#friends to lovers perfection

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#Name A Better Childhood Friends To Lovers Glow Up I'll Wait

[alisyons]

some souyos

[steddieas-shegoes]

all mixed up

for @steddielovemonth prompt “love is the perfect mixtape’

rated t | 940 words | cw: brief mention of recreational drug use | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, love confessions, fluff

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

The silence in the car was stifling.

It was hot. Like, entirely too hot.

Steve was about five seconds away from taking his shirt off and dealing with Robin’s rolled eyes when Eddie, surprisingly, beat him to it.

The windows were down, but the radio was off, and sweat was dripping from every pore of their bodies onto the sticky leather seats of Steve’s car.

Eddie’s shirt was sitting on the seat next to him, and one of his hands was gathering his hair up so he could get some wind on his neck, not that the wind was any real help.

“What if we just all go to Robin’s?” Eddie asked when they were only a block away from her house. “Soak up some cool air.”

“Her parents are home,” Steve said for the fifth time.

“I don’t see the issue.”

“They think you were targeting me as the next victim,” Robin shook her head. “I don’t know how many times I’ve explained to them-“

“Fine!” Eddie said, too hot to bother listening or trying to argue. “But I swear we’re getting the AC in this car fixed tomorrow.”

“Oh, do you suddenly have $140?” Steve was met with silence. “Thought so.”

When Robin got out of the car, she slipped $20 into Steve’s hand. “For gas or AC, whatever.”

It was the first time Eddie had ever seen her give Steve any form of payment for rides, and probably the last going off of the way Steve’s entire face went from mildly uncomfortable to physical pain.

Eddie moved to the passenger seat and buckled up.

That was the biggest rule in Steve’s car: everyone wore seatbelts unless they were being chased by Upside Down creatures.

Steve backed out of the driveway once Robin was inside, and once again tried to flip the AC on.

Nothing.

“Why did this have to happen right before the hottest part of the year?” Eddie groaned.

“Just lucky,” Steve shrugged.

He should’ve taken his shirt off when he was in Robin’s driveway.

He pretended not to be distracted by the sweat glistening on Eddie’s chest, his skin flush pink from the heat. Steve pretended to not notice his newest tattoo, a nail bat that could have been identical to Steve’s real one under his bed.

“Oh!” Eddie suddenly said, nearly making Steve slam on the brakes or steer off the road. Maybe both.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot,” Eddie started to say as he reached through the backpack he had on the floor at his feet. “I made a…ah-ha!”

He held up a small rectangle, beaming over at Steve, who was too focused on driving to really see what he was holding.

“Uh. What is it?” He asked.

“It’s a mixtape! You were complaining about the kids stealing all your tapes and I thought I could make one for you,” Eddie opened the cassette case and shoved the tape in the tape deck. “I fit as much of what I knew you had on here, but there are limits to my magic so-“

“You seriously made me a mixtape of a bunch of pop songs?” Steve rolled to a stop at a stop sign, finally able to properly look over at Eddie.

He was pulling a lock of hair into his mouth, nervously looking back at Steve like he was unsure he’d done the right thing, like this was a test he hadn’t studied for and had a big chance of failing.

“I mean, I did throw in one of my favorite songs halfway to shake things up,” Eddie said nervously.

“You recorded fucking Blondie on a tape for me?” Steve asked incredulously.

“One song is Blondie, but-“

“And Tears for Fears?” Steve was still stopped in the road.

Eddie glanced behind them, ignoring the squeak of his slick skin rubbing against the seat. No cars, thankfully.

“Yeah, they’re on there.”

Steve put the car in park.

“Steve, you’re in the road, you can’t-“

“Shut up!” Steve turned completely towards Eddie, his face serious. “You made me a mixtape.”

“Yes and now I’m regretting mentioning it while you were driving.” Duran, Duran started playing and Steve let out a small gasp. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Do you remember when you told me that music was your love language? We were high and you said that you would give the person you love a mixtape to show you cared about them?”

He did say that. It was well over a month ago, when he and Steve had been sitting on his roof smoking, when Eddie had almost told him then how much he loved him. He’d held back, but barely.

“I…yeah, I remember.”

“And you made me a mixtape.”

“I did.”

“Eddie…”

“Steve…”

“Is this you telling me you love me?”

It wasn’t. Not intentionally. Not really.

But as expected, Steve saw through him, had a memory like a steel trap despite how many times he’d had his lights knocked out.

“You love me.”

Eddie was desperate to touch him, but the reminder of how hot it was, how much sweat was dripping off of him made him pause.

“When we get to your house, I’ll tell you.”

“What? Why not now?” Steve pouted.

Eddie fell harder.

“Because if I kiss you in this car, I’ll be mad about suffering in the heat longer. You have a house with AC and a cold shower." Eddie poked Steve's bottom lip back in. "I can show you if you hurry."

Steve took the car out of park and hit the gas, his perfect mixtape playing on the radio and Eddie laughing in the passenger seat.

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[cupoteahatter]

In the wake of the cancellation of Warrior Nun, I am imploring anyone who has Disney+ to watch Willow (2022).

It features a woman loving woman romantic subplot at the forefront, meaning it’s not in the subtext. Episode 1 has them kiss and afterward the lines of romance exist so throughout the narrative for these two characters that it is current and seen to the point that it cannot be argued away.

But there’s next to no buzz for it, only the Disney+ app really promotes it as something to watch with the odd ad showing up on Instagram of the cast playing mini games.

On top of that, it is a well written show that holds all of the love of the original film from the 80s.

I know that it would appear that numbers don’t seem to matter, but I am begging people to watch this show because it is a fantastic piece of media that delights in paying homage to the source material it comes from.

Also hot women with swords. Hot women with swords who could KILL you-

[pitconfirm]

you are so right for saying that and whats more, I'm going to torture us both with The Photo 🤍

for real… they’re soulmates and The Photo is deeply important lore. and of course im taking this as an opportunity for a lesteban photo dump ‼️

[mags-writes]

me, 14 and reading the end of mockingjay:

me, 24 and reading the end of the ballad of songbirds and snakes:

[save-the-data]

Perfect Propose | S01E02

Japanese Drama - 2024, 6 episodes

[plistommy]

#Hands on hips when a hot guy looks at you

[cloudofsoup]

i cant stop thinking ab louie and olimar’s relationship dynamic. golden hearted middle aged family man being forced by his company to explore an incredibly dangerous planet away from his wife and children (and his entire species for that matter) and his only two companions on this trip are a snarky AI who is basically just his corrupt company’s mouthpiece… and some young adult guy with no real attachments to his planet save for his nana (god knows where his parents are).

olimar cant stand being away from his family and louie has barely any experience with one. olimar is a chatterbox who is enamored with the dangerous world around him and louie is practically mute but lights up at anything relating to culinary arts. they’re so fucking weird but work so well together is anyone else seeing my vision.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[hiimawarish]

laws of attraction

s. alhaitham has solved many enigmas, except you. cw. mutual pining? kind of? fluff. a lil romantic tension. implied academic rivals. tw. none. not proofread. wc. 0.69k a/n. i was getting ready for bed, the first sentence popped up in my mind, and here we are. i have no excuse. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

There were not many things Alhaitham struggled to understand.

From his focus on linguistics and ancient languages to his almost obsessive pursuit of knowledge in other areas such as physics, he had discovered from a young age that his mind was gifted. No book was too advanced for him. No lecture too complicated or dense. Alhaitham’s life had been overcome with a thirst for knowledge that he had never quite quenched, or perhaps he had never been truly interested in satiating it. 

Whatever the reason, the truth remained that Alhaitham had found fewer challenges the more he studied. Be it Kaveh’s emotional outbursts or the inefficiency of his classmates, Alhaitham was unfazed. Keeping to himself was more a second nature than a habit by now—as natural as breathing, as reading.

It allowed him fewer failures. Not that they were ever abundant.

Unless it came to you, that is.

“Struggling?” His voice left him in his usual stoic manner, and yet the flash of anger in your eyes did not go unnoticed. Although subtle, if one were to pay close attention to his face, they’d notice the slight curve on his lips—a smile. “Which book?”

“Shut up.”

An amused chuckle left him at your words whispered in anger. The heat gathered in your cheeks at the sound, shame spreading to your ears and down into your neck and cleavage, hidden from his eyes under the Akademiya’s uniform. His laughter, though short, seemed to anger you even more—Alhaitham had discovered, quite quickly, that any sound coming from him seemed to have that effect. Even when he was merely offering his help to reach the book that you not-so-gracefully had been trying to get for the past ten minutes.

In spite of your mumbled, aggressive words, Alhaitham stretched his arm. His fingers traced the spine of a few books—linguistics in context, a comparison in-depth of language evolution around Teyvat, a compilation of ancient runes—until he finally got to the one he was sure you needed. He plucked it out from the shelf, admiring the familiar cover for a few seconds, before handing it to you.

“I never said I needed this.” You replied stubbornly. 

You were always too fast to refuse his help. That was his fault, according to Kaveh, but Alhaitham disagreed. Giving you fake praise on that draft you presented him on your first day of class would have been a disservice to you, and yet you had been far too prideful. Now you avoided his help—him—like the plague. 

Alhaitham glanced once toward the table you had been sitting at, an arrangement of old textbooks, reports, and scribbled notes surrounding your space. He turned his eyes to you, a questioning look that told you the answer was obvious. You did need it. You did need the comparative essay on how language had shaped Sumeru’s two faces. 

You were, still, too prideful, it seemed.

“You do, actually.” He placed the book on your table, dismissively. “It’s a primary source, shouldn’t you know that?”

A stubborn silence on your part is all he received. 

Alhaitham sighed. “It seems I overestimated your common sense. Or lack-there-of.”

He should leave. He knew that—his rationality screamed at him to stop bothering, to take your words at face value, and just leave you alone. But he couldn’t. Whether he relished in provoking you or simply saw you as an enigma that he needed to understand, he couldn’t tell. 

“See? You’re an idiot.” You nudged him angrily, ineffectual fists hitting his chest. Some other students had stopped, looking curiously at your exchange—usually, the attention would bother him, but he was too focused on you. On your scrunched-up nose, your furrowed brows, your lips pressed together in a thin, tempting line. “If you’re here just to make fun of me, leave. I’m sure you have far better and more important things to do.”

He sighed, though his lips curved in a subtle smile—he was familiar with facts, concrete information, but you seemed to be too abstract for him to grasp. The only thing Alhaitham knew for sure was that you were a magnet.

And he understood the laws of attraction too well to fight.

more works.

©2023 hiimawarish do not translate, repost, copy, modify

[puppyeared]

Hey I’m new to the LMK fandom, why do so many people ship Sun Wukong and Macaque??

A lot of people like the hurt/comfort potential because of their backstory and because they’re just really good counterparts lol. Macaque even makes a whole play about their past relationship, which is where a lot of that fuel for the ship comes from and the whole “the hero and the warrior were like the sun and the moon” spiel that people love using for shits and giggles. There’s also a really strong enemies to lovers sentiment and i think it’s kinda sweet

Personally, I just really like riffing off the divorced energy. To me, these idiots would rather beat the shit out of each other than make up and I really really eat that up. Not just as a joke, maybe as a way to cope with their feelings like “I want things to go back the way they were but this is all I can do”

[grapehyasynth]

Why do I feel like Marcus would make jokes about Simon's height while it wouldn't even occur to Wille to do that

Like someone would ask him "how tall is Simon" and Wille would say "he's the perfect height" and they'd be like "but what's his height, numerically" and Wille would say "he's a perfect number of meters tall"

[wolfshystuff]

Enemies to Friends to Lover

Is one of my favorite romantic trope ever!

Especially when there is the crazy one, who bring trouble and caos but who also just wanted to be love

And then there is the calm one, who at the start doesn't want anything to do with theme but in the end they developed complicated feeling for the crazy one and then helped them become a better person by offering support and, most important, love.

In a way there are also Luz and Amity who fit the trope but they are reversed (the calmer one needed to be saved and loved be the chaotic one)

[canismajorly]

okay I don't honestly make original posts about fandom but I'm cordially inviting people to interact with me. about Paul locked tomb series. please interact if you are a paul LOVER and ENJOYER. their name is silly but I really like them and am saddened to see many people in the Paul tags on various sites more just lamenting the end of Camilla and Palamedes existing but like look. Paul is really cool. they're cute and I think they're actually really awesome and I'm GLAD for Camilla and Palamedes's Steven Universe fusion. I want MORE of this character, even at the expense of those two. where are the other Paul enthusiasts at.