#guess turin brushed his hair for this one

[thelien-art]

🏳️‍🌈 Turin/Beleg please! 🙏💚

My disaster boy and my way more other disaster boy♡♡♡ (bi flag under)

🏳️‍🌈CELEBRATE PRIDE WITH ME🏳️‍🌈 - send in a character or a ship with a pride flag and I´ll draw it

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 3 – prompt 3: Obscuro – word count 523

Obscuro - Conjures a blindfold

“Obscuro!”

Sirius watched with a grin as the magically conjured blindfold wrapped itself around Remus’s face while he was still entering the dorm.

“Padfoot, what…”

“Ssh, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Sirius immediately said, putting a reassuring hand on his boyfriend’s arm while he locked the door behind him. “Come with me.”

“What are you doing?” Remus’s voice was amused now.

“Well, I noticed you didn’t have your usual triple serving of dessert at dinner tonight, my darling,” Sirius guided Remus to his bed and made him sit down. “So I prepared a little something.”

“Why the blindfold though?”

“Patience, my dearest, patience.”

Sirius sat down too, taking the time to place a couple of the pillows behind Remus before uncovering the trays.

“I wanted to play a little game,” he said to the raised eyebrow peeking over Remus’s blindfold. “Do you trust me?”

“I’m not sure right now.”

“Come on Moony,” Sirius pouted. “Do you trust me?”

Remus chuckled, then a fond smile formed on his lips.

“With my life, my love,” he said softly.

Sirius felt his cheeks turn pink like every time Remus said something like that and he picked a piece of toast from the first tray.

“Good. Now, I just want you to guess what food I’m giving you. Easy enough, right?” he got closer, sitting now right in front of Remus. “Open up.”

Remus did as he was told and chewed, before grinning.

“That’s easy enough: peanut butter toast. The crunchy variety.”

“Very good, Moony. What about this?”

“Effie’s cherry jam. Last summer’s batch.”

“Impressive. This?”

“Cadbury Creme Egg.”

“Dammit, I thought that one would be harder.”

“For you, maybe,” Remus laughed. “I grew up in a Muggle village, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. This one?”

“Oh, this… This is Italian gianduja chocolate! Where did you even get it?”

“Monty’s last work trip to Turin,” Sirius replied proudly. “And what about this?”

He watched Remus bite into it, hesitatingly at first, then with a half smile once he recognised the texture.

“Chocolate-covered strawberry,” Remus nodded. “Wow.”

Sirius had still the second half of the strawberry in his hand but he was too distracted watching a drop of juice escape Remus’s lips and run down his chin. He swallowed.

“What’s next?”

Sirius looked down at the trays, his train of thought now lost. He passed the halved strawberry on his lips before leaning towards Remus.

“This?” he whispered before brushing his lips against his.

There was a sharp intake of breath before Remus leaned back into the kiss. Sirius dropped the strawberry and clambered in his boyfriend’s lap, hands reaching up to get rid of the blindfold.

“Curtains…” Remus breathed between kisses. “The others might come in.”

“Nah,” Sirius ran his hands in Remus’s hair. “Asked for a favour. The girls agreed to let them sleep in their dorm tonight.”

“The girls?” Remus broke the kiss to lean back and stare at Sirius. “You know that boys can’t climb the stairs to the girls’ dorm.”

Sirius laughed, letting his hands frame Remus’s face.

“You really thought such a stupid spell would stop the Marauders?” he whispered before melting in another kiss.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 5 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 6; ... Chapter 18)

Summary: Emily Rooney has always wanted more than what her family wanted for her; to get married to a nice, wealthy young man and have lots of well-raised Catholic babies. So when her fiancee enlists with the marines she decides this is her chance to have an adventure before she has to get married. She finds herself outfitted with the 506th working alongside a flippant intelligence officer.

Emily - November 1943

Emily and Luz beat their final opponents by 50. She walked home that night with a new sense of pride bolstered by her new soldier friends’ praise.

Their first opponents had been Joe Liebgott and Moe Alley. Their speedy victory had been chalked up to beginners luck on Emily’s part. So, she graciously accepted a second invitation to play, this time against Donald Malarkey and Skip Muck. After another inevitable win the men grew rowdy with the idea that Emily Rooney was seemingly unbeatable.

After another three games in a row Nixon had come over to let Emily know that he and Welsh were headed back to base, if she wanted to walk back with them. Luz and the other soldiers around her whined for her to stay. After their time together, Emily felt she could trust the men. She at least felt she could trust Luz so she told Nixon to go on without her.

“How’d you get so good?” Luz asked as they walked back.

“Played a lot in college.”

“How was college?”

“College was,” Emily hesitated, “fine.”

“Just fine?” Luz’s figure was barely visible in the darkness. A few paces ahead of them walked Joe Toye and Frank Perconte.

“I really enjoyed learning!”

“Oh yeah? What’d you study?” George sounded genuinely interested.

“Geography and History.”

“Smart girl, eh?” Emily thought she could make out the flash of George’s smile.

“I love those subjects, it’s easy when you love it,” she said.

“That makes sense why you’re here then! Teaching us common soldiers all about maps and such,” George said, “so why just fine then? Since you got to study what you love?”

Emily focused on the gravel crunching beneath their steps as she tried to formulate the best way to explain herself. She didn’t know why she felt so comfortable being vulnerable with George right now, but she did. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just because he was being so friendly. “I don’t think anyone wanted me there, not to learn at least.”

“Whaddya mean?” George’s warm shoulder brushed hers briefly as he moved closer to listen.

Emily exhaled, “I was so excited to learn and to get to go to college! But when I got there I quickly realized that it was just one giant pantomime.” She paused. George remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “We were encouraged to spend time with the Notre Dame boys, and it wasn’t subtle. I didn’t really feel challenged academically or that my scores or assignments mattered. All my classmates were consumed with the latest hair styles, their boyfriends, dances, and as far as academics went,” Emily scoffed, “they didn’t really care about learning or thinking critically,” she was ranting now, “as long as they appeared to be a ‘successful’ student, that’s as far as it mattered. A respectable young woman with a formal education. That moves you up in life. But no one actually cares if you learn anything or have any thoughts of your own!”

George was quiet and Emily felt a flush taking over her cheeks. She was grateful for the shield of darkness.

“Well, good thing you didn’t listen to them,” George finally said.

“What?” Emily turned to look at him, despite the low visibility.

“Well, you’re here aren’t ya. You’re actually doing something with your education. You’re doing everything they didn’t want you too and that’s gutsy.”

Emily allowed herself to smile slightly, “yeah, I guess so.”

“Not a lot of dames would leave everything behind to join the European front. I mean, how many women do you see around you right now?” Emily chuckled, “there’s plenty of other brave women here.”

“Yeah, and you’re one of them.” They were approaching base at this point and the few dim lamps that hung on the front of the buildings illuminated George’s face slightly.

“Thank you, George,” Emily smiled softly at him.

“Anytime.” He bumped her gently with his shoulder. “You want me to walk you back to HQ?”

“That’s okay, we’re fifty feet away,” she gestured, “though I appreciate the offer.”

“Sure, see you later.” George disappeared into the darkness with Joe and Frank.

The next morning Emily felt more exhausted than she had in a long time. She wasn’t hungover - or at least she thought. To be fair she hadn’t experienced that sensation before.

“Alright kid?” Nixon asked as he trudged into the intelligence room.

“Kid?” she asked dryly. He shot her a look that said, yeah and? 
“Yeah I’m good, thanks. You alright?”

“I’m up aren’t I.”

“Indeed,” Emily chuckled, “coffee?”

“Sure,” he accepted the drink, “is this..?”

“Regular,” Emily didn’t have the energy to elaborate until she had consumed her own cup of coffee. Luckily, her and Nixon’s shorthand had evolved into a clear language.

After a few quiet minutes of mutual existence Nixon finally said, “we’re getting you on the rifle range today.”

“Okay,” Emily said dully.

Nixon squinted at her, “okay?”

“Yeah, okay, just tell me what time so I can change into my pants.”

“Okay,” Nixon drawled suspiciously.

“What?”

“I was expecting a little more pushback or more questions.”

“What’s there to ask?”
 “I don’t know, you always seem to come up with something!”

“Well I just said let me know so I can change.”

“Right, well are you nervous?”

Emily raised her eyebrows at him, “I’ve shot a gun before, Captain.”

Nixon winced into his coffee.

“What?” Emily asked, “don’t like women shooting guns?” 
“No,” Nixon said defensively, “god, you make me sound like a misogynist. I don’t like that title.” 
“Captain?” Emily was confused.

Nixon waived his hand is disgust, “yeah that.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t care for it. I don’t care for the frou-frou and fanfare of it all.”

“This is coming from a man who has an exclusive drink preference?”

Nixon gave her a cool look which caved into a little chuckle. “I’m here to do a job, a job I don’t particularly want to do, and that’s it,” he said with finality.

His attitude came as a surprise to Emily. Her impression of Lewis Nixon thus far had been that of an out of touch but clever and capable officer. She never had any sense that he took his military career seriously, like Winters for example; Nixon’s flippant attitude made that clear. But before now she would’ve guessed that title and rank meant something to him. Their conversation revealed a surprising humility Emily hadn’t expected to find in him. He was here out of duty to his nation just as much as any other foot soldier who had enlisted, not for glory. Guilt tugged slightly in Emily’s stomach. What was she here for? Not glory, but if she was being honest, not in humble service of her country either. Between the two of them, she was the opportunistic one using the events of war to seek adventure.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nixon interrupted her introspection.

“Sorry,” Emily shook her head to clear the fog of her mind, “I’m tired.”

“Wild night?”

“Not really,” she said innocently.

“Really? I’m disappointed in George Luz.” Nixon smiled devilishly.

Emily couldn’t help the red flush that crept up her cheeks. There was nothing to be embarrassed about but Emily was Irish, so her blushes were frequent and beyond her control.

Nixon clocked it immediately and wasn’t about to be gracious enough to let it go ignored, “what?” he demanded with a half-smile, “what are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing!” Emily insisted.

“Aw come on, you know I’ll find out.”

“There’s nothing to find out!”

“There isn’t? Why are you so red then?” Nixon was unrelenting.

“I don’t know! I can’t help it!” Emily pressed her hands against her cheeks, desperately trying to cool her face, “I’m not hiding anything!”
 Nixon raised his eyebrows in doubt. Quickly, Emily collected herself and straightened, determined to get her power back from him, “There’s nothing to hide. Besides, I am spoken for, Captain,” she said haughtily.

Nixon wrinkled his nose in distaste at her pointed use of the title he had just admitted he hated.  Emily smiled smugly back at him and the conversation was put to rest. The pair ditched their empty mugs and were about to start out for their morning duties when Private Allen Vest stopped them in the doorway.

“A letter for Miss Rooney,” he said holding out an envelope.

“Thank you,” Emily took it and Vest was gone as quickly as he arrived.

“Finally a letter from that boyfriend of yours?”

“Fiancee,” Emily corrected, opening the letter.

“Hey ask him if he’s had a chance to try the local cuisine yet. If he’s anywhere close to Turin, I know this lovely little hilltop place I’d love to recommend.”

Emily looked up from the letter to shoot Nixon a disgusted look. He raised his eyebrows in mock offense, “at least say hi for me!”, then he swaggered out leaving Emily shaking her head and smiling. She had barely comprehended the few words she had already read, having been distracted by Nixon. She began again,

Dearest Emily,

I’m glad to hear you’ve settled in England easily. I apologize for the time since my last letter. I can’t begin to describe to you how difficult things are over here and frankly, I’ve had more to worry about than our correspondence. I do appreciate each of your letters, and your enduring loyalty to me…

A slight pang of guilt hit Emily at those words. Why though? She asked herself, had she been unfaithful? Not in the slightest. She had done nothing wrong or untoward since she’d been separated from John. But, though not explicitly wrong, she had done things she knew he wouldn’t approve of. She had played darts and cards, she’d drank and socialized with men without a female companion. She had been alone in a room with who John would consider a strange man on more than one occasion. This was on top of the liberties he had already been a good sport about; her working, shooting, and potentially being sent to the continent. These were all things that were acceptable from women who were single and not from her class, especially when there was plenty of dignified work to do on the home-front. And so Emily had omitted the details of her relationships and aspirations in her letters to John. She most definitely would not be conveying a hello to him from Nixon.

Emily finished the letter, folded it up, and stuffed it in her breast pocket. From her desk on the far left of the room she collected a box of maps and hurried out of the room. She was running late. Emily walked as quickly along the pebbled road as she could while still maintaining her poise. The box hadn’t seemed to weigh much when she first picked it up but it grew heavier in her arms with every step. The edge of the cardboard dug into her stomach, pulling on her skirt. A sudden anxiety of how her skirt may be twisted around when she entered the classroom came over her. She bounced the box on her hip which provided some momentary respite and room to desperately pull at her skirt in an effort to straighten it. She was roughly twenty-five yards away when two hands reached out for the box, accompanied by a friendly voice

“Em, let me take that for you,” George Luz said.

Emily’s initial instinct was to protest the help. She was more than capable but George was already taking the box from her and she couldn’t deny her relief.

She straightened and smoothed her skirt before she looked up at her rescuer, “thank you, George. You sure it’s not too much? You’ve got a lot on you right now.”

“Another couple pounds won’t hurt, whoa!” George feigned dropping the box and laughed when Emily lunged to support him. “Seriously, no sweat. Where are we going?”

Emily pointed straight ahead to the building they were approaching. “Perfect, that’s where I’m supposed to be anyways,” George said.

Emily grinned at the trouble maker, “you running late too?”

George smiled crookedly back at her, “I left for the bathroom while we were getting settled in. I don’t think they got up to much without me if we were waiting on these.” George lifted the box in indication.

Emily flushed, “I know, I know, I got distracted and lost track of time.”

“By anything good?” George’s question was innocent but there was something about it that felt probative.

“Letter from John,” Emily patted her breast pocket, doing her best to keep her voice nonchalant. She noticed that George took the opportunity to glance at her chest and redness flared in her cheeks again. George quickly looked away and said, “nice, how’s he doing? Remind me, brother or boyfriend?”

“Fiancee, and he’s doing well.”

“Nice,” George stepped aside to let Emily enter first through the already open doorway. Inside, Welsh was already lecturing.

“Yesterday we talked about magnetic declination and the left add right subtract rule,” Welsh noticed her enter with George close behind, “today,” he continued, “we’re gonna put it into practice.”

“Thanks George,” Emily whispered her thanks and took the box from him. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Emily walked around the soldiers, occasionally having to step over a canteen or helmet, until she reached the front of the classroom. As Welsh continued to speak, Emily took out gridded maps from her box and began to distribute them to the soldiers.

“Glad you could join us,” Welsh grinned a gapped tooth smile at her once the lesson was ended. His hands were stuffed deep into his pants pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels as Emily re-organized the maps in her box.

“I’m so sorry I was late,” she grimaced, “I - I don’t have any excuse just lost track of time.”

Welsh gave a shrug that told her it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t say anything more but remained standing only feet from her, watching her work.

“That was a good lesson,” she said to break the silence, “they seemed to really get it.”

“Yeah, it always makes more sense when once can practice it on their own,” Welsh said.

“Agreed, best way to learn is by doing.”

“I’m relieved to think you went well though,” Welsh said settling himself on the edge of the table. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her with those disarming blue eyes, “I only learned all of this a couple days ago. It really should’ve been you teaching them.”

Emily smiled at the ground in response to his slight compliment, “you did a fine job. Besides, you’re their leader. It’s important to establish that you’re the one they should go to for information and support.”

“Pfft,” Welsh scoffed, “I’m sure that’s true, but no one wants to look at my ugly mug at the front of a classroom. All of those guys would have paid better attention to a beautiful lady like you.”

Emily fully flushed at this blatant compliment.

Welsh bit at his bottom lip, “anyways, time to get on to the next thing,” he stood, “want to leave that there for this afternoon?”

Emily nodded, “that was the plan. Just tidying things up a bit so you can easily find everything you need later.”

“Thanks,” Welsh said. Emily watched his lean figure walk out the door, silhouetted by the mid-morning sun streaming in. A little shiver ran through her body. Thoughts were creeping up in her mind that she was afraid to touch. If she acknowledged them there would be no denying them. She refused to be distracted from her plan; make the most of her career now before she had to return home and settle down. She couldn’t give anyone an excuse to send her home, not her parents or John or Nixon or any of the soldiers she worked alongside. Any acknowledgement of her growing crush would only lead to trouble.

[femkinkharry]

pieces and parts

or, lauren can’t manage to finish ANYTHING i’m actually on my laptop instead of writing on my phone and i managed to find some things i started [some as far back as december 2016?] and never managed to find the inspiration or confidence or what-have-you to finish! so instead of them collecting dust on my hard drive, i’m gonna shove ‘em at ya! maybe one day i’ll clean them off and find the will to continue, but it’s incredibly unlikely! so here’s just some warm-ups and starts and stops and disjointed ideas that never came to light! enjoy! i don’t even remember what the thought process was behind this as it’s been six months? and i think i wrote this as a warm-up anyway sooooo???

They don’t talk about it. It kind of comes with the territory. Being fed Non-Disclosure Agreements day after day has wormed its way into their psyche. Being chased with cameras makes sure that their own camera rolls are blank.

But it’s okay, Harry thinks. Maybe one day he’ll get used to the clicks of the shutters and he won’t shy away from smiling for the lenses. Maybe one day he won’t shy away from smiling for Louis.

“Already?” Louis asks, smirking in the doorway of his hotel room. He’s fresh from a shower, naked from the waist up, trackies hanging low on his hips. He’s an angel, Harry thinks.

And Harry is young, away from home for the first time, pulled into Louis’ orbit. He didn’t think much of it back in the X Factor house or even in the Bungalow. He doesn’t think much of it now. [Really, all he thinks of is the fluttering in his stomach and Louis’ smile.]

“Too early?” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he strolls into Louis’ hotel room. It’s warm, unbearably so, curtains pulled tight. Louis can’t stand the cold air like he can, he knows.

The mirror in the bathroom is still fogged and Harry can’t see his own reflection [for which, he’s thankful].

Louis waves dismissively, “Never too early.” 

this is the start to a long, involved, incredibly self-indulgent leeds fic i had panned out. turns out the drabble i wrote for carmen satisfied me and i don’t wanna write anything more lmao!

The day is muggy, air thick with smoke and lingering guitar screeches, but it’s absolutely perfect to Louis. Sure, he’s trudging through heaps of mud and he’s pretty sure that the tent next to theirs houses orgies every night, but it’s so worth it. Being out in the middle of almost-nowhere with Harry Styles and his mates and tonnes of bands and loads of beer makes him feel free. Not having to worry about waking up for rehearsals or watching his mouth or hearing a reporter ask for the thousandth time what kinds of girls he’s interested in takes such a load off of him. He hadn’t quite realised how exhausting the whirlwind of promo was.                

He’s lucky. Incredibly so. And he knows it. But when some rando hands him a red solo cup full of questionable liquid and Harry grins at him, motions at him to drink it, all he can think about is how fucking stuffy the air is and how there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. As he downs the cup in a few gulps, he wonders what his life would be life if he and Harry hadn’t met in the toilets during the X Factor auditions. Would they have met another time? They were already at the same The Script concert before they even knew who the other was. Had they been destined to find one another somehow and the X Factor was life’s cruel joke of a way to do it?

i always get 200 words into things and never want to touch them again hahaha! this was going to be a harry-is-an-exhibitionist smut that took place in dallas in 2012 but??? it just trails off cause i can’t finish SENTENCES, let alone stories! :D

Harry loves to perform. From the time he was old enough to speak, he was prancing around his mum’s living room, singing into a hairbrush. Family members would goad him into holding “concerts” for them, laughed as he imitated Elvis Presley and Elton John. And Harry ate up the attention; it left him with his cheeks flushed and heart thumping against his chest because he was <i>entertaining</i>.               

As he got older, the craving to entertain consumed him. He longed to be on a stage, in front of people adoring him, screaming for him, urging him on. He managed to convince his friends to put together a band and scope out gigs at school, but that only left him chasing the irregular high that performing gave him. Of course, he was only fifteen, desperate for any kind of interaction with people that left him fulfilled and validated. He just wanted so much- too much- of anything and everything.               

Auditioning for The X Factor seemed to be the next logical step. A stage where he could be the centre of attention and bask in the applause? It seemed like a dream; one that made his mouth go dry, his stomach coil sweetly. He brushed up on his confidence, stormed the stage, and ended up

this was part of a drabble prompt series that i was super excited about and researched to make it canon-compliant! and it was gonna have niall-centric ot5 but whoops guess what I NEVER FINISH ANYTHING! this prompt was “downpour” and it was set during the turin rainstorm in 2014.

Harry doesn’t remember how the downpour started, just that one minute he was belting out the lyrics to Little Black Dress and the next, his hair was falling in his eyes and there were goosebumps along his forearms. It came as a welcome reprieve from the sun beating down on him even though his shirt sticking to him and his boots squishing under his feet became annoying .3 seconds into it.

this next one is just a small part of something i got 2,000 words into! true to my username, it’s fem kink harry! crotchless tights, specifically. (:

it was all in good fun- something that wasn't ever supposed to be public. and it wouldn't have been, really.               

if harry hadn't managed to sneak a pair of tights out of the x factor dressing room two years ago.               

he carries them deep in his suitcase, wrapped in about fifteen layers of t-shirts and pants. not even louis knows he had stolen them and he tells louis <i>everything</i>. it's his own little secret- one he can indulge in during the nights he manages to convince the lads he needs the single room.

there's a ritual to it, too. one that starts with just thinking about the feeling of the nylon on his legs. he sets himself up all day, allowing his mind to wander during interviews or shows. sometimes, he imagines wearing the tights under his jeans. he hadn't gotten the courage to do it [yet], but the thought alone is enough to send the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzied flight. secretly wearing something <i>feminine</i>, rubbing his thighs together to feel the friction, has him hard in no time. 

SO YEAH um harry likes to be fucked in pantyhose thank you for coming to my ted talk!

[barce-fabu-lona]

Paulo Dybala Imagine

This is for @girlinmanyfandoms123. Thanks for your request love! <3 I hope you enjoy this. 

Paulo and you have been dating for a long time but you break up with him. Half a year later he comes to your city and wants to talk. A few weeks after you’re at a Juventus game and he scores and asks you to be his girlfriend again. 

I hope you enjoy and I would love if you left me some feedback! <33

A light breeze was blowing through the streets of Milan. Y/N could feel it brushing over her overheated skin, cooling it the slightest bit. She was grateful for it anyways. 

 "It’s so hot.“ Emma, her best friend, remarked. “I feel like I’m burning up. Literally." 

 Y/N chuckled a bit and watched her friend fanning herself with the menu of their favorite café. 

 "I guess you’re just hot like that.” She said, reaching for her drink. 

 A few droplets of water were running down the side of the glass, dripping down onto her thighs and causing her skin to erupt into goosebumps shortly. It was quiet refreshing to be honest. 

 "Haha.“ Emma deadpanned and brushed her red curls back. "Why am I still looking for my Prince Charming then?" 

 Y/N rolled her eyes and touched her now wet fingers to the back of her neck. She was hot as well, sweating in her pale yellow summer dress. The sun stood high in the sky, burning down on them unmercifully. Maybe they should have just stayed home like Emma originally suggested. They could fill the bathtub with cool water and ice cubes and take a bath instead of slowly dying off heat.

 "I don’t know Em, you’re a strong, independent woman. Maybe you have to go and rescue your Prince Charming." 

 Y/N wasn’t looking at her friend when she said that but when Emma didn’t comment further, didn’t even make any kind of huffy sound, she glanced up. 

 Emma’s face had gone pale and for a second Y/N was occupied with being surprised that you could actually look that pale during a hot summer day like this, but then worry kicked in.

She set her drink down and reached over, touching her cool fingertips to Emma’s arm. Her friend jumped.

 "Emma? You’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something." 

 Emma tried to laugh but it ended up being some kind of awkward coughing sound instead. 

 "I mean-” She started but trailed off quickly. “- that ex-boyfriend of yours, the soccer player. Do you remember him?" 

 Y/N felt herself tensing up immediately at the mention of Paulo. They had been dating for close to five years after meeting in Argentina during Y/N’s exchange year when she was a teen. Together they had gone through a lot of highs and lows, even managed to keep up a long distance relationship until Paulo moved to Italy in 2012.

Then in 2015 Juventus Turin, one of the best Italian soccer clubs, had signed him and it had all gone downhill from there. Y/N had supported him every step of the way as best as she could, but while Paulo’s fame grew he started neglecting their relationship.

It took a while to break their bond but with all the attention from the media she was getting as well, Y/N wasn’t able to stand strong much longer. Without Paulo to support her she had caved at some point and broke things off, moving back to where she came from. Milan. Her mental health had profited from her decision, her heart didn’t. Thinking of him still hurt.

 "Yeah.” She finally said, clearing her throat to speak normally. “Of course I remember. How could I possibly not?" 

 Emma nodded, not looking at her anymore. 

 "Does he still play for Juventus?”

 "Yes.“ Y/N shifted around in her chair, her thighs sticking to the cheap plastic material. "Why are you asking all those questions? It’s freaking me out.”

 "Well.“ Emma said dryly and placed the menu back on the table. "Because he is coming over here right now." 

 Y/N felt like she might have a heart attack right then and there. Her heart leaped into overdrive and she actually had to hold onto the chair to stay seated. Otherwise she might have gotten up and started running to god knows where. 

She was not prepared for this. She was not ready. She would never be ready.

 "Hi." 

"Oh my god.” Y/N said without really meaning to and slapped a hand across her mouth immediately after.

 Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

 "Ehm- yeah. I’m sorry to bother the two of you.“ Paulo, who was now standing next to their table, said and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. 

 Emma nodded at him while Y/N was still unable to do anything. She was currently mesmerized by the fact that he actually looked good sweating. Damn those soccer players. 

 "It’s fine.” She stutters when noticing that Paulo was waiting for her to say something. “What are you doing here? In Milan? You should be in Juventus." 

 "I missed you." 

 BAM.

 That’s all it took to break down all those walls Y/N had carefully drawn up around her heart during the last half a year. She had placed brick upon brick, going higher and higher, forcing herself to forget about him, to forget his voice and his smile and his scent, to forget everything about him and now he was here, turning all her affords into dust. 

 "You can’t just do that Paulo.” Y/N snapped, she was fuming now. “You can’t just walk up here and tell me that you missed me. It doesn’t work like that!" 

 "Well, I’m here now." 

 "Right, but you really shouldn’t be!" 

 "Why not?” Paulo asks, crossing his arms across his chest and wow he had built up some muscles. 

 For a second Y/N is distracted again, then she goes back to being angry. 

 "Because it was a very long and painful progress to shut you out Paulo, and it’s unfair to just waltz right back into my life, okay?“

 The young Argentinian is quiet for a moment before his expression softens.

 "Y/N.” He begins quietly. “I don’t want you to shut me out. I never wanted that. I’m not here to judge you and I’m not here to beg for forgiveness. I know you’re probably are better off without me and I see you’re happy but I came to talk. I can’t live with us ending this way, I don’t want that. Not after what we had." 

 Emma clears her throat, making both of them aware of her presence. When they are both looking at her, she shoots Paulo an unimpressed glance. 

 "I’m just here to remind you that you are indeed here to beg for forgiveness.” She says and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“And now I’m gonna leave because you guys have a lot of stuff to talk through. You better start now." 

 The redhead gets up, grabs her purse and nods over to her chair, waiting for Paulo to sit down. The young man awkwardly shuffles over and sits down across from Y/N whose heart is still beating wildly in her chest. She meets Emma’s eyes and gives her pleading glance, begging her to not go but her best friend doesn’t even react.

 A waitress comes over to their table when Emma raises her hand.

 “What can I help you with?” She asks politely. “Do you want another drink?”

 “No.” Emma says sternly. “I want you to keep an eye on those two and make sure, that they don’t leave this table before they’ve figure out their shit.”

 And then she’s gone.

 — One month later —

 When the ball hits the back of the net Y/N screams like all the Italian soccer fans surrounding her. There is an older man with his grandchild standing next to her, the little boy is singing excitedly, bouncing up and down.

 “Did you see that?” He asks, his cheeks glowing. “Dybala scored again!”

 “I did.” Y/N says and high-fives him when he lifts his little hand. “Do you like him?”

 “Oh yes, he is my favorite player. He’s great! I think he’s gonna be the next Messi.”  The boy turns back to the game but Y/N keeps watching him with a smile on her face.

 “Funny.” She says more to herself and then looks back down as well. “He’s my favorite player too.”

 Paulo scores again few minutes later and Y/N can feel her stomach doing funny little backflips when he runs up to the sidelines and waves to her when he spots her standing in the crowd.

A month passed since Paulo came to Milan, looking for Y/N and asking her for a second chance. She had been hesitant at first but agreed to meet him again. After a few normal dates they picked up texting and who was she kidding, she had never really stopped loving him. Their bond was still there and when Paulo had asked her to drive down to Turin and watch the game against Roma she couldn’t say no.

And now she is here, feeling just as bubbly and excited as the little boy sitting next to her.

 “Oh my god! Nonno, look.” He says to his grandpa right then and points down to the field. “Paulo Dybala is coming up here.”

Y/N whirls around and feels herself starting to blush when Paulo jumps over the sidelines and starts jogging up the stairs. Fans start screaming and the little boy next to her is reduced to a hiccupping mess but she can only focus on the young man who is now standing in front of her.

“Y/N.” He pants and quickly pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I have to be quick but I want you to know that those goals were for you.”

She hugs him back just as tightly, smiling into his jersey. The world slows down around them, everything fading into the background until she can’t even here the fans chanting anymore.

“Paulo.” Y/N starts but he cuts her off.

“You let me kiss you last week and I pray that I didn’t interpret it the wrong way, but I have to ask you something.” He pulls back so they can look each other in the eye. “I’m still in love with you and I want you by my side again. Do you want that too? Do you want to be my girlfriend? Please, say yes.”

Y/N feels like she might lift off the ground and float away if Paulo wouldn’t still hold her in his arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that this will be all over the media later and that fans are probably already making gifs but she doesn’t care. She’s in love as well.

“Yeah.” Y/N whispers and feels herself starting to smile once the words have left her mouth. “I want to be yours again.”

Paulo kisses her in front of the whole stadium, hell in front of the whole Italian soccer world, because the game is being broadcasted on TV but she kisses back anyways. When they part and  he jogs back down towards the field to finish the game, everybody is looking at her but for the first time in her life she doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

When Y/N sits back down her little neighbor tugs on her jacket carefully. His eyes are huge and round, staring back at her in astonishment.

“I’m Anto.” He says. “Will you please adopt me?”