good things come to an end by the og queen nelly furtado lol. also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link certain things so if you’re looking for my masterlist or playlist it’s in my bio ♡

IF YOU’RE STILL INTERESTED IN BEING ON MY TAGLIST PLEASE FILL OUT THE NEW FORM IN MY BIO BC I WILL BE REVAMPING IT!

gif by @hllands

“Hey, did I leave my notebook in the living room?” You asked, letting your tea bag soak in the mug Tom always saved for you. It was an unspoken rule, that dark blue cup with the constellations on it from his mother was yours only. You mentioned how beautiful it was once, and Tom remembered.

It went on the list with the others.

“You mean the one with the polaroid on the cover? No, it’s not in here.” Tom called back, scrolling through Netflix to find a movie for the both of you. He’d just come back from the junket for Spies in Disguise, and he immediately called his best friend over to spend the day with him.

Well, it was supposed to be more than just another day.

Because today he was going to tell you he loved you.

“Hmm, maybe I left it in my bag upstairs. I’ll get it when I’m done with the tea.” You said, setting your mug down on the counter. It looked like it needed sugar, so you rootled around for the little jar Tom kept in one of his cabinets.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get it!” Tom said from the couch, his nerves beginning to make him jittery. He thought that while you were in the kitchen, picking a movie would help him calm down. But he couldn’t focus on any of the descriptions, and Tom could feel his heart beat faster and faster.

He needed to get up for a few minutes.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to pick the movie then?” You teased, knowing very well Tom hadn’t found a movie yet. It was a bit of a running gag, him never being able to pick a movie. You would bite your lip to stop from laughing when he eventually got frustrated and handed you the remote.

And even in his nervous state, Tom still grinned because of you.

“Yeah, yeah, like you’re any better. We’ve seen The Avengers twice!” He shot back, a smirk on his lips when he heard you scoff in the kitchen. Apart from your smile, making you jokingly annoyed was Tom’s favorite thing. He liked how cute you were when he teased you.

“Shut up and get my notebook, Tommy!” You laughed, and Tom felt his cheeks warm at the sound.

God you were so fucking perfect.

When Harrison woke up, he almost forgot where he was. But then his vision cleared and there you were, lying in the hospital bed. Harrison’s heart clenched at the sight, remembering the events of last night that landed you here with an IV in your arm. He sat up and stretched, the old wooden chair squeaking against the floor.

The sound was what made you stir, your mind waking up from the dream.

“Harrison?” You whispered, your eyes adjusting to the dim lights in the room. The hospital bed you’d fallen asleep in the night before seemed to glow next to you, but you realized it was just an IV hooked up in your arm. Harrison smiled softly, getting up and coming to stand by your side.

“Hey, you were out like a light.” He said, handing you the glass of water a nurse had brought. You gratefully brought it to your lips, feeling a little dehydrated from whatever fluids were in the IV bag. Harrison gave your free hand a squeeze before crossing to the windows, playing with the blinds to let some sun in.

“How long have you been here?” You asked, playing with the sheets mindlessly. Harrison thought about lying, telling you he’d only arrived a few minutes ago. Because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but you could always tell when he lied.

“Since last night. I stayed here, didn’t want you to be alone.” Harrison replied, and you frowned almost immediately. You felt bad enough that he’d driven you to the hospital on his day off, but knowing that he’d also spent the night sleeping in an uncomfortable, crappy chair didn’t help with the guilt.

“And before you say ‘you shouldn’t have’, just remember you would have done the same for me. So stop beating yourself up about it.” He said, going back to his chair. You winced when it made the same creaking sound, like it was about to break. Harrison noticed, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“But this chair was really unbearable.” He chuckled, and you finally smiled again.

“Shut up, you idiot.” You giggled, chucking a pillow at Harrison right as the nurse peeked in. You felt your face burn as she smiled at the two of you, Harrison picking up the pillow sheepishly and biting back a laugh.

“Glad to see the patient is feeling better. Can I get you anything, love?” She asked kindly, picking up the now empty class beside you. You smiled at her, shaking your head. You really just wanted to be discharged so you could leave, hospitals always made you nervous. The smell of disinfectant and the general sense of uncertainty were not your favorite sense overloads.

“No, but thank you for everything. Do you know if I’ll be able to leave today?” You asked, and the nurse nodded her head.

“You should be all set to be discharged in an hour. The doctor will check in on you in thirty minutes and then you’re all free to go.” She said, taking the pillow from an embarassed Harrison. You giggled a little when she fluffed the pillow, and returned it to your bed.

“Great, thank you again!” She gave you one last smile before leaving the room, and Harrison breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I’m really hungry.”

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

For Harry, last night would probably be one of the worst and strangest of his life.

After Tom broke down and sobbed into his shirt for two hours straight, he became so frenetic that Harry was afraid he would end up accidentally hurting himself. Tom tried to pack a suitcase to go after you, but he almost slipped in the shower and was so disoriented that he ran into the bedroom wall. Then he tried to cook something on the stove for Harry, but left the fire on while he got distracted trying to find your favorite cereal. Tom wasn’t completely all there, and it was pretty obvious to Harry that he was having some sort of episode.

So once Tom was focused enough to eat the banana his brother opened for him, Harry called his mother.

“Mom, I need you to tell me the name of that anxiety medicine. The one that sometimes works as a sedative.” Harry cast a glance at Tom on the couch, watching him slowly chew the banana with glossy eyes. He had been silently crying at odd times this morning, and it was definitely making Harry nervous.

“Why? Harry, what’s happened?” Nikki immediately sounded worried, running over to the medicine cabinet. She kept the anxiety medicine mainly for Harry, who used to have pretty severe bouts himself. The episodes became few and far between, until they stopped altogether.

But now Nicki was concerned Harry was having them again.

“It’s not for me, Mum. It’s for Tom. I think he’s having some sort of breakdown, and I’m afraid he might accidentally do something stupid and hurt himself.” Harry said, looking over his shoulder to see Tom staring at the banana, almost lifelessly.

“For Tom? Harry, please tell me what’s going on.” Nikki said, clutching the bottle in her hand nervously.  

“I think Tom and Y/N might be over.” Harry said, and the words had more weight than he thought they would. Like it was finally a possible reality, one where you and Tom weren’t together anymore.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

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

“Can you get in the car alright? Need any help?” Harrison asked, hovering over you as the two of you walked to the hospital parking lot. You rolled your eyes, smiling at his protective behavior. He’d been like this during your dischargement too, and it was sweet but definitely unnecessary.

“Haz, I told you. I’m perfectly fine, I swear. It really doesn’t hurt that much, and I can absolutely get into the car on my own.” You said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. Harrison sighed, biting his lip a little worriedly.

“Okay, okay, just making sure. I just don’t want you to aggravate the injury or anything. At least not until we get you home and set up.” He replied, and you couldn’t help it. You leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, watching Harrison’s mouth immediately drop open in shock.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“To thank you for being the world’s greatest div. I love you, idiot.” You said, laughing when Harrison slung an arm around your shoulder. He rolled his eyes at you, smiling playfully.

“You know I love you too, but you really didn’t need to give me that weirdass kiss.” Harrison chuckled, immediately ducking into the car before you decided to throw your purse at him. Scoffing, you got into the passenger seat and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! That hurt!”

“I’ll have you know my kisses are wonderful!” You giggled, clapping a hand over your mouth when Harrison started to fake cry and clutch his arm.

“If I agree, will you leave me alone?” Harrison laughed, starting the car and reversing out of the parking lot. You smiled wickedly, reaching up to ruffle his precious hair. Harrison recoiled instantly, whining at your little stunt.

“I take it back, I actually hate you.”

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

“Where is he?” Nikki asked, rushing into the living room. Harry jumped up and led her to the bedroom, where Tom was curled up in a ball. Under the covers, he was crying softly and clutching what looked like a sweater. It seemed too small to be his, and Harry immediately realized it was your favorite sweater. The one Tom loved on you because it was what you were wearing when both of you met for the first time.

“Tom? Love, look at me please.” Nikki whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked over at Harry and mimed a glass of water, which he left to get from the kitchen. Once they were alone, Nikki gently pulled the covers back. Tom lay there, tears streaming down his face and the front of your sweater soaked.

“She’s gone...” Tom whimpered, trying to pull the covers back over his head. He was completely spent, the possibility that you were really gone hitting him like a train. Tom had pictured the rest of his life with you, and now nothing seemed worthwhile anymore if you weren’t there beside him.

“Y/N? Tell me what happened, Tom.” Nikki said, running a gentle hand through his hair. Tom relaxed under her touch, reminded of all the times in his childhood that he lay in bed upset. Breakups, rejections, failures, his mother had seen them all. And she'd always been there for him.

“We got into a fight...a big fight….and I threw my phone….”

“At her? Tom, how could you do that?” Nikki gasped softly, and Tom’s eyes widened. He found the strength to sit up, looking his mother right in the eyes.

“No...no! I would never hurt her! I threw it at the wall and I locked myself in the bathroom. But….when I came out….she was gone and there was b-blood on the f-floor and...I think-I think I-” Tom couldn’t get the rest of his words out, and Nikki knew enough to envelop her son in a hug.

“It’s okay...it’s okay, Tom.” She sighed, holding her eldest son close. The whole thing was confusing, but if Nikki knew anything about your relationship with Tom it was that it had been the best one he’d ever had. You were kind, intelligent, and strong, exactly what she had always wanted Tom to have in a partner. But hearing Tom cry and work himself up meant she knew what she needed to say. Tom had to stop living in his head.

“Tom? I want you to listen to me, it’ll be okay.”

“But….she’s gone and I hurt her….I can’t ever forgive myself…” Tom sobbed, but Nikki was adamant she would speak and get through to him.

“Look, the past is the past, it’s not in our hands.  You have the chance to ask for her forgiveness, and explain what you’re feeling right now. Don’t let your past actions dictate the future, love. That would be a mistake, because I know Y/N. She loves you and she wants to be there for you. She’ll understand what you’re going through because she cares, that’s what a real partner does. They want the best for you because it’s you. You need to forgive yourself so that she can help you heal.”

“But what if she doesn’t w-want me anymore? I know I scared her….I never wanted to do that b-but she’s been hurt and left because of me….I’m afraid Y/N won’t love me anymore!” Tom cried, his body shaking a little. Nikki rubbed his back and took the water glass from Harry, who’d reappeared in the room.

“Darling, you have to try. You have to fight for the love you want. You don’t think your father and I have gotten angry with each other? We fight and that’s normal, but at the end of it all we come back to each other. I put my feelings aside and listen to him, and he does the same. That’s how it works, we love each other so much that I’ll forgive him and he’ll forgive me.”

Nikki took Harry’s hand and held it, and Tom was finally still. There was no more crying, no more shaking. It was just a moment frozen in time, the three of them together in a little room. Harry hugged Tom and Nikki kissed his forehead, and for the first time in 36 hours Tom wasn’t afraid anymore. The fight wasn’t plaguing him anymore, and neither was the aftertaste of filming that had been slowly poisoning his mind. All he could see was you, like a vision before him wiping his tears away. With that same smile that he had fallen in love with so easily, because it was purely yours.

And that was enough for Tom to be at peace with himself.

“Thank you.” Tom whispered, and Nikki was able to smile again. Harry ruffled his hair, making Tom punch him softly in the arm. He reached for the water glass and the pills in Nikki’s hand, knowing that he needed to take them.

“Take these two and it’ll help a little with the anxiety. It’ll also make you a little drowsy, but it might be good to sleep it all off properly. I’ll stay here with Harry until you wake up, okay?” Nikki said, and Tom let him expend enough energy to nod and smile.

“Just...just please make sure Y/N is okay? Make sure that nothing’s wrong?” Tom said, and Nikki squeezed his right hand. Harry had his left.

“Always. Now get some real sleep, you’re going to need it...”

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

“Can we please listen to something other than your terrible daily mix?” You laughed, Harrison clutching his chest to feign offence. He reluctantly handed you the aux cord and you smiled, knowing exactly what you wanted to play. Taking a couple seconds to sift through your own playlists, you found the song you were looking for and pressed play. Harrison smirked at your choice, rolling his eyes at the songs you played over and over again. He attempted to steal the aux back from you, but you dodged him quickly.

“Hey, focus mister! I’m not about to get into an accident right out of the hospital!” You said, giggling as he started to belt out the lyrics and dance. He laughed, rolling his eyes as he focused on the road again.

“I’m a great driver! I’m just trying to save myself from your shit music taste.” He said with a smirk and now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Harrison wasn’t a bad driver, but he definitely wasn’t a great one. The first time you had gotten into the car with him had been to get groceries and it was a disaster. He forgot to turn around before reversing and nearly hit a little old lady with her cart, and almost got hit merging onto the highway. After that, you were careful to look out for him even if it meant you became a backseat driver.

“Sure, Haz. Whatever you want to believe. Just please get us home in one piece!” You laughed, leaning your head back and letting the sunlight warm your face. If not for the events of the previous day, you would have basked in the glory of such a beautiful day.

But your mind turned to Tom, as it always seemed to.

“Hey, is my bag in the back?” You asked, suddenly desperate to check its contents. Harrison turned down the music, furrowing his eyebrows at your change in mood. You turned to look at him, a slight fear in your eyes. Harrison nodded, gesturing to the backseat.

“Yeah, it’s there. Why? What’s wrong?”

“I just...I just need to make sure something is in there…” You trailed off, swiveling in your seat to grab at your handbag. Harrison watched from the corner of his eye as you set it on your lap, rootling through it quickly.

“Whoa, whoa. What are you looking for?” Harrison asked, a little concerned by how frantic you seemed to be. With a sigh of relief, you feel your hands grasp what you’re looking for and you pull it out slowly. Harrison’s eyes automatically soften, seeing your eyes water with your most prized possession in your hand.

“Is that the notebook Tom bought you? The one he bought you when he found out you wanted to be a writer?”

“Y-yeah...it is. I just wanted to make sure it was still there, you know? That’s dumb, isn’t it? I mean...he probably doesn’t even want to be with me a-anymore. So...so why am I….why am I holding on like this?” You felt the dam break finally, the tears streaming down your face. Harrison bit his lip, pulling the car over and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Hey...hey...look at me.” Your tears were staining the cover, the little drops of water creating little streams on the surface. It felt like someone had pulled the rug from underneath you, and that you’d discovered there was no floor. What would you do without Tom? You loved him more than anything, but you were no fool. His anger couldn’t have come from out of the blue, it was something repressed that Tom had been feeling for a long time. Without warning, your insecurities began to mount.

Maybe he was bored of you.

Maybe you annoyed him.

Maybe he’d found someone else.

Maybe you weren’t good enough and he’d realized it.

And then the worst of them all.

Maybe the rest of the world was right.

“I’m losing him.” You whispered, and Harrison’s heart clenched at your words. He knew you were always insecure about dating Tom, but you’d never vocalized anything like this before.

“No, no you’re…”

“I’m not an idiot, Haz! I’ve seen the signs! H-he’s done with me….I’m just d-delaying the inevitable. I should have….I should have known I wasn’t good enough for him. He’s him and I’m j-just me, who the hell was I fooling? E-even the fans knew it!”

“Y/N...come on...that’s not-”

“He hasn’t wanted to spend any real time with me since he came back from Cherry. It’s like I don’t even exist to him, I’m invisible until he has to talk to me. I’ve tried five times to get him to have dinner with me and he rejected me every time, Haz. All I’ve heard for two months is ‘I’m going out with the boys, sorry’ or ‘Just going to sleep, don’t feel like eating’. And I tried to understand, I really did. It must have been so hard shooting a movie like that, it would be emotionally draining for anyone. Hell, even the book is emotionally draining-”

“I don’t think...”

“Let me finish, please? Haz, I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired, I’m so tired. I can’t fight for this relationship anymore when I’m not even sure if he wants it. He pushes me away all the time and it hurts me to see him like that. Tom isn’t happy, and I think it’s because of me. So I won’t hold him back anymore, I’ll just quietly disappear. No drama, no fighting, nothing. I can’t bear knowing I’m the reason he’s unhappy, it would kill me to think that.”

You broke again, the tears burning your eyes as you clutched the notebook tighter to your chest. It brought you a little comfort, knowing what you would have to do next. You needed to leave Tom, to let him live his life and be happy. You clearly couldn’t make him happy anymore and though that was something you’d struggled to accept in the last few hours, it was the right thing to do. You had no delusions about the way you looked, you always felt rather plain and boring compared to the beautiful women Tom was used to being around. He would be better off with someone else, someone as amazing as him.

Someone who isn’t you.

Harrison’s throat went dry as you slowly raised a hand to wipe at your tears, your eyes glossing over as you stared lifelessly out the window. He had a horrible feeling that you were serious about what you had just said, and he wasn’t sure how all this had happened. How could he have let you feel like this?

How could they not have noticed?

“Please, please don’t say-”

“Harrison, I have to. I can’t do this anymore.” You whispered, and Harrison stopped mid sentence. You never called him by his full name, it was always just Haz. He squeezed your hand as you cried, sobs wracking your body that made him cry too. You barely got the words out, but Harrison knew them before you said it.

“I have to leave because I love him.”

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[fushiguromi]

soundtracks — semi eita

synopsis: during your college life, semi eita already likes you. He indirectly confessed his feelings by singing a song to you, but you didn’t realize that the song he sang was his feelings for you.

pairing: semi x fem!reader

genre: fluff; college to timeskip; band au

word count: 3.6k

a/n: all songs and lyrics that are used in this story were my own composition, so i’m sorry if it’s not good HAHAHAHHA well, i tried my best hehe

The sun is up while you grumpily walk around the quadrangle of your school. It’s a hell day for you and you’re exhausted because of the homework, quizzes, and projects that you need to accomplish within a week.

As an honor student, you don’t want to disappoint your parents. You found a bench table beside a tall tree. You sat down and you fixed your hair and wipe your sweats around your face.

This day isn’t going well for you, your favorite sweater almost got ruined by a student that almost spilled a coffee towards you.

You roamed your eyes around. Many students are on the bench tables with their friends laughing and talking.

You took out your books to review for your upcoming quiz tomorrow. You were focusing on studying the book when you heard the strumming of the guitar and a soothing beautiful voice of a man.

Looking annoyed you looked up to see who’s disturbing your study time.

A man with a guitar placed on his elevated thigh singing for his friends. His aura and his looks reminded you of the handsome heartthrob that only knows how to break hearts with just a snap of his fingers.

He was biting his lower lip while his eyes were closed. The way his fingers shifted every time he changed chords and continuously plucking the strings of his guitar amazed you and to think that what his fingers can do to you.

You shook your head immediately because of that thought.

You had seen a lot of people playing with a guitar, but no one looked so passionate and angelic as him. He was like falling in love with music with the way he played each chord to create a melodious sound.

He looked oblivious to his surroundings as he played. Like he has his world just for himself and his guitar.

Music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the place. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter.

After his performance, his friends cheered and clapped for him. He just smirked and you didn’t realize that you were smiling widely at him until he looked at you.

“Semi! Your performance was so good!” A girl with short hair said to Semi and clings her arms on his.

Was it double meaning? Wait, what the hell?

You quickly averted your eyes on him and covered your face with the book you were holding earlier.

Until that day, you didn’t see him around the campus. But after he caught your attention, you happened to keep on crossing paths with him.

The next day, you found out that their band is famous around your place because they have gigs every Friday and Saturday at the cafe & bar near your school.

You heard that there is an event that’s happening at the gym tonight, so you went there to watch the battle of the bands. This is your first time to give attention to your school’s event because all you do was to study.

You narrowed your eyes while looking at Semi. They are preparing for the event. He’s holding his guitar while talking to his bandmates.

A lot of people came to the gym to support and watch them. While you stand there, Semi scanned his eyes around and stopped when his eyes met yours.

He looked stunned for a moment but he smiled and quickly averted his eyes.

The event started and you were amazed that a lot of bands participated in this event, but Semi’s band is different than the others.

They were really into it and feels like a concert. They made the stage and crowd theirs, many students cheered for them and the judges even gave them a standing ovation.

You were just smiling and clapping the whole evening, their song covers were on point, so this is what it feels like to watch them play?

You’re doing your essay at the bench table that you found yesterday. It’s peaceful and cloudy outside so you decided to settle there.

While you were typing on your laptop, someone sits down in front of you. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a cool guitar strap and you looked up to see the man yesterday smiling at you.

“You don’t have to be intimidated,” he assured you.

He placed his guitar on the table and you saw that he was also carrying a notebook and a marker.

You stared at him while he’s writing something in his notebook. He felt your gaze on him so he looked up.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?” He asked while tapping his foot on the ground.

“Uh, no. I’m almost finished with my essay.” You replied. He smiled and nods.

You quickly finished your essay so you can look at him.

You glanced at his handwriting. It looked pretty neat and somehow understandable. You got curious, so you quickly read what he wrote on the page.

Invisible Line

You immediately recalled the lyrics he sang yesterday to his friends and the words written on the notebook was the same lyrics.

“You wrote that song?” You asked him.

“Yes, I did.” He smiled, then turned his head on you. “Did you like it?” You felt your cheeks blushed because you remembered how wide your smile was.

Biting your lower lip, you nodded.

“I sometimes come here to think about and write songs.” He told you. “But right now, I’m having trouble getting inspiration but then I saw you...”

Your lips slightly parted. You could feel your heart beating against your chest so hard. You had crushes with boys, but you never felt this kind of feeling.

You ignore him because you don’t know what to say. He writes so fast but you had a glimpse of the lyrics he was writing.

He grabbed his guitar and placed it on his thigh. He started strumming and looked at his notebook before singing.

We’re close but never together

I have to find a way, to get her next to me

So can we close the space between us now?

The distance that we don’t need

I kept collecting shooting stars

Just to wish for us

She’s everything I need

My safe haven...

He stares at you while he sings but after a while, he closed his eyes and bobbed his head to the sound.

As you stared at him, you realized that the Creator favored him so much that he was given such an attractive look— he has messy ash blonde hair with dark tips, his eyes are brown, perfect naturally trimmed eyebrows, and chiseled jaw.

He ends the song with a beautiful instrumental sound before he opens his eyes and smiled at you.

“What do you think?” He asked you while he put his head on his arm that was on the guitar.

You’re lost for a moment before replying, “I loved it,” you smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled and nodded his head, contented.

He picks up something from his bag. He suddenly gave out his guitar pick to you.

You only stared at it. You don’t know if you will get it.

“Here, take it.” He urged you. “It’s a thank you gift.” You stared at him confused.

“For what?”

You had no idea why he was giving out his guitar pick as a thank you gift. When you just met each other!

“Thank you for being my inspiration,” he answered. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

He took your hand, laid out your palm, and put his guitar pick there. It was a white guitar pick and it looked like a pearl or marble. There were small letters written on the edge.

S.E

That’s his initials.

“Won’t you be using this?” You asked him, even if you didn’t want to return it.

“Oh, don’t worry. I still have an extra at home.” He replied.

He suddenly holds your hand. Your hand rested on his palm, while he removed the lid of his pen using his mouth. He was drawing something on his guitar pick.

You felt like losing your sanity as you stared at the pick he gave you three years ago. The small heart he drew beside his initials was still there.

You didn’t see him again after that. You tried to go out again to the bench table a few times, but you didn’t see him at all.

Every time you’re stressed or sad, you would listen to the song inside your head. You engraved it in your memory the way he sings it.

I want to cross the line for her

But fate doesn’t want me to

I’ll just stare at her from afar

Even if it hurts...

“Zero Effect’s new album becomes the new best-selling album for the alternative rock band...”

Your eyes widened and you stopped what you’re doing when you heard a very familiar voice and song. It made you feel so nostalgic.

You looked up to the monitor in front and saw the news with a music video of the song playing through the speakers of the cafe.

It’s him! After three years... you finally saw him. Even through the screen.

Your heart gone wild and beating so loudly that you thought it would break.

“Semi Eita..” You whispered his name, after reading a piece of information about him and his band. “Zero Effect...”

You didn’t know how many times you watched their music video after you got home. You couldn’t stop yourself smiling.

You decided to check their social media accounts. Zero Effect have eight hundred thousand followers and it was following all the band members' accounts.

You followed them all before stalking Semi’s account. He had over five hundred thousand followers already.

His pinned tweet was a tweet that was promoting their latest album and his recent tweet was a picture of him and his bandmates.

@ZeroEffectJP

The interview video of Zero Effect’s ‘Fading Polaroid’ album is out now!

youtube./ZEfadingpolaroid

#ZeroEffectFPOutNow

There was a video link for their interview about the concept of their new album. You clicked on it.

The Zero Effect’s members appeared on the screen with the interviewer.

Your eyes immediately focused on Semi. He was wearing a sweater with like a blazer that’s fuzzy and a cross pendant necklace.

“We have here with us, the rising alternative rock band, Zero Effect!” The interviewer announced, and the members clapped their hands while smiling widely.

“Introduced yourselves first before we start our interview.”

“Hello, I’m Eita, the lead vocalist and guitarist of Zero Effect.”

You clapped your hands so hard after he was done with his introduction. You felt so proud. He was just a teenage boy before making music at school and make gigs on the weekends.

“Hi everyone! I’m Ryo, the bass guitarist.” He smiled at the camera and wink.

“What’s up? Hi! I’m Eiji, the leader, and keyboardist of Zero Effect.” Among the four of them, he’s the more serious and uptight one.

“Hellooo!! I’m Shiro, the drummer of the band.” He waved at the camera and smiled.

You laughed. The drummer always had that different effect than the others.

Whenever Semi smiles, you would pause the video to screenshot it. He looked so dashing.

After their introduction, the interviewer asked them questions about their album and personal life.

“So Eiji, how did you four meet?”

“We met during our college days,” Eiji answered. “We play as a band since then and we also had our gigs on the weekends.”

“Oh, okay so well, let’s talk about your new album!” The interviewer shifted the topic, “can you say something about that, Eita?”

Nodding his head, Semi looked at the interviewer. “Well, our first mini album is entitled Fading Polaroid. It contains five songs, and it is about lost love. It is an alternative rock ballad, which is composed and arranged by all of us.” He explained the concept of their album.

“There’s this one song called Invisible Line on the album that makes the fangirls, you know, like mixed emotions because of its lyrics. What is it about?” The interviewer got curious as she looked at Semi.

“Uh, okay..” he said awkwardly, “I wrote it three years ago.”

Your lips parted. You recalled that song because he sang it to you before.

“It’s about liking someone but the two of you can’t be together because there’s this invisible line between you two, but the guy wants to be with the girl.” He said, then smiled slightly.

“What inspires you to write that song? If there is?” She asked.

“Uhmm.. Yes, there is..” he said hesitantly.

Realizations hit you and your lips parted.

“I met this girl at our school where we used to study before,” he started talking about that day. “I always see her but I don’t have enough courage to walk up and talk to her, but one day I saw her smiled while I sing and that’s when I tried to open up to her.”

You stared at him while he talked about that day. You didn’t even know that the song he sang was for you.

“Oh.. So, you wrote that song for a girl, huh?” She teased Semi and made it sound scandalous.

“Yes, you can say that.” Semi answered and shifted on his seat.

“Did this girl get to hear the song?” She asked more.

“Yeah, she did.” Semi nodded his head a bit. “But only the chorus part.”

“Semi... I heard it now.” You told him through the screen. “I love it so much that it makes my heart hurt.”

“Do you still have contact with the girl?”

Semi shook his head, “I... I tried to but I don’t know how.” He explained and it made your eyes widened.

“Oh, then why don’t you use this chance to send a message to her?” The interviewer looked so excited as she looked at Semi.

His bandmates laughed, teasing him. They were urging him to look at the camera and do what the interviewer asked him to.

You don’t know what to do now as you looked at him on the screen. Your heart just doesn’t stop racing.

“Uhmm.. Hello?” His bandmates snickered beside him.

Semi already stared at the camera and spoke, “If you’re watching this, thank you for inspiring me to write songs,” he said and you felt your eyes are burning.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re doing well and happy and I hope the song that I wrote for you can make you feel what I’m trying to say for you.” His bandmates clapped so hard and they were cheering for him.

Your lips curled upwards and nodded. The interview continued but you couldn’t focus because of Semi.

You had never idolized someone so much in your life. But at that moment, you were determined to support the band in any way.

Your hands trembled as you looked at the screen of your laptop. You just purchased a VIP ticket for Zero Effect’s meet and greet that will be happening today.

It was a surprise announcement for the fans. You’re glad that you immediately saw the announcement and instantly got a ticket.

There were only ten people that will occupy the VIP seats. Your lucky to be the one who got the last ticket.

As time passes by, you’re feeling nervous. What if he will not recognize you?

He’s an artist now, and you’re just his fan.

You’re driving towards the venue and you feel your heart beating so loud. You parked outside and showed your ticket to the guard.

When you got inside, you sat down on the chair for the VIPs and the stage is now fixed. There are guitars, mic stands, a piano, and a drum set.

The venue immediately filled up with Zero Effect’s fans and the chattering was so loud until a woman announced that the meet and greet will begin shortly.

“Okay! Let’s welcome, Zero Effect!” The woman said.

“We’ll be singing our second song from our album called Miss Sweater.” Ryo, their bass guitarist said and suddenly there’s a loud sound coming from the drums.

She said she likes my song

With a smile on her face

Oh, the way her bright eyes looks at me

Makes my heart shakes

The smiles she gives are so contagious

Now, she’s moving close (moving close)

My heart is racing

Head to toe, you know she’s dressed to kill

Semi looked over the crowd. There must have been at least two hundred people watching him, bathing in the dim different colors of lights of the venue, as he clutched tightly to his guitar. Pumping the music through his veins as he lost himself in the performance.

Nerves were trying to take over your body, as you stared at him up close. Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music, it flows through his veins and swirls in his head. It makes his fingers strums and his foot tap.

His velvet voice brings the lyrics, the music is his external heartbeat and the lyrics are your soul in sweet vibrations.

It’s her mouth and those lips

I want to taste ‘em

It’s her eyes and her face

I want to stare ‘em

Can’t tame my heart alone

When she’s this close

Can we stop the time?

Where are we leading now?

The feelings, all of it is right there, when in that momentary exchange of glances when your eyes met and you smiled to him.

He seemed lost for a moment looking at you but he returned the smile, not leaving his eyes on you. So though the world may love their music, their words and their songs, music really only lives in those intense moments of love.

After the short performance, you lined up for the meet and greet. You became nervous as the line moves. And after nine people, it’s your turn now.

You walked to the other members, the first one is Ryo, the bass guitarist. He looked up to look so surprised.

“Hi! Your name is?” He asked while he took your hand to shake. You gave out the album for him to sign.

“Y/n. I really love your music.” While he signs the album he can’t stop stealing glances from you.

“Really? Well, someone is always inspired to compose,” he smirked. “Anyway, thank you for attending here today, I appreciated it.” He smiled and his eyes disappeared and you chuckled.

He stopped smiling as you smiled, “you look pretty while smiling.” Your eyebrows were raised because of what he said.

“Thank you..” that’s the only thing you said and moved on to their keyboardist, Eiji.

“Hello! Wow, that shirt is so cute! Nice choice.” He pointed at your shirt and laughed. You looked at your shirt with their chibi faces. You chuckled and give him the album.

“Yeah, you looked cute here.” You teased him. He immediately coughed, “thank you..” he looked carefully to the side where Semi was.

One more and then you will finally talk to Semi.

“Good Afternoon! How are you?” Shiro, the band’s drummer asked you while signing their album.

“Hello! I’m fine.” He finally looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly looked at Semi but averted his eyes.

“Uhm... Thank you for coming. Hope to see you, uh, soon, Y/n..” He blabbered and you looked at him surprised because he knows your name.

You suddenly got pushed by a woman who excitedly greets the band’s drummer. The guard blocked the girl’s way and kicked her outside because she came back again after her turn.

Your eyes met with Semi who instantly stand up, eyes widened, and looked so lost for a moment. You stared at him and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks.

“Y/n...” He whispered, but you quickly heard it and smiled at him.

“Uh, hello? Long time no see, Semi.” You said nervously. He shook his head to come back to his senses.

He pulled your hand but stopped when he felt something there. He looked at your palm and saw his guitar pick that he gave you.

“You still have it,” he mumbled. You nodded at him. He pulled your hand to go to their tent. You looked at his muscled back and broad shoulders.

“Do you still remember me?” He asked you while he sat down on the chair. He pulled one on his side and tapped it for you to sit down.

“Of course, Semi. You’re the one who liked me back in college..” you chuckled because he looked so shy when you said that.

“Well, yeah. I indirectly confessed to you buy singing the song I wrote for you.” You pursed your lips to prevent smiling.

“I’m so stupid for not realizing it.” He smiled and pouted before averting his eyes when you looked at him.

“So, what will happen to us now?” You asked. He turned his head at you fast.

“What do you mean us? Do you even like me?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

You looked at him straight in the eyes, “I started liking you when we were in college, right when you sang that song for me. But after that, you left.” You explained and he bit his lower lip before standing up.

“I left because I need to fix something first before proving to you that you deserve me. But fate has different plans for me so...” he said and pulled your elbow. He carefully put his chin on top of your head while he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry that we never happened before,” he sadly said, “but we can start all over again. Right this time.” You pushed him away to look at him.

Your heart was pounding so loudly as you stare at him. Slowly, you nodded. He smiled and hugs you.

“You are the soundtrack of my life, keeps me moving and passionate, and whenever our song plays, you are there, reminding me that you’re whispering in my ears...” You hugged him tightly and felt your eyes tearing up.

You only keep humming while he sings the song he wrote for you. He gently placed his hands on your waist, stared at you before he kissed your forehead.

BONUS:

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part 18 of ??)

Hey everyone! I 'm probably going to get the rest of this chapter out... Friday? My brain just won’t focus today and I wanted to get something out today :)

If you are new here and want to read from the beginning, here is the link for Part One. I also have links to all the parts on my Masterlist, which is pinned to the top of my page :)

Taggles: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman​ (If you want to be added to the tags list, please just ask to be added below or you can always DM me :) )

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 3,172

TW: angst

“I have just done the impossible,” Mc announced, feeling very satisfied.

“Huh?” Satan asked, blinking as he put his book down.

Mc sighed, and flopped on him dramatically, “I just went to petition for our son to stay from the evil overlord, and you couldn’t even greet me for my victorious return?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll never guess what just happened in… Wait… He agreed to it?!”

Mc beamed up at him, holding a paper, “He just asks that you sign this to lay some ground rules down.”

“I knew he’d do something like this,” Satan huffed, folding his arms, “It’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

“Well, not to play devil’s advocate,” Mc laughed a bit at the expression, “But you did fill the house with cats last time you were allowed to have one. I can understand his… reservations on the subject.”

Satan frowned, looking away from her, “So, even you agree with him?”

“Well, obviously not about everything. Otherwise I wouldn’t be trying to make him let us keep Leo. I can sympathize with not wanting your house overrun with animals. Especially when you’ve already got so many trouble makers already in the house… Am I wrong?” she asked at his frown.

Satan sighed, “I guess not.”

“Just think of it this way. If you can prove to Lucifer you can be responsible and take care of Leo, you might be allowed to keep another cat down the road.”

“You need to stop making such good points Mc,” Satan huffed a laugh, his irritation gone.

“Hmmm… I think I need to continue to make great points actually. Okay, while you look over the contract to make sure Lucifer doesn’t have something up his sleeve, I’m going to go tell Leo the good news.”

“He was upstairs last time I checked,” Satan called over his shoulder as Mc went off in search of the cat. She took the stairs two at a time, having gotten used to climbing them since Leo came into their life. Coming to the top, her eyes scanned the area for him, “Leo! Leo, where are you?”

A small meow announced the presence of said cat, coming out of nowhere, as usual. He started twining between Mc’s legs, looking up every once in a while to meow at her. Once she stopped, Mc laughed, picking him up. He adjusted his paws until he was hugging her as usual, purring the whole time, “Oh baby boy, did you miss me? I know I missed you. But, you’ll never guess! Lucifer said you could stay. Daddy’s looking over the rules right now to make sure they’re acceptable, but after that you’ll be able to stay here! No more roaming the streets in search of your next meal, though you’ll be allowed out obviously. You just have to promise you’ll come back,” Mc started scratching between his shoulder blades, eliciting an even louder purr, “Oh, it’s been awhile since I had a cat. I forgot how soothing purring is,” then whispering conspiratorially, “You’ll be so good for Satan. Speaking of which, let's go downstairs and see him.”

Satan was frowning slightly at the document, his reading glasses having materialized out of nowhere. Mc was sure he didn’t actually need them, seeing as how he was a near immortal being, and suspected he only used them as a tool for intense studying, but she was never going to complain. He looked so good with them on. She shifted Leo to one arm, and took out her phone to snap a photo of Satan. She loved that they had a relationship where they could just snap photos of each other without the other thinking it was weird.

Satan looked up at the camera sound, and reached for his polaroid, “Say cheese.”

Mc laughed, posing with Leo. The photo soon emerged, and Satan smiled as he watched the photo start emerging, “Another one for the drawer.”

“So, what’s the verdict?” Mc asked, coming closer to stand next to Satan. Leo wiggled a bit, so she put him in Satan’s lap, where he circled a couple times before curling into a ball.

“It seems… reasonable enough at first glance. I’ll have to go over it in more detail later, but I think you did it.”

Mc grinned and threw her arms over the back of Satan’s chair, giving him a hug from behind, “I’m so glad. Not only does Leo get a home, now you have someone to keep you company while I’m back at home.”

Satan’s hands grabbed her arms, pulling them even tighter to himself, “Do you really have to go?”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she smiled, kissing the top of his head, “I could never stay away from you for too long. Plus, I need to make sure to keep Diavolo happy. Otherwise I won’t be able to return at all.”

“I should petition him to let me go with you.”

“You have a job to do down here, Darling. Plus, I don’t want to see what would happen if you got stuck in rush hour traffic. I think you might be able to come visit me though.”

Satan sighed, kissing Mc’s hand, “Only if Lucifer allowed it.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to convince him,” Mc smiled, moving down to kiss Satan’s cheek, his soft hair tickling her nose. 

He turned his head, eyes soft, a little smile gracing his lips, “Just don’t stay away for too long.”

“I promise,” Mc smiled, looking straight into the eyes.

~~

Mc awoke a bit abruptly, though it wasn’t unpleasant. That was until a wave of loneliness suddenly crashed down, causing her eyes to open, though they were reluctant. The soft light in the room allowed her eyes to adjust rather quickly, revealing the demon she’d been dreaming about, “Mnh, Satan?” He was standing closer to her than she would’ve expected. She extended her arm, to grab at his hand, “Is that you?”

“It is,” he answered softly, accepting her hand in his. The loneliness instantly disappeared, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Mc relaxed instantly, “Mmmm… No. It was a really nice dream actually.”

“I’m sorry you had to wake up then.”

“Mmmm, is okay. It’s nice to wake up and have you here,” she answered truthfully, sleep turning her filter off.

Satan’s eyes went wide, and his grip on her hand tightened and then went rigid, “Really?”

“Mmmhmm,” she answered, closing her eyes.

“Hey. You probably shouldn’t fall asleep again. It’s getting kind of late and you still need to get back to the castle.”

“I can’t just stay here?” Mc asked, yawning loudly, “I don’t want to go back. I like it here.”

”I’m afraid not. I don’t think Luke or Michael would like that very much.”

“... I guess you’re right,” Mc sighed, forcing herself to sit up. The blanket on her body fell down, and she frowned at it, her sleep addled brain trying to think, “Did I grab a blanket?”

“Oh, that was me. I know my room can get pretty chilly so I wanted to make sure you weren’t too cold.”

Mc blinked at the kindness, her brain clearing, “Oh my… I fell asleep. I’m so sorry! I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I promise it’s not because it was boring or anything. It was really lovely actually. I hope-”

“Hey, hey. Please don’t worry yourself Mc. I feel honored you trust me enough to fall asleep in my presence,” he smiled kindly.

Mc felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked down, “Still. It’s rude to fall asleep when spending time with someone.”

Satan chuckled and squoze her hand, “You can fall asleep around me if you’d like. You really don’t have to worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. If I’d had a problem with it I would have woken you up earlier.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course Mc,” Satan smiled again, and Mc felt her heart jolt a bit, “We should probably get you back to the castle soon.”

“R-Right.”

~~

Mc sat at her desk, writing in the notebook usually reserved for her art ideas. She’d need to get a new one soon, but this would have to do for now. Now that she’d had time to think everything through, she was starting to piece something together. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she had the feeling it would lead to what she’d been searching for this whole time. 

Let’s see, there’s all these dreams… Though, should they even be called that? Are they prophecies? It’s not deja vu, as the situations don’t feel like they’re repeating. Just a sense of familiarity. I might even be able to write it all off as a dream if it weren’t for the fact that Satan’s room was the same as that other dream I’d had, and I’d never been there before. There’s obviously something going on and I need to figure out what it is. Mc looked down at the sheet in front of her realizing she’d been drawing the whole time she’d been thinking. She was a bit flustered when she saw it was Satan when he’d been holding her hand. She shut her notebook, that strange feeling when Satan had smiled at her earlier flitting around in her chest. She had written off the feeling as residual embarrassment combined with relief that he wasn’t upset. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts, “Mc. Are you in there?”

“Just a moment Diavolo,” Mc called out, putting her notebook under her pillow. She felt the strong need to hide what she was doing, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.

She opened the door to his wide smiling face, “I was wondering if you would like to join me in a game of chess?”

“Oh. Sure, if you want. I’m not very good at it though.”

“That’s alright. After all, how is someone supposed to get better at something if they don’t practice?”

“Very true. I just didn’t think you’d be interested in playing against someone who’s not at your level.”

“Who’s to say I’m above your level?”

“Well, generally when people own a chess set they’re above my level,” Mc smirked.

“Fair enough,” Diavolo laughed, gesturing for Mc to follow him.

~~

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“That, not only are you a gracious winner, but that you’re even more skilled at this game than I first thought. It takes skill to bring your playing down to novice level without making “mistakes”.”

Diavolo chuckled, moving another piece, “I wouldn’t say you’re a novice. You’re doing quite well.”

“I’d have to disagree with you there, but thank you anyway.”

“If I’m as skilled as you say, wouldn’t I be better qualified to assess your skill level than yourself?”

“I suppose,” Mc hummed, wondering what Diavolo was getting at.

“Satan is pretty talented when it comes to chess as well.”

Mc paused in moving her piece, “Is that so?”

“Yes. He’s probably the most tenacious player I’ve ever met. Though he’s never beat me, he’s gotten very close before.”

“Ah.”

“That attitude is what made him who he is. His desire to grow and learn is one of his defining characteristics. Though it’s probably not a fair comparison, he has grown and continues to grow the most out of all his brothers.”

“Why would you say it’s not fair?”

“Because they already had defined personalities when they Fell. Certain characteristics were obviously enhanced or repressed turning from angels to demons, but they’re essentially the same beings.

“Satan is a different story. Though he came from Lucifer and has memories of the Celestial Realm, all he really was in the beginning was wrath, the most literal embodiment of his sin I could imagine. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never met another being like him. He is truly unique. I watched all the brothers adjust to their sin, figuring out how they would represent their sin. They’ve all struggled in their own way, but Satan’s struggle is of a different kind. He’s had to learn how to go against everything he was to become something more.

Which brings me back to my point: It’s probably not fair to compare his growth to his brothers, but he continues to grow and learn from his mistakes, while the others seem to have… stagnated a bit.”

Mc nodded as she surveyed the gameboard, though her thoughts were more on their conversation. She had so many questions about Satan, many ones she didn’t feel she could ask him...

“So, anything else on your mind?”

“Only if you’re offering answers.”

Diavolo looked Mc straight in the eyes, “Ask away.”

Mc blinked a couple times, “Umm… Of course I can’t think of anything really pressing now.”

“What’s the first question that comes to mind?”

“Well, I guess since we were talking about it, what was his last period of intense growth?”

Diavolo cocked his head, “Interesting question. Besides right now?... Though it’s not a happy memory, probably the grieving period after she died.”

“Do you mean the girl he wrote the song for? Mammon told me a little bit about it.”

“How much did he tell you?” Diavolo asked slowly, eyes searching hers.

“I would guess the basics? He said he’d loved a human, and after she passed away, he played the song one last time and then said he’d never play it again, but then he did at the dinner party. He also mentioned he hadn’t dated anyone before or since her.”

“I suppose those are the basics,” Diavolo sighed, moving another piece on the board.

“Can… Will… You tell me about her?” Mc asked, the question feeling more important than it had when Mammon had first mentioned it.

“Hmmm… I think my hands might be tied wen it comes to that question,” Mc felt an unexpected wave of disappointment wash through her at his answer, “But, I sense there’s more to that question than what you asked.”

“I… Maybe?” Mc answered, her reaction shocking her. Even so, she couldn’t dispel the feeling.

“What made you ask the question?”

“I… It seems important,” was the only thing Mc could think to answer with.

Interesting. Well, checkmate, and with that, it’s time for me to head to bed. Goodnight Mc.”

“Oh, you’re right. Goodnight,” Mc answered, though her thoughts were far from the game that sat in front of her.”

~~

Mc sighed for what felt like the eightieth time that night. What could Diavolo have meant by all that? He was obviously hunting at something. The problem is, I’m not sure what it is. Though, why do I care about her? It seems more than me just being concerned for Satan’s well being. He’s obviously feeling better about the whole situation with her, seeing as how he played that song.

Mc replayed her memory of him playing the song in question, and found herself questioning that assessment. If he truly was feeling better, wouldn’t the longing in his voice have lessened? He had laid all his feelings bare, and the truth was, he wasn’t over her.

A stab of jealousy attacked her heart, making her blink a couple times. She went back to the memory in question, only to find the whole thing tinged in the sin. She retreated further into her head, far from the feeling. She sat up, grabbing the glass of water from her bedside table, hands shaking. As she tried to put it back down, her fingers loosened too much and she almost ended up spilling the rest of the water. Sighing the eighty-first time that night, she grabbed the book off the table, opening it and trying to drown out her feelings.

~~

“Is there something wrong with the food?” Barbatos asked, stepping forward to refill Luke’s glass with whatever tea he’d decided on serving them.

“Everything tastes great. I’m just not hungry this morning,” Mc smiled weakly, before returning to pushing the food around her plate. Attempting to make the butler feel better, she took a bite of the pride cake he’d prepared. It had actually become a favorite of hers, much to the delight of Diavolo who couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Today however, it reminded her more of glue than anything else.

“Are you feeling alright Mc??” Michael asked, “You’ve seemed… off these past couple days.”

“I just haven’t been able to sleep lately,” Mc answered, “I’ve just hit a snag in my art.”

“Maybe you should take some time off today then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I have the day free, and I’ve wanted to talk to you about something,” Michael tried again.

“Actually, I’m just going to head out to clear my head.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, “Well, I do need to talk to you sometime soon.”

“Sure,” Mc answered, relieved he wasn’t going to push the situation further.

~~

Mc wandered aimlessly, willing the sounds of the Devildom to drown out her thoughts, but she seemed to have opened some sort of floodgate in her thoughts. Angels were known for their extreme restraint when it comes to their own feelings. During the process of becoming an angel, there was a sort of damper that was put on their feelings. Supposedly it could be turned on or off at will like a switch. Many angels went their whole existence without turning the switch off. Mc had seen Simeon when his had been off, usually when he was writing, so she knew it existed. She also had some control over her switch, but she had a feeling hers didn’t work quite as well as other angels. She’d theorized that’s why she could create art as readily as she did, and why it seemed humans related more to her art than her fellow angels. When she was younger, she figured it would develop more once she got older. It hadn’t however. She might have had an easier time covering up how she actually felt, but the control wasn’t there.

Now however, it seemed like she had no control over it, relying on outside influences to help her from feeling like she was losing her mind. Among her newfound jealousy at center stage, she could feel her anger at Michael hiding in the eves of her mind. There was also a confusion that seemed to be seeping into everything else she did and was, lighting the whole scene. She had no idea what had changed, but she wished it would stop. She was getting a headache. No wonder humans sometimes went crazy.

“Mc? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey Mammon. What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ got outta RAD for the day. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, I’m… trying to clear my head.”

“So wha’s botherin’ ya?”

“What?”

“You’re havin’ a hard time right? I can see it all written all over your face,” Mammon smiled kindly, “Come get some ice cream with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hehe ^_^

Part Eighteen and a Half