#anyway . i love doing these i love being nosy and seeing everyone’s lock screens and last songs 👀

[leetaehwan]

post a screencap of your lock screen photo, a screencap of the last/current song listened to, as well as the last photo of a celebrity that you saved in your phone

tagged by: @chanrizard and @njaems 💕

tagging: @snug-gyu @ambivartence @hyunebear @osungjun @seokmins @hotpinkhoshi @minchanz if u want ! 💓

[watchmegetobsessed]

WILDEST FANTASIES (part 8)

⚫️A/N: alrighty, i feel like its a part we have all been waiting for, so i won't keep you guys up any longer! the credits for the inspo of the last scene goes out to that anon who sent me a prompt about it, i really loved it and decided to use it 👀

⚫️PAIRING: Professor!Harry X Reader

⚫️WARNING: sexual content

⚫️WORD COUNT: 7.7k

SERIES MASTERPOST

Something is off with you, Harry can feel it. Your text yesterday about having fun was so out of the blue and he couldn’t really put the pieces together. He didn’t tell you about the farewell dinner so you couldn’t possibly know he was going anywhere. If he is being honest, he was contemplating canceling just to be with you for a few hours, if it’s even just sitting in his car in a parking lot, but then Nina asked if she could ride with him so he had to go.

He tried to text you a few more times throughout the evening, but you ignored them all and then sent him a vague reply saying you had a lot to study. He had no reason to question if you were telling the truth or not, but it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

You haven’t texted him all day and it’s odd not to hear anything from you for so long. He is starting to worry that he did something to hurt you or what’s worse, you changed your mind about him.

“Alright, the final assignment is due tomorrow, please make sure to upload it in time, I don’t want to read excuse emails all weekend,” he sighs as he finishes his second to last class of the day. Students start packing and chatter fills the room as he sits back to his chair to gather his notes as well. As everyone flows out of the room they say their goodbye to the professor and he smiles back at the warmly.

Grabbing his phone he checks the screen but sees no new message from you so he decides to text you again.

HARRY: Having a busy day? Anyway, I’m thinking about you. As always.

As soon as he hits send, he cringes a bit. Was it too much? Is it why you’re so distant? Because he is being too intimate and not at all casual?

He stares at the message thread for a while, waiting for the three little dots to pop up as you type, but you don’t even open the message. Groaning, he locks the phone and gathering his stuff he heads back to his office. Nearing the building, he notices your figure lingering at the entrance, you seem like you’re debating whether you should go in or not. As far as he knows, you don’t have any classes in that building, so the only reason why you’d be here is to see him. However, it doesn’t make much sense after avoiding his texts all day.

As a sudden idea, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials your number, hiding behind a tree from where he can see you but you won’t spot him. He watches you get your phone from your coat’s pocket, staring down at the screen for way longer than Harry would like you to contemplate answering the call and just when he is sure you’ll decline the call you finally accept it.

“Hey,” he hears your voice only through the line, you’re standing too far from him to actually hear your voice.

“Hey, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you all day,” he clears his throat, trying to sound as casual as possible. His eyes are glued to you as you move to the edge of the pavement so you’re not in the way of anyone passing by.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been pretty busy with studying and everything…” you trail off, kicking the dirt around, crossing your free arm across your body as you keep the phone at your ear with the other. Even from afar, you seem stressed and maybe even uncomfortable to be talking to him, but he has no idea what happened that changed the dynamic between the two of you.

“Are you sure it’s just that? Don’t mean to be nosy, but you sound a little off. You know you can talk to me, right?”

You stay still, staring down at your feet before he sees you shaking your head and running a hand through your hair. Now he knows something is up and he is determined to figure out what it is.

“Do I know?” you ask back and it’s like a punch in his stomach. “I mean, I didn’t know we were doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Like… the talking and… connecting.”

This is not making sense to him, last time you saw each other was in class and you were your usual self, but now… it’s like you’re trying to keep him at an arm’s distance for some reason, but he has no idea why.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he breathes out, panic rising in his guts.

“No, what are we doing?” you snap back and he sees how you spin around angrily. “I just…”

“Talk to me, please! Because I really don’t know where this is heading and it’s stressing me out.”

“That’s the thing, where is this heading, Harry? What is this exactly?”

“Is that what’s bothering you? That there’s no label on it?”

“Honest to God, I have no idea what’s bothering me exactly,” you admit. “It’s all just a mess in my head.”

“But what messed it up? You seemed alright just yesterday, did something happen?”

You hesitate and he fights the urge to just walk over to you and talk in person. It would look creepy though if he just appeared and talking so openly is not a bright idea either around here.

“Maybe… we should talk things out,” you offer and though it’s not an answer to his question, it’s still something he can work with.

“Yes, of course. Are you free right now?” he asks, his heart hammering in his chest as he stares at your figure in the distance. You glance up at the building and then turning around you start walking away, his heart sinking.

“No, not really. But I can drop by your office tomorrow late afternoon.”

“Alright, sure. If you want, you can spend tomorrow night at my place too, we can extend your stay,” he says, as you walk out of his sight.

“I’m not sure about that. But I have to go now.”

“Okay, take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

The line goes dead before he could look at the screen.

Keeping yourself away from Harry is like staying away from chocolate when you’re on diet. Torturous.

It’s not what you want, but you figured it’s what you need. Jealousy has been eating you away since you heard him and Professor Alvarez in his office and you know it’s immature not to talk to him, but you feel like you need time to think it through before actually having a conversation with him. His phone call surprised you yesterday, especially because you were just in front of the building where his office is, contemplating to see if he is there. Hearing his voice almost broke your tough act, you wanted nothing else than to throw yourself into his arms, but you need to be rational now.

You can’t jump into this head first if he is not even on the same page as you. You’re aware you never agreed that this would be something exclusive, that neither of you will be seeing other people, but it felt like you had a silent agreement.

Guess you were wrong.

Keeping yourself away for a bit from Harry was necessary because you didn’t want to act out of anger and pure jealousy, making yourself look like an immature baby. No, you want to approach the matter like an adult, a grown woman you want Harry to see you as.

Making it through Friday is a pain in the ass. You keep checking the time every five minutes even though you’re not meeting him until just late in the afternoon. You wanted to think out everything you’re gonna say and ask, but as the day carries on, your mind empties out and you have no idea how this is going to go down.

You’re still planning to go to Zion’s birthday party today, right after meeting Harry so you can just go straight to the bar and get shitfaced right away in case your conversation with him doesn’t end well.

When your classes finally end you rush home to change and get ready for the evening. You’ve already planned out what you want to wear and you’d be lying if you said the outfit was meant to get Zion’s attention. You’re more curious to see Harry’s face when he sees you in a black corset, a black, sheer long sleeve top underneath and your favorite tight jeans with knee-high, black boots. The corset is your secret weapon, only wear it on special occasions and today you want Harry to regret ever even thinking about another woman.

Is it petty? Probably, but you still want it.

You look hot. As you stare at your reflection in your full body length mirror, you come to the conclusion that if Harry won’t be affected by just seeing you in this outfit, he is not worth the stress and time you’ve been wasting on him.

“You’ve got this,” you nod at yourself before grabbing your coat and heading out.

Harry has finished his last class a while ago and has been sitting in his office anxiously waiting around for you to show up, unable to focus on anything. It’s been a struggle he’s been facing since you’ve came into his life for sure, he feels like a lovesick teenager having a crush and dreaming about her day and night.

But for fuck’s sake, he is thirty-two, a grown man, and yet, he still has his knickers in a twist even at just the thought of you, he needs to get his shit together. Hopefully, this situation will be sorted out today.

He fights the urge to text you to see if you’re already on your way to his office, he is not trying to look like a desperate loser though he definitely feels like one. Busying himself with sorting out one of his shelves, putting the books he doesn’t need into a box that’s been lying on the floor for weeks, he is able to get his thoughts off of you just for the shortest time. That is until he realizes he is standing right where he had you pinned against the shelves not long ago the day when you left your second writing on his car. He will never forget the way you begged him to just think about giving you a chance. He was so close to fucking you right then at that moment, just press you against the shelves, have your legs hook around his hips and pound into you. Nothing has ever needed that much of his self-control in his life and if only Nina didn’t interrupt the moment, he would have snapped.

Now that the turning point has happened and he has had a taste of you, he is hooked. Completely intoxicated by you and he hasn’t even fucked you. He knows that when the moment comes, it’ll be the end of him.

When he hears footsteps approaching his office he knows it’s you. He is not sure if it’s because he recognizes your steps or it’s just a sixth sense he has developed to always be aware of your presence, but he takes a deep breath running a hand through his hair right when he hears the knocking on the door.

“Come in!” he calls out. The doorknob turns and when the door opens and he sees your figure behind it, the air gets caught in his throat.

The corset. The damn corset. He is not sure if he wants to rip it off of your body or wants nothing else but that on you while he fucks you until you forget your own name.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you walk inside, closing the door behind you, taking a few steps further into the room, seemingly feeling out of place.

“Hi! You look… uhh, you look amazing, Y/N,” he says as he can’t take his eyes off of the way the corset pushes your breasts up, the swell of them on showcase through the sheer top. His mouth salivates.

“Thanks,” you nod, chewing on your bottom lip and he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth curls up the slightest.

Rounding his desk he gets to the front of it and leans against it, hands holding onto the edge as he looks at you, not quite sure how to start this.

“So, will you tell me what I did that upset you?” he asks softly.

“You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have,” you start, thinking your words through carefully as you speak. “I guess I just put things into a different lighting.”

“Do you mind explaining that to me? Because I’m a little lost right now.”

Before you could answer, your phone starts ringing and letting out a sigh you fish it out of your purse, seeing Zion’s name on the screen.

“Just give me a second,” you tell Harry as you answer the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, when are you planning to arrive?” he asks, judging from his voice he is quite enjoying himself, maybe he has already started pre-gaming for the party.

“Um, not sure, I have to take care of something quickly.”

Harry catches most of what Zion says on the other end of the line and he is not at all pleased that you’re talking to another guy when you’re supposed to be talking to him. Jealousy bubbles in his chest and it clouds his mind more than he could control. Clenching his jaw, he keeps listening to your conversation.

“Do you need a ride? I can get one of my friends come and get you if you want.”

“No need, I’m alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind. Can’t wait to see you!”

“Thank you, see you soon. Bye,” you say quickly before ending the call. When you look back at Harry you see the change in him loud and clear. The way he stands, how he is looking at you, it’s not how he welcomed you just moments ago into his office.

“You’re seeing someone tonight?” he asks, the sass in his tone is impossible to miss.

“I have plans,” you nod shortly.

“With the same guy from the gala?” he cocks his head to the side and you don’t like the attitude he is giving you right now, as if you did something wrong.

“Yes, I’m seeing Zion tonight. Is there a problem with that?” you sass back.

“So you’re seeing the guy you were on a date earlier. That says a lot,” he nods pursing his lips and you already know where this is heading.

“I told you, that wasn’t a date. And you’re the last one to hold shit like that against me, Harry.”

“What does that supposed to mean? I’m not parading around dressed like this, begging for every man’s attention on campus!” he snaps and he regrets his words the moment they roll off his tongue. It was harsh, way meaner than he intended, but he can’t take them back and the look on your face now feels like a punch into his stomach.

“Well, that was a nice way to call me a whore, thank you. I’m out of here.”

You turn on your heels and march up to the door as Harry calls after you frantically, but you have no intention of stopping. You came here with a plan to talk it out maturely, you mustered up all your courage and rationality to have this conversation in an effective way and he threw that right out the window, so now you have to get away from him before you say something you might regret.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” he calls after you, but you don’t even react. “Fuck,” he mumbles as running back to his desk he grabs his stuff, locks the office and bolts after you.

You’re out of the building by the time he catches up with you and now that you’re out in the public, the situation just became a lot more limited. Harry finally reaches you and grabbing a hold of your arm he pulls you back, turning you around.

“Hey, don’t walk away when we are having a conversation!”

“It’s not a conversation I want to keep having, if you haven’t realized,” you snap back, but realize you should keep your voice down before someone catches onto what’s happening.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? It came out entirely wrong, I just…”

“You just what?” you hiss back at him. “You just assumed shit about me from the tiniest fraction of information and didn’t even let me explain myself!”

“It was a mistake, okay? Can we actually talk this out? Because—“

“Hello, Professor Styles!”

A group of girls walk past the two of you, interrupting the heated conversation. Harry’s jaw clenches as he takes a tiny step away from you, shooting a tightlipped smile towards the girls.

“Hello, Brooklyn,” he grumbles, nodding his head. The girls seem giddy by getting noticed by him and you want to claw their eyes out seeing the way they are gawking at him. The two of you wait in silence until they are out of hearing range before he leans back closer to you.

“Come to my place, we can talk there.”

“I don’t have the time,” you answer right away, keeping up the tough act.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re gonna be late to meeting him,” he growls, his eyes on fire as he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Or what? Feels shitty when you’re not the only one, huh?”

He picks up on the spite in your tone, but he can’t put the picture together just yet. However, he knows he has to get to the end of it or he’ll lose his mind.

“Get in my car, now,” he orders and starts walking towards his car that’s parked near the building, in sight from where you’re standing. You follow him to the car, but don’t make an attempt to get in and Harry notices right away. Walking around the vehicle he opens the passenger side’s door and looks around to make sure the air is clear before he steps so close to you, his chest is almost pressing up against yours. “Get in there or I’ll do it myself, Y/N. I don’t fucking care who you’re trying to fuck tonight, we’re gonna have this talk.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the threat and it definitely ignites a fire between your legs. You hate yourself for loving it so much when he is so dominant and bossy, makes you want to fall to your knees for him no matter what.

Running your tongue over your lips you keep eye contact with him for a few more seconds before climbing into the car. Harry shuts the door angrily and the sound of it makes you jump a little. He gets behind the wheel a moment later and you leave the parking lot in complete silence.

You feel like a kid who got into trouble and her dad had to come pick her up, but it’s ridiculous, because you didn’t even do anything. If someone is in trouble, it should be him for going on casual dates with Professor Alvarez and then getting mad when you’re seeing other people as well, even though you’re not interested in hooking up with Zion again, he is genuinely just a friend.

Arriving to Harry’s house he parks down without a word and gets out of the car, heading to the front door without even checking if you’re following. The childish part of you would love to throw a tantrum for the lack of attention, but you’re also very confused about what’s gonna happen now. Folding your arms on your chest you drag yourself after him, reaching him just when he opens the door and he holds it open for you to walk in first, still a gentleman. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here last weekend, but it still feels like it’s been an eternity since you sucked his dick while the pasta was boiling that evening.

You shimmy yourself out of your coat and drape it across the back of the couch and you lean against it as well, staring back at him, waiting for him to make the next step, because he was the one who basically dragged you here like an absolute caveman.

Harry has gotten rid of his own coat and he is now standing a few feet away from you, hands on his hips as he is seemingly trying to figure out what to do or say.

“What did you mean when you said it feels shitty when you’re not the only one?” he then finally asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze. His stare is so intense, you have to look away from him, because you feel it in your guts.

“I meant that it’s bold of you to get mad at me for spending time with someone else when you’ve been going on little dates with Professor Alvarez.”

“With Nina?!” he asks in confusion and you hate it that he calls her by her first name.

“So she’s just Nina to you, huh?” you scoff, though deep down you know you’re being petty.

“She is just a friend of mine, Y/N. I thought we were over this, that dinner was nothing but something to pass time with while you were here that day.”

“I’m not talking about only that. I heard the two of you the other day, don’t try to lie to me,” you spite back, finally looking at him as your anger bubbles in your chest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t go to dinner with her on Wednesday, I heard her in your office, when you talked about going together and how excited she was about the place you were going to,” you scoff, mocking her voice as you speak.

“Y/N, we did go to dinner, but not just the two of us. It was Dr. Kennedy’s retirement dinner with a bunch of other people from the department!”

All blood rushes out of your head as you realize that you’ve fucked up. Big time. You were the one to assume first from hearing just a few words of a conversation and it didn’t even occur to you that it was something entirely different than what you thought.

“Well,” you start, holding onto the remainder of your pride, “I might have been wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that she wants more than just friendship from you.”

“First of all, she doesn’t,” he replies and you roll your eyes at him, he is such a blind, gullible man. “Second, if she does, that has nothing to do with me, because I don’t want her like that, we are just good friends, won’t be anything else.”

“Oh, so you can spend time with people who want to fuck you, but I can’t?” you point out pursing your lips, pretending to be thinking hard about how all of this is fair.

“But I never fucked Nina! You can’t say the same thing about your little friend!” he snaps back.

“And what does that have to do with you, huh? We never even agreed on what this is, you don’t have the right to tell me who I can meet!”

“We never agreed because you never even gave me the chance to bring it up, you’ve been fucking avoiding me for days, telling me you have shit to do when you’re literally in front of the building when we’re on the phone!”

“You fucking saw me?” you gasp. “And you just pretended like you didn’t?”

“I wanted to see your reaction, because you weren’t saying shit to me,” he throws at you. “Turns out you were being distant because you were reconnecting with your fuck buddy!”

“I’m not trying to fuck Zion! The only person I’m trying to fuck is you!” At this point, you lose your temper and throw all your plans out the window to keep your cool and be mature. “I’m going insane thinking about you with anyone else, because why wouldn’t you want someone else, we never agreed that it’s exclusive and I’m not a mature, hot, age appropriate professor you work with, I literally had to beg you to even give me a chance! I’m trying to save myself from the pain for when you’ve had enough of me, when you get bored of me!”

With your chest heaving, you unload all your fears and doubts you couldn’t get rid of. In the meanwhile, he just stands there, completely still, staring back at you with his lips slightly parted.

“I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m so afraid that once you get what you want from me, you’ll just… throw me away.” By the end of the sentence your voice dies down and you stare back at Harry trying your best to hold your tears back that are threatening to spill. It’s the reason why you were so bothered by the thought of him and Professor Alvarez spending time together, because deep down you’ve convinced yourself that he would choose her in a heartbeat and you’d end up with a broken heart, because your feelings for him are more than just a physical attraction and it scares you that he might not return these feelings.

As you stare at Harry, you’re afraid this outburst just ruined all of your chances. That this is going to be the moment when he tells you to leave and never talk to him again and that will be the end of it. You’re bracing yourself for the worst, your insides trembling as he just keeps staring at you without a word and it’s making you lose your mind.

And then it all happens so fast.

One moment you’re about to start crying, the next he closes the distance between the two of you and his lips crash down against yours, hands grabbing onto the back of your thighs, urging you to jump and you obey blindly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

You forget everything you just unloaded on him, the only thing that matters is the way your body is pressed up against his, his fingers digging into your thighs, lips devouring yours and his tongue is classing against yours violently. He is rushed and wild, not holding himself back at all as he starts walking, but you’re too busy kissing him back to check where he is taking you.

A moment later your ass lands on something hard and when he pulls back, gasping for air, you realize that you’re sitting on top of his dining table.

“Y/N, I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. You’re making me go crazy. If you think that I could even look at another woman, you’re out of your mind.”

With a growl, he is back at attacking your lips and you can’t hold your moan back as he jerks you forward, your core meeting his groin and you can already feel him hardening in his pants. His hands rush to the top of the corset, but with his mouth on yours he can’t figure out how to get it off of you.

“This fucking… thing,” he breathes out, tearing himself away from you as he focuses on the corset.

“They are just like bra hooks,” you chuckle out of breath, showing him how to get it off. Once he gets the hang of it, he is quick to unhook the whole thing and it falls from around your abdomen, leaving you only in your sheer top. The corset has enough support that you don’t need a bra underneath, so your breasts are now on full display in front of his greedy eyes. For a few long minutes, he is just staring at you, his breathing still rapid and heavy and then his gaze snaps up to meet yours.

“And you were gonna meet another guy like this?”

“Well, I had the corset on, so—“

You don’t get to finish, he kisses you again, hard, and he is quick to rid you of that sheer top before his mouth moves down the column of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin until he reaches your breasts. He is leaning onto you so much that you’re almost lying on top of the table as his mouth covers your nipple, a deep moan rumbling through your chest at the feeling of his lips and tongue on you.

“Fuck! Oh my God,” you gasp for air, his hand kneading your other breast, pinching your nipple to rile you up more.

“Do you still want to meet your friend? You want to leave, Y/N?” he asks against your skin, eyes flickering up to you as he watches you come undone underneath him.

“No, I just want you!” you whine, so desperate for him like never before.

With a hand on your chest, he pushes you down until you’re actually lying on top of the table, he straightens up and takes a moment to just look at you, topless, completely gone for him. It’s a sight he could get used to for the end of time.

He takes off your boots, though mentally he is already thinking of the time he’ll fuck you in them and only them. Throwing to the side he unbuttons your pants and drags them off you, leaving you in only your simple black thong. It’s not as fancy as the one you had on last time you were here, but you couldn’t care less about your lingerie right now.

Feeling a bit too exposed with him still fully dressed, you involuntarily move an arm to cross over your chest, but he is quick to stop you, his hand wrapping around your wrist to keep it by your side.

“Don’t even think about covering up. I want to see what’s mine,” he growls and you gasp at his words.

His. You’re his.

“I want to see you too,” you beg him, maneuvering your hand until you can lace your fingers together with his, squeezing it.

Licking his lips, he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he pulls back and takes his t-shirt off, revealing his naked torso with all the tattoos you want to trace with your fingers until you know them by heart. Keeping his gaze on you, he unbuttons his pants and takes his sweet time tugging them off, leaving him only in his boxer briefs, his cock deliciously hard against the elastic fabric.

Hooking his fingers into your underwear, he pulls them off of you, throwing it behind him before his hands push your knees apart, exposing you fully to him.

“This sweet little cunt has been stuck on my mind 24/7 these past weeks,” he murmurs, bringing a finger to your pussy, slowly running it between your wet folds, teasing you with how gentle he is when all you want is to be ruined by him. “I don’t want anyone else to even think about having you like this. I want to be the only one.”

“You are the only one!” you gasp, when he starts to draw circles to your sensitive clit, smearing your arousal across your soft skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N? Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Please!” you cry out, when he pushes one single finger into you, knowing how crazy he is driving you with not giving you what you want. Deep down you know it’s kind of a punishment.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, professor! Please, fuck me!”

“Good girl, knows exactly what I want to hear,” he smiles at you wickedly before he leans down and brings you joy with that perfect mouth of his.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp, because he is not holding back on you, sucking and licking as if you were his favorite treat. Boys you’ve been with kind of just pretended like they knew what they were doing when they went down on you, but Harry is a fucking professional, could make you come with just his mouth and tongue in minutes.

You cry out in pain when he stops abruptly, but you don’t have much chance to protest, he scoops you up from the bed until you have your arms and legs wrapped around him and he takes you straight to his bedroom while you kiss him wherever you can reach, his neck, jawline, biting his earlobe gently before he throws you to his med, climbing on top of you, his lips crashing down against yours right away. Running your hands down his back, you grab onto his ass, bringing him closer to you, both of you moaning when his erection presses against your wet cunt.

“Impatient, huh?” he growls against your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“This foreplay needs to end,” you breathe out, making him chuckle, but it quickly turns into a moan, when you bring a hand to his crotch and palm him through his underwear. Hooking your fingers into the elastic, you drag it down just enough to free him and while your hand wraps around his cock, he gets rid of the last piece of clothing he was wearing. Holding himself up above you, his head falls forward, forehead resting against your chest as you start pumping him, imagining what it’ll feel like to finally have him inside of you.

Harry reaches to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. His cock slips out from your hold as he kneels up, tearing the package open with his teeth. He watches you intently as he rolls the condom on and you’re on the verge of passing out, that’s how badly you want him. This moment has been keeping you on the edge for so long now, it almost appears like another of your fantasies.

“I’m only doing this if you tell me you’re mine. I will not be sharing you with anyone, Y/N. I’m a very jealous man, if you haven’t realized it.”

He just stares down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he holds his cock with one hand, ready to finally take you.

“I’m yours. All yours,” you gasp, your hips buckling at the sight of him. He exhales sharply through this nose, his hand that’s not busy with his cock grabs onto your thigh and he digs his fingers into the trembling muscles.

“Fuck, you are ruining me, Y/N,” he breathes out as he lines himself up with you, but only pushes the head inside. He stops and then comes back on top of you, his chest pressing against yours as his lips capture your mouth in a searing kiss, his hips moving forward slowly as he fills you up entirely.

“Oh my God,” you moan into his mouth, his big, thick cock stretching your walls out slowly and he gives you time to adjust to his size, staying still as he kisses your face all over, murmuring sweet nothings as you focus on your breathing.

“You’re fucking perfect. So perfect for me, Y/N. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

His hand squeezes your hip, moving up your side and ribs, kneading your burning body as you finally feel confident that you’ll be able to take him.

“You can move,” you tell him, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“I’m gonna start slow,” he tells you, his lips brushing against yours and you nod. “And then I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

Just as the words roll off his tongues, he pulls back and thrusts forward again, starting off in a slow rhythm just as he promised. You pull your knees up and hook a leg around his waist, your heel digging into his perky ass as the muscles keep flexing with his movements.

When you thought about this moment before, you were convinced you’d freak out at least a bit, feel like it’s all just a dream, but now that it’s actually happening, you’ve gone to a zone where nothing else exists, just you and Harry.

“Fuck, you’re so big, Harry,” you moan, when he starts to pick his pace up a bit, his hips slapping against yours in a sturdy rhythm.

“Bigger than you imagined, hm?” he growls into your neck before biting the soft skin under your jaw.

“So much bigger!”

Hooking an arm under your left leg, he lifts it until he can put it to his shoulder, reaching a whole new angle now, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. It’s like you were made for me,” he moans, his stray curls falling to his forehead as he keeps pounding into you and he is so deep inside you with each thrusts that your orgasm is threatening to set you on fire sooner than it ever happened.

“Harry, I’m gonna come!” you warn him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Come for me, baby. Want to feel you come so I can give you more,” he urges you, his mouth capturing your lips in a greedy kiss and relief rips through your insides, your walls tightening around his cock as he keeps fucking you, even when you scream his name. “So fucking pretty, I want to see you like this every day,” he pants as you try to catch your breath and he stops for a bit, letting your leg drop from his shoulder so he can wedge himself fully onto you, kissing you deep and hard, still inside you.

You’re seeing stars, this was better than any fantasy you’ve had of him, and it’s not even over yet.

Harry pushes himself up and you whine painfully when his cock slips out of you. You’re still sensitive after your orgasm, but also ready to take whatever he is about to do to you.

“Turn around for me. I want to see that pretty ass,” he tells you as he sits back to his heels, giving you space to move. Your muscles protest as you roll over to your stomach, getting yourself up on all four, your ass sticking up to the air for him and Harry swears he has never seen anything prettier than that. Your delicious ass, your wet folds and pink, glistening pussy, waiting to be fucked just by him. He could cry.

“If only I knew you’ve been sitting on this ass in my class…” he sighs as he kneels up, his hands kneading your ass cheeks, admiring the view in front of him, even giving it a smack, making you gasp at the impact.

“What would have you done, professor?” you coo, glancing over your shoulder and you almost squirm as you see him there, behind you, watching you with a hunger in his eyes you’ve never seen.

“This,” he growls and with one swift movement, he thrusts into you.

Grabbing onto your hips he starts off in a quick pace this time, not bothering to build it up like before. Now he is going rough, his hips slapping against your ass every time his cock buried balls deep inside you.

“Go as hard as you want,” you pant, even though your thighs are aching and you just know his fingers are digging into you so harshly, you’ll have marks on you in the morning. But it doesn’t matter, all you want is to please him better than anyone has ever, to leave a mark in him so he’ll never forget you.

“Y/N,” he grunts as one of his hands come to your back and he pushes you down until your face presses into the pillow, your knees slipping out from underneath you, but you try to keep your ass up for him as he fucks you so good. He holds himself up on his hands on either side of your head and brings one of yours behind you until you reach his hips and hold onto him while he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harry, I’m getting close again,” you gasp, feeling your second orgasm building up in the pit of your tummy.

At your words, he pushes himself up and off of you, but this time he pulls you with him, your back smacking against his chest, your skin sticking to his as your sweat mixes. He wraps his arms around your abdomen, the two of you working together to find the best position possible. You settle on his lap, arching your back so he can still go deep inside you, your head falls back to his shoulder and his hands come up to your breasts as he starts thrusting again.

“God, Y/N, I can’t fucking believe you,” he moans, sucking in your throat, your whole body shaking at this point. “You’re mine, all of you. Mine.”

“Yes, Harry! Oh my—Ah!” You reach behind him with one hand, grabbing onto his hair harshly while your other one comes to his thigh, the roughness of his hair feels so good underneath your palm, you dig your fingers into the muscles almost exactly where his tiger tattoo is.

“Come for me again, Y/N!” he grunts and you turn your head until your lips could meet his, just when your relief washes over you so suddenly, you forget to breathe for a moment. “Oh my God, I feel your pussy tighten around me, so fucking good,” he cries out and as you remember to breathe again, his thrusts fall out of rhythm and he comes, hard and loud, one hand groping your breast, the other one clasping your stomach as he holds onto you desperately, your mouths melting together, his moan becoming yours and vice versa.

At last, he stops moving, but stays inside of you, and once he has caught his breath, he starts peppering the side of your face, your neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You feel like a ragdoll, your limbs are sore and your pussy is completely destroyed, but you’ve also never felt better.

Harry carefully pulls his softening cock out of you, a whine slipping through your swollen lips as he maneuvers the two of you until you’re lying comfortably on the mattress.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He gets rid of the used condom, throwing it to the little bin next to his night stand before he cradles you into his arms and you gladly cuddle to his side, laying your head onto his chest. As you’re mindlessly drawing around his butterfly tattoo with your finger, a smirk tugs on your lips, growing wider and wider with each passing moment while Harry’s hand is gently rubbing your naked back. Lifting your head you look at him, your chest practically bursting from happiness.

“What got you so smiley?” he chuckles softly, his hand coming from your back to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

“You.”

“Okay,” he smirks.

“So… what does all of this mean?” you ask the question that didn’t get discussed before he jumped at you.

“I’ve told you I’m not the type to do casual. I don’t want that with you either.”

“Then what do you want?” you ask cheekily.

“All of you,” he answers simply.

“So like… I would be your girlfriend?” you ask, feeling like a giddy teenager who is about to have her first boyfriend.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I want you to be mine.”

“And you would be mine?”

“Absolutely,” he nods, a warm smile spreading across his face as he cranes his neck and you push yourself up until your lips meet in a sweet, chaste kiss. Laying your head back to his chest you sigh happily, you still haven’t wrapped your head entirely around everything that just happened, but it’s slowly settling inside you.

Your hand wanders down his stomach until you find his cock that’s already stiffening again. This man has the stamina of an athlete in his twenties, it’s unbelievable. Driven by a sudden idea, you push yourself up and straddle him with a coy smile.

“What are you doing, hm?” he hums, hands coming to rub your thighs on his sides. You wrap a hand around his cock to help him get fully hard as you bore your eyes into his.

“I want to do something. And I want to do it raw. I’m on the pill and I trust you,” you say, giving him the chance to protest. You would have told him to ditch the condom earlier, but you were so in the zone, you couldn’t have gotten a word out.

“I trust you too,” he nods and then watches you as you lift yourself up just enough to position him to your entrance and then you slowly ease yourself down, his cock filling you up again.

“I’m gonna spell out who my pussy belongs to,” you smirk, biting into your bottom lip as his eyebrows rise up curiously.

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles and you nod. “Okay, let��s see then.”

You steady yourself, hands on his abdomen on either side of the butterfly tattoo before you start moving your hips carefully, a moan slipping through your lips from feeling him moving inside you.

“H…” he murmurs the first letter and you keep moving. “A...”

“Mhmm,” you giggle softly.

“R… R…”

“Very good,” you praise him, gasping as your walls tighten around him while you draw the last letter out with your hips.

“And… Y.”

“So, who does my pussy belong to?” you ask coyly, lying down on top of him, your chest pressing against his while he is still inside you. His arms come to wrap around you as you cup his face in your hands. Harry pulls his knees up and starts thrusting upwards, his uncovered cock gliding perfectly inside you.

“Mine,” he breathes out. “All mine.”

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

[orange-waterfalls]

I Call This One: Bold & Brash!

The egos x artist! gn! reader

ty @pokemonpunqueen for the request!

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m gonna write for the egos when I can’t think of anything else or I need practice writing lmao. I mean I was doing that before? But I didn’t know it? listen it’s fine it’ll be fine but FOR NOW I thiiiink I’m gonna take requests. Just a few. I’ll stop when I think it gets too much. This is exactly what it says. I focused on like drawing/painting for “artist”, with some references to animation thrown in there. I did Darkiplier, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Google, Eric, and a Host thrown in there bc I love him and I miss him

Word count is 1.5k

Enjoy

Egos x artist!reader

Darkiplier

He’ll want to commission art from you

He makes comments about how Mark is a narcissist but also he’s a narcissist.

Oh look, Dark’s asking you for another picture. What does he want? He wants you to draw him? Again? For the fifth time this fucking month? Wonderful.

He likes looking at how you make art of him, be it stylistic or realistic

He will hang them up all over the fucking house so pace yourself

He’s fine if you draw anybody else

Except Mark. Never Mark. How can he tell, you ask? No fucking clue, but he does

Gets a bit worried that you won’t make enough money to live comfortably

Just because not everyone needs a fucking MANSION-

Will always buy things for you if you ask

Likes to be able to support your job or hobby

Sugar daddy? I mean maybe

Makes sure you eat, sleep, drink water, survive--

Leaves snacks for you at your desk for when you don’t want a meal.

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep at a desk

Recommends you wear comfy clothes at all times so you can fall asleep wherever

A bit of an enabler, he’s doing his best tho

If you take commissions don’t be surprised if he threatens to kill someone when they don’t pay or are rude to you

He loves you, that’s all

Wilford

Fucking elated

Draw him!!! Please!!!! Please draw him!!!!! He has coin!!!!! He can pay!!!!!

Ecstatic if you actually draw him like he’ll giggle for an hour straight just looking

Secretly commissions more art from you

So also sugar daddy

It’s always something so obvious so you know it’s him anyways

He likes bright colors and eyestrain for some reason

If you make that, he just. Stares at it. Unblinking. You have to snap him out of it (im not projecting what do you mean)

Gets extremely worried about you not taking care of yourself

Gets someone to fucking babysit you when he’s gone so you take care of yourself

When you get greatly offended by this he settles for texting you reminders

And when you ignore those he texts more

Don’t be surprised if you get spammed by several people and an alarm starts to play from somewhere in the house

You’re gonna be healthy whether you like it or not, asshole

Drags you to bed aggressively

He WILL NOT drug your food with melatonin because that’s illegal. B U T-

He’s a little confused, but he got the spirit

Will advertise your art to anyone and everyone and also on his show and threatens the audience with a gun

AGAIN, a little confused. he just wuvs u so much 

Yancy

I mean technically he’s kind of an artist too so he appreciates your skill and creativity

He’s very nosy and likes to look over your shoulder while you work

If you don’t like him doing that, he still does it, just more secretively

Likes to work in the same room as you. 

That is if you don’t mind constant singing or tap dancing in the background

He shows off your art to anyone and everyone and gets mad if they don’t immediately say it’s fantastic

May or may not have stabbed someone over it, you’ll never know

If you show him something you’re working on, he’ll show you something he’s working on in return

The law of equivalent exchange

You tell him you can make MONEY from things like art and dancing and he goes apeshit he gets so fucking excited

If you’re like an animator and offer to animate his dancing he might actually cry

He’ll deny it constantly every day until he dies

If you make things traditionally he hangs them on the wall Everywhere

You might run out of room

By which i mean you will run out of room as soon as possible

Will never tell you a drawing is bad ever unless it’s like Really Bad which it never will be in his eyes

He loves anything and everything you do u are so precious

You have a permanent support system within the man

Google

Used to see art as pointless

Then comprehended the chemical release it causes in the brain and thought that was fine

Then saw you get really mad with something you were working on and got confused again?

If art no make good chemical, why art?

He still doesn’t understand, but that’s ok

You tried to get him to make something once

He just. Kinda. Made a buncha ones and zeroes

You still framed it and hung in on the wall and he got embarrassed

If he could blush, he would

If you draw him he looks like he doesn’t care but it’s at that point he decides he would die for you

Primary objective: answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective: make u happy. Tertiary objective is to destroy mankind

If you draw bing that will disappear IMMEDIATELY you have BETRAYED him

If you ask for a color palette recommendation he Always says the google colors. Always.

You might’ve thought he was going for an rgby type of thing. But then you realize.

He is in charge of your financing. He will tell you the most efficient ways to make money as an artist and you follow then

He is also in charge of making sure you FUCKING EAT A MEAL

“But isn’t an objective to destroy mankind?” shut up he’s not happy about it either

Despite his best efforts he loves you and that ain’t gonna change

Illinois

Doesn’t fully understand

He needs to be outside at all times and cannot stay in one place

And you’re like??? Required to stay still???? For prolonged amounts of time????? Disgusting. Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?

He might ask you to try and teach him

If you do try he gives up almost immediately

Sometimes you just get so into it that you forget to do basic things and he gets upset

(i.e. eating, sleeping, living, etc.)

He gets worried about you

He is a hypocrite bc he does the same

He will drag you to bed, motherfucker

Honestly he might lock your shit somewhere until you fucking take care of yourself. it’s like a hostage situation god

“Where the fuck did you put it” “I have no clue what you mean. I might know if you eat your dinner, though”

Asshole (affectionate)

Sometimes you like make faces when you try to draw a person and it’s hilarious and cute to him

He looks at your drawings the moment you walk away but acts like he doesn’t care

He cares a lot

Will support you no matter what but will also tell you without hesitation if he thinks something looks shit

Listen he’s out of line but he’s right

Eric

Loves you a lot and will support anything and everything you choose to do or make

Drawing? Awesome! Painting? Wonderful! Animation? Superb!

He often wants to buy you supplies or something but he does not know what anything is

Fuck is a chalk pencil???? What are gel pens vs normal pens?????? Watercolor????? What the fuck are you saying??????????

Will subtly drop hints that you could,,,, draw him,,,,, maybe,,,,, if u wanna 

And by subtly I mean he starts to ask and then starts crying

If you draw him he will cry again he loves u so much 

If he ever were to get a tattoo it’d be something u drew. Nothing else is as important to him at the moment

He enjoys photography and film, and likes to try and bond with you over artistic things

I mean. Some things overlap.

You could talk about a single drawing for hours and he’d listen intently the whole time

Don’t ask him for feedback, it’s always some version of “it’s perfect and I love you”

Even if he hates it

Which,,,,, he might hate it sometimes

He’s not a good reviewer. 2/10, very biased

He likes to take photos when you’re in the zone

If you tell him to delete them he will

While secretly making one his home screen

Host

Hey, he gets it

He writes, he understands the hyperfocus

Sometimes he wouldn’t move from his chair for a day because he was busy writing a script

That being said, you probably have to be the one to get him to take care of himself

Or you have to take turns

Otherwise you’re both gonna fucking die

He asks you to describe your art to him and tries to picture it.

He’ll tell you if he thinks it probably looks good or bad

You shouldn’t take it to heart because he can’t see it

He is a bastard sometimes

“Well, what do you think?” “I think it looks fantastic” “Thanks, babe” “...” “... you think you’re fucking funny, don’t you”

He asks if you can draw him sometimes

No, he won’t see it, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment if you do

He will ask for your opinion on his scripts sometimes

If you say it’s bad he gets really defensive

You work in the same room a lot of the time and forget the other is there

One of you has to preemptively order food or like set a timer so you can goddamn Survive

You’ll be fine

[bungeenomin]

COMPETITION- KIM DOYOUNG

genre: e2l doyoung x reader 

word count: 5.2k

summary: your entire life, your neighbour has been nothing but competition. from as soon as you had the ability to form an opinion on people, it was engrained in you to hate kim doyoung. but can you still hate him when you reunite as adults after getting hired under by same company? is he still competition?

warning: oral (m+f receiving), dirty talk, sex

a/n: feel free to send me requests, asks and leave feedback!

main masterlist

from when you were a kid, you were taught to hate the kim family. ironically, both your parents and mr and ms kim pretended to like each other. they acted like they didn’t completely despise one another, but they knew they did, everyone did. the feud was so petty, you’ll admit. your families constantly competing with who was the richest, who had the nicest car, who had the better education, who’s children were more talented. no matter how petty you knew the feud was, it was ingrained in you to hate kim doyoung with all your being, and that’s exactly what you did.

when your parents and the kim’s pretended to get on, you and doyoung never dared speak to each other. in both of your eyes, you were just competition, feeding into your parents on going feud. as you sat glaring at each other at dinner meals, your parents would brag back and forth about how amazing their dear children are, constantly trying to one up each other and get the last word.

you didn’t hate anyone, you thought hating was harsh. but kim doyoung was different. you had deep, deep hatred for him. your only conversations were cold, offensive, hateful. he was an obstacle in the way of your success from the day you were born until the day you moved away for college. he was nothing but competition.

December 5th 2020

“good look today my love” your mother beams through the phone, full of pride. it’s your first day at your new job, an extremely well paid job, a job to make your parents proud of you. 

“thank you mom but i have to go now, being late on the first day wouldn’t leave a very good impression” you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you. “i’ll fill you in later mom, okay?”

“yes, yes of course!” your mother enthusiastically responds. “your father and i are so proud of you, talk to you later”

you sigh, locking your phone. you love your parents, you really do, but sometimes they can be intense. too intense. in their minds, everything has to be perfect first try. according to them, successful people leave no room for errors. they leave no one pass their level of success. they get distracted by no one, keep their eye on the prize. 

the building is exactly the same as you remember it from your interview, extremely large, but not too difficult to find your way around, signs and directions places frequently throughout the building. “hello, my name is y/n, i start working here today” you confidently tell the receptionist. 

“ah yes” she responds, “one of mr lee’s new recruits”. one of? clearly multiple people were taken on at once, not that it’ll be a problem to you. “follow me, i’ll lead you to where the rest are waiting” she smiles softly, walking you down a corridor and into a waiting room. “mr lee will be with you shortly!” 

there are four or five people in the room, you assume all starting work today, but your eyes lock on one person. kim doyoung. after what, five, six years? he looks the exact same, slightly better skin with more prominent facial features. he wears a slick black suit. classic. he can’t help the cold chuckle that leaves his lips the second his eyes land on you, eyeing you up and down in the process, judgementally. the last thing you expected was to see him here. after all the years you spent competing with him, you never thought that you would be back at it again after college.

“long time no see” he mutters. 

you roll your eyes, “yeah, pity, i finally erased your ugly face and shitty attitude from my memory and now i’ll have to start all over again” 

doyoung chuckles leaning closer to you, “ouch, i’m hurt. well now you have plenty of time to watch me beat you, like i always have done”

“you fucking wi-”

“hello everyone, nice to meet you all as employees and not applicants this time. as i’m sure you’re aware, i am the ceo of this company. i take great pride in my company and only hire the best of the best, people who i know will aid my companies success”

“shame he hired you then” doyoung whispers. 

“now, i am a busy man, but that does not mean i won’t see if people are slacking. If you are slacking, you get one warning. If you continue to not put in one hundred percent, you’re fired. it’s as simple as that. i will constantly be able to view your work, so i expect everyone’s full effort. i believe i pay you very well for your job, so expect it to be done well. anyway, with that being said, welcome to the company! i hope we can all do great work together” 

as soon as mr lee finishes his introductory speech, you are brought to your offices. it is one big room but fortunately, there are walls between each desk, allowing for privacy to work. you notice there is someone in between you and doyoung, which you are eternally grateful for, you really don’t know how you would be able to work to the best of your ability knowing he’s beside you. 

it doesn’t take you long to get stuck into your work load. quickly setting up your desk to your liking and turning on your computer. honestly, the morning goes really fast. with the work load you have, you’re constantly busy. what distracts you slightly is when you see a familiar face walk to mr lee’s desk, handing him a stack of papers he was working on, ready for mr lee to read. “thank you doyoung, i appreciate your hard work already”. with that doyoung turns to go back to his desk, not before looking your way and sending you a sarcastic smile. fucking idiot. 

by the time lunch rolls around, you’re just excited to try the food that is served in the cafeteria, everything looking and smelling delicious, leaving your mouth watering. once you get your food, you sigh in defeat as you look around for a table to sit at, only to be left disappointed when you see they’re all full. your eyes slowly pan the cafeteria, looking for anywhere you can possibly sit, until your eyes land on a free seat, beside the one and only, kim doyoung, who’s sat quietly on his phone as he eats his lunch. him working here is going to be more hard than you thought. 

“can i sit here?” you question. 

“gosh y/n, looks like you’re a little obsessed with me huh?” doyoung replies, a smug look on his face. 

“you fucking wish. i wouldn’t come near you unless it was absolutely necessary, which unfortunately, it is. there’s no other seats” 

“whatever” doyoung rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone as you take your seat. arrogant prick. 

“so” doyoung speaks up amid the awkward silence, “how has little y/n been?”. to anyone else, they would think he was being nice, but you know he’s just nosy. prying into your business as usual. 

“i’ve been great. i graduated top of my year in university, got to travel a lot. all good things” you reply, a smug expression on your face. 

“you know y/n you should really get the stick out of your ass, it’s very unprofessional” doyoung replies, him now wearing a smug expression as yours drops. 

“oh fuck you doyoung”

“i’m sure you’d love to sweetheart” 

the rest of the day went relatively fast, without any more encounters with doyoung, thankfully. before you know it, you’re back in the comfort of your own apartment, relaxing with a glass of wine. you’ve already informed your parents about your first day, causing them to almost burst with pride. what throws them off slightly is the mention of doyoung. ‘don’t mind him’ you mother advised. ‘don’t let him get in your way’ your father informed. not that you intended to take notice of him, certainly not intending on letting him get in your way. 

December 14th 2020

working with doyoung is proving to be a lot harder than it seems. he’s very, in your face. always chiming in with his opinion and what he thinks is right. his presence alone gets on your nerves, let alone when he opens his mouth. to everyone else, he seems like a great, hardworking guy, but to you, he’s just in your way. a headache. an inconvenience. 

“doyoung these files are for you” you sigh standing at doyoung’s desk with your hand extended. 

doyoung looks up from his desk, taking the files from your hand and flicking through them. “no they aren’t” he nonchalantly responds, handing them back to you. 

“doyoung why the fuck would i lie about something so stupid?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “these are for you”

doyoung sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “how do i know you’re not just loading your work onto me, hmm?”

“fucking hell doyoung why are you the most difficult person in the world? jesus. they’re yours. take them, if you don’t do them, it’s you falling behind, not me” you groan, once again extending your arm out with the files that doyoung insists don’t belong to him. as doyoung takes the files from you, your hands brush off each other swiftly, but it’s enough to make your cheeks turn pink to your dismay. 

doyoung chuckles slightly at your reaction to such a small touch. “are you okay?” doyoung questions, playing innocent. 

“of course i am” you respond sharply. 

“whatever you say darling” doyoung chuckles turning his attention back to his computer, leaving you standing there with your mouth hanging at his words. “it’s rude to stare y/n, am i that attractive to you?” doyoung asks, completely focused on his computer screen. 

“fuck off” you mumble before storming back to your office. that’s the thing about doyoung. he’s cocky. too cocky. always thinking he’s better than everyone, above everyone. thinks he’s beautiful. he makes you sick. 

doyoung doesn’t mean to stare. he honestly doesn’t. he catches himself doing it quite often though. the coffee machine is placed in perfect eye line of your desk. it just so happens that doyoung spends a lot of time at the coffee machine. he convinces himself that he looks in anger. you stress him out after all. you’re his enemy. his competition. he never gets caught staring at you, well, until now. “it’s rude to stare kim!” you shout at him from your seat when your eyes meet his, only earning an eye roll from doyoung. you giggle lightly at his reaction. you’ve always loved getting under his skin. 

December 19th 2020

you honestly thought your day was going great. there was very little traffic, no line at the coffee machine, you were way ahead on your work. That was until your boss entered your office, asking specifically that you and doyoung stay back a few hours to get through some work with him. of course, this is your worst nightmare, but who are you to turn down your boss?

“just wait inside my office” mr lee announces to the two of you, “i’ll be back in a few minutes i just have a quick phone call to take”.

the silence between both you and doyoung is severe as you sit in the two seats across from mr lee’s. you try think of something to say, literally anything, to break the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything. reflecting now, you and doyoung have ever had a casual civil conversation.

“doyoung can we just- can we just cut the shit for this?” doyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “we’re doing this with our boss, and the snappy comments and awkwardness is just gonna look bad, so can we just pretend we don’t hate each other for this”

“fine” doyoung snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing straight ahead, you doing the same. once again, the silence is deafening. it’s been a significant length of time since your boss left now, probably getting caught up on the call. “remember that year our families went to the lake together?”

you look across at doyoung, thrown back by his sudden conversation starter. “of course i do, it was a fucking disaster” you chuckle lightly, thinking back on the events.

“the literal worst” doyoung responds. “it felt more like family bootcamp than a break”. it really did. both of your dads spent the whole trip trying to one up each other, making sure their family was presenting themselves as best as they could the entire time. It was intense. 

“no, the worst was when our dads kept trying to one up each other on the jet ski’s” you giggle, “they literally just embarrassed each other”. at the time, you hated the trip. you felt tense the whole time, on edge. looking back now, you can’t help but to laugh at the mayhem. 

“they really did” doyoung cringes, remembering how hard his dad tried to show off his ‘jet ski skills’ when in reality, he was a complete amateur, just like your dad. 

“we beat you in the family tennis tournament though” you tease, remembering how happy you were with the victory. 

“oh whatever, as if i was gonna go hard on a girl. i’m way better than you” doyoung scoffs. 

“oh my god, remember when our dads decided to make a barbecue together!” you laugh loudly, your eyes welling with tears. 

“stop that was so bad” doyoung chuckles, “we just ended up with way too much food and they burned half of it”

once you both calm down from your fit of laughter. there’s a weird atmosphere. everything feels lighter. you and doyoung sit there for a minute, just staring at each other with silly smiles on your face. “i still fucking hate you”

“thank fuck for that” doyoung replies, rolling his eyes once again, playfully this time.

“i’m so sorry!” mr lee announces as he barges into the office. “i’ve kept you here for over an hour without doing anything. look, just go home for tonight i’m so sorry” the older man sighs.

you and doyoung ensure him it’s okay, before getting up and leaving, going your separate ways into the old december night. 

December 24th 2020

the usual christmas eve agenda didn’t even cross your mind when you started your new job. of course, your christmas eve will be spent in doyoung’s families house. this was typical of your families at christmas, the host house alternating every year. 

“merry christmas!” ms kim greets at the door, allowing you enter into her home. “go to doyoung sweetie, he’ll get you a drink” she suggests, extending her arm to the living room, where sure enough, doyoung was. 

doyoung’s eyes devour your figure as you stand in front of him. your dress hugging your figure beautifully, showing you off in all the right places. “your mom told you to get me a drink” you say, an eyebrow raised. 

“wine?”

“red”

soon after you giving your order and taking a seat on the now empty couch, doyoung returns, two glasses of red wine in his hand, taking a seat beside you. “don’t you want to go into the dining room with everyone else?” 

“do you really want to listen to them more than you have to?” doyoung questions, earning a giggle from you as you sip on the expensive wine.

“absolutely not” you reply, getting comfortable on the couch, facing doyoung slightly. “are you going to the new years party in work?” 

“mhmm. it’ll be nice. it also would leave a bad impression on the boss if i didn’t show” doyoung replies sipping on his wine. things are weird between you two since the day in mr lee’s office. it’s like something switched inside the two of you. maybe it’s because you’re speaking as adults now, not children. maybe it’s because you’re both independent of your parents. for whatever reason, you can’t find the same hatred you had for doyoung previously. “are you going?” 

“mhmm” 

“will you look as beautiful as you do now?” doyoung questions, tilting his head slightly sideways. 

“w-what?” 

doyoung leans in, so close to your lips, eyes stuck on them. you close your eyes, thinking doyoung was about to close the gap between, but instead he whispers in your ear, “maybe you’ll get a midnight kiss”

“doyoung, y/n dinner come on!”  

doyoung stands up, a smug smirk on his lips as he extends a hand to help you up. 

“You’re insatiable Kim Doyoung”

December 31st 2020 

the work new years eve party is going much better than you thought it would. everyone mingling, getting to know each other more than just ‘the person in the office beside me’. everyone is currently sat on the rooftop of the building, a cozy little set up. the addition of alcohol in the coworkers interactions allows them to feel a lot more casual and at easy with each other. 

“everyone it’s just time! come on” someone shouts from beside the large projector mr lee had brought up for the countdown. everyone rises from their seats, glasses of champagne in their hands as they walk towards the projector. 

“ten”

“nine”

“eight”

“seven”

“six”

“five”

you feel an arm sling around you wait. looking up your eyes meet doyoung’s.

“four”

“three”

your heart is pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to finishing the countdown, doyoung’s eyes remain glued on yours, like no one else is present.

“two”

you place a hand gentle on his upper chest.

“one”

“happy new year” doyoung whispers.

“happy new year”. before you can even process the celebratory screams and shouts around you, you feel a soft pair of lips against your own.

the kiss is so soft, delicate, lips gently placed together. you pull back slightly, looking up at doyoung, who rubs soft circles on your waist. you pull doyoung closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the body on body contact driving you wild. The kiss this time is harsher, needier, more desperate, your lips moving passionately against each other with such ease.

reality hits doyoung, remembering you are surrounded by colleges. he pulls back and whispers in your ear, “let’s get out of here baby, hmm?”

your back is against doyoung’s door the second you both make it into his apartment, doyoung’s lips attacking your neck, peppering it in kisses, sucking large marks all over. “mmh doyoung” you moan, tilting your head to the side, allowing the man have more access.

“jump” doyoung mumbles against your neck, tapping your thighs lightly as an indication, to which you comply. you jump, wrapping your legs around doyoung’s waist, him holding your legs up with his arms, his hands resting on your ass squeezing it as he begins bringing you to his room. “gonna fuck you so good” doyoung announces, nipping on your neck.

doyoung lays you on your back, him on top of you, not once detaching his lips from your neck. your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, signalling for doyoung to remove the garment. doyoung complies, pulling back to unbutton his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room. “your dress is so pretty baby, but i think it’ll look prettier on the floor” and with that, doyoung removes your beautiful red dress, allowing it to move to the floor, leaving you in your red lace lingerie. “fuck baby, you look so good for me” doyoung praises, already working on unclasping your bra.

the second your breasts are free from the confines of your bra, doyoung’s lips are on your right nipple, sucking on it harshly, flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub, leaving you a moaning mess. doyoung doesn’t neglect your other boob, messaging it with his large hand, pinching and twirling your nipple between two fingers. “fuck doyoung” you moan, grappling onto his hair, a small groan escaping doyoung’s lips in response, the vibrations against your nipple driving you wild.

doyoung trails kisses all the way down your stomach, making sure to leave his mark on the way. “you want me so bad huh? you’re a moaning mess for me already baby” doyoung smirks against your skin. 

“doyoung, i’m supposed to fucking hate you” you moan out as doyoung starts kissing along the lining of your soaking wet panties. 

“baby, we both know we’re passed that point now” doyoung chuckles as he pulls down your destroyed panties, proud of the mess he caused as he see’s your glistening folds, your juices starting to drip down your thigh. 

doyoung places open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking in all of you. worshiping every inch of your body, the whimpers escaping your throat being music to his ears. “mmh fuck doyoung” you moan as doyoung licks a stripe up your dripping folds, collecting your juices on his tongue. 

“taste so good baby” doyoung groans, dragging two fingers up your folds and bringing them to your mouth letting you taste yourself, airy whines leaving your lips as you suck on his slender fingers. “gonna make you feel so good” 

with no warning, doyoung shoved two fingers into your tight hole, a scream escaping your lips as he does so. “f-fuck doyoung faster” you moan, grabbing the bed sheets tightly. doyoung listens, picking up his pace, fucking your dripping core with his fingers faster than you can even process.

the room is filled with your load moans, your legs shaking as doyoung’s pace gets faster and faster. doyoung smirks at you before bending down and attaching his lips to your clit, gaining a scream from you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “doyoung i’m gonna cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto his hair tightly.

doyoung moans against your clit, sending you over the edge. doyoung’s fingers and mouth don’t stop as you reach your high, continuining to move the whole way through and continuing after, sending your body into shock. “fuck doyoung i came already stop” you moan, causing doyoung to finally let you calm down, stopping his actions and looking at you with a proud look on his face.

doyoung meets your lips again, placing a chaste kiss on them before whispering in your ear, “you haven’t even taken my dick yet angel”. you look at him with doe eyes, as you feel his hard dick through his pants rub against your stomach.

“are you gonna take me like a good girl, hm?” doyoung questions, tucking your hair behind your ear. you respond with a nod but that’s not enough for doyoung. “words angel. use them”

“yes doyoung”

“good girl” he smiles, placing another quick peck on your lips before leaning back to remove his now very tight suit pants and boxers, allowing his hard dick to slap against his stomach, earning a small whimper from you.

“sit up for me baby” doyoung smiles, extending a hand for you to take, helping you sit up. “knees angel”

you comply to doyoung’s request, getting on your knees for him, now eye level with his hard length. doyoung pumps himself twice before tapping his length against your lips, giving you the hint to open for him, which you do.

you wrap your mouth around his leaking tip, collecting his precum on your tongue, earning a groan from doyoung. you move your lips to the base of his length, dragging your tongue all the way back to the top from the bottom, following the vein the goes the whole way up. “stop teasing fuck” doyoung grunts, grabbing a fist full of your hair. “suck”

you once again wrap your mouth around his tip, but before you could move by yourself, doyoung shoves your head down his entire length, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. “pretty” doyoung smirks, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as you look up at him as he fucks your throat. moans and groans spill out of doyoung’s lips as your tongue works wonders on his hard length. a moan escapes your lips, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “enough”doyoung groans, pulling your head off of him, “i’m not cumming until i fuck you baby”

doyoung effortlessly lifts you up, laying you down in the middle of his king sized bed. “do i need a con-”

“no!” you reply sharply. “no i’m on birth control. you don’t need one” you blush at your quick response.

“fuck you’re perfect” doyoung groans, attaching your lips together for the umpteenth time tonight. you’ve had your fair share of kisses, but none of them feel like doyoung’s. his lips feel like they’re made for you. your mouths move in perfect synchronisation, making you feel so whole, so excited.

you moan against doyoung’s lips as you feel his dick against your wet folds. “doyoung please i need you” you whine against his lips, earning a smirk from doyoung.

“so desperate for me angel” he teases. “how badly do you need me?” he questions, teasing you more by just sticking the head of his length in you.

“mmh fuck so bad doyoung i need you so bad, please” you plead, eyes wide showing your desperation.

“good girl” doyoung kisses you softy before moving his hips slowly, moving inside you inch by inch until he bottoms out, both of you whimpering at the feeling. “ready?”

“yes please move” you whimper underneath him.

doyoung wastes no time in grinding his hips in and out of you, fucking you at a fast pace. “you look so pretty angel” doyoung praises, “i love how fucked out you look for me”

“f-fuck doyoung” you moan as he picks his pace up again, you grabbing onto his forearms. “fucking me so good mmh”

doyoung throws back his head in pleasure, your words making him harder and harder, snapping his hips more harshly into you. “you’re so tight for me angel. such a good girl. you make me feel so good angel. all those pretty moans”

doyoung’s praises earn a loud moan from you, digging your nails into his back. you feel doyoung twitch inside you, he’s close. “my good girl. you’re mine angel aren’t you?”

“mmh yes doyoung fuck, just yours, no one else”

doyoung brings his hand to your clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves rapidly as a string of moans escape your lips. “cum with me baby yeah?”

“mmh yes fuck” you moan loudly as you both reach your highs. loud moans from both of you bounce off the walls at your euphoric feeling. “fuck” you whisper as doyoung pulls out of you carefully, his cum dripping out of your hole.

doyoung throws himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face in gentle kisses. “my good girl. you did so good for me baby, so so good” he praises, moving your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you cleaned up my love, okay? i’ll be back in a second” he says, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead and walking to the bathroom. 

doyoung returns a minute later with a wet wash cloth, sitting in between your legs. “i’ll try be gentle angel” doyoung warns, earning an appreciative smile from you. 

“Ah sore, sore, sore” you complain as doyoung meddles at your sensitive area. 

doyoung pouts seeing your pain. “sorry baby, i’m done now”. doyoung throws the wash cloth in his laundry basket before climbing back into bed with you, something he hopes he can get used to doing. he pulls you close against his chest and plays with your hair, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t hold you tight. 

“doyoung?” you question, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“yes baby?”

“why did we spend so long hating each other” you frown. 

“well when we were kids, it was inevitable. but when i became a teenager, it was easier to still hate you than to admit my feelings for you” doyoung shrugs. 

“huh?” you reply confused. he liked you then?

“i liked you a lot when we were teenagers silly” doyoung chuckles. “you’re beautiful, you always have been, you can’t blame me!”

“so you were mean to me because you liked me” you scoffed playfully. 

“exactly” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“you know y/n” doyoung speaks, “when i liked you back then, i knew we wouldn’t get together while still living at home. i knew we were both too stubborn, and our parents would be too difficult. but i told myself that i’d wait for you. that in the future, we’d meet again and you’d be mine. now, i have you, and it was so worth the wait. 

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. the kim doyoung who caused you all that struggle and strife, has been waiting to call you his. wants to love you. wants to be there for you. “bold of you to assume i want to be yours” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“well do you want to leave me?” he responds with an amused raised eyebrow. 

“never” you whisper, connecting your lips once again, your new favourite hobby. 

January 1st 2021

you had the best sleep of your life last night, in the arms of the one you love. you had the best morning of your life, waking up to cuddles, kisses, breakfast, coffee. it was nice having breakfast with him, the small talk and jokes, it just felt so domestic. so normal. so right. 

“babe, they’re going to be staring at my neck” you pout, as doyoung takes the keys out of the ignition as you pull up outside your workplace. 

“good” doyoung smirks, “they need to know you’re mine”. with a quick kiss on the lips, you’re both out of the car, walking towards the company building. 

walking in to your work hand and hand with doyoung, your neck littered in hickeys from him feels so right. you’re proud to be his. proud to let everyone know. you get some looks from coworkers as you walk through the building, but you couldn’t care less. he’s yours. 

“i’ll see you at lunch angel” doyoung smiles, leaning up against your office wall. 

“that’s if you can resist me for the long” you giggle. 

doyoung rolls his eyes playfully, “brat”  

never in a million years would you have believed you would end up loving kim doyoung. up until two months ago, he was nothing but competition to you. an obstacle to you. now, you want to be with him all the time. you love seeing his head sticking around the corner of your office when he’s at the coffee machine. you love hearing him talk. you love seeing him thrive at his job, no longer seeing him as competition. after all these years, you and doyoung are on the same team. your own team, not your parents. telling your parents about your relationship will probably be, a lot, but you’ll go through whatever it takes for kim doyoung. now you have him, you’re never letting go. 

———————————————————————

@bubudays @uhyikesbro @whoe-dis @nctxtrash @junglewoos @ajhdr @obligatoryidolblog

[blu-joons]

The Boys Discover Your Relationship From Their Lockscreen ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

He quickly reached for his phone as he watched it light up, hoping no one could see the photo he had, glancing across at Taehyung. “I saw the photo; you don’t need to pretend to hide it.”

“Please don’t say anything,” Jin requested, glancing down at the message you’d sent, “I’ve not told anyone yet, I just wanted to give it a bit of time.”

“Putting her as your lock screen isn’t the best way to keep a secret.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have left my phone out in case someone spotted it,” he frowned, placing his phone back into his pocket. “It’s not that important anyway, it’s still early days.”

“You know that we’d all be happy for you, we’ve been encouraging you to date for ages,” Taehyung reminded him, resting his hand against Jin’s shoulder.

His smile softened, “I just don’t want it to get out, I thought having the photo as my lock screen would be a subtle way of maintaining the secrecy of it all.”

“Just do a better job of hiding it from now on,” Tae teased, “but I won’t tell a soul.”

“I’ll tell them all soon, I promise.”

Yoongi:

“That’s the girl you were with the other night?” Kook remarked as he glanced across at Yoongi’s phone as it lit up, smirking at his elder. “I thought you said that she was just a friend?”

Yoongi frowned, hiding his phone before anyone else saw. “She is a friend, but I guess she’s a little bit more than that too. Just, don’t say a word to anyone.”

“I knew there was something going on between you both that night.”

“It’s still early days, it’s only been a few dates,” Yoongi informed him, trying to keep him calm, “I just want to see where it goes before, I’m too hasty.”

Jungkook nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I promise to keep it quiet, I’m just so happy that you’ve found someone that makes you happy, she seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Yoongi clarified, feeling his cheeks darken as he thought about you. “For the first time ever, I’ve got butterflies with her.”

“I can’t believe you’re in love,” Jungkook joked, “are you going to get married? Have children?”

“We’re a little way off of that yet.”

Hoseok:

“Who’s that?” Jin questioned as he looked across to see what Hobi was doing on his phone, noticing a photo of someone he didn’t recognise. “Have you got a secret girlfriend?”

Hobi jumped when he realised someone was looking, placing his phone down. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too nosy for your own good? You shouldn’t be looking.”

“Why can’t you just tell us who she is, what’s wrong about that?”

“Because you guys always overreact about these things, I just wanted to keep this to myself for a while,” Hobi groaned, knowing how persistent Jin would be.

Jin frowned, noticing he was touching a bit of a nerve with him, “I know we all joke, but if you’re in a relationship, we’d all be supportive of you.”

“Maybe so, but I just didn’t want to scare her off with all of this, it’s overwhelming,” he admitted, looking around at the chaos in the room.

“We’ll be on our best behaviour, if we ever get the chance to meet her,” Jin teased.

“One day, I promise you can meet her.”

Namjoon:

“No way, do you have a girlfriend?” Hobi teased, throwing Namjoon’s phone across to him. “Sorry, it was ringing, I thought I’d get it to you in time, but then it cut off.”

Namjoon quickly took his phone and noticed the photo that Hobi was referring too. “Don’t start shouting, it’s something that I just want to keep to myself.”

“I’m calm, I promise. But I’m just so excited for you.”

“I’m excited too, which is why I just want to take things slow and gradually introduce her to everyone,” Namjoon informed him, explaining his decision to keep the secret.

Hobi nodded, understanding entirely. “I get why you want to do that, but just know what if anyone deserves to find love, it’s definitely you.”

“Thank you, I really feel like I have found it this time,” he smiled, looking away from him, “she just makes me really happy; I think this could go somewhere.”

“Then I will be happy to meet her whenever you decide to,” Hobi grinned.

“You’ll get to meet her soon, don’t worry.”

Jimin:

“Can you take a picture for me to upload?” Jimin asked Hoseok, offering out his phone to his elder. Hobi took the phone, but as he turned it around to take the picture, the screen went blank.

He quickly pressed the home button as the phone locked, noticing the photo that Jimin had set as his lock screen. “Who’s this then?” He asked, showing Jimin the photo.

“It’s nothing, I’ll just unlock my phone for you.”

“Have you got a girlfriend?” Hoseok continued to push, refusing to give him the phone, “why didn’t you tell any of us that you’d found someone.”

His shoulders shrugged, glancing down at the photo of you, “I just wanted to make sure it was something serious before I started telling everyone.”

“Putting her as your lock screen must mean you’re pretty serious,” Hoseok challenged him, passing him the phone, “do you really like her?”

“I really do,” he blushed, “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

“Then I’m happy for you, you deserve it.”

Taehyung:

His smile grew as Jimin walked into his studio, throwing his phone down to greet his best friend. “What’s that?” Jimin yelled, watching Tae’s phone flip and a photo come up.

“It’s nothing,” Taehyung quickly told him, grabbing the phone just in time before Jimin reached out for it. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Don’t change the subject, what was that photo of?”

“Please don’t make a big deal of it,” Taehyung sighed, reluctantly turning his phone to show Jimin the photo of you both, “does that answer your question now?”

Jimin shrugged, studying the photo closely. “Yes and no, I’m happy I could see it, but I’m not happy I’m being replaced, I thought I was your lock screen?”

“You were, but then I met Y/N. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I wanted to get to know her for myself first,” Taehyung informed him as he took a seat.

“I’m happy as long as you’re happy,” he quickly reminded his best friend.

“I am happy, she makes me really happy Chim.”

Jungkook:

He pulled his phone out as he found a corner of the studio to check through his notifications, pausing for a moment as the photo of you came up on the screen. “Hiding something?” Namjoon yelled.

He barged into Jungkook lightly who quickly hid his phone against his chest. “Why would you make me jump like that? You gave me such a fright.”

“I can tell when you don’t want us to see anything,” Namjoon reminded him.

His glare was cold, eventually getting Jungkook to show him the photo. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it, I just don’t need everyone to start teasing me.”

“I understand, sometimes it’s nice to keep these things private for a while. I know you’ll tell everyone when you’re ready though,” Namjoon comforted.

“It’s daunting introducing her to you all, I’d rather just let her get to know me first,” he continued, glancing down at your photo once again.

“Just do things at your own pace Kook, don’t worry about us,” he smiled.

“Thank you Joon, I knew you’d be understanding.”

---

Masterlist

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!! 

[missusk]

Rolling With the Punches (Raihan x OC x Leon) Commissioned by @poneshyay​ Commission info

~~ “Fritter, move,” Aminia huffed in exasperation, again nudging at the Appletun lounging in the middle of the walkway behind the counter. “I can’t risk dropping another dozen rolls.”

The Appletun let out a lackadaisical yawn as he bumbled to the other side of the walkway, though his large abdomen only left room for maybe a foot of space. Aminia rolled her eyes and stepped over her lazy Pokémon, careful not to drop the freshly baked rolls. As she set them into the glass case, she wondered that may have been Fritter’s plan all along – to get a free roll by tripping his Trainer and causing them to rain down from the platter. The woman chuckled to herself, pat Fritter on the head, then stepped into the back room to continue her work.

It was an early morning at the Biscuit and Fritter bakery, though the owner didn’t mind too much. The time before opening gave Aminia space to efficiently prepare for the day, and she was absorbed in her tasks until the front door opening caught her attention.

“I’ll be right with you!” she called from the back. The greeting was just a formality, seeing as she could count on three fingers who had a key to her bakery, and she was one of them.

“No need, Mini,” came a familiar voice, and Aminia smiled at the sound when she poked her head out.

“Hi Rai,” she said. “Give me maybe 5 more minutes? I can chat for a little bit before the shop opens.”

Raihan nodded and pulled out his phone, content to wait for his girlfriend to finish her opening duties. He did pluck Fritter off the ground though, since the Appletun was doing a great job of extending the shop-opening process. Fritter was happily snoozing on Raihan’s lap when Aminia stepped out - it was certainly a cute sight, but what really caught her attention was Raihan’s face. It was stoic with a cold anger, his eyes wide and mouth in a straight line – certainly not what she was expecting from her usually cheerful boyfriend.

“Rai?” she started as she rushed over. Raihan was still looking at his phone. “What is it, are you okay?”

Raihan didn’t speak, but instead held out his phone. There was a news article on the screen, its title in big bold letters:

CHAMPION LEON’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP?

Aminia’s heart dropped. What was just a warm and cozy morning smelling of fresh bread and sweet frosting was now suddenly dark, dank, and filled with dread. The three of them had successfully kept their relationship secret for this long, how on earth did someone find out? Raihan answered the unspoken question by rewinding the article’s accompanying video.

“Leon, Mr. Leon!” came a reporter’s tinny voice from the screen. “You’ve been invited to collaborate with Kalos’ Pokémon League – why?”

“The details are still in the works,” came Leon’s ever-friendly response, even to pestering paparazzi, as he waved to fans crowding around him. Something seemed off about him… his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his shoulders seemed stiff. While his cheerful tone could convince almost anybody, Aminia was not so easily fooled. She knew her boyfriend well, and for whatever reason, he was not liking the attention this time around…

“Is it because of a secret relationship with Champion Diantha?” the reporter pressed. “Are you visiting Kalos just to spend time with your girlfriend?”

“Aminia doesn’t live in Kalos, she’s got her bakery here,” Leon said absentmindedly as he tried to make his way through the crow. He stopped mid-track when gasps erupted around him.

“Who is Aminia?”

“Mr. Leon, is Aminia your girlfriend?”

“Leon! Champion Leon, are you in a relationship?”

“Leon!”

Leon quickly regained his composure, flashing a grin to the crowds. “I’ve got to get going, but more details about the collaboration are soon to come! We’ll definitely have a champion time, though!”

The frame froze, and Aminia and Raihan locked eyes. The only sound in the bakery was Fritter’s soft snores as the two processed what they both witnessed. Raihan was the first to react. He slammed his fist on the table, causing Fritter to leap off his lap in shock.

“Ugh!” he spat, standing from the table and pacing around the empty bakery. “It’s that rubbish reporter again! She always knows just what to say and when to say it to get everyone to spill their guts on accident!”

“What?” Aminia asked, standing as well. “What reporter? Rai, what are you talking about?”

Raihan stopped pacing. His eyes flicked around the bakery, never once meeting Aminia’s, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t until she gently took his hand that Raihan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“There’s been news about me having a girlfriend too,” Raihan mumbled defeatedly. “Same broad, she’s a nosy thing. That same reporter cornered me after an exhibition match when I was distracted, I let it slip I was going to my girlfriend’s place after.”

“When was this?” she asked. “And when was that video?”

“…Both were yesterday,” Raihan confessed, and Aminia let out a groan. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I know you don’t want the attention from the press. I tried to play it cool, but it turned out just as bad as Leon’s.”

After a few seconds and a deep sigh, Aminia regained her composure.

“Okay, that’s fine,” she said, slowly finding the light in the darkness. “This won’t be so bad. You just mentioned you had a girlfriend, and, well, Lee said my name and profession, but that doesn’t mean everything is ruined! Maybe no one will put the pieces together.”

Raihan’s scowl slowly shifted back into a smile, and after a roll of the eyes, he stepped over to pull Aminia into a hug. His chuckle rumbled through her, and he gave her another squeeze.

“I love you,” he said through a laugh. “Always so positive.”

Aminia squeezed Raihan in return, reveling in the feeling of her boyfriend’s arms. She let herself be held for a moment, before offering another squeeze then heading back to wipe off the front counter before opening.

Maybe it really would be fine. Yeah, some people knew her and her bakery, but who listens to news stories like that, anyway? It wasn’t even news, just tabloid rubbish. People always wondered if Leon and Raihan had partners, being that they were the most attractive bachelors in Galar, so this wasn’t really anything new, right? Minus the part where Raihan confirmed he had a girlfriend, and the part where Leon shared her name and profession…

“So, is anyone else here?” Raihan asked, his voice tearing Aminia from her thoughts. 

“Not yet,” Aminia replied. “The morning staff don’t come in yet.”

She didn’t pay the question much mind, until she felt something pressing against her back. She turned to see Raihan’s tall frame hovering over her, quickly bringing a blush to her cheeks when her eyes met the mischievous glint in Raihan’s. He was biting his lip suggestively, then leaning in, only for Aminia to turn.

“Rai,” Aminia mumbled as her cheeks flushed. “I’m on the clock.”

“You run the shop,” Raihan purred, whispering against her cheek. “Why don’t we take a quick break in the back?”

“Raihan,” Aminia said more sternly. When he offered her a puppy-dog pout, she let out a laugh, rolled her eyes, gave him a chaste kiss, then froze when a flash erupted from the front of the shop. 

They both whipped their heads to the source of the light, only to see a retreating reporter kicking up dust as she sprinted away. Aminia’s blood turned cold as the bakery yet again fell silent. 

“Shit,” Raihan grunted.

“Yeah,” Aminia agreed before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Maybe… it’ll be fine?” Raihan offered, though neither of them believed that. Their attention turned to a noise in the back of the shop.

“Rai, Aminia!” came Leon’s voice from the back entrance. “You in here?”

“Unfortunately,” Raihan called. They both quickly hid away in the back of the bakery, where a frazzled Leon was waiting for them.

“I take it you saw my slip up?” Leon asked guiltily, eyes flicking between the two.

“Not your fault,” Raihan replied quickly. “That reporter gets the best of anyone she talks to.”

“I’m sorry,” Leon said, stepping forward to give Aminia a hug. “Maybe no one will put the pieces together?”

“I said the same thing,” Aminia chuckled. “But looks like that same reporter followed you here. How long do you think it’ll be until-“

Aminia’s sentence was interrupted by a pounding on the front door. The three inconspicuously peeked their heads out of the back room, only for all their jaws to drop. Outside the glass doors stood a crowd of people, all peering in, standing on their toes, each trying to get a glimpse of the no-longer-as-mysterious girlfriend of Champion Leon and Gym Leader Raihan.

“My guess is not long,” Leon sighed. 

“So, shall I start making more rolls?” Raihan asked suddenly. “Looks like you have quite a few new customers.”

“I can frost the cookies,” Leon offered, immediately catching onto Raihan’s offer. “I’ve always wanted to use one of those frosting squeezer things.”

Aminia’s gaze flicked between her two boyfriend’s. While this wasn’t exactly how she was planning to start another day of business, their eager faces reminded her yet again of why she fell in love with the two. Her lips tugged into a smile, then she stepped up to offer both a kiss. After tying her apron securely, she stepped back, filled with a new confidence because of the men beside her.

“Let’s roll.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

Cafés, Croissants, and Captured Hearts

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When Loki stumbles into your café, he is completely enamored with you, but will he be able to conquer his fears and move towards hope and happiness? Warnings: long and fluffy A/N: This is inspired by some of the headcanons from this list by @thelokiimaginechronicles

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

Loki will never forget that fateful morning when he stumbled upon your café. The intense summer sun and accompanying smell of hot garbage made him desperate for a haven away from the bustling city. Sure, he could have stayed in the Tower for breakfast, but the constant presence of the Avengers weighed heavily on him. Even now that he was accepted, relatively anyway, he was often the brunt of the jokes at the table. Thor had assured him that the teasing was just a Midgardian form of endearment, but it irked Loki to no end. And that’s how he ended up in front of a little Paris-themed café on the corner of a New York street.

He stood staring at it for a good moment, fully aware this might be one of the little gems that few knew about. That would mean the few people stopping for breakfast or morning coffee would be sure to take note of him. This is exactly why he opted to frequent larger chains and restaurants where it was easier to blend in. On the other hand, maybe it would be just empty enough that he could stand the few hateful glares sent his way. Whatever happened, it would surely be better than the stares he was getting from being stopped too long. For a city full of people so busy with going about their own tasks, everyone sure was nosy.  

Hesitantly pushing open the glass door, Loki entered and was immediately hit with the delicious aroma of pastries right out of the oven and freshly ground coffee. Then his eyes locked with yours, which, he thought, were perhaps the most intelligent, kind, and radiant ones he’d ever seen. The few other patrons littering the numerous tables paid him little mind, more interested in their phones and the morning news playing on the television. He cringed slightly, thinking of how, not too long ago, they would have been looking with terror at his face on the screens. It made him even more thankful that they had indeed not cared about one more body in the room.

You, however, were an entirely different story. You had yet to look away from him and had obvious interest displayed on your face. It made sense, he supposed, as you obviously worked here. It was your job to care about the customers. There was nothing more to it, he reassured himself. As he approached the counter where you were, he held his breath, waiting for recognition to dawn on your face, and for you to yell at him to get out. Or worse still, cower in fear. A younger version of himself would have preferred the latter, but now it made him feel disgusting. Anger he could deal with, but the fact that someone feared a person as pitiful and worthless as he thought himself, only served to make him more anxious.

Your face remained unchanged as he approached, though. If anything, your smile got brighter, which was a novel thing for someone like Loki. He just chalked it up to good customer service. Desperate to avoid looking at you, lest you finally figure out who he was, Loki looked down at the glass case displaying all the baked goods. He was so nervous that he almost walked out, but the growl in his stomach kept his feet rooted where they were.

“What can I get you, sir?” you said.

Your melodic voice brought Loki’s gaze back to your face. Standing this close to you, Loki realized that it wasn’t just your eyes. No. All of you was beautiful. He felt his heart beat faster in his chest, but did his best to convince himself it was just nerves brought about by the unfamiliar setting. It was silly, he knew, that a god as powerful as himself should act like this. Sure, he put on a good act, but deep down he was ashamed of what he’d done. He thought it futile to care what others thought when he would only ever be viewed as a monster, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he was embarrassing himself in front of you. Heck, he hadn’t even answered your question yet. And he realized he was staring at you. You seemed to get nervous then and started fidgeting while waiting for his reply.

“I’m uncertain. What would you recommend?”

He internally cheered for making a coherent statement. Then curiosity captured him as he saw excitement spark behind your eyes.

“Well, if you’re interested in coffee, I peg you for a dark roast hazelnut kind of guy. And our bestseller is without a doubt the blueberry crumb donut.” You paused a moment as if weighing your chances before continuing, “But if you’re in the mood for something exciting, I suggest trying our fig and raspberry croissants.”

Loki was shocked to hear the last recommendation leave your mouth. It was as if you somehow knew what his favorite fruits were. You must have misread the look on his face, though, because you started rambling about how he, in no way, had to go with that and almost recited your whole menu before he interrupted you.

“No,” he said somewhat harshly, causing you to shut your mouth. He made sure to speak in a gentler tone as he continued, “What I mean is, I would love to try one.”

The bright smile immediately returned to your face. Though he was more of a tea person, he ordered the coffee you had recommended, too, in the hopes your grin would get even wider. You quickly made up his order and then busied yourself with something else as he sat down. You did your best to not look at him as he unwrapped the flaky pastry, but he noticed the glances you kept stealing. A most curious creature, he thought as he bit into it. His eyes immediately closed in pure bliss. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Somehow, it was even better than the delicacies on Asgard. When his eyes popped open, you were no longer trying to avert your gaze but, rather, were staring at him with wide-eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, another customer came in. Loki finished eating while you prepared their order. The croissant was flaky, but not to the point where it completely fell apart in his hands. The combination of the figs and raspberries in the filling created a sweet sensation with a subtle, underlying tartness. Not to mention the light glaze on top that tasted like heaven on your tongue. In other words, it was perfect.

He was still sipping on his coffee when you finished serving the customer, only for another to walk in. The cup was nearly empty now, but for some reason Loki stayed where he was. He tried to reason it out. It was simply that he didn’t much like coffee but didn’t want to seem rude by leaving some. Thus, it was only natural that he stayed and finished the whole thing. Yes, that must still be the reason why he was still sitting there. It had nothing to do with the fact that your eyes had pulled him in and had yet to let go, despite the fact that they were no longer looking his way.

Soon, the café emptied as the early morning rush ended, leaving the god alone with you. He’d almost convinced himself it was silly to stay when you walked up to him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. But there is something I simply must tell you,” he said, gesturing at the seat across from him.

You sat down, curiosity clear on all your features. He didn’t know what exactly it was about you that made him feel so weak in the knees. A book he’d read a while ago came to mind. The two characters set eyes upon each other and instantly fell in love. However, Loki wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight. But attraction? Perhaps.

“That croissant you recommended,” he said as apprehension filled your eyes, “was delicious beyond what words can describe.”

Once again, you smiled at his words. It seemed to Loki that, sometime in the past twenty minutes, it became his goal to keep that smile on your face.

“Really?” you gasped. “See, it was a recipe of my own invention, and I hadn’t gotten anyone to try it. Sorry that I used you as a guinea pig, though.”

Loki giggled at that. An honest to goodness giggle from the God of Mischief. He couldn’t help but wonder what spell you’d cast that bewitched him so.

“It’s quite alright. In fact, you used two of my favorite fruits. They’re right up there with pears.”

“You don’t say. Maybe I could convince you to try my spiced pear muffins sometime.”

After that, the two of you got to talking. And of course that led to you bringing more original recipes for Loki to try. From macarons to biscuits to pies, everything you brought him was delicious. And Loki enjoyed your company even more than eating the baked goods. When the thought finally occurred to you to introduce yourself, Loki knew he had to do the same. So, at the risk of ruining this haven he found, he gave you his name. Your eyes widened for a second in recognition, but not in horror as he expected.

“You mean, you’re the Loki of Asgard? As in, like, I’m sitting with an Avenger right now?” you asked with a shocked tone.

It was true, he supposed, that he was an Avenger. No one ever really referred to him as such, but he technically was a member of the team. He tried to tell you that, no, he wasn’t really a superhero or anything, but you insisted. You said that you saw on the news how he was protecting a group of children while the team was fighting some villain or another. It was a comforting thought to him that the producers hadn’t cut that out completely. A spark of hope ignited in his chest that maybe one day the rest of the world would notice his heroic actions, too. He felt it odd that this mortal before him could give him such a positive outlook for the future.

There were times when you had to get up and tend to the customers that wandered in and out throughout the day. You were by no means the most popular place in town, but you did well enough. Loki took the time while you were distracted to survey the rest of the café and, when you weren’t looking, you. At some point his eyes rested on a framed picture of a small child with an old lady.

“That’s me with my grand-mère when I was younger,” you suddenly said, coming up behind him.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you laughed. “After all, I have it out for everyone to see.”

“Well, it’s a lovely photo.”

You hummed in content for a second, obviously thinking back to when the picture was taken. “She passed away recently,” you finally said. “She lived her whole life in France—Paris, to be exact. Actually, the café is named after her. It’d be nice to open one in her home city one day. This may be stupid, but I think I’d feel closer to her. That’s not exactly in my budget right now, though. And you probably didn’t want to hear all that,” you finished with a nervous laugh.

“On the contrary, I’d like to know more.”

And so, you told Loki about anything and everything in between. And when you were done, you insisted it was his turn. He agreed to your requests, so long as he got to try some more of your food. He also admitted to you that he preferred tea and would love to try one of your blends. You obliged, seeing as you needed a second opinion on some of the recipes.

At some point, the sugar from all the sweets got to Loki, so you fetched some fresh fruit for him. Remembering that he liked raspberries, you grabbed a bowl and brought it out. As he ate and told you tales of Asgard, you felt your eyes drift toward his lips, stained red from the berries. Cheesy as it may be, you gently wiped away some juice from around his mouth. There was something magnetic between the two of you in that moment. He brought his hand to rest upon yours, which was still lightly placed on his cheek. Loki felt himself leaning closer to your lips, feeling your gaze on his own. But since life isn’t a fairytale, in the moments before you met in a kiss, a customer walked in. You hurriedly stood up to help them, almost knocking over your chair in the process.

By the time you returned to Loki again, he’d realized how late it had gotten. He’d spent the whole day in your company. And, for the first time in a long time, he’d enjoyed himself. Glancing at his phone, he saw countless texts from the Avengers demanding to know where he was since he was still on probation, so to speak. At least his brother’s messages had a hint of concern to them.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that I must take my leave.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. It was really nice meeting you.”

You looked as if you wanted to say something else but, in the end, decided better of it. He, too, had more words he wished to say, but didn’t know how to properly express them.

Back at the Tower, Loki indulged in Midgardian wine. Frustratingly, he never could get drunk off it, but it helped take the edge off. And right now his mind was a tornado of thoughts. Thoughts of you. Your hair. Your smile. Your voice. Your eyes. Oh god, your eyes. Never again would he see something as beautiful as you. In that moment, he made up his mind; he had to see you again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Loki prepared to visit your café once more. He put even more effort than normal into his appearance. It had occurred to Loki sometime last night that he had feelings for you. Somehow, in the short amount of time that he knew you, you had captured his heart. A weakness, he knew, but now that he’d admitted it, he couldn’t let you go. That meant he’d have to figure out the Midgardian way of courting. A question for his brother, he supposed. Luckily, he ran into said person on his way to the elevator.

“Greetings, brother,” Thor’s voice boomed as they stepped in. “Joining us this morning for breakfast, I see.”

“Actually no, I’m not.”

“Listen, if it were up to me, you could go out. You’ve more than proven yourself,” he said, thinking back to the times when Loki had saved his life on missions. “It’s just that the others aren’t as convinced.”

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t care. I want scones,” he lied, “so I’m going to have some. I don’t suppose you’ll be serving scones at this breakfast, now will you?”

“Well, no. But rest assured, Bruce’s frittata is delicious.”

“Did I say I wanted a frittata? No, no, I did not. I’m craving scones, so scones I will have.”

“But-”

“Scones, you idiot!” Loki snapped, losing his cool demeanor.

Of course, it was at that moment the elevator doors opened, so that the rest of the team could hear his outburst. Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He grabbed Thor by the arm and pulled him aside, where he begrudgingly told him the truth. Thor was ecstatic and let Loki go, assuring him that he’d cover for him. Before they parted, he offered Loki the most typical advice of “be yourself”. It made Loki want to gag.

Soon enough, he found himself back in front of the little corner of heaven that is your café. He paced back and forth while running a hand through his hair. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to think you’d want to see him again. What if he’d read the signs wrong? What if you were already seeing someone else? What if he was about to make a fool of himself? He wanted to run away. Loki was no coward, though, so he stepped into the warm dining room, looking a lot more confident than he felt.

The second your eyes locked on his, you broke out into that smile he loved so much. You greeted him like an old friend as a warmth spread through his usually cold body. Without him asking you to, you presented him with another croissant, this time with a pear and honey tea instead of coffee. You shyly looked away as a smile of his own graced his face. This was his chance. All he had to do was ask you out. Simple.

“(Y/n), I just wanted to say,” he began but trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For the tea. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Oh, sure. It was no problem. Just let me know if you need anything else. But don’t go expecting free samples every day.”

You laughed then, drawing his eyes to your lips. He remembered yesterday and how you’d almost kissed. Still, he couldn’t muster the courage to say what he truly wanted to. Once he finished eating, he contemplated spending the day with you again but didn’t think he could stand to keep failing at asking you out. He waved goodbye to you and walked to the door, when suddenly your voice called out to him from across the room, stopping him in his tracks.

“Loki?” you said. “Do you maybe want to go get a drink or something?”

“That, my dear,” he replied, “would be the best treat of all.”

You two shared another warm smile and made arrangements before he left. As he made his way back to the Tower, he was elated and couldn’t believe his good fortune. Maybe life was a fairytale, after all.

[gukyi]

for you, anything (post-script) | ksj

summary: in the midst of all of the coworker chaos over your newfound relationship, you and seokjin make a deal. 

{established relationship!au, friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: bts being annoying coworkers a/n: shoutout to @aurawatercolor​ for being so wonderful and for commissioning this drabble’s monster predecessor: for you, anything!! thank you for being so patient with me and overall being a good friend of mine. much love!

Here

“Back off, he’s mine!” You shriek, furiously mashing your keyboard buttons as your eyes zero in on your computer screen. Maintaining as much of a grip onto your mouse and keyboard as possible, you push your office chair towards Seokjin’s in a desperate attempt to get him to lose his hold by crashing into him, bumper-car style. You hear the scratchy fabric collide, a soft thud that ricochets you forward, almost like you had crashed into a fuzzy rock. 

Naturally peeved, you turn around to find your boyfriend completely unbothered, having moved barely an inch. And yeah, you weren’t great at Physics when you took it in high school, but you have a feeling that that’s not how Newton’s Third Law works. 

Unfortunately for you, the split second you spend glaring at the back of Seokjin’s head means that he can go in for the killing blow, sword stabbing through the warrior king on the screen until he collapses in a pool of video game blood. The sound of a death cry and a cheer echos from your computer speakers, and you groan. 

“Not again,” you say, exasperated. You toss your head back against the chair, eyes rolling upwards, just enough to make out Seokjin eyeing you, a smug expression written all over his face. “I told you I had him.”

“You just weren’t fast enough, I guess,” Seokjin says casually, bouncing out of his chair to gloat to you all up front and personal. 

“You better share all of the money and rewards you got from that kill,” you demand, poking a finger against your cheek. Seokjin kisses you gladly, wrapping his arms over the chair and around you as he rocks your office chair side to side. The benefit of working together in Kingdom is that you always have backup you can trust (unlike some other MMO games, one of which rhymes with Meague of Megends), but Kingdom was designed for loot to be collected by whoever delivers the death blow, and not split evenly among all parties. 

Lucky for you, your boyfriend happens to be both good at the game and willing to share all of his treasure. 

“Ew, gross, PDA at three o’clock,” Jungkook says loudly, his whiny voice interrupting you and Seokjin’s lovers’ quarrel. 

“Ugh, just because you guys can have a successful and empowering relationship doesn’t mean you have to rub it in all of our faces,” Taehyung adds with a huff. At least nobody’s singing playground nursery rhymes about the two of you anymore. Since when last did people actually sit in trees, anyway?

“Get a room,” Yoongi deadpans as per usual. His attitude has not changed even though the state of you and Seokjin’s relationship definitely has. You know you can always count on him to give it to you straight. 

“Hey, no making out on office premises,” Namjoon says, barging into the room with his glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater, one of those pastel cream ones that dads who golf wear (though Namjoon is neither a dad nor plays golf). He’s switched to an iPad in recent weeks, which, despite being much more environmentally friendly, is still not Namjoon-friendly, and he often has to troubleshoot basic things like the functionality of the Notes app. Not to mention, his place of employment is filled with twerps who love doing things like spamming his camera roll and locking himself out of his own iPad. You think the record is three hours, but give the device to Hoseok and he’ll get it up to a couple of days with ease. “You guys agreed to that when you signed the employee handbook.”

“You always think so lowly of us, Joon,” Seokjin chides, and since he’s everybody’s best friend, he’s the only one who can get away with doing that. “We were just talking.”

“And playing Kingdom,” Yoongi pipes up, quickly switching away from his Haikyuu!!! tab. 

“If there’s a rule against Kingdom in the employee handbook, you’d have to fire all of us,” you remind Namjoon pointedly. Not even Yoongi would be spared, even if he’s terrible at the game itself. 

“But if you did, maybe Jungkook could finally live out his dream of being an E-sports gamer,” Taehyung adds, sending Jungkook into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scoffs, “He’d have to knock me and Y/N out of first and second place first, though.” 

“But please don’t fire us,” Taehyung pipes up weakly. 

“Nobody’s getting fired. You guys just better be doing your work,��� Namjoon says. “Hey, it says that my iPad is going to be updated later tonight, do I need to do anything about that?”

Everyone groans. 

“Hey, what if we got married?” Seokjin nudges you with his shoulder. 

You sputter out the water you had been drinking all over your desk. “Married?” It dawns on you that shouting out that word in an office filled with nosy coworkers may not be the brightest idea. 

“You guys are getting married?” Taehyung shrieks excitedly. “Oh my God, I call being best man!”

“You don’t get to make that decision, idiot!” Jungkook shouts. “Besides, Seokjin would totally pick me over you anyway.”

“Who says?”

“Guys, we’re not getting married,” Seokjin says before the whole office breaks out into a brawl. Taehyung’s expression falls, sinking back into his chair, defeated. Yoongi had even quirked up for a moment before immediately turning back to his anime. “At least, in real life, we’re not.”

“Oh, you meant in-game?” You ask, the realization dawning on you. You notice everyone in the office eyeing you and Seokjin. Glaring at each and every person, you say, “He meant in-game, mind your own beeswax, you nosy freaks.” 

“Obviously,” Seokjin says with a roll of his eyes. “I love you, Y/N, but seeing as how we started dating three months ago, I think that marriage is pushing it. But in Kingdom, yeah, why not? We’ll get a lot of buffs from being married.”

Seokjin’s got a point. Being married in Kingdom means that the two of you will share wealth, property, and have the option of combining special powers during battles. It also means that the game will split boss and player rewards evenly amongst the two of you without you having to do it manually. Besides, isn’t it only right for the top two players in the game to get married? Assert their dominance? Remind Jungkook that he’ll never be an E-sports gamer for Kingdom? 

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, easily convinced. Besides, Seokjin could ask you to hand over all of your coins in the game, leaving you penniless, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. “We can do it later tonight.”

“My place? We can order takeout.”

“Only if we can get some cheesecake as well,” you say. 

“Done.”

Seokjin plants another kiss onto your lips before returning to his own desk, your office chairs facing away from each other as you get back to work, the promise of a nice meal and some quality time together keeping you motivated. 

Out of the blue, you say, “I would have said yes, you know.”

“To what?” Seokjin asks, not even turning around. 

“To asking if we could get married,” you tell him. He rounds on you, eyes wide. “I would have said yes.”

Seokjin seems frozen in place before he caves, body relaxing as his entire face begins to glow, red and orange and pink. “Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll ask again later, and if your answer is still the same, then we can.”

“How much later?” You ask. You don’t like to be kept waiting. Especially since the both of you know that your answer almost definitely won’t falter. 

Seokjin grins. “You’ll see.”

There

“I never liked fancy dresses,” you comment, pulling at the collar of the white dress lacing your features, hugging your body like a bedsheet. It’s scratchy and uncomfortable and restricting, making you feel like you can’t eat a single apple without popping open. There’s a veil with a train the size of the castle behind you, and the tiara on your head is so heavy and sharp that ti feels as though you’re about to topple. All this for a wedding?

“Good thing you’ll never have to wear one again after this, right?” Jin whispers back, the two of you facing the officiant before you as a crowd of onlookers watches the two of you. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask. “We’re making a lot of promises today, aren’t we?”

“And I will keep every single one of them with honor,” Jin says dramatically. It almost makes you reach out to punch him in the shoulder, but you don’t for the sake of publicity, hands wrapped tightly around the bouquet, filled with roses and tulips and carnations. You can’t believe you’re saying this, but you think you prefer your knight’s garb. At least it comes with flat boots. 

You even tune out what the officiant is saying, an old, monotonous advisor who oversees all military weddings, waiting boredly until you are prompted to respond. Time usually goes by rather quickly in the Kingdom, whether you are strolling through the market or on the battlefield, but here, it feels as though it’s taking forever and a day. Discreetly, you turn to look at Jin, who notices your gaze and rolls his eyes, just to make you laugh. At least the both of you feel the same about this whole thing. You wish there were an easier way to do this, perhaps just going to a courthouse and signing some papers and making a vow or two. Does the entire kingdom have to watch? 

“Do you promise to uphold these values, Jin?” The officiant asks. 

“I do,” Jin says. 

“Do you promise to uphold these values, Y/N?” 

Relieved that it’s finally coming to an end, you nod. “I do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Immediately, Jin turns to you, reaching an arm out to hold onto your waist as he pulls you towards him, your faces pressed up against each other, breaths hitting each others’ skin. 

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he whispers softly. 

“Then don’t hold back,” you challenge. 

In one fell swoop, Jin presses a kiss on your lips, soft and warm and gentle. It’s filled with more promises than the officiant could even dream of making, filled with more vows than any wedding ceremony could produce. What this is is more than a silly pledge, a matrimonial technicality. It is an oath. To protect each other. To care for each other. To love each other.

And you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that for the rest of time, until the sun collapses and the moon vanishes, that you will.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

[bunnyywritings]

hi!! i absolutely love you and your content 🥺💞 can i request for some UA teacher!s/o finding out Aizawa’s wallpaper is a picture of her with a cat, from back when they were both ua students bc i thought of it suddenly and spilled all my uwus 😔👉🏻👈🏻💗 (ps ily and don’t forget to smile and drink ur water!!)

precious memories

Aizawa Shota x UATeacher!reader

[a/n: anon 🥺 you’re so sweet ily !! Thank you for requesting, this prompt also made me spill all my uwus, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ps. (y/n) is bête noire the illusion hero: nicknamed Noir™ pls don’t take the quirk or hero name as your own without permission 😣 it took me a hot minute to think of it and I want to use it in future fics]

Dating a fellow teacher had many, many perks. One mainly being that you get to see them everyday and on those rare occasions, teach a joint class together.

You were the teacher of Class 1-A’s Special training class. You had a quirk called ‘nightmare awakening,’ on a base level it allows you to be able to get into someone’s head and make them hallucinate but at your advanced level, you were able to temporarily eliminate someone’s quirk. This allowed you to create a type of simulation for the students to experience a situation where they can’t use their quirk and make the most of the situation. Even though they absolutely HATED that class, they loved you. You were probably one of the most laid back and kind hearted among the teachers. No one had really known about your relationship with Shota. Just a few of the teachers and Shinsou. The only reason he knew was because Shota wanted him to train with someone with a similar working quirk and he had accidentally caught you and his mentor mid-smooch. That was...that was an awkward time for everyone.

The class had their suspicions. They had noticed the lingering touches that would’ve seemed normal if they weren’t so nosy. The way that he would subtly compliment your combat style and they had definitely seen the blush that would color your cheeks when he had stayed to watch their training, the way that you glanced in his direction every so often. They had narrowed it down to the possibility that the both of you were mutually pining for each other. Strangely enough, everyone was intrigued. Yes, even Bakugou and Todoroki. Deep down they just wanted their teacher to be happy, especially after everything that he’s sacrificed for them. They were in for a very shocking discovery.

Once the bell rang for your class, they all made their way to the training grounds. Heading to the locker rooms, Mina was trying to get the other girls on board with a plan to get their two teachers together.

A sudden warmth on the small of your back made you jump a bit. “So what’s on the lesson plan today, bête noire?” The way he basically purred your hero name in your ear made you turn a bright red, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“O-Oh uhm well I was planning on doing a hostage situation.” You motioned to the trio of dummies tied to some chairs. “I’d be playing the villain, I’m still not sure about the exact simulation so I might just wing it.” You shrugged.

“Hmm well you always do amazing so, I’m not too worried. Just know that Bakugou, Denki, and Mineta have the lowest scores with hostage negotiation.” There was a slight teasing undertone to his statement.

“Well maybe that’s not their fault.” His eyebrow rose at your accusatory tone.

“And what are you implying? That I’m not a good teacher?” He played along.

“All I’m saying is that, a little more kind reassurance instead of constant discipline goes a long way.” You laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Is that so?” His voice seemed to get impossibly deeper, capture weapon moving to wrap around your wrist and hold it taut against your lower back. “That’s awfully rich coming from someone who loves being disciplined...kitten.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, breath hitching in your throat before realizing where you were.

“Shota! Don’t say things like that, the students could walk in at any second.” You scolded quietly, playfully smacking his chest as he let go of your wrist. A soft chuckle made it past his lips. This was a little out of the ordinary for your boyfriend. “What is going on with you today? You’re never this playful, especially in public.” you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Well, you haven’t been coming around to my place lately...I just missed you.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

You basically swooned at his words. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy grading, along with a couple of other things but I missed you too.”

“Considering it’s Friday and you don’t have patrol duties tonight, come get dinner with me.” He wasn’t asking.

“That sounds like a wonderful plan, Eraserhead.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, Bête Noire.” He then made his way to the exit just as everyone started to pile into the room. Going to keep the door open, his phone had fallen out of his pocket when pulling out his hands but being someone who doesn’t care much for the device, he hadn’t noticed. Once he walked off, Denki, Hagakure and Mina made their way to the door but stopping once Mina saw the black device on the ground.

“Oh, someone dropped their phone.” Denki picked it and examined it for any damage.

“Who even brings their phone to training?” Mina frowned, turning the phone on to see the wallpaper.

“Wha- hey that looks like Noir-sensei? What’s she doing as someone’s lock screen?” Kaminari tilted his head in confusion.

“Look, it must’ve been when she went here! That’s a UA uniform.” Hagakure pointed out enthusiastically.

All three of them looked at the picture, then at their teacher. “Wow...hopefully I age that well.” Mina pouted.

“What are you three doing over there? You’re already late for class.” You weren’t chastising them but you made your disapproval clear.

“Well we found someone’s phone and you’re their lock screen!” At Denki’s words, your face scrunched up in confusion. They ran over to you and handed you the device. You turned it on and your eyes widened.

“You guys, I’m flattered but that’s a little strange to have a picture of high school me on your phone...so who’s phone is it?” Everyone looked at each other, shrugging. “Hmm strange.” You looked down at the phone and brushed your finger over the home button, realization filling your body when it unlocked. “Well anyways!” You cleared your throat. “Today’s simulation is hostage negotiation.” Some students, mainly Bakugou, groaned as you slipped the phone into your pocket for safe keeping.

...

After everyone left for their next class, you took your scoring sheets to the teacher’s lounge to have some coffee and do some grading. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you plopped down onto the couch and placed the stack of papers and mug down onto the coffee table.

“Rough day?” All Might asked as he sat on the couch opposite couch.

“Mmm not really, just tiring.” You answered while rolling your shoulders back. “After today, I now only have a student failing at hostage negotiation.”

“Ahh! I see. That young Bakugou can be a bit difficult.” He nodded sympathetically.

You snorted a laugh, almost spitting out your coffee. “Yes he can be but I’m talking about that boy Mineta...he tried to flirt with one of the hostage dummies. It was s-strange.” A shudder ran through your body at the memory.

“Oh...I-well I don’t really know what to say to that.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Neither do I...” You pulled the phone out of your pocket and looked at the lock screen.You couldn’t believe he still had the photo.

It was during your guys’ last year at UA. This was before either of you had worked up the nerve to confess your feelings. The two of you had been going to a cafe a little ways from the school, it was a pretty solemn day because the two of you would be graduating in three days and heading to different agencies. Shota was staying in Musutafu and you were heading a few cities down. This would be the last time the two of you would really have quality time together until a few years later when you opened your own agency and moved back to Musutafu and quickly rose in the ranks. Once at the cafe, you couldn’t help the delighted squeak that left your mouth. It was filled with adorable cats.

“We’ve been here before, (y/n).” Shota shook his head fondly as to both of you went to sit. Almost instantly, a bunch of cats made their way towards you. He watched in amusement as a calico kitty climbed onto your shoulder, you had gasped and gently gathered it into your hands.

“Well hello there~ What are you doing up there you silly kitty~” You cooed as you started to pepper its little face with kisses. He had taken advantage of your distraction and took a picture of you. He caught the moment the kitten placed its paw on your cheek and gave your nose a lick. He blushed. You looked so adorable...ethereal even.

Your eyes began to water at the memory. You were so grateful for this man. You had been bullied by other students because you had, what they saw as, a villain’s quirk. You had absolutely no friends. Until he mustered up the courage to talk to you, since he too had been bullied for his “villainous quirk.’ The two of you had instantly clicked and became good friends, your friendship expanding during your second year when the both of you met the resident loud mouth, Hizashi.

Caught up in the moment, you took notice that it was lunch time already and made your way to the Class 1-A classroom. Sliding the door open, you were met with the sight of Shota writing on the black board. His features quickly changed from confused to worried when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Sweetheart? Is everything alright?” He put the book he was holding onto the desk. He opened his mouth but closed it when you held his face in your hands, thumb gently running over the scar under his eye.

“I love you so much...you know that right?” You whispered, voice thick with emotion.

“Of course I know that darling, I love you too.” The way he said those words back with absolutely no hesitation made the tears fall and he pulled you close, hands on your hips. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. Your mouths fitting together like they were meant to never be apart, lips moving to convey all the things you wanted to say out loud but didn’t have the patience to confess. Your tears had intermingled with your lips but neither of you seemed to care.

When the both of you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, wanting to stay as close as possible in the moment. Lashes still wet with tears as you looked at him. “I never believed in soulmates, but I do believe that it was by fate that I met you. You were there for me when others called me a villain. You still made an effort when I went away...I don’t deserve you.”

“If anything, it’s me that doesn’t deserve you.” There was a silent pause. “I plan on marrying you one day, you know?”

A grin split your lips at his words. “I hope you know that I plan on saying yes when you do.”

He kissed the teas from your cheeks and brushed your hair back. “What brought on this sudden love confession, kitten?”

You pulled his phone from your pocket and showed him the picture. “Ahh...so that’s where it went...” He muttered as he took it from your hand. “This is the day I decided that I was gonna marry you one day.”

“I’m glad. This was the day that I realized I wanted you by my side forever.” You pulled out your own phone and unlocked it, the homescreen was a photo of Shota on that same day with a cat nuzzling into his hand.

The two of you were just a pair of lovesick idiots.

“Oh my goodness...that was absolutely adorable!” Mina quietly fawned at the sight of their two teachers.

“That’s how a man truly shows his love.” Kirishima and Mina were both teary eyed at the sight.

“Whatever idiots, let them have their gross love fest alone...” Bakugou growled as he pulled the two away from the door.

The entirety of Class 1-A knew by the end of the day and definitely teased Aizawa about it on Monday.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Lovely!Can I request again chuuya with his adorable gf who keeps getting some strange messages from men and clearly uncomfortable but doesn’t want to tell chuuya cause she doesn’t want to worry him💗

YOU CAN REQUEST AS MUCH AS YOU WANT DOLL! I LOVE WRITING YOUR REQUESTS! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chuuya didn’t hide his relationship with you, not really. He wouldn’t hide his affection when he was out in public, and he even brought you into headquarters on days when he knew he wouldn’t have to leave or be gone for too long. One thing he didn’t do was post about your relationship online. It would be too dangerous if the entire world knew that the two of you were together. According to the internet, the two of you didn’t even know each other. There were no pictures of the two of you together, no statuses about the perfect dates he took you on. Your relationship status still said you were single, as much as he hated to see it, he knew it was for the best. If anyone knew you were together it posed the risk of someone targeting you just to get to him.

Your profile picture wasn’t bad, it’s not like you were revealing anything. Chuuya wouldn’t let you post those kinds of pictures anyway. He always took your pictures for you, acting as your personal photographer to make sure you looked like a model, even if the picture was just being posted on Instagram. He would have you pose near the window to let the sun shine in over you, the camera capturing your natural, unfiltered beauty.

He would watch the likes on your photos jump from 0-50, then 50-100 in a matter of minutes, and he’d just smirk at the phone. Of course they liked your photos, who wouldn’t. You were drop dead gorgeous, and you were also his. He didn’t mind the amount of likes you’d get on the pictures, even if every man in the world was dropping likes and eyeing you through their phone screens, he was the only one who got to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You were still his, and only his.

He knew your pictures got a lot of likes, and that’s why he didn’t seem to mind the way your phone would vibrate nonstop, the notifications building on your phone, taking up the entire lock screen. He wasn’t nosy, well... that nosy. He wasn’t the type to constantly peak over your shoulder to see what you were doing, so he never saw the messages you were getting. If he was to see the messages, he would have lost it. He would have grabbed your phone out of your hand and told the men to fuck off and leave you alone. He would have to control himself so he didn’t throw your phone out the window, he would have to tell himself that he shouldn’t hunt the men down and beat the shit out of each and every one of them for sending you the things they did.

But he didn’t see the messages, only you did. Whenever you saw the nasty things the men sent you, the vulgar descriptions of what they’d like to do to you, the nasty pictures that you hadn’t asked for, the proclamations of love, and by far the creepiest message when the man said he would find you and steal you and keep you for himself, when you saw the messages you would inwardly cringe and quickly delete the chat so Chuuya wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t notice the slight change in your face, the way your nose would crinkle up when you saw the pictures. You were glad he wasn’t nosy, because seeing those messages would only make him worried about how your online presence was a risk. He knew how people were, and the message from the man threatening to take you away would make Chuuya panic. He knew that people had a way to track people down through the internet, they had people at the port mafia who did it often, and it wasn’t as hard as it seemed. He would make you disappear for a little, deleting your accounts, just to make sure that no one would find you until he felt like it was safe again.

You would have to hide the messages, make sure he never seen them. You knew that if you put a password on your phone now he’d think something was up, he’d be more mad at you than the guys who sent the messages. He’d be hurt that you didn’t show him what was going on, and he’d lose trust in you.

One night, laying in bed, you were already fast asleep. Your phone was on the nightstand, the screen constantly lit up the room and the vibrations on the table seemed too loud in the quiet room. He reached across you and grabbed the phone, he would just turn off the notifications and try to get some sleep. He wasn’t planning on looking through the messages, but once he caught a glimpse of one he couldn’t help himself.

He propped himself up on a pillow and started reading through them, his stomach turning as the words created images in his mind that he didn’t want to see. The pictures were another thing in itself, he quickly left the chat so he didn’t have to see them.

Creepy messages from men who threatened to take you away from him had him squeezing the phone so hard it could break. He would kill them, all of them.

How long had these messages been coming in? How could he have been so oblivious? Why hadn’t you told him about what these men were sending you? He would have to talk to you about it when you woke up.

He couldn’t seem to fall asleep, his mind was running rampant with thoughts of other men being with you, the way only he should. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to read through more of the messages, but he knew it would only make him feel worse. So he sat in bed, watching you sleep. The way your hands were were folded under your head, your eyes moving behind your closed eyelids. You were smiling in your sleep and he wondered what you were dreaming about, hoping that it was him.

The sun started rising, and he couldn’t sit still much longer. He felt like a zombie from his lack of sleep, but he got out of bed and moved to the living room, bringing your phone with him.

You emerged soon after, your eyes still half shut, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight that filled the room. “Good morning baby.” You said, the words mixed in with a yawn as you stretched your arms above your head. You moved across the room and flopped down onto the couch next to him, his arm instinctively slinging across your shoulder to pull you against him. “You look tired, did you sleep last night?” You asked, analyzing his face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his eyes didn’t seem to sparkle the way they usually do in the morning.

“No, I couldn’t.” He pulled your phone out of his pocket, expecting you to get nervous or try to pull it away. Instead you snuggled closer against him and let him open it. “Your phone kept going off and I tried to turn off the notifications.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would keep liking my stuff in the middle of the night.” You said sheepishly.

“The notifications aren’t the problem, it’s the messages you get. You see them, right?” He asked, going to your direct messages, not wanting to open any of them though. You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to your clasped hands in your lap. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You worry so much about me, I didn’t want to give you something else to worry about.”

“But if I knew I could have made them stop.”

“No, it’s different guys all the time. I told them to stop anyway, they don’t.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever I have to, I want them to leave you alone. What do you think will work?” He didn’t want to take away your phone, he didn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. He knew that getting those likes on your photos boosted your confidence, as much as he didn’t understand it, he didn’t want to take that away from you.

“Well, I mean.... I know that you don’t want to take pictures together because of the risk, but it might keep the guys away if they know I have a boyfriend.” You suggested quietly. He thought about it. It might be dangerous for you and him to be seen together, but if it lowered the chances of creepy men bombarding your DM’s with vulgarities and derogatory pictures, he would do it.

He didn’t bother getting ready, he didn’t mind that he was in nothing but his boxers and he had bed head. You didn’t care that your makeup was smudged from the night before, and your sloppy bun was even sloppier than when you threw your hair up before bed, or that you were in one of his over sized t-shirts. It was a genuine photo, it wasn’t staged, it was just the two of you having a lazy morning together.

He made the caption for the picture, which went a little something like “THIS IS THE BOYFRIEND AND IF YOU GUYS WANT YOUR ARMS AND LEGS TO NOT BE BROKE YOU’LL LEAVE MY GIRLFRIEND ALONE. SHES MINE.”

Sure, it was slightly hostile and maybe a little redundant, you let it stay. He cared about you, and he loved you, he was just doing what he thought he had to do.

You still received messages, but not nearly as many as you had before. You let Chuuya handle the responses, and he took a lot more pictures with you because as much as he hated to admit it, he thought it was cute. He even made his own Instagram account where he posted nothing but pictures of the two of you together, and he spent an entire day commenting on all of your pictures with hearts of the hashtag MINE. He showed off your pictures to everyone at work, but if they looked even slightly interested, or looked too long he would snap at them and tell them you were taken.

You were his, and dammit he was letting the entire world know.

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 9

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind… Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. Loki in a sex shop. Thirsty friend. Strong mentions of Dom/Sub, and bondage implications.

Author’s Note: He could have just conjured up some toys if he wanted to, right?

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8    Part 8.5 Part 9

Walking around the shop was good enough to stop the tremble in your legs; standing was becoming difficult since you and Loki started being more than just roommates and living together.

If you weren’t sorting out stock in the back, your leg muscles would start feeling like jelly. If you weren’t reorganizing the bra and lingerie sets on the displays, you could feel your knees start giving in. And the worst, if you weren’t doing anything at all, the dull pain of your joints would start setting off all those things at the same time.

It made you slightly flustered, as it was a constant reminder of Loki, and his stamina.

Your colleagues were suspicious. You had just finished your starting weeks, and you were working harder than they’ve ever seen you before. The manager of the day had given you a few more tasks out of your request, and you even insisted in any extra training you could do today. They doubted it was to get a promotion, since you just began working there, so they assumed it was for a needed raise.

But, little did they know what you’d been doing. It was good that they didn’t know; you knew how fast workplace gossip spreads.

On the other hand, that didn’t stop them from bombarding you with questions.

You were asked to man the till with the staff member you had grown closer with, and she had been prying you for the past fifteen minutes in between re-labelling the desk products and serving customers.

“What’s up with you?”

You were in the middle of placing some money in the till, thanking the customer with a receipt. “What do you mean what’s up with me?”

She relaxed, leaning forward on her elbows and glancing up at you by your side. “I mean, is there something wrong? You seem to be flying through the shelves today.”

“Me?” You pick up the labeller, changing its words, and placing new stickers on some mini vibrators. “I-I’m just working as normal. And, no, there’s nothing wrong… I’m just getting along with my day, y’know?”

Your legs were beginning to twitch.

Having sex with Loki felt like you had been waiting for it since he arrived in the apartment for the first time. It felt good. The whole night felt so good. You felt ridiculous when you woke up this morning, finding out that your entire lower region was shaking. Despite it all, you still had a life to live, and you couldn’t be distracted with Loki and sex, especially at work.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yup.” You continue stamping on labels.

She looks at you, up and down. “Uh-huh.”

About to remark her nosy attitude and tone, you’re interrupted by another customer.

“Excuse me.”

Both of your eyes snap up to see Loki.

“Loki!” You gasp, dropping the labeller. Your colleague swears under her breath. “Uh – I mean – Hi, sir, how can I help you?”

His irises seem greener and more iridescent than ever as he squints at you, questioning the address. He’s dressed in his usual smart casual wear; a buttoned shirt with the collar loosened, black fitted trousers and, telling by the slight click on the ground as he shifts, his signature raven wingtips.

As always, he out dressed everyone in the room.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your colleague recover from the jump, picking up the labeller that had clattered to the ground, and shoving it away in a shelf underneath the till. She rapidly straightened up, entranced by him. When you took a quick glimpse around the store, there were a few ladies that were peering, or more so ogling, his way.

Loki knew how handsome he was already. But the awed gazes gave his smirk an egotistical accent.

You roll your eyes.

Although you were surprised by Loki’s appearance, you were confused as to why he was here at your workplace. You and him rarely see each other, intentionally or accidentally, outside of the apartment, anyway. So, what was he doing here?

As if he had read your mind, he places his basket in front of you. “May I have a bag with these?”

“Of course.” You reply. Reaching for one of the pink bags, your colleague snags one from under the desk and preps it for you. She grins widely at you, eyes flitting back and forth from both you and the tall god.

Clearing your throat, you focus on the till screen as your hand attains the first item out of the basket; lube.

“That’s a good brand.” Your colleague chimes, gulping. “…Are you Asgardian, by any chance?”

“Yes, I am.” He responds. The scanner beeps. “I’ve been told that might help ease things in a little better.”

The lube bagged, you could practically hear your colleague’s thoughts scream as she looks at you. You clench your jaw, death glares telling her to control herself.

Regardless of the annoyance, you blush slightly, knowing fully well how blessed Loki’s lower regions were, and what they were capable of.

But you wanted to remain professional, so you resumed scanning his items like the customer he was.

You pick up the next product; a restraint kit.

Heart stopping, your death glares turn to Loki. He bares his teeth, watching the glow of your embarrassment as you hesitate to read the contents.

“Wow.” Your colleague chimes in again, gawking a little at the same box. “Are you – uh – into bondage?”

Legs beginning to tremble, you try to keep them still by locking your knees. You scan the box, and it’s bagged.

Loki nods, poised. “It’s just something my darling and I are interested in exploring. She’s unsure, but I’m hoping these will win me her favour.”

Your friend was still enthusiastic. “We have novice packs, actually, if the two of you have just started? The one you got is the advanced pack – spank paddles, bed binds, and all.”

“Oh?” He glances at you. “Yes, I did see the other packs, but she did express interest in being tied up, so I thought I’d buy the pack that might, uh… Maximise the experience.”

If there was an opportunity to kick Loki, you would have taken it, but the stupid desk was in the way. He knew what he was doing; the smirk, the composure, you’d seen it before, and it was getting easier to spot it every time. Despite it all, the most infuriating thing every time, was how he could do it all with such a courteous demeanour.

Even though your sense of work ethic overrode your reactions for the time being, you were still feeling your palms and neck sweat a little. Your views on his behaviours had changed, and instead of finding them extremely aggravating, it was starting to turn you on.

“Okay.” Your friend nods, impressed. “… Would you be interested in our ‘Dom and Sub’ line?- Oh!”

A dark rosewood lingerie set was held in your hands by the hanger. Searching for the tag, you find its size before the barcode; perfect to fit you. Upon closer inspection, the set was held together by strings of red, and patches of beautifully patterned mesh.

Your eyes widen; there were cuts, providing an opening for your intimate parts.

“Do you have this in any other colour?” Loki asks, pointing at the set as you scan it.

“I think there might be more at the back.” Taking the opportunity to escape, you answer, setting the lingerie aside. “Let me just-“

“Oh, no, I’ll do it.” Your colleague winks, rubbing your shoulders and pulling you back before zipping off. “I’ll even get the matching suspenders and stockings, if you’d like?”

Loki tilts his head, approving the offer. “That would be wonderful.”

You sigh, dragging your eyes to Loki.

You lean over the counter to shout-whisper at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You wanted to know more about me, Y/N. I’m just providing you with more information.”

“Like, what?” You grab the scarlet bra and panties and shake it at him. “This doesn’t tell me anything about you. It just tells me that-… That you like this stuff.”

Loki frowns in confusion. “Yes, exactly. I thought you’d look gorgeous being ravished in it.”

Conflicting emotions of arousal and rage beckons to act on one or the other. Loki had a knack of being able to say the right thing, even if it was the wrong place and time, and still get away with it.

You let go of the garment, flopping it onto the surface.  

You take a deep breath. “Loki, I-I never asked what your kinks were.”

“But I like knowing yours.” His lighthearted exterior fades, but there’s a twinkle in his gaze. “You need to stop blushing, my love. You’re giving me too many thoughts.”

Words echoing, you freeze. Your heart seemed to tremble underneath his gaze, and his velvet voice had taken yours away.

Using the back of your palms, you feel the heat of your cheeks.

Your colleague returns, hearing her footsteps behind you and being beside you again. She arranges the new colors of the garment in front of him. “Here you are.”

Like a switch, his false kind smile is back, and his laugh is refreshing. “Wow, thank you for this.”

“Okay, so the wine-reddish one you have is the ‘Little Lust Red’, but we also have this navy blue one here – it’s called ‘Baby, be my Daddy Blue’ – Or this one-“ – she surveys the tag of the third – “- it’s ‘Good girl for my Highness Green’, this one’s kind of special – it has some pearl detail, as you can see.”

Did she have to say the color names out loud?

You try to evade the conversation, concentration back on the till screen, as if it was of any importance. Your foot taps repeatedly on the tiled floor, ignoring Loki’s agonising scrutiny of the lingerie before him. You made the mistake of glancing at the pretty sets, then checking Loki, thumb pressed on his bottom lip in thought.

Loki looks at you, dressing and undressing you in them in his mind, one by one. The red would be stunning on you, although the blue had a shade of innocence on you that made it more gratifying to ruin, but the green… The string of pearls served as a replacement of cloth for your most intimate and sensitive area. And the thought of the beads brushing your clit, with it’s cold and smooth surface, was making Loki think of your warm body indulging in all the senses and stimulation he could give you.

“I’d be delighted in taking all of them, if I’m not being too greedy.” He says.

Your colleague, beaming from ear to ear, scans them for you, folding and stashing them away in the bag with the rest. “Amazing, I’ll just pop that in there for you…”

Your colleague glances at you, signalling for the total cost and receipt. On autopilot, you make the transaction with Loki, letting your colleague do most of the customer service chatting for you.

You stare at the bag in his grasp. The lingerie sets were gorgeous, and it wouldn’t take a lot of convincing on Loki’s part to make you wear them; lace was a fabric that you grew to enjoy the texture of, and their design made you curious to see how they’d frame you and your physique.

You wondered how Loki would react once he saw you in them.

“Pretty cool names, huh, Y/N?” Your colleague nudges you. “I was curious as to what he was, and I had to think it up on the spot-“

“Wait- wha-“ You blink, turning to her. “What do you mean you made them-“

She was glowing. “I wasn’t sure, but I had to know!” She peers outside the shop door, even though the God of Mischief was no longer within sight.

You follow her, trying to make sure she stays inside. “Had to know, what?”

She raises a brow at you. “He’s definitely hot, and definitely a Dom – total, total Dom! – God, I’m jealous.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Whoever he’s screwing tonight – She is going to be spoilt rotten.”

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Sorry to ask lol but could you do a teacher AU where the students find Roman or Virgil on Tumblr and just freak out

Lol you’re good; I haven’t done teacher stuff in a while. This is a very real fear, soo...this’ll be fun.

I’m not sure if you want the kids or teachers to freak out, but trust me, there’d be way more freaking on the teachers’ end of things.

I went back and forth on this because on one hand Virgil might be too paranoid to have a tumblr as a teacher but on the other hand if he had it in high school....Roman doesn’t have time for tumblr these days, tbh, but I’ll include him since you asked for him specifically!

Idk if this is as freak out as you wanted; I’m boring and went for realism so sorry if it’s not up to standard lol

That Tuesday started out like any other:

His Tuesday/Thursday homeroom kids were as chatty and apathetic to announcements as ever.

His first two classes of Honors American Lit. kids were as attentive as always, offering brilliant and insightful connections between themselves, society, and The Crucible.

By all accounts, it was a normal Tuesday.

Until his Mythology students came trailing back from lunch, some of them barely hiding giggles and elongated stares from their desks.

“Alright.” Virgil began teasingly as the final bell rang. “Do I have something on my face? My shirt?” He threw a glance behind his back. “Did Randy tape something to my back again?”

Half of the small class exploded into laughter, but the other half gazed between their teacher and peers wondering what great joke they’d missed out on.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Anderson.” An outspoken and bright student named Cam spoke up. “Kya just made an interesting discovery last night and shared it with the whole lunch table.”

“I’m sure I don’t even want to know.” Virgil grinned and rolled his eyes as he passed out their class set mythology texts to each of his 15 students.

“Today we’ll be tackling a classic story: Baucis and Philemon. It includes love, hospitality, and a couple of God’s playing make believe.”

A choral snicker ran through a certain side of the room again, but Virgil fixed them with a look and pulled up an interactive PowerPoint.

The rest of the lesson went off without a hitch, and the students seemed eager to jump into their assigned tasks to teach the class (finding allusions to Jupiter’s and Mercury’s roles or Baucis and Philemon’s roles in movies, books, or TV shows.)

Partway through work time, though, Cam sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and perched there for a minute before cupping a hand over his mouth with a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“So, Mr. Anderson, I have a question.”

“Sure, Cam; what’s up?”

“Well, I’m wondering: is ‘student A’ in ‘A Crazy Halloween Story’ referring to Jessica Simmons or Kaley Aldrin? Because both have you for honors and dressed up as Harley Quinn for Halloween.”

Virgil’s brain stuttered to a halt, and he took all of his energy to school his expression, making certain his eyes didn’t give away the screaming anxiety erupting within his chest. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Cam.” Virgil cocked his head to the side in an effort to lighten the tension only one of them felt. “What do Jessica or Kaley and Halloween have to do with Baucis and Philemon?”

“Oh, right. You gotta play it cool. Can’t let the kids know about your social media. I gotchu.” Cam nudged Virgil with an elbow and a stage wink. “Secret’s safe with me, Anxious Orpheo-I mean, Mr. A.” Cam pushed off of the side of his desk and went back to his group, the other members having abandoned their work to stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Cam’s boldness.

“I told you-”

“Holy crap-”

“You’re full of it, Cam; he never confirmed it.”

“You heard me, Emily! He can’t!”

Virgil inhaled and exhaled deeply, hands gripping and releasing under his desk as he fought to keep the fear from his features. Thank god he had planning after this.

-

When the bell rang some time later, Virgil let out a huge sigh, smiling at his last student, Kya, as she meandered toward the door, paused, and rushed over to his desk.

“Mr. Anderson. I’m so sorry I told everyone about your Tumblr. I mean....everyone in this class. Well, really on that side of the class, but anyway, I haven’t told anyone else I swear! And I didn’t even mean for Cam or Emily or anyone else to find out; I was just showing your posts to Liam at lunch, but Cam was being nosy and overheard. I’m so so sorry, and I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t tell anyone so you don’t get in trouble! Oh my god I’m just so sorry.” Kya took a deep break, and Virgil let his guard fall just a hair, his eyes turning down at the sides.

“It’s alright, Kya. Students have spread far worse rumors about teachers before. Me having a Tumble isn’t the worst thing someone can say.”

“Tumblr.” Kya corrected.

“Right.” Virgil smiled. “I appreciate your apology, Kya, but don’t worry about it too much, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Anderson, and I really am sorry.”

“I know. Now go on before you’re late.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Bye!” Kya waved and sped out the door.

As soon as she was definitively gone, Virgil slumped into his chair, eyes staring dejectedly at his dark computer screen before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Well, this was certainly not how he expected things to go today.

-

“Oh, Virge, you’re in here!”

Virgil’s head shot up to see Roman peeking around his doorway.

“Yes, it’s shocking to find me in my own classroom.”

“Well usually Ortega is in here during planning.”

“They’re in the computer lab working on a paper.”

“Oh, nice...Anyway, your copies have been sitting in the work room since this morning.” Roman strutted into the room revealing the large stack of copies against his hip.

“Thanks, But...Roman....you’re not on planning right now.”

“As per usual, you are correct, my dear darkling, but you also know that those kids are pretty self-sufficient. Plus Remy is staying all day today since our first show is tonight.”

“They might as well not have a teacher at all.”

“Take that back! Remy is a great co-teacher!”

“When he’s working. He’s not even on the clock now. He’s probably on his phone.”

“Fair point, but you’re not Logan, so why are you pointing all of this out?” Roman set his stack on a nearby desk and pulled up another, sitting on the hardtop as he looked Virgil up and down. “What’s up? You’re tense.”

Virgil sighed. “Shut the door first?”

Roman scurried to the classroom door and made a show of closing it quietly. “Ooo something juicy?”

“Kind of. Not really. More horrifying and embarrassing.”

“Oh joy which was it this time?” Roman asked dramatically as he perched back on the desk, his feet in the chair and hands steepled over his knees.

“....one of my mythology kids found my tumblr and accidentally told half of the class about it.”

“1) That sucks. 2) How do you ‘accidentally’ tell 8 people about something?”

“Another kid was being nosy.”

“Unnamed kid you tell me about?”

“One of them.”

“Ah.” Roman considered for a moment. “I mean there are worse things.”

“I know. That’s what I said too when the bean spiller apologized, but...I’ve had that thing since I was their age, Roman, who knows what kind of shit they can dig up! I can’t remember half of the emotionally charged stuff I posted on there, and I know there’s posts about my sexuality on there, too.” Virgil froze. “Oh god, what if they find my old fan fiction?!”

Roman couldn’t contain a small chuckle at that. “Then they’ll know you’re a legit writer.”

“Ro, this is serious.” Virgil folded his legs into his chair and leaned back, sighing again and staring at the speckled ceiling. “What if they find something...objectionable and tell their parents? And the parents tell the principal? What if I get fired?!”

“Did you post anything that bad?”

“Probably not....but I did post stories about stuff that happened in class.”

“Oooo...yeah that can be tricky territory. Did you get super specific?”

“In the story part, I guess.”

“Did you drop names, kids or the school or anything someone could use to identify?”

“No.”

Roman sighed. “Well, I mean what can you do, you know? You didn’t explicitly give names or the school or any concrete identifying information, right?”

“Right, but all they’d have to do is look at my phone.”

“What reason do they have unless the kids complain about it? You can always put a lock or something on it, right? There are private accounts.”

“I don’t know if I can at this point, but I guess I can try. Don’t know how much good it will do when I already have a few hundred followers.”

“Just 300?”

“Almost 1000.”

“Ooo yeah that is a little more significant. Geez tumblr has millions of followers, and somehow they stumbled on you.”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“I mean....the initial kid apologized, right?”

“Yeah. She claims she won’t spread it anymore and will keep blabbermouth kid quiet, but we’ll see.”

“Don’t stress about it too much. They seem like good kids, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Well, it’s probably about time I get back to my little rugrats. You’re coming to our show, yeah?”

“If I don’t self-combust first.” Virgil pulled out a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great!” Roman vaulted off of the desk, grabbed his stack of papers, and made for the door. He paused for a moment in the doorway and turned, his expression softer than Virgil ever remembers seeing. “It’s gonna be okay, Virge. Don’t let it get you too worked up, okay?”

“I’ll try. Thanks, Ro.” Virgil waved him off and sighed before sitting back up to try to get something done.

“Uh, Mr. Anderson?”

Virgil’s jaw clenched involuntarily at the familiar tone, and he looked up to find a familiar blonde in the doorway. “Cam. I thought you had chemistry this period.”

“I do, but I finished my lab already, so Mr. Harris let me ‘go to the bathroom.’” He accentuated with air quotes. “Um but I really came here to apologize.”

“What for?”

“Kya kinda ripped me a new one during chemistry. She has this really scary way of being really angry and really quiet at the same time. It’s freaky.” Cam made a show of shivering violently. “But yeah she chewed me out during lab because of what I did during class, so....I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I promise I won’t tell anybody. It was just kinda crazy to hear that our favorite teacher is like us, you know?”

Virgil forced up a smile. “We are human, as crazy as it sounds.”

“So....is it you? Wait, I probably shouldn’t ask that, so there’s no evidence or whatever....I’m just gonna assume. Scientific method.”

“Apology accepted. Go back to chemistry before he sends someone after you.”

“He won’t, but I’ll do it just for you, Mr. A. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, buddy.” Virgil calls as the kid disappears. He pulls out his phone and sends Roman a quick message.

[Virge]: Blabbermouth just came and apologized. Promised not to blabber. I don’t know if I trust it, but I guess it helps.

[Ro]: wow

Nice

It’ll be okay

And if it’s not I’ve got your back, okay? Don’t stress.

[Virge]: Thank you, Roman.

Virgil sighed for the last time and put his cellphone away. He picked up his favorite dark purple grading pen and pulled out the American Lit. kids’ written responses, gearing himself up to grade by playing his Grading Playlist from Spotify on his personal laptop.

Everything will be okay.

Again, sorry if it’s not as crazy as you wanted or is really too neat, but a lot of students I interact with as was around as a student were chill, so. Yeah.

[willowdrabbles]

A million dreams part 1

Yutaka Tennoji

Post wedding

words: 2042

I finished rereading the Yutaka Tennoji stories again and my GOD I’m in love all over again. I love bunny floofloo so so much. I had an idea in my head since work and I wanted to get it down. (it may be similar to a scene in Kirisawa’s route but eh, they’re both my babes and I have such a strong love for angst.) 

Anyways, there are spoilers ahead. And I will be touching on a situation in the story that I think would have an effect on their marriage later in life, hence inspiring this little story! With that I hope you all enjoy part 1! Mildly inspired by “A million dreams” from the greatest showman, P!nk cover. 

She was effectively done with bombs. 

That was still putting it mildly. The newest two cases that had fallen upon second unit had them all running down to the bone. A human trafficking ring seemed to be working with a small drug dealing gang. Her brother, being the nosy detectives brother he was, had noticed the shifty behavior of a colleague at the drug rehabilitation facility he worked at. 

Turned out he has a bit of a detective in himself as well. With his concerns he was able to slyly get Ellina the information she needed to crack down on the colleague. The down side was that with that revelation her brother was instantly targeted. And gangs weren’t above using bombs. His apartment was obliterated not long after the first unit publicized the findings looking for a praise. Endangering her brother for their own egos. 

Thankfully he was not harmed. Upset, but not harmed. He enjoyed the attention form female officers and detectives, and was put up in a temporary apartment not far from the precinct, under surveillance. 

‘Planting rehabilitating drug addicts with bombs and using them as ‘scape goats to draw regular authorities off their trail. Despicable.’ She thought to herself, typing as quickly and efficiently as she could to finish up her report from the interrogation. Eiki had gotten so much information in such a little time... Though he had that information from her undercover work. Going in as a woman recovering from an addiction had allowed the perp to open up to her and get the recordings she needed easily. With just her and Eiki working the drug gang side of the investigation, it was sailing smoothly. 

With the two sides scrambling to pick up their trash and get out of dodge before Second unit could crack down on them all, they were making mistakes. The more Ellina and Eiki uncovered, the more clues the rest of the team found linking missing information and clues to the human trafficking ring. Drug dealers getting more money and shipments by promising and luring recovering addicts to the traffickers. When things started getting dicey, they started throwing bombs into the mix to try and deter the law enforcement. 

Why did it always have to be bombs?

She rolled her neck and glared at her screen, her fingers not stopping. The reports were getting longer and longer it seemed. Everyone was so busy lately she had not even spent time with her new husband. 

Normally they would have at least a few hours to themselves in the evenings or during lunches, but she found they had not even done that in weeks since she started going undercover. The only consolation she had was Eiki and Kirisawa telling her how good of a job she had been doing. Even with their bonus information from her brother, they were closing up their side of the case faster than the rest of the unit. If she finished their case first, she could join everyone else in hitting the Trafficking ring base. 

That did not stop her from missing Yutaka. They saw each other a few times in the office, a few words spoken between each other before one or the other left to continue their cases. They left home at separate hours. The only reason she knew he came home at all was she would notice he would take the lunches or snack packs she made when she was there. Otherwise she tried to change at the precinct or her brother's apartment to avoid anyone realizing her background was false. 

Between missing him and her constant dragging schedule, home upkeep, work, reports, undercover, work, reports, home, She probably had lost a bit of weight. She often had to eat at the recovery clinic to keep up appearances. Eiki and her would got food when they could. But running herself ragged was still having it’s effect. Sacrificing that extra pork bowl for work would be well worth it in the end. even if ti did make her a grump to be around in the office. Work and the safety of the people came first. 

The space between them was growing, but she had no reason to worry. They had made promises to each other. They signed up for this knowing what it would entail. Missing him would just make getting back to him sweeter. For now, Eiki was forced to listen to her complain and be in a foul mood without her husband. Not that he let it deter him from being a perfect ray of sunshine. Eiki knew exactly what to say to her to cheer her up and remind her how much they’ve gone through and how much happier she’ll be. 

It was his idea that she take this opportunity to spoil Yutaka when they closed the case. Save her money (and appetite) and take him to a fantastic hot spring trip. He was even sweet enough to help her find one with personal hot springs and a great rating on their food. Unlike Yutaka, she was good at keeping secrets, as was Eiki. She kept her distance the last week so the surprise would no doubt hit him like a train when the time came. 

She felt herself frown as she realized she was thinking too much about the negatives again, and had made a mistake in her report. She would have to rewrite that secti-

“Ellina!”

She jumped at the sudden yell and bang, blinking rapidly as she looked up to see Yutaka leaning over her desk, his hand planted on her desk and his face irritated as ever. 

“Jeeze Tennoji, what?” She snapped at him, looking back at her laptop as she erased the lines she had just written.

“I’ve been callin’ ya for ten minutes you dummy! I’m trying to ask you if you want food!” Yutaka grumbled at her, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at her, his brows furrowed. 

Ellina swallowed thickly. She wanted nothing more than to go get food with him, She missed him so much. Their banter and jokes. Their alone time together. Since being married, the team’s jokes had not stopped. Where as Tennoji was as easily embarrassed as usual, she had developed thick skin to their antics, and now could shoot remarks back. Even at Tennoji’s expense. 

Thinking of how much she wanted the usual happy routine reminded her of what awaited her if she finished her work sooner. She had to finish this report before going back to the clinic with Eiki, otherwise she might fall behind. 

“I’m fine I gotta finish this.” She said simply, finally reaching the point where she had gotten off track in her report and went back to typing. 

Though that only lasted a minute when she felt a weird sensation. Looking up she blinked in surprise as she noticed the whole of second unit staring at her in silent shock. She glanced at each of them in turn, confusion covering her face. 

“What? Do I have something on my face?” She patted her cheek, looking at Tennoji for confirmation. 

“I never thought I’d hear that out of her mouth.” Hanai said, true shock in his voice. 

“Which is surprising considering how large of a mouth it is.” Kyobashi shot at him, the two of them exchanging nods. 

“Rude!” Ellina snapped, glaring at the two of them. 

“Sick....” Asano said quietly, staring at her blankly before going back to his own work. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright Kast?” Kirisawa asked, still using her maiden name. (What the team always did to avoid confusing her and her husband.)

“I’m not that hungry yet! Besides I should be done in a little while.” Ellina rolled her eyes and went back to her work. 

“That or she’s filling that big mouth with something else when we’re not looking.” Kyobashi said, obviously trying to get under her skin and stir the pot. 

“Sexual harassment!” Ellina shot at him, not looking up from her computer again. 

“She’s been on top of everything, you guys should leave her be.” Eiki said suddenly, drawing a glance from her. He shot her a quick wink before continuing his own rapid typing. They already had a silent agreement to finish as soon as possible so their plan for her and Tennoji would go without a hitch. She was so lucky to have a partner like him. She flashed him a smile and looked back at her computer for a moment, only to notice that Yutaka had not moved an inch from in front of her desk. 

“You alright?” She asked, glancing up at him again. The look on his face had her leaning back. He looked royally pissed. “Woah-”

“Boss take her off the case.” Tennoji snapped, finally looking away from her to lock Kirisawa with a hard stare. 

“What?!”

Everyone besides Yutaka shouted their shock at him, pausing in their work once more. Ellina shot out of her chair, hands slamming down on her desk as she did.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped at him, bristling as he ignored her and walked over to Kirisawa. 

“You mind telling me why I should do that?” Kirisawa asked calmly, his eyes narrowed at Tennoji in apprehension. 

“She’s obviously not handling the case well! She’s driving herself into the ground and if she keeps this up shes gonna make a mistake!” Tennoji shouted, pointing at her as if it was plain as day. “She’s never home to get sleep, she’s not eating, her brain isn’t even here! How can she finish a case when she’s like this! She’s only doing this because her brother is involved I’m not stupid!”

Her stomach lurched into her chest at that. Sudden tears pricked at her eyes. Though his worry made sense, he had no right to tell her to get off the case. Not when they were this close, not when they could be on a big break. The memory of him telling her he couldn’t marry her over Yukko’s case blinded her. Did he really think she would shut him out like this? She wan’t running off on her own. Eiki was working with her. Tennoji was working the trafficking ring because of his case closing record. He was more qualified for the case to get results and fast. 

“Back down.” Kirisawa said firmly, standing up. “Kast has made great breaks in this case. Breaks that have been the only thing giving you clues for your own case. I’d be a fool to take her off just because you’re worried about your wife.” Kirisawa stared down Tennoji, who only puffed up in response. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin-”

“Don’t be mad your wife is gonna close a case before you Tennoji.” Hanai joked, obviously taking the chance to make fun of him. 

“Oh I see.” Asano said, smiling to himself as if to agree with Hanai.

“We’re gonna finish this case before you and get in on that crackdown and break your record. I get it now.” Eiki prodded too, snickering to himself. Tennoji didn’t respond, his face slowly turning red.

Ellina frowned, appreciating what they were trying to do, but not wanting them in on it this time. “Enough.” she snapped, slamming her laptop closed and grabbing her bag off her chair. She could finish her report in the evening. Everyone turned to look at her. 

“Whether you think I can’t handle it, think i’m worn down, or just don’t want me to finish this case.” Ellina slung her bag over her shoulder and shot Yutaka a glare as he opened his mouth to argue “You’d best remember I’m not you. I don’t get blinded by my own obsessions.” her voice cut like ice across the room, she looked away the second she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. The pain in her chest blooming more, she clenched her teeth and headed for the door. “I’m going to the clinic.”

She had just stepped into the elevator and was watching the doors close when a buff arm shot in, blocking the way enough for Eiki to slip in. 

“Well you know how to make an exit.” He laughed, pressing the ground floor button. 

[darkwriterpanic-blog]

Chapter 1

alcohol in my system that I can barely remember who the hell I am. I sulk and throw the bottle on the floor, adding to my mess of empty bottles and cigarette packs. I don’t really care if the noise bothers whoever’s under me, they can deal with it. For some reason the sound of the bottle connecting with my unswept hardwood floor is satisfying. I toil to light up one of my last smokes and decide that I need to make a run to the 24 hour store, which is my favorite store in the world. Out of everywhere that I’ve resided this store is the best. It’s close to me, sells everything I need, never closes and it’s the only store in Canada that sells my favorite kind of smokes. If I don’t make the trip I have a feeling that it’s going to be a really long night. I’m too drunk to put on my old, bloodstained shoes that I’ve had since my first murder, I can barely stay on my feet. After struggling for a few minutes I manage to slip them on. I stumble out the door of my apartment and lock it behind me. I focus hard on the red and orange pattern of the carpet in the hallways, I’m trying not to trip. I feel accomplished once I make it outside injury free. I love this apartment building for many reasons, one of them being that my rent is incredibly cheap- twenty dollars a month. My best friend Jacob happens to be the owner of the building. And I love the name- The Last Stop. It’s also pretty low maintenance and the other tenants don’t ask questions about shady happenings and other illegal circumstances. Sadly, the police do, and there’s a lot of legal attention drawn to this place, due to all the crimes committed. It’s risky as hell, it gets on my nerves. The other thing is that there are a lot of stairs which tend to be hard to get down when I’m drunk and hard to get up because I chain smoke. Somehow I’ve managed to never spill a drop of vodka while stumbling down the staircase.I would find somewhere better but this is the only place I can afford. The thing is, I don’t really have a job per se, it’s kinda hard to lay low when people identify you, and since my name is always on the news “Justin Hillsmith World Famous Serial Killer,” it isn’t hard for them. Besides it get’s in the way of my hobby (murder). I’m not broke or anything though because I sell drugs on the side so that I always have money for my vodka and smokes. I know what you’re thinking- “what about food?” Well, Jacob’s always getting on my case about that too. I don’t really eat because to be honest it just isn’t a priority for me. As I’m making my way through the dark alley that I always take on the way to the store I hear footsteps approaching. Initially I think that there’s somebody following me again, it’s usually someone trying to come steal my drugs- unsuccessfully of course, or a nosy citizen trying to expose who I am because apparently everybody wants to be a hero, and as I look around I realize that it’s a teenage girl walking the opposite way. She’s pretty short, and kind of chubby - but not fat. She’s wearing all black. Her hair is down to her hips and it looks black but with a tint of purple. The purple could just be from the lights though. She’s walking in a stride that isn’t quite a run. I stop dead in my tracks, hoping she won’t notice me. I decide to watch her for a few seconds out of pure curiosity, but to my dismay she starts sprinting to the alley exit. I roll my eyes (which is really a habit that needs to be put in check) and continue on my way to the store.I arrive at the 24/7 Convenience Store and go inside. It’s pretty much empty.I go to the counter to purchase 2 bottles of Smirnoff, 3 cartons of Marlboro cigarettes and a bag of All Dressed chips. I decide to check my phone because the old lady is working and she’s having trouble with the new touch screen cash register.There are a bunch of notifications from fan girls tagging me in their ridiculous fan fictions and my usual booty calls messaging me asking if I’m up. Those aren’t the notifications that get my attention though. The one I click on is a video link from Jacob. It’s a video of that same girl from the alley. Some cruel kids sent it out and it’s being posted everywhere, it’s titled “Ghost girl Loses It”. Ghost Girl’s running from something or someone- probably me if I’m being honest. Sadly, nobody takes it seriously when she comes running looking for help. There isn’t very much in me that feels bad for her and I can’t stop myself from considering that maybe she’d be a good victim. Nobody would believe her if she told someone about me. Besides, she’s already pretty isolated it won’t be too much work ruining her. She’s pretty hot too. I save the link to the post just before finalizing my purchase and exiting the store to make my way back.When I get home from the store I light up a smoke and start digging into Ghost Girl, I have nothing better to do anyways. It’s pretty easy to find her profile since people are tagging her in the videos. She’s also commenting telling people to grow the fuck up and to suck her dick. I like this one. It looks like Ghost Girl has a name: Sidney Holloway. Her profile tells me that she moved to Tombstone about 2 years ago, when she was 14. I don’t know why the fuck anybody would actually move to this shitty town, I only moved here because the police wouldn’t look for me in the middle of nowhere and right now there’s a lot of heat on me in the states. She has a girlfriend named Samara, which discourages me at first because how could I make a gay girl fall in love with me. After a bit more digging I find some good news- she has had boyfriends in the past, which means she can be pursued. After downing another half a bottle of Vodka and doing some basic research on Ghosty the sun starts to come up. I should probably go to sleep for a couple of hours. I can start my pursuit later. I haven’t slept in a week and Jacob get’s mad when the bags under my eyes are too dark- even though they usually are. I’m too used to being awake and about during the night time and by morning I usually have things to do, clients to meet with, people to stalk and errands to run. While I’m looking around I realize that I really need to redecorate. And maybe hire an exterminator. There are cockroaches all over the walls which are dirty and filled with holes from my drunken rages. The old green couch I got from an alley (someone was getting rid of it) has cracks and rips. It smells like stale smoke and vodka, combined with the lingering scent of my casual female conquests. The coffee table is wobbly too, it has marks from me stabbing my knives into it. Plus the stove doesn’t even work, it kinda does but it doesn’t really get hot enough to cook anything. I know that I need to sleep but I’m starting to think that isn’t going to happen- AGAIN. I’m too busy thinking but also not being able to think because I’m too drunk. That’s when I hear a knock on my door. I go over to the peephole and I can already guess the nature of this visit. Either a desperate customer or a whore. As I suspected, when I look I see the girl I took home from the bar a couple nights ago. I forget her name. I think it’s Victoria or Vanessa or something like that. She’s 19, and tall. Too tall for a girl in my opinion. And way too skinny. She’s wearing a pink and white dress that is extremely revealing. Unfortunatly for her I am not up for a repeat of my drunk Wednesday night. I open the door, aggressively. “Listen, Vanessa-” she stops me.“It’s Valery,  not Vanessa. I’m not hear for the reason you think. I’m here because I need help.” I open my mouth to tell her I’m not a charity worker but she puts her finger over my mouth and brushes past me into the apartment, closing the door behind her. She sits down on the couch. “I killed someone. And I don’t know what to do.” I’m suddenly filled with horror. Not because she killed someone but that she’s trying to drag me into it.“Look Valery. I can’t help you. I have enough to deal with, being involved with your shit is gonna get me arrested. So I’m going to politely ask you to get the hell out of my apartment and don’t come back.” I purposely ignore the hurt look on her face. I don’t feel bad, it’s everyone for them self in this game. On the verge of tears she hurriedly storms out of my apartment slamming my door behind her. Suddenly, I hear a blood curdling scream come from one of the other suites on my floor. That isn’t a good sign because it means that the police will more than likely be showing up within the next hour, knocking on doors trying to collect information. That wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that as soon as they identify me I’ll be thrown in prison for the rest of my existence which believe it or not, doesn’t sound too appealing to me. I need to get out of here. Well I guess that my theory about not getting any sleep is correct. I pour some vodka in a plastic water bottle, and then I grab a pack of smokes, my lighter and my leather jacket. I rush to put on my shoes, experiencing the same struggle from earlier and run out the door. While walking down the alleys, making sure to avoid the main streets so that any cruisers circling won’t see me. I’m used to the drill, this happens at least once a week. Trying to shake off my annoyance and paranoia- and the feeling in my gut that Valery is no longer an issue, I make my way to Jacob’s house. He lives in his own house, instead of the apartment building because he says it “isn’t his style”, plus if he’s in a suite he’s losing money because it means a renter can’t be in it. His house is navy blue on the outside, the paint is cracked and peeling. It’s a two story house with a triangular shaped roof. There are three wooden steps leading up to the white front door. The steps groan when you put pressure on them and everytime I use them I fear that they will collapse.I knock on his door and he answers within a few seconds. He’s not wearing a shirt, just his blue jeans. His black hair is a mess. I try not to look at his abs as I walk in. “I have an issue,” I say ignoring the young girl with orange hair and a zebra striped dress climbing out his window with her sparkly silver high heels in hand. “There was another disturbance at the building, I am started to get thoroughly annoyed with the presence of trouble caused by people other than myself.” I know that there isn’t much Jacob can do about it, other than evicting people, which he isn’t going to do. That doesn’t stop me from complaining. I also make sure not to mention Valery. I don’t want anything to do with it. Jacob walks over to the window and closes it making sure it’s locked. We both know how insane girls can be.“Of course there is Justin,” he says, clearly annoyed. “I thought you’d be used to it by now. It’s not my fault that you always pick the worst area to live in everywhere you go.” This gets me mad because he knows damn well that if I lived in the good areas I’d be identified. People in the hood might identify me, but they damn well wouldn’t say anything. None of us want police involved any more than they already are. When he sees the pissed look on my face he changes his tone to sound more sympathetic. His already thin lips press together into a line and he lets out a breath through his nose. “I know you have to Justin. I wish there was a way to make your life normal. For you to be pardoned. But it isn’t possible, so you’re going to have to live with the little annoyances.”“If I were absolved I would stop. I would get help and I would start over,” my voice is shaking. Jacob is the only person who reminds me that I have feelings, no matter how hard I try to numb them. “It’s too late for me Jacob.” The look on his face tells me that he already knows that but hasn’t accepted it. he doesn’t want it to be true. The unspoken truth though, is that we both gave up on a normal life years ago. “I just don’t want you getting taken away from me Justin. We’ve been best friends since we were 2 and this is all either of us have left, your booze aside.” A single tear runs down his cheek and it breaks my heart. “I’m scared our time is running out. You don’t sleep, you rarely eat. You’re trying to drink yourself to death and the whole world is looking to throw you in jail other than your hookers and customers. I’m terrified for you.” “I need to tell you something about tonight.” There’s apprehension in my voice and my shoulders slump forward. “There was a girl at my apartment before the commotion. I had hooked up with her a couple nights ago. She came trying to get me to help her because she murdered someone. I made her leave and I heard the scream just after that happened. I think it might have been her.” His shoulders and fists tense up. My eyes meet Jacob’s and his are full of worry. “We’ll get it figured out, Justin. It will be okay. But you need to get better.”Jacob’s words hurt because they’re the truth. I’m not used to staring the truth in the eyes, I do everything in my power to avoid it. For the first time in months I break down. I’m on my knees sobbing while he holds me. He says it’ll be alright but we both know that’s a lie. “We could’ve been so much more than this Jacob,” my voice is shaking and although I’m slurring my words he understands. I blame myself for his lack of success. No matter how often he tries to convince me I’m not to blame it doesn’t work. We sit there crying for what feels like forever and after a while Jacob and I fall asleep on the floor with tear stained faces, just as the sun hits the sky.

[my-lazy-genius]

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I love you so much I can’t stand it” “How… How can I take that the wrong way?” “I don’t know, I’m really nervous”, with Netherlands and Taiwan. Something fluffy and funny, but romantic, please ^^

Send me a request!

Title: Meteoric NightFandom: Hetalia :: NethTaiRequested by: @mireille2806sstuffPrompt: “Don’t take this the wrong way but I love you so much I can’t stand it” “How… How can I take that the wrong way?” “I don’t know, I’m really nervous” from putthepromptsonpaperOther: FluffA/N: In honor of the meteor shower tonight… Here’s this one. Title is based off a Cicada song.

Often, Mei thinks about the first time she met Abel. It had been through Kiku, in the most cliche and rushed manner. She’s on her way to the library to get her cell phone from him - she’d left it in the college library two classes prior and hadn’t had a chance to get it, but Kiku had been heading there anyways and grabbed it for her. Upon arrival, she finds Kiku at his usual table in the very back - but he isn’t alone. Beside him, a rather intimidating man is hunched over, scribbling into a notebook.

“Mei,” Kiku greets, looking up, “your phone is in my bag. Give me just a moment and I’ll get it.”

Mei is torn between thinking they are studying and thinking Kiku is tutoring someone again - it ends up being the former - when the blond lifts his gaze, undoubtedly to see why they’re being interrupted.

Mei immediately blurts, “Do I know you?”

He blinks. “No.”

“You know his sister,” Kiku informs her, fishing her phone out of his bag, “Lien’s girlfriend.”

“Oh!” Mei brightens and half flings herself onto the table, stretching out a hand to shake. “I didn’t know she had a brother! Nice to meet’cha! I’m Mei, Kiku’s half sister, and Lien’s best friend!”

“Abel,” he replies, hesitantly reaching out to shake her hand, “I study with Kiku sometimes.”

In that moment, their existence is established to each other, polar opposites or not. Mei takes her phone, thanks Kiku profusely, and races out of the library with a bounce to her step.

–

After their first meeting, she notices Abel around the campus a lot more. They don’t share any classes - she’s in fashion and he’s in business and creative writing, so even though they could have shared a marketing class, they don’t - but she catches sight of him in the quad often, writing or doing something on his phone with his earbuds in.

Her class is canceled, one of such days, so she has time to stop by.

“Hey!” She greets, and his perpetually annoyed looking gaze lifts.

Tired eyes drag over her. “Mei,” he greets, a moment later.

“You remembered!” She beams. “Mind if I join you?”

“That’s fine,” he replies, gaze shifting back to his notebook.

Mei drops her messenger bag at her feet and sits beside him. Whatever he’s writing, it’s in another language and she can’t read it. Kiku probably could, with his language obsession, but she’s sure it’s some sort of Germanic language. Too busy trying to be nosy, she barely realizes that he’s stopped writing and is now scrutinizing her.

(“Oh, that,” Abel tells her, when she asks years later, “you smelled nice. I wanted to say so, but it sounded odd and I’m not eloquent off of paper.”)

Mei looks up. “Oh,” she says, “uh, what are you writing?”

“Poetry,” he tells her, checking the time on his watch. “I have to go to my next class. Bye.”

Mei watches him go with a huff. I wanted to know what it was about.

–

So, if only because Mei is persistent and clearly doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone, they end up sort of becoming friends. Lien and Emma are a little more than surprised when Mei mentions it.

She and Lien share a dorm and Emma practically lives on Lien’s side of the room; she looks up from where she’s half draped over the aforementioned Vietnamese girl and gapes at Mei.

“He mentioned a Mei, but somehow I thought he meant like, another Mei. A May? I don’t know; how did you manage to befriend Abel?”

“I just talked to him?” It comes out more questioning than Mei intends and she pauses, halfway through a sketch of a dress, and spins around in her office chair. “Wait, did you just say he talks about me?”

“Oops,” says Emma, and shoves her head under Lien’s pillow.

Lien just gives a long suffering sigh.

–

With all the romance novels she reads, Mei probably should have expected the coffee shop. She frequents the place for their tea - coffee gives her too much energy and Kiku never let her touch the stuff again - and Abel, it seems, frequents the place for the atmosphere and the pastries.

Or so he’s just told her, from where he sits across from her.

She’d seen him almost immediately upon entering, asked for her usual, and immediately crossed to sit in the corner booth with him once she’d received it. Somehow, Abel had seemed unsurprised to see her.

“Let me guess,” he says, setting his pen down in anticipation for her undoubtedly long winded response, “you’re a regular.”

So now they’re here, exchanging words as Abel writes and Mei draws. It takes her a moment to realize he’s watching her oddly, as though he wants to say something, but the moment she meets his eyes, he drops them and resumes writing. She still doesn’t know what the poetry is about.

–

“-so anyways, I convinced Abel to go to that carnival that recently came to town,” Mei is saying, talking so rapidly and gesturing so much that she doesn’t notice Kiku stops until she’s well ahead of him.

He’s just standing there, staring at her, scrutinizing.

Mei dares to ask, “What?”

“You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

“Oh my god,” Mei complains, “am I that transparent?”

–

“Mei, I’m telling you, you gotta tell him,” Emma informs her without looking up from her text, “because I promise it’ll go well.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” Mei demands.

Emma lifts an eyebrow. “A lot of things, apparently.”

“If you start arguing, you’re both getting kicked out,” Lien cuts in, before Mei can even open her mouth.

–

Can we talk?

Mei blinks at the text and checks the time. It’s nearly nine at night. She sighs and rolls over, sending back a quick, Sure. What about?

Can you meet me at the cafe?

“Jesus, Abel,” Mei groans, dragging herself up and changing out of her pajamas and into her clothes. She texts him again to tell him she’s on the way and sneaks out, hoping to any god that has ever existed that Lien doesn’t lock her out.

–

Abel’s already there when she arrives. The cafe closed at nine, but he’s holding two cups, still fresh with steam. He offers one out to her as she approaches, shivering.

“Sorry,” he says, “I know it’s late. Here. This is the tea you like, right?”

Sure enough, when she takes a drink, it is. “How did you know?”

He shrugs. “I pay attention.”

Abel gestures and begins to walk, and Mei falls into step alongside him, noting the way he slows his pace now so she can keep up easier. Abel’s quiet for a while, as though thinking, and Mei’s gaze drifts to the starry sky. They walk until they come to the city park and Mei brightens, setting her tea down on the nearest picnic table, before racing to the swings. Abel sits down on the bench and watches.

It had been years since she’d last been on swings, but she still enjoys the feeling of cold wind rushing through her hair and tickling her cheeks, eyes taking in the wide expanse of sky overhead. It just so happens that she’s in the air when multiple, bright streaks race across the sky. A meteor shower, she realizes, with a start, and an airy laugh.

“Abel, look! It’s beautiful!”

Her phone vibrates and she looks down as the screen lights up.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you so much I can’t stand it, the message reads.

Mei has to pause and double check, but sure enough, the contact name says Abel.

“How…” She laughs, lifts her gaze to find him in the dark, his face illuminated by his phone screen, “How can I take that the wrong way?”

“I don’t know,” Abel admits, “I’m really nervous. I’m not… good with words.”

When she gets close enough to half fling herself into his arms, Mei laughs at the way his ears turn red - from the cold and embarrassment. I love you, too, she’ll text him later, when she’s tucked into her bed, nose red and lips stretched into a giddy smile.

–

Mei has no filter whatsoever, so everyone knows that they’re dating within the week. Abel is odd about public affection, but she likes it better when they’re alone anyways. He’s gentle with her, softer somehow. Emma just smiles knowingly, and Kiku seems entirely unsurprised. Sometimes, Abel walks her to class. Sometimes, she hears people refer to them as the power couple, which she doesn’t understand until Alfred explains to Kiku, who explains to her.

Mei can live with that.

Sometimes, Abel lets her hang off of him in the halls, or hold his hand. She keeps thinking about the time they first met, her impulse decision to say something to the scary boy with the scar above his eyebrow. Now, she knows he got the scar in a childhood accident and he hasn’t climbed a tree since. Now, she knows he’s secretly a sucker for romance, from novels to songs. She sees him smiling at her when he thinks she isn’t watching, sometimes.

And she’s happy.

–

“Hey, Abel?” She asks him, months later. “What were you always writing poetry about?”

Abel looks up, almost smiling. “You, mostly.”