#I can write i can read and I can draw I can play guitar a bit i can sing I can make animatics animations amv's

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Sometimes I feel very sad that I didn’t just focus on one creative skill. I look at my art some days and go I wish I’d spent all my time making only that, because that way it would look better and I’d do more and it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t write very well because my art would be amazing and I’d be able to make the stuff I really want to and maybe even get a job related to it and I wouldn’t feel like so much time was wasted. And often times it really does feel like you’re wasting time and everything is telling you to just pick something to focus on so it can mean something and you can never seem to pick one of anything.

And then other days I feel like an absolute GOD. Anyone else able to write your own fic and then draw art for it just because you can? Can you make an edit/amv after writing a silly little analysis post on the show/character that is so perfectly on beat and fits the lyrics and with transitions so slapping you get chills while watching? Can you write a short silly ditty on the guitar about how you’re feeling using the eight chords know and belt it out only a little bit off key then do a choppy little animation of your sona singing it?

I may not be the most skilled at all of the above, and it can be a little lonely to be a one man band who doesn’t play half as well as a lot of people out there, but when your power goes out or your wifi dies or you have a day off, everyone else is busy and you’re alone...

you play the best gosh dang music in existence

[canni-killer]

finish drawing. feel proud! see three pieces of art. i want to kill myself.

[angelfic]

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.  

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

 Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

© angelfic 2023.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hey can I ask? What will Jade and Ghost son/daughter would look like if they ever had a kid?

okay so this topic about Ghost and Jade's fam in the future has been asked like REPEATEDLY on my ask box since the dawn of Jade's creation LMAO

but thanks to @alypink I finally got to thinking about it and I finally had the time to to draw it! Here it goes! (❁´◡`❁)

Ghost and Jade has three children, Andrew, Jay, and Orion.

Andrew Thomas Riley - (His middle name is named after his late uncle, Tommy) Face looks exactly like Jade, but with Ghost's hair and eye colors. Loves Manchester City so much and dreams of being like Kevin de Bruyne. He has a bright personality like Jade, but has Ghost's competitiveness. A bit annoying, but only he gets to tease his siblings. WOULD FIGHT for his siblings.

Grace Jael Riley - (named after her maternal grandma, Gracie Le Jardin). Her nickname is Jay (Jael ("jay-el") to differentiate her from her grandmother. Face looks exactly like Ghost, but with Jade's hair and eye colors. She's into music - playing guitars and pianos - and loves to write poems. Jay has Ghost's personality and much rather stay in the corners. Spends a lot of time with her grandparents. Jay has some scary ability to make people speak out their hearts to her (blackmail). Her grandma might have some explaining to do.

Orion Riley - A child of Greek descent from Jade's former orphanage where Ghost and Jade often volunteer in. Orion had similar circumstances with Ghost. Orion's father was a drug dealer and addict, and in his intoxicated state had killed his mother. The Rileys then took him as a foster. He is distant and fearful at first, but with the family's nurturing and warm environment, Orion starts to loosen up and finally feels the warmth of a family. VERY close with Ghost and Jay.

Soon after marrying, the Rileys live in Herefordshire, where the SAS residency is. Jade opened a branch of The Garden, and Ghost himself still works as an SAS soldier. Ghost's deployments are short periods, but a lot of deployments every year, so he tries to spend as much time as he can with his kids when he's home, like playing football with Andrew, singing with Jay (however... unique his voice is), and draw with Orion. The way the kids IMMEDIATELY falls asleep when Ghost's reading them bed time stories AAAAAAA.

A very equally disciplined and warm home, they have their shenanigans, but they work every issue out. The grandparents often come to visit and help Jade take care of the kids when Ghost is not home.

Former MI6 black agents from mom's side of the family, and full-on SAS operators for dad and the uncles. Safest group of kids on the planet.

So those are the Lovely Rileys! Hope you love it *(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*ଘ

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

The first time Steve touches the guitar Eddie makes a strangled sound in his throat. Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, his mouth is hanging open, and he's frowning. Steve sets the guitar back down, so fucking gently.

"Sorry. I just- sorry." He nearly whispers, stands back up, back straight, his palms moving over his thighs. Eddie clears his throat, shakes his head, removes his black guitar from his lap as he stands.

"No it's okay. I didn't mean to like... make that weird fucking sound. Just um... it was my moms." He says, his hand wrapped around the neck of the black guitar as he holds it at his side. Steve's eyes go wide.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I wouldn've-"

"It's okay really. Here. You can use this one." He holds the guitar out. Smiles when Steve steps closer, hesitant as he raises his hand. Eddie nods. Steve takes it, climbs onto Eddie's bed awkwardly and sets it in his lap. Watching as Eddie gently picks up his mothers guitar and sits back down.

Eddie smiles at Steve, strums a few notes.

"Do you play?" He asks, because Steve's never said anything about playing. Never touched one of Eddie's guitars before. But Eddie had noticed him watching, as Eddie plays, or writes songs, while they hang out.

Steve's at his house a lot these days. Eddie feels like they might be dancing around something. But he hasn't been brave enough to make a move. Or even ask a question. They just... spend time together. He's been teaching Steve about DND for Dustin’s upcoming birthday. Steve wants to surprise him. And he'd been letting Steve read his copies of Lord of the Rings. It's been taking him a while.

But he lays on Eddie's bed while he reads, feet kicked out in the air above him when he lays on his stomach, as Eddie plans his campaigns, or writes songs, and tries not to think about how Steve looks like he belongs there, in Eddie's bed, frowning down at Eddie's tattered books until he looks up and asks Eddie to explain something for him.

And Eddie does. Always.

But this is new. Steve holds Eddie's guitar in his lap, a soft smile on his face, his fingers holding the neck gently. He shakes his head at Eddie's question, just the smallest movement.

"Naw. I always wanted to learn. But my dad always said-" he cuts off, his eyes jumping to Eddie, his cheeks flushing a little. Eddie's never met Steve's father, but he's sure he could guess some of the things he'd said. Steve shakes his head again, tries to smile.

"I just never got around to it. And then things went to shit around here so..." he shrugs, moves his thumb over the strings. Eddie smiles at the sound.

"I like how it feels. Holding it though." Steve says, blinks up at Eddie. Eddie wills his mouth to work, to say something, to say fucking anything, but it doesn't. He just smiles, softly, and nods. Steve looks away, back down at the guitar, and Eddie does the same. Fingers moving over his mother's guitar as he tries to work out the next verse he's writing.

~°~

Two months later he still hasn't said anything. But they have a rhythm now. Eddie's at home, doing whatever it is he's doing that day. Planning, or drawing, or writing. Maybe even just watching tv. Steve shows up, goes to his room, gets the black guitar, and sits with it in his lap, some days until he leaves. And Eddie sits, and watches him, and tries to will himself to say something.

It's a friday. It's raining. And Steve gets off work early, comes to Eddie's. Like always.

He takes a shower, changes clothes, and then crawls into Eddie's bed, guitar settled in his lap. Eddie looks up from his notebook, watches Steve's brow furrow as he moves his fingers over the strings. Just positioning them, not making any sound. Turns out that's all it takes, Steve's little frown.

"I could teach you." Eddie blurts, Steve startles, just a bit, a small flinch before his eyes move to Eddie, brows raised.

"Ya know if you- if you'd want... that." Eddie's lame attempt to backpeddle falling out of his mouth in fragments. But Steve smiles, big and bright.

"Yeah? You'd do that?" He asks, his hand flat against the guitar now, he's practically cradling it to his chest, holding it to himself like it's something special.

Eddie shrugs, tries to play it cool.

"I mean yeah. It's not a big deal. Just, guitar. Kinda my thing." He huffs a laugh when Steve's smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Can we start now? Or are you- you're busy. Planning stuff." Steve voice drifts to a soft dismissive tone, like he's talking himself down. And Eddie hates it. Hates that he's been conditioned to talk himself down from his own excitement. Eddie slaps his notebook shut with a purpose. The noise loud in the quiet room.

"We can absolutely start now. C'mhere." He moves from his desk to the edge of the bed, reaches for his moms guitar, stops, thinks better of it and just settles his hands on his thighs as Steve shuffles to the edge of the bed to sit next to him.

Eddie watches him look at him, waiting, and so fucking close. He can hear the rain on the roof outside.

"Where do we start?" Steve asks, his hands flexing as Eddie watches him.

"I'm gonna teach you some notes. See how well you pick it up." Eddie says, trying hard to keep the smile on his face to a minimum. Steve nods, serious.

"What if I suck at it?" Steve asks, his fingers fluttering nervously over the strings. Eddie looks at him, narrows his eyes.

"You've never played before? At all?" He asks, head tilting. Steve shakes his slowly, his cheeks tinting as he looks at his knees.

"Well then, and I hate to break this to you sweetheart, but you're probably gonna suck. At least a little. At first." Eddie scrunches his nose, delights in the way Steve's mouth drops open as he looks Eddie.

"You gonna be able to handle that? Not being perfect?" Eddie twitches his head to the side, bumps his shoulder into Steve's, Steve rolls his eyes, bumps Eddie back.

"I'll do my best." He huffs, his brow furrowing again as Eddie begins to guide him.

He plays something small, shows Steve how he moves his fingers, and then lets Steve mimic him. He picks it up pretty quick. His ears and cheeks flushing a pretty red when Eddie complements him, tells him he's doing good.

It takes Steve about three hours to realize Eddie had been teaching him a DIO song. He rolls his eyes again, shoves Eddie off the edge of the bed, but goes red again when Eddie says he's proud of him for recognizing it at all.

~°~

A week later, Steve comes rushing into his room, guitar in hand. Eddie had let him take the black acoustic home, so he could practice there as well. He stops short, his legs bumping into Eddie's bed, and then he looks, shy.

"Well good morning to you too Harrington." Eddie sighs, yawns, stretches his hands above his head and smirks as Steve's eyes trail over his stomach, his shirt riding up off his hips.

"Yeah. Morning." Steve says, his voice distant, eyes still focused on Eddie's mid section.

"What can I do you for?" Eddie asks, smirk planted firmly on his lips now. Steve's body jerks, just a fraction, as he tears his eyes away from Eddie's hips, to look at his face.

"What?" He asks, sounding startled. Eddie laughs, shakes his head.

"Forget it. What's up? You looked excited." Eddie says with a shake of his head, pushing himself up in bed a bit. Steve's eyes move to the ground, his fingers tighten on the neck of the guitar.

"I just- wanted to show you something. But you like... just woke up. Did I wake you up?" Steve asks, his voice going high like he's just realized he may have woken Eddie up. Eddie shakes his head, rubs at his eyes, holds back another yawn.

"Whaaaat? No. I've been up for ages." He smiles, watches Steve's face drop.

"Really?" His eyes narrowing as they move over Eddie, pajamas still wrinkled, hair a fucking mess he's sure.

"Yep. Been awake for hours. I mean I woke up at like- what time is it?" He looks at the watch on his wrist, his eyes bugging out.

"It's 7am!?" His voice is high, incredulous, he sounds... maybe a little disgusted. Steve clears his throat, his free hand going to his hip as he looks down at Eddie. Eddie clears his own throat, crossing his arms, schools his face.

"I mean... it's 7am. Which I knew. Because I've been awake since like... 5 o'clock. So 7am is the perfect time. For you to show up here. In my trailer." He glances to the small window in the door outside his room, his face falling a bit.

"Before the sun has risen, even. How... wonderful." His voice is flat by the time he finishes speaking, and he can see Steve trying not to laugh at him.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." He says, and he sounds so sincere Eddie can't even really be mad. He will be taking a nap later though, for sure. He yawns, waves his hand.

"It's fine babe. Just show me whatcha got." He wiggles his fingers at the guitar and Steve flushes, nods, and steps back, sits himself in Eddie's desk chair, and moves the guitar into his lap.

Eddie's heart flutters as Steve starts playing. It always does. Ever since that first day when Steve had picked up the DIO rif he'd shown him. It had been small, but he'd looked so proud of himself when his fingers had danced across the strings perfectly, bringing the tune to life.

Eddie smiles when he recognizes the song, some Billy Joel number Steve was always humming. Eddie had actually been playing peices of it here and there recently, sometimes, without paying attention. But it reminded him of Steve, and so his fingers tended to play it when his mind began to drift.

He smiles as he watches Steve play, his hair falling in his face a little, his brows knitted together in concentration. Eddie bites his lip and refuses to think about moving his fingers over those furrowed brows. Refuses to think about how Steve might let him. Refuses to think about how soft Steve's skin might feel underneath his calloused fingers.

Steve's own fingers pick that moment to stumble, he misses notes, trips up, flushes deeply and curses himself, his head hanging as he stops, takes a deep breathe.

Eddie was proud, he'd gotten better at dealing with messing up. But he could tell he was upset.

"Steve." He says name gently, too genlty, maybe, for this quiet morning in the dark. Steve huffs, but looks up at him.

"I always fuck that part up. It's too fast." He sighs, his voice harsh, he's being hard on himself. And Eddie doesn't know if it's the early morning hour, or the fact that it's still quite dark in his room, or maybe it's the fact that he hadn't slept much and now Steve was in his room. But he scoots back, just a bit, and pats the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

And his chest flutters again when Steve doesn't even hesitate to come and sit beside him. Doesn't flinch away when Eddie presses close, moves his arm around Steve, curls his fingers over his on the guitar.

He does feel Steve's breathe catch when Eddie sighs across his neck, but he keeps the smirk off his face. Instead he strums the guitar, moves his fingers quickly, hitting the notes that Steve missed with ease. And he almost laughs when Steve turns, his shoulder pressing into Eddie's chest as he gapes at him.

"How did you- you know how to play this song?" Steve asks, his eyes wide. Eddie shrugs, his eyes dropping to Steve's lips, he's so close.

"Parts of it. You hum it a lot." Eddie says, almost whispers between them. Steve's face does some strange movement, jumping between a smile and frown and back again.

"Wait, have you never even heard the song?" Steve asks, his voice accusing.

"I dunno. Maybe like once. It was on in your car that time right?" Eddie shrugs again, looks away from Steve, his cheeks heating in the dark, with Steve so close. And Eddie is still sleep warm, and he swears Steve keeps leaning back into his chest.

"You're not even sure if you've heard the song and you can just play it like that!?" Steve asks, his voice a little louder now. But there's an amused edge to it that Eddie can't shake.

"Yeah. I'm-" he stops, swallows, his palms are starting to sweat so he moves his hands away from Steve's, hears him make a small sound in his throat, and finally, looks back at Steve's face. His features have softened, his eyes still sparkling with amusement, but there's something else there too.

"You can just play things by ear like that?" Steve asks, his voice soft, he's looking at Eddie, really looking at him in the low light of Eddie's room. And Eddie's arms are still wrapped half around him, he swallows, and nods.

"Guess so. Never been great at actually reading music. I don't focus well." He scrunches his nose.

"No. You?" Steve teases, and Eddie feels any lingering insecurities wash away. He shrugs.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure I could teach you actually. And I might have you all messed up. But you're good. Real good." He says it softly, and feels, without a doubt, Steve lean back, pressing his back into Eddie's chest.

"I think you're a good teacher. Maybe a little impatient sometimes." Steve elbows him gently. Eddie flushes, his hand moving to Steve's shoulder.

"Shit was I? I was trying really hard not to be." He frowns, and then Steve is turning, letting the guitar slip slowly to the floor. Eddie gulps, Steve's face is so close, and he's so warm pressed against him. And Eddie might have a real issue here soon if Steve doesn't move out his space.

"No it wasn't bad. I- I kinda like you impatient. You get bossy." Steve laughs, a small, giddy sounding thing, light in his throat. Eddie feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. Steve's hands move to his shirt, resting against his chest.

"You uh- you like when I'm bossy?" Eddie asks, his voice shaking, his hands trembling at his sides, he's moved them away from Steve. Doesn't want him to feel him shaking. Steve nods, once.

"Kinda yeah. Is that bad?" Steve asks, his eyes squinting, nose scrunching. And he sounds like he might be genuinely asking, like Eddie has any fucking clue.

"I don't think so. I'm sure it's fine. I-" Eddie stammers, is about to keep talking, not sure what's gonna come out of his mouth if he does. But Steve beats him to it.

"Why did you offer to teach me to play?" Steve asks, his thumbs move over Eddie's chest gently. Eddie feels his entire body flushing. He doesn't wanna talk about this. Not with Steve. He doesn't wanna scare him away. But Steve is looking at him, soothing his fingers into Eddie's shirt like he knows Eddie feels like he might float away. Like he's trying to ground him. Eddie licks his lips, sinks his teeth into his bottom one, and frowns.

"You can say it. It's okay." Steve assures him, a soft whisper between them.

"I thought you wanted to learn." Eddie says, his voice weak, unsure. Steve nods, slowly, one hand moving up, his fingers gently moving over the hot skin of Eddie's neck. Eddie makes a small wounded sound in his throat, and he swears Steve's eyes darken.

"That all?" Steve asks, his thumb pressing into the rapid heartbeat in Eddie's throat. Eddie shakes his head.

"I wanted to be close to you. But I didn't think that you'd want that... like that. With me. So-" he cuts off, swallows again, his breathe catching in throat. Steve softens in front of him, melts impossibly closer.

"So you offered to teach me to play. And then you curled yourself around me. Touched me. Moved me around like clay in your hands." Steve whispers, pressing closer, and Eddie can't breathe. And he feels guilty, all of a sudden. It burns in his throat, choking him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have done that." He stammers, and he tries to pull away from Steve, weakly. But Steve is stronger, holds him in place, and moves closer, his lips pressing to Eddie's ear.

"Don't be sorry. I liked it. Liked the way you moved me, and touched me, and taught my hands how to move and make music. I liked you pressed against me Eddie." He moved back, smiling at the whine that escaped Eddie's throat.

"I like you. Is- is that okay?" Steve looks shy, somehow, as he says this. After he's set every nerve ending in Eddie's body alight. Eddie nods. His body trembling now.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve breathes between, his hands moving to Eddie's cheeks now, holding him gently, the way he always holds Eddie's guitar.

"Yeah." Eddie nods. Steve smiles. And then a jolt of fear runs through Eddie, his hands land on Steve's chest, harder than he means too, holding him back.

Steve's brow furrows.

"What is it?" He asks, and Eddie almost laughs in his face, he sounds so concerned. But Eddie clears his throat, his eyes falling to his lap.

"I don't know how." He says, his voice so quiet he's not sure Steve will hear him. But it's early morning, and his room is quiet as the sun rises, filling the room with a warm glow, and of course Steve hears him, Steve always hears him. His hands moves under Eddie's chin, lifts head til he's looking at him. And Eddie watches Steve watch him, watches the sweet crooked smile that tilts Steve lips, his breath hitching in his chest as Steve moves his thumb over Eddie's bottom lip.

"I could teach you." Steve says, echoing Eddie's offer from all those weeks ago, and Eddie feels weak. His body shaking as he nods, his mouth frozen. Steve pulls him closer, his hand moving down Eddie's neck again.

"What if I suck at it?" Eddie asks, a wobbly smile fluttering across his face as he echoes Steve, and opens the door for Steve to tell him he will. That he will suck at it, at first, like Eddie had told him. But Steve's eyes darken again, his tongue running along his bottom lip as he stares at Eddie's mouth. Eddie feels trapped, in the best possible way, trapped under Steve's gaze. Steve's head moves slowly, side to side, his eyes still locked on Eddie's lips, Eddie feels Steve's fingers curl into his shirt near his ribs as he pulls him a fraction closer.

"With a mouth like that? I don't think that's possible." He breathes, and Eddie nearly fucking swoons, his hands fisting in Steve's shirt on his chest. Steve smirks at him them, moves the hand near his ribs around Eddie's back, holds him tight.

"I bet you're a natural. And if you're not," Steve presses his lips to Eddie's nose, pulls back.

"I'm willing to teach you. You'll be perfect when I'm done with you." Steve whispers, like it's a secret. It makes Eddie shiver.

"I might be a slow learner?" Eddie asks, his voice shaking but he's teasing now, and Steve smirks again, his fingers curling up into Eddie's hair and pulling, tilting his head to the side.

"God I fucking hope so." Steve almost growls the words against Eddie's lips and then he's kissing him. And despite the growl, and the low dip of his voice, the kiss is sweet. And slow.

Steve moves his lips genlty, let's Eddie get a feel for it. And, to Eddie's relief, doesn't deepen the kiss. His body is so overwhelmed already, he's sure Steve's tongue in his mouth would just send him into a meltdown.

But Steve doesn't press. He just kisses Eddie. Slow. Moves his lips over Eddie's, hums into the kiss when Eddie moves his hand into Steve's hair, hesitant, his hand shaking. Steve's arm around him pulls him closer, until he's tugged Eddie into his lap.

Eddie whimpers as Steve holds him, does his best to kiss Steve back, moves his lips the way he feels Steve's moving against his. Steve pulls back first, his hands moving up Eddie’s back. Eddie frowns down at him.

"Was that okay?" He asks, his fingers drumming nervously against Steve's shoulders. Steve smiles up at him, kisses him again, and Eddie's not sure he'll ever be over that warm press of soft skin.

"It was perfect." Steve says, tucks a lock of Eddie's sleep disheveled hair behind his ear.

"You're good at that." Eddie says, his body shaking against Steve. Steve smiles, and then moves, quick, he flips them over, landing on top of Eddie, hovering over him, his hands planted near his head. Steve leans down, presses close.

"Thank you. So are you." He moves his fingers over Eddie's cheek, fingertips tracing the jagged scar there. Eddie's brow twitches, he tries not to frown. Steve dips, presses his lips to the scar.

"Wanna make a deal?" He asks, lifting back up to look at Eddie.

"Sure. What deal?" Eddie agrees, before he even knows what it is. Steve smiles.

"I'll keep kissing you later. If you-" he stops, looks unsure as he looks down at Eddie. So Eddie reaches up, cups Steve cheek, because he can now.

"If I what?" Eddie whispers.

"If you hold me while we go back to sleep." Steve sounds shy, after everything that just happened.

Eddie smiles up at him, moves his fingertips over Steve's lips now.

"I'll hold you whenever you want. Just don't ever stop kissing me." Eddie says, tugging Steve down on top of him, Steve laughs against his lips and then sighs, deep, and happy, as Eddie wraps his arms around him.

Steve cuddles closer, presses his face into Eddie's chest and just breathes. Eddie listens to his breathing until they both drift off, the sun finally pulling itself over the horizon, Eddie and Steve's shared guitar temporarily forgotten, resting on the floor.

[dazednstoned]

Modern Rdr2 hcs:

-Abigail dresses like it's the 2000s (I'm talking miniskirts, low rise jeans, heeled flip flops w the fucking sparkles). She will never change too.

-Charles and Arthur go on dates to those adoption events to pet all the dogs and cats

-the whole gang frequently gathers for family bbqs. Every time someone ends up getting punched, passing out, or storming off

-Abigail puts Jack on one of those backpack leashes for kids (John too if we're being honest)

-Tilly, Karen, and Marybeth do full goodwill, garage sale, and vintage market days. They do not mess around either

-the only thing hosea knows how to do on his phone is play chess

-Sean still can't read in modern time

-john plays guitar and writes really horrible love songs for Abigail

-Javier and john r for sure in a band together, they're pretty good when they sing the songs Javier wrote

-Lenny and Sean co-parent an extremely neglected widgetable

-Arthur listens to facebook reels on full volume in public w no shame. Isaac is mortified every time

-john has various tattoos, half of them are god awful. He definitely got Abigail's name or initials tattooed somewhere and she was livid

-Karen gives herself piercings with a really shitty piercing gun

-arthur and John work together in construction, an auto shop, or in the equestrian field.

-Dutch has a very rigid and lengthy skincare routine

-john uses 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner, but he says it's 3 in 1 bc it also counts as bodywash

-Tilly is the only one of her family to graduate college (Arthur dropped out of hs when Eliza got pregnant and john never went)

-Hosea is one of those old people you just see walking around the neighborhood at like 8am

-john and Arthur don't wear sunscreen or put on lotion. Abigail sometimes manages to force some sunscreen on John's face before he goes to work tho

-bill refuses to go to gay bars but uses Grindr

-Abigail cuts John and Jack's hair bc she refuses to pay for something she thinks she can do herself (she cannot do it herself)

-Kieran is a hair braiding god. I'm talking French braids, fish tails, you name it.

-john owns a really shitty pick up truck. Jack was either conceived or birthed in the backseat of it (maybe both)

-Sean falls for those free iPhone scams every time

-the only videogame charles plays is stardew valley. He thought it would be relaxing, it wasn't.

-Tilly and Mary Beth are in a book club together

-Abigail is the type of parent to not let her kid play w nerf guns or watch pg13 movies (John is the exact opposite)

-Sadie spends her weekends at rage rooms

-everyone's fridges are covered in drawings Jack made for them

-John, Javier, and Sean game together. Violence always ensues

-dutch does not tip waiters

-john tried to play catch w Jack once and ended up getting hit in the groin by a baseball. He didn't know 4 yr olds could throw that hard

-Abigail and Karen (& sometimes Charles) drink cheap wine together every Sunday and discuss the dumb things their boyfriends did that week

-Lenny and Hosea do the wordle everyday

-Jack is in little league soccer. John sits back drinking a beer as Abigail shouts at the referee

-Abigail got a tramp stamp of a little bow when she was 17 (she regrets it)

-Hosea exclusively sends emails

-Abigail hides John's weed socks bc she doesn't want Jack to see and "fall into a life of drugs" when he's older

-Arthur is a hiking dad through and through. While John is a sit on the couch drinking a beer w his kid in his lap kinda dad

-uncle is the old drunk that lived in the same trailer park as Abigail and John did when Jack was a baby. He kinda just stuck around after

-Miss Molly O'Shea would be a makeup god and u cannot convince me otherwise

I might do a pt 2 late in the future!

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

Headcanon: Eddie likes making smart girls dumb

Word Count: ~2,620

Warnings: 18+ only. Minors dni. Dumbification kink (yup!), rough oral sex (m receiving), face slapping, degrading language throughout, reader is worry on legs and eddie lives to turn her brain off essentially. Reader says something mean but she's stressed and she APOLOGISES AND MEANS IT.

A/N: “Hey, Jo, don’t you have like five different proper wips that aren’t just these needlessly long headcanons your brain comes up with when you should be sleeping?” “Yup! Now read the needlessly long headcanon.”

“Maybe just a little break would do you some good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, remaining as you are, hunched over your desk. Evidence of how you’ve spent the afternoon is spread across the table. Various empty coffee cups, your bright desk lamp, stacked textbooks, a colour coded periodic table, your lilac notepad that was new last week, now open a quarter of the way through, covered in black notes and pink highlighter lines.

Eddie arrived twenty minutes ago, uninvited, having not spoken to you properly in three days.

Since you were asked by a desperate Ms Loudon to tutor him in History at the beginning of the year, Eddie has improved in every subject he takes. You didn’t just sit with him and run through major events, didn’t just read his essays half bored to give him meaningless feedback. You taught him how to help himself. Finally, Eddie has the knack, the knowledge on how to motivate himself to just sit down and study. 

It was a strange, sick relief to realise with finality that he wasn’t stupid like people thought. No, Eddie’s capable, smart even. But smart only goes so far when you can’t sit at your desk without finding yourself seeking out a joint, or a guitar, or a porn mag. These days, he gets Cs more often than he gets Ds or Fs on tests. More Bs on essays than any other grade. The first A he’s had since the eighth grade came, red and circled, in Art last week. An essay on Jean-Michel Basquiat with multiple scribbles reading “good point!”

Turns out, setting a schedule that works for him, taking breaks every hour for a Dr Pepper or a crunchy snack, sitting with you in the library so you can talk each other through your notes, works for him. 

So yeah, he knows your way works better than his ever did, ever will. But shit, it’s a Saturday night, and the test isn’t till Tuesday. Chemistry’s a bitch, sure, but Jeff’s your lab partner and Eddie’s heard that you can draw structural formulas with the same ease as writing your name. Or drawing a love heart on his hand, the way you like to do sometimes.

He’s so grateful for you. Not just that he credits you as the reason he’s assured to graduate this year, but that, since he kissed you for the first time, leaning over a library table to hold your busy head in his hands, you’ve opened yourself up to him so sweet it makes his heart sore. You taught him so much, sharing your seemingly endless smarts, and you’ve let him teach you in return. How to play a power chord, roll a joint, let a boy like Eddie lay you down and master your body till you’re a writhing, crying mess with an empty head.

So now, watching you rub your sore eyes, stretch your sore back, crack your sore neck. Yeah, he wants to do something about it. 

“I just think maybe you’re overexerting yourself this time,” he says from your pretty, flowery bed, shoes left at the door the way your Mom insists on, the rule held fast even when she’s out. 

You feel your shoulders tense, frustration running up the back of your neck to clench your jaw. Why is Eddie even here? You didn’t invite him. Didn’t ask him to come sit a judge, share his unsolicited opinions on the way you work. 

“You can think that, but I need to have these notes on carboxylic acid memorised tonight so I can focus on oxidising and reducing agents tomorrow. That gives me the right amount of time to study reversible reactions on Monday night.” You look at him with a tight smile, hoping you’ve explained yourself enough that he’ll leave it, now. “I have a plan, Eddie.”

“You always do,” Eddie grins, his bright eyes not working their usual magic. You look back to your book and sigh, frustrated that you’re using brain power trying to work out how to ask him to leave when you should be focused on reduction reactions. “But, I mean, how long will it really take you to learn what you need about, um, oxidising stuff, tomorrow? Don’t you think you could get back to the acids then, too?”

“Why should I?”

“Cause it’s a Saturday night. You’re exhausted. And deep down you want to watch Children of the Corn with me and cuddle.”

Your heart tweaks inside its ice cage, and you hate him a little then for trying to tempt you away. “Of course I want to relax, Eddie. That’s not the point.”

Eddie smooths his hands across his knees. “Well, what is the point? ‘Cause I really think you’d be better off taking some time away from all the books.”

The graphite at the end of your pencil snaps to leave wood chips, the final push that has you twisting in your seat and yelling. “You’re really not the right person to be doling out advice on studying, Eddie! The fact that you think wanting to relax means you should is the reason you’ve been a high school senior for three years straight!”

Eddie’s kind face goes hard. Your throat tightens with regret.

"I didn't mean that." 

"No?" He asks, smacking his hands to his knees as he stands. Your heart fights its way from the ice, pounding and hot with worry. He’s moving to your door when you rush to him, grabbing his arms to hold him there.

"I'm sorry," you say, eyes watering, overwhelmed. Your brain is fit to burst, thoughts running wild. Eddie’s going to break up with you now, for being mean. Eddie’s going to break up with you and never speak to you or kiss you or touch you or smile at you ever again. "I'm so sorry, Eddie."

"I dunno. That was, uh, kinda mean, you know? Sounded like you think I'm dumb or something." 

Your head shakes rapidly. "I don't think that. I know you're not dumb, Eddie. Please, I'm sorry-" 

"You're sorry?" 

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that." 

"You gonna apologise to me properly?"

You stare at him. 

There it is, behind the cold stare. He’s got what he wanted. There’s no way you’re going back to that desk now. Even in the low light of your table lamp, you can see the mischief, the satisfaction and anticipation. Eddie isn't angry, not in the slightest.

"Eddie-" 

"You just told me you don't even know why you insulted me. That’s kinda stupid of you, ya know? Sounds to me like maybe, between the two of us, you might be dumb one. So maybe instead of arguing with me, you should stop pretending to know better and just let me be in charge, ‘kay?" 

Your fingers flex on his arms, one kind of nervous tension leaving your body even as another creeps up. Eddie blinks slowly, like he’s waiting. When you don’t say anything, unclear on what he wants you to say, he sighs, takes his arms from your hold to grasp you. One hand, wide and strong, finds the back of your head, directing your gaze to his. The other presses against your throat, the contrast of warm fingers and cold rings sending shivers through you.

“Are you going to let me be in charge tonight, dummy? Do what I tell you, and nothing else?”

Your head would loll if it wasn’t for his grip, and you wonder if he knew that already. “Mm. Tell me what to do, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, hums, presses a quick kiss to your lips. He murmurs into the skin of your cheek. “Let’s start with you on your knees, ‘kay?”

You breathe a soft, affirmative noise as he pushes you down, down till your knees are pressed to the soft rug in the middle of the room. Distantly, you realise that Eddie stood right here on purpose. Knew you’d end up just like this while you were still in a tizzy at the thought of him leaving. The thought is gone in an instant with Eddie’s thumb digging into the back of your mouth, circling your tongue to gather drool. The other hand goes for his belt, the rough tug and the clinking sound making your clit ache. You watch, mouth open and pleading, while he unzips his pants enough to pull himself from his boxers. Eddie fists his pink cock with tight fingers, the spit he took from your mouth aiding a smooth glide. 

It’s torture. You can smell him, the musk of Eddie’s cock, the lingering smell of his tea tree shampoo that he rubs through the thick, dark hair as the base when he showers. The pretty pink head is dripping white pre, more and more forced out each time his foreskin closes over the tip. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, looking up at him to find his gaze focused on your desperate face already. “Please.”

“I’ve got a choice for you, dummy,” he says, hips jerking at the thought of what he’s about to offer you. “If that empty head of yours can manage it.” Eddie pulls his foreskin back, exposing the white cum collected there, and smooths it away with two fingers. “Open.” 

You practically unlock your jaw, tongue exposed so he knows how much you want this. Eddie smirks, fingers finding your mouth. He presses the pads to the taste buds at the very back then drags them forward, covering your tongue in the masculine, salty taste of his cum. Your mouth waters, swallowing it down the second you can and following his fingers with your mouth, managing a little kiss to them before his hand is flat on your cheek. The sharp smack makes you squirm, eyes darting from his amused gaze to his cock. 

“Good?”

“So good,” you nod, eyeing his tip, hoping for more. 

“Hm. Here’s the choice then. My cum in your mouth,” Eddie widens his stance, bringing his cock perfectly level with your wet lips. “Or breathing.”

You groan, mouth opening wide again, knees shuffling desperately. It’s answer enough. Eddie laughs, grasps his cock at the base, and slides home. 

“Shit,” he says, holding your head at either side. Your chin finds his heavy balls, throat long since used to taking Eddie all the way. The stretch, the plugging of your throat, is blissful. Nothing else is important now. Not tests or studying or broken pencils. It’s not your place to worry about that anymore, not your place to worry about anything. You just need to keep your mouth open and let Eddie enjoy your throat. His head rolls, long hair reaching down his back. Eddie groans through his teeth and returns his gaze to you. He finds your eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He keeps you there longer than you're used to, until the stunted breaths you can only take through your nose like this stop being just enough. You jerk, hands moving from your thighs to his, instinct forcing you to bat at him through denim. Your lungs protest enough that you gag, forcing him from your throat and back to your mouth. You take a desperate, gasping breath as Eddie’s cock leaves your warmth.

Another slap, quick and harsh. “You made your choice, dummy,” Eddie says over the sound of your returning breath. He clasps his base again, driving back down your throat but granting you the blessing of thrusting, giving you half seconds to breathe around his dick when the tip finds your tongue again. 

Then he holds his hips still, hands covering your ears and bobbing your head like you’re a toy, made to move along his cock as he desires. The movement makes you dizzy, like your brain is knocking around your skull. “Fucking perfect like this,” he says. “Doing what you’re supposed to be doing, just taking my cock like a silly slut-”

Your nose meets the wiry hairs at the base of him with each aggressive push of your head, your eyes rolling back at the smell of him and the throb of his thick, perfect cock in your gullet. Everything now is just smell and taste and feeling. Nothing to think about, question or consider. 

You want to rub your cunt desperately, but your own body wouldn’t allow it unless Eddie were to suggest shoving your fingers in your panties. Instead, you ache between your legs and keep your jaw wide for him. Your cheek throbs suddenly with another slap, no longer a punishment, but just because the way you take a little violence makes Eddie’s cock twitch happily. 

“Who's fucking dumb, baby?” He asks, forcing himself down your throat again, waiting until you’re twitching and writhing. Below him, on your knees where you should be. “Who’s fucking dumb? Me or the slut who chose the taste of my dick over breathing?” He slaps your right cheek, crosses his hand over to slap the left. Your face tingles pleasantly. “Fucking-” Eddie presses forward, cock going no deeper, but just squishing his swollen balls against your chin. “Answer me, you stupid slut.”

You try. You try because Eddie told you to, but he’s blocking any sound that could hope to escape. The vibrations of your attempt at me, I’m dumb, travel up his cock and he groans. “‘M gonna cum,” Eddie pulls away, listens to the desperate gasp and the release of built up spit over his cock. He thrusts again, taking and giving you back his cock in quick succession, saliva dripping down his balls and covering your chin. “Gonna cum in your fucking mouth. All it’s good for. ‘S not for speaking, fucking talking back and insulting me, ’s just for sucking my fucking dick- shit!”

Eddie rests the head of his cock on your tongue, using the waves of drool you’ve given him to jerk his cock into your mouth. You moan happily the whole time, tongue finally able to do its job of licking at Eddie’s salty, smooth head for his pleasure. His cock twitches, throbs, and Eddie covers your tongue with ropes of his thick cum. You hold it, even when he takes his softening cock from between your lips. You open them to display it, a white pool in your pink mouth. Eddie huffs a laugh. 

“You’re not impressing anyone with that. Just swallow it, dummy.”

Eddie’s cum flows, thick and wet, down your throat. The final slap turns your face to the side with its impact, leaves your cheek almost numb, You press your face back into Eddie’s hand, body knowing it’s always his touch that you need more of, even if it hurts. You sigh blissfully, feeling good, used, and empty. 

“Come here, dummy,” Eddie says softly, throwing himself back on your bed and opening his arms with wiggling fingers. You climb into his arms without a thought, pressing your whole face to his sweaty neck. You lick a little, wanting another hit of the tastes his body provides. Eddie rubs a thumb over your aching cheek. “Feeling good?”

“Mmm.” Your clit is still crying for attention, your cunt has been leaking and ready for him since he pushed you to your knees. A faraway thought assures you that Eddie will get to that, once he’s eased you out of the headspace of degraded dummy back to his pretty, sweet girl who gets kisses between her legs for being so good and smart.

“This brain of yours, baby.” Eddie strokes your hair and kisses your temple. “You gotta learn to turn it off sometimes, you know?”

“Don’t need to learn anything.” You shift and squirm in your cuddle to find more of Eddie’s skin. “You do it for me.”

[megistusdiary]

hiii! can i be 🕊️ anon? anyway,, what about s/o!fem!reader x s/o!arlecchino short fic w/ reader being able to play an instrument, possibly the piano or a guitar. and then one day, arle comes home after a long day of work to find reader playing (instrument) in their shared bedroom, and arle just stands there and watches them and then when reader is done, they turn around to find arle smiling (mischievously) and melts, super embarrassed idk im having brainrot 😭 i NEED more arlecchino content. ive already read everything i found

hi, omg. yes ofc you can be 🕊 anon!! welcome to my blog ✨️

that's such a cute concept. personally, i'd like to believe arlecchino can play the violin or piano too, so imagine a future duet 🤭

imagine living together in arle's fancy home, and it's her piano in your shared room, and then she finds you playing, which makes it extra special, right?? 😁

also, girl, i HEAR you. literally only came back to writing because there was a serious lack of content for all the pretty women. someone's gotta do it 🫡 i hope this is alright for you

arlecchino x fem!pianist ⋆.࿔*

contents: fluff, wlw pairing, reader plays piano

arlecchino walked into the door with a million problems on her mind, as per usual. she was silent as she tossed her jacket onto a nearby chair, rolling her sore shoulders and neck, eyebrows still furrowed from frustration.

her thoughts were as tense as her muscles, only to relax involuntarily when she heard soft music coming from the bedroom.

she took careful steps, minimizing the click of her heels on the tile towards the beautiful music. she instantly recognized the piece being played; one of her personal favorites that she had memorized the sheet music for entirely.

the bedroom door was already open partially, allowing music to flood out into the hallway. she slowly pushed the door further open, completely silent as she leaned against the doorframe.

her eyes fell upon you at her grand piano, a rather expensive and elegant model. arlecchino often played in the evenings for you or vice versa, though she had never heard you play when you assumed you were alone.

the stress from her day's work slowly melted from her face with each press of the keys from your fingers. she admired how elegant you looked at this moment, how you seemed to be completely pulled into the music, so focused you hadn't yet recognized her presence.

the corners of her lips quirked up as you neared the end of the song, the part you knew was her favorite. subconsciously, you drew it out longer, causing her heart to swell within her chest.

once the song was over, the minute you turned around, you let out a soft gasp, nearly falling off the piano bench. "you scared me! how long were you there?" your voice was rushed, embarrassment clear on your face.

her arms were folded over her chest, a slight smirk on her lips. "nice to see you too. you play beautifully." she walks over to you, leaning down over where you sat.

the way you looked up at her so sweetly had her melting, tilting your chin up to kiss your forehead. "did you mean to draw that last part out, or did you forget how the song ends?" she teased as she leaned back up.

she relished in the way you turned away, ears heating up as you stood up from the bench. "ah, forget it! i'm all done! the piano is yours!" you huffed, stomping away, leaving her to chuckle dryly at your retreating form.

[immortalmsmoon]

Naruto General Headcanons

A/N: i have quite a bit of requests but i have no motivation to write person 5 I'm so sorryyyyy it might be a while before i post them. if you have any other requests though please make sure to send something in!

Cast Line Up- Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi

Naruto~

This kid has SO MUCH energy, but at a certain point in the evening he crashes so hard. Like you cannot get him to do ANYTHING because he's half asleep. 

Has broken his arm twice. The first time when he was like 6 he fell off a tree while he was climbing it. The second time he was splashing paint on the great faces and as he was coming down he hit his hand on the ground too hard. 

When he can’t sleep he sits on the roof of his apartment complex and stays there for a while, usually until the sun rises. 

Likes to paint his nails frequently, usually bright colours, a big fan of bright oranges and greens.

Never has chapped lips. No matter how dry out it is he just never gets them.

After the chunin exams he holds a deep adoration for Neji, because he was able to change his point of view and become better and stronger, and Naruto finds it really impressive. 

Sasuke~

Likes to draw, while he was in the academy he often found himself doodling on his work. If someone ever approached him about it he would deny them and tell them they were seeing things. 

Sometimes when he feels really alone, he likes to turn on his TV for background noise and deep cleans/rearranges his bedroom. He does this usually once a month.

Can play guitar, and does sometimes. It reminds him a lot of his family, specifically Itachi, so he usually keeps it locked in the back of his closet. 

A very avid reader. Has tons and tons of books.

Loves to stargaze. Spends a lot of nights, especially rough ones when he feels alone, watching the stars, usually in a tree or clearing. 

After he left the village, for the first few months he actually missed being there, and missed Naruto and Sakura’s theatrics. He got over himself pretty quickly though. 

Sakura~

VERY good at makeup, but because she's a ninja she rarely gets a chance to do it, because she usually sweats it off. 

Used to wish her hair was blonde because Ino has blonde hair, and she was incredibly popular. 

Very very flexible. 

Also has a very large sweet tooth, and will take most sweet food over savoury or sour food. Can also handle spice VERY well. 

Her legs are stronger than her arms, and she tends to use them more in training and combat. One of her favourite people to train with is Tenten.

Kakashi~

Hates ramen. Cannot stand it. It's been like that since he was a kid, and honestly he's not sure why, he just really cannot stand it. 

Has very nice hands. They are usually fairly soft because he hates how his hands feel when they're dry. 

Once tried to read a book that wasn’t Make Out Paradise and couldn’t even get past the second chapter. 

Very lazy. His ideal day is staying inside his house in a comfy robe and soft slippers reading the day away.

Insomniac, and very good at hiding it. His bags aren’t obvious, and if they are he covers them up with makeup.

Hates being fussed over, but secretly likes to fuss over other people. He can’t really help it, he’s just lost so many people that he has to fuss over the people he loves.

[goldengalore]

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

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a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[r3starttt]

Modern gf! Ellie hc’s

Warnings: few mentions of sexting and a bit of making out(?

She sucks at flirting, like…. bad bad. Before you started dating she couldn’t find any way to approach to you without getting all nervous and shit, she would try talk to you but couldn’t hold eye contact, she would be fidgeting with her fingers, staring at everything and everyone but you and being awkward af. Mostly doing small talk but thats how she got you lol

Also, she would try to find a way to know if you like girls. She would do anything but ask you directly, she would be looking on your social media like crazy because it doesn’t matter if you look gay af she believes that stereotypes and stuff are not trustful. Also would hint you that she’s into girls in all possible ways, anything but say it out loud.

Always wearing her converse, always. It doesn’t matter how much you insist on buying new ones or how hard you try to convince her on changing them, she won’t.

Definitely an iPad kid. Even though she doesn’t have much social media or doesn’t use it a lot she would always have her phone with her and would a hundred percent eat while watching streamers or random gameplays.

Adores minecraft and Fortnite ofc, she owns a xbox and loves it more than anything else. Also, absolutely wants to become a streamer but ofc no one lets her or supports the idea.

Sucks at texting, no one ever understands what she’s trying to say. She sends tons of messages, whether is her correcting the misspellings or just writing word by word or small sentences to tell whatever she’s trynna say.

Loves gossip, adores it, loves sending you messages and audios about it and will definitely call you randomly just for it.

Absolutely does sexting, a lot. She gets super horny at the most random times by the most random things. Also she sends you tons of pics of her without you asking but ofc you send pics back and she always saves them.

Has a backpack that takes everywhere and is full of pins (as any other bag she owns) also very crusty.

Loves teasing you, whether she’s just bothering you, telling you her dad jokes or even trying to make you horny (because she’s already needy lol) but she’ll always find a way to tease you.

Has a million sketchbooks that never gets to finish because she lost them randomly and forgets where they are. Also, draws you a lot.

Her Instagram is empty but definitely has a highlight just for you. She refuses to download tik tok too, until you beg her to because all the reels she sends you went viral months ago on tik tok and also because you want her to see all the tik toks you send her.

Leaves everyone on read, including you. If you get mad at it she would only answer with a 👍.

Loves pinterest and spotify, helps her with the inspo and also likes them bcs it’s social media where you don’t need to interact with people so it’s perfect for her. However she still prefers any other free app to listen to music because hates spending money on it.

Ken and Barbie guitar scene, all the time. She knows you hate being there for hours only listening to her playing the guitar but also knows how much you adore to have full perfect view of her hands and her tattoo :)

Slaps your ass all the time.

Adores legos, she would ask you shyly to have dates just to so you can help her do her lego or would call you so you can see her. So cute.

Is very very cheesy and romantic and dumb whenever she’s alone with you. Likes pet names secretly but won’t confess it because she makes fun of couples that are romantic in public because they’re cringy so she won’t ever admit how much she likes to be like those couples with you.

Likes matching outfits, again, secretly.

Loves messy make out sessions. Hates how your lipstick-gloss spreads all over her lips when you two kiss but loves the taste and loves your face so it doesn’t really matter. I repeat, she loves your ass, so eventually her hands get all over your body and this make out sessions would end in having messy sex.

Loves cuddling, probably small spoon. Also likes resting on top of you and you resting on top of her. Loves the intimacy of it, loves the warm and the calm.

She takes many pictures of you, every time you’re together she ends up with tons of pics of you two (just because you ask her to) but mostly pictures of you.

Has a minecraft world for you too where you two have millions of cats and parrots. She does the scary things while you pick the flowers and decorate the house (she insisted even though she gets freaked out at those random sounds at the caves). She gets killed a lot too.

Most dates at her house would end in her sleeping because movie is boring or she playing w random game and bothering you a lot with “this one’s for you babe” comments (she always loses) and always asking you to watch her play, showing you proudly whatever random trophy she won or what she just bought in the game. Also screams a lot and loves bothering kids.

—————

I want a gamer gf :(

[pinknightsinmymind]

to you, whats the biggest difference between abby and ellie? in a relationship and during sex

OOOOH i think this is a really good question!! bear with me bc this is kind of a long post, and i hope it makes sense? i hope you guys can understand what i'm trying to say lol. also, post is below the cut bc it is pretty long and there are some nsfw elements (nothing crazy but it is there). anyways, enjoy!

in relationships:

hear me out! i think the biggest difference between the two is the fact that ellie is an introvert while abby is an extrovert. i think it really influences the two and how they show their love.

abby is a huge extrovert. when she walks around the WLF base, everyone knows her, they stop to talk to her, and they feel an equal amount of respect and fear towards her. her presence is just so commanding, just so attention grabbing, because she just has that charisma about her, you know? in a modern!au, she’s probably extremely popular as well. her father’s a rich surgeon, she’s a talented athlete, a good student, and she just moves with this assuredness that guides everything she does. you’d think with all these things she’d be the biggest asshole ever, but she’s not. she’s far from it. she’s sweet, and a dork who likes to tell stupid little jokes. in general, though, she’s loud and proud about everything she does and cares about, and that includes you. she takes you out on dates everywhere, spoils you like crazy, wants to take care of you. abby would buy you whatever you want, whether it's paying for dinner, buying you a clothing item you've been eyeing, beautiful jewelry, new supplies for your hobbies, she'll gladly buy it for you. abby is an open book, and carries herself with a strong “what you see is what you get” kind of attitude. she doesn’t need to be coaxed out of her shell because she’ll gladly interact with any and everyone, and that’s where she and ellie start to differ.

now that’s not to say ellie doesn’t want to show you off or spoil you—because she does—it just looks a little different for her. she’s quiet and reserved at first glance, sticks to herself and her friends, maybe a little too closed off, but once you start talking to her, it’s like unraveling a mystery. there’s so much to learn about her, so many sides of herself she doesn’t show people. she has so many interests, and she’s so smart, too. you get wrapped up in her and her mind easily, so entranced by this quiet girl and finding out who she really is. you think she’s got a beautiful brain and personality, and it matches that pretty face of hers. she shows you off to her friends and family, and spoils you, of course, but with personable gifts that hold meaning to you, and there’s just a sort of quiet intimacy about how she shows her affection. modern!au abby would be obnoxious with PDA, kissing you, holding your hand, arm around you, just very obvious about it. she’s making a loud declaration that you’re hers, but ellie’s is more of a quiet/subtle dominance. the arm ellie has around your waist? the way her hand against the small of your back guides you? the fingers she has interlaced with yours? she doesn’t need to be loud to let other people know you’re hers, because they can just tell by the way she touches you, by the way she glares at anyone who stares at you a little too long.

now this is not to say there is no quiet intimacy with abby—because there is—it’s just a little different. for ellie, intimacy is those little moments kept close and shared only between the two of you. as an introvert, her love is grounded in quiet intimacy. the little drawings she makes you, the songs/poems she writes about you, showing you a new song she’s learned on guitar. she’s a huge homebody who likes to stay in and do things like parallel play, reading comics together, playing video games, movie marathons, things like that. she just loves quality time as a love language! on the contrary, abby loves to take you out and go on fun dates together out in public to show you off.

in addition to at home dates, ellie loves to bring you around her family (her adoptive dad and her older sister, sarah) because she’s just so proud to be yours and have you as hers. she loves bringing you to family get togethers because she's excited for her family to meet you and make you apart of the family, too. that's not to say abby wouldn't do the same, because she would, and she knows for a fact that dr. jerry anderson is going to LOVE you, it's just that for ellie she doesn't let people get close enough to her to meet her family in the first place. for ellie, love is being able to share the parts of herself she doesn’t normally let others see.

for abby, intimacy is in the little things. there is no need to peel back her layers to get to who she really is, because she’s forward about who she is and what she’s about to everyone. but what makes abby different with you is the subtle meanings behind the things she does. with a father who’s a doctor, she’s always been a huge germaphobe, so she doesn’t share her food or her drinks with just anybody. she also doesn’t just let anybody sit in the front seat of her car, she’s not quick to answer just everybody’s texts or phone calls, and in canonverse she’s sure as hell not nice to everybody. but with you, you just pull out that softness in her, and every action of hers just has a little something to it, a special meaning added to them, that can’t be applied to anyone else. and those private moments between the two of you? that’s when it becomes clear there’s something different in how she treats you, from her stolen glances to her gentle touches, all of it. abby’s main love language is acts of service, and it becomes clear that despite her loudness, her honesty, her openness, her love is really shown through the quiet, the unsaid, and the small things. sure, she shows she loves you to both you and others through actions that have loud declarations, but the ones that hold the most weight are the small ones only you are allowed to see and experience because they are special just for you.

when it comes to sex:

while i think both women are extremely sexy, i think there’s a huge difference with how the two women approach sex and express their sexuality, so walk with me here. like i said, both women are sexy, but while ellie just exudes pure raw sex appeal, just an intense sexiness, abby is sensual. ellie is magnetizing, and her charisma pulls you in and makes you do all the work of seduction. she prods you, teases you, flirts with you, but allows you to take the jump. she wants you to decide to kiss her, to put your hands on her, and wants you to initiate to see that you really want her as much as she wants you. that’s just part of her charm. abby, however, with her sensuality, is captivating, and while you are drawn into her because of it, it’s an equal push and pull between the two of you. her sensuality allows her to initiate, but it also allows her to be seduced by you as well. she openly flirts with you, tells you what she wants with you, but she wants you to do the same thing in return. she wants to feel your sexual chemistry, and she loves to create sexual tension. so while abby is not afraid to initiate if she has to, she wants you to have the bravery to do it, too. ellie, however, wants you to initiate the first move the very first time because she’s too scared to, and because she wants to be sure that she’s not imagining the way you look at her, the way you get shy around her, the flirtatious things you say to her. she couldn’t bear the rejection or finding out she misread your intentions, which is why she leaves it to you. however, after that first time, ellie’s not afraid to initiate anymore, and her boldness compared to her previous shyness surprises you every time. she becomes a different person, emboldened and confident, because she knows you want her, too. during sex, ellie carries herself in a way that is so calculated and confident, while abby is so languid, a total romantic to her core.

[spadesolace]

your guide to the y/n's in every newjeans fics

what is love! minyn: playlist

name: son y/n jangmi

age: 20

what their partner call them: baby / babe / babie

what they call their partner: darling

personality: quite the simp and a goofball but is working hard for her future (minji is in it, of course). very observant and quite the creative person when it comes to thinking of gifts for minji. aside from that, she is still head over heels for her girlfriend of 3 years.

likes: coffee, parks, reading (case studies most of the time), korean rnb, aquariums (has a collection of aquatic animal plushies in their shared apartment), and of course (loves) minji.

dislikes: people who don’t know their place “could you really blame me? have you seen minji?” and matcha.

who fell first? "me, but i waited until i was sure minji liked me back."

drag me down! hanyn: playlist

name: park y/n hari

age: 19

what their partner call them: loser / park

what they call their partner: nerd / pham

personality: the most reserved introvert there is, she has socials but little information can be taken there. is actually a nerd but won’t admit that to hanni. lowkey lazy when it comes to classes but somehow manages to stay on her top spot (if she wanted to, she would have beaten hanni long ago). is actually a big softie esp when it comes to her little sister (and hanni).

likes: iced americano “you’re really going to die early from that” “shut it, pham”, baked goods, anime (has an entire collection), lego, video games, reading, and hanni.

dislikes: liars and flying cockroaches.

who fell first? "not quite sure... pham never disclosed when she first realized that she likes me."

love you twice! haeyn: playlist

name: lee y/n

age: 17

what their partner call them: y/nn

what they call their partner: hae

personality: lowkey has anger issues that she let’s out on any physical activity (she’s lowkey muscular), but really is a golden retriever who overthinks a lot. quite protective and quiet in front of everyone except for haerin and hyein which shows how chaotic she truly is. if haerin is an introvert, she's a lowkey introvert but doesn't show it that much.

likes: going outside, playing sports, somewhere that won't make her feel stuck in one place, photography, making hyein laugh, but also taking care of her friends and haerin.

dislikes: cheaters. minwon specifically, also small spaces (a bit claustrophobic)

who fell first? "i think it was at the same time, i confessed first if we're going to base of that-"

midnight rain! daniyn: playlist

name: jeon y/n sol

age: 18

what their partner call them: moonlight

what they call their partner: sunshine

personality: a delinquent who loves to play the guitar and listen to music but also runs away at any sign of a problem or confrontation happening. a bit free spirited but that's what makes people either admire or despise her. you won't hear much from her as she has her headphones on most of the time. she has scary dog privileges when she goes out late at night for her date with dani. has a bunch of drawings of danielle and half of them have song lyrics as the title.

likes: drawing, writing, listening to music, her black cat that keeps her company most of the time, skateboarding, and danielle.

dislikes: confrontations, and dogs.

who fell first? "why would i tell you? ... jihye."

[fictionalcharactergraveyard]

hobbies you think the gang would have? BTW ILYSM🫶🥰‼️‼️

OMG I LOVE YOU TOO <333 (i sent u another req btw heheh)

Ponyboy

writing (duh)

reading

drawing

Johnny

drawing (thanks pony)

singing

acting

Dally

origami (man got bored in jail, ok?)

guitar

being a dick-

Darry

woodworking

scrap booking (he hides it tho)

chess

Sodapop

archery

horse riding

magic (he was 11 and never gave up on those dreams ok-)

Two-Bit

backpacking

can also play guitar

drinking-/j

Steve

writing

anything with cars

baseball

[softlyspector]

Bonus - Honeyed headcanons

Honeyed takes up far too much room in my mind, so here are some thoughts and headcanons (? is this the right word when its your own story? These are all canon events actually).

wc: ~700

Joel eventually gets a tattoo that Honey designs for him. You worry a lot that he doesn't actually like it, it's not actually good, etc. and tell him repeatedly that he does not have to get your silly little drawing tattooed. He tells you it is good, he does like it, and even if it were silly he has a tiny dinosaur tattooed on his shoulder, and it can't get much worse than that. You defend the tiny dinosaur, but Joel notices you seem reassured, finally. Ellie is the one to tattoo it.

You meet Tommy accidentally when he drives up from Austin and comes inside without so much as a knock. He finds you reading on the living room couch, and his only reaction is to smile and say "Oh, hey, you must be her," before he introduces himself. You spend the rest of the day thinking about that emphasis on her. It somehow never occurred to Honey that Joel talks about her.

Joel's main creative outlet becomes designing tattoos for you, even ones he knows you'd never get but thinks you'd like anyway, along with writing/finding songs for his daughters. Eventually you design something together.

Honey tries to teach Joel how to knit and it does not go that well. You try not teach him how to cross stitch next and it goes even worse. Still, you keep the first circle he finishes by himself.

I talked about this in another post but Joel turns into an iPad baby when you and the girls get him one. It takes him awhile to get used to it but once he does that’s it for him. He uses it for anything and everything, glasses perched on his nose.

Joel only stops grumbling about going gray after you tell him you like it, and find it really attractive.

Joel and Honey go fishing a lot. Usually you don’t talk during. You always go in the early morning to avoid the heat. It’s a nice excuse to stand close together, shoulders touching. Joel doesn’t try to mansplain fishing to you and you like to watch his hands while he reels the line in so it’s peaceful.

Honey eventually finds out Joel plays guitar. You have to beg him to play for you. It’s the one thing he’s ever really said no to you about. You try not to poke him about it too much, since you don’t know why he won’t. You do tease him about it a little.

Eventually he does play for you. One evening you’re on his porch and it’s dark and he just does it. Goes inside and gets the guitar, tunes it, and plays. After that he complies with any request to play any time you give it.

He refuses to sing to you. You suspect that’s reserved for children and animals and his daughters.

Joel and Honey are bad at seeing the value in their own work and creations. But together you manage it better because you each know how the other feels about the denial of the other's skills.

Joel can’t cook, you’re not so good at it either, so you eat a lot of things that can be baked, a lot of breakfast foods, and you go to Flu’s quite a lot.

You like it when Joel makes coffee for you at home in the morning. Joel likes it when you bring it to him from the shop in town.

After Joel kisses you for the first time, he notices you touch him a lot more. Just incidental little touches - brushing your hand along his shoulders and back, sliding your knuckles along his and linking your pointer fingers together.

One day, you come to him with something you found online. Exposure therapy. You explain that it's a way to try to combat touch aversion. And it breaks his heart. "There ain't anything wrong with you," he says. And you nod and say, a little embarrassed at his reaction, that you want to touch him. "You can want to touch me. Doesn't mean you have to touch everybody."

So, you do. And Joel let's you lead, at least most of the time.

It's only many, many years later that you find out that first painting of the doe with the bees hovering around her ears is you. It's only then that Joel tells you that, to him, deer symbolize you.