#these would be what would fit Harmony better

[relicsongmel]

Fuck Ed Sheeran. Celestial was written and composed by Denise Hitoki sorry I don’t make the rules

[yzzart]

｡𖦹°‧ DANTE SEEING THE SCRATCHES ON HIS BACK.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: mention of unprotected sex, blood, sexual content.

⭑.ᐟ The word “responsible” did not fit into Dante’s vocabulary, it was something that would take time for the boy to understand; perhaps, according to future events. — Eventually, “trustworthy” was better; at least, he agreed.

⤷ Dante was reliable in completing his assigned works, occupations; always maintaining a high standard of excellence, never failing to commit or doing anything half-heartedly. — Enzo was a witness, and he idolized the hunter's completed works. — So, this meant that Dante couldn't pretend there wasn't dirty work to be done.

⤷ Meaning, again, that the demon hunter couldn't stay by your side, clinging to your neck, kissing and biting you and inhaling your delicious scent — or inside you — forever. — He hated it.

⭑.ᐟ By the gods that could exist, — holy shit, Dante thought — to admire, to contemplate, you in the old bed of that old-fashioned and worn-out room, sleeping, peacefully, between, at least, clean sheets — that were brought by you for your boyfriend — so beautiful and apollonian was an image of the paradise that they say exists.

⤷ Through the transparent, white fabric of the sheet, some curves of your body were witnessed by the eldest's youthful eyes; if he had the chance, he would live only to adore you. — Being led to a memory of last night; his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to utter some coherent word, and failed terribly, the irregular breaths, sensual and so libidinous sighs. — Just remembering, he felt weak, vulnerable, and making his cock throb.

⭑.ᐟ You were insatiably, relentlessly. — Driving that poor man crazy and disorienting was ridiculous, delightful, and such an aphrodisiac. — Dante had to crawl back, coerced, to his next job that Enzo had sent him; did he really need it?

⤷ Stepping on the aged, and also filthy, wood, causing a terrifying and agonizing noise, worried if you were still asleep, Dante only saw you turn your back, remaining asleep. — Now, a piece of your bare back, and the curves of your ass, perceived by the emerald eyes.

⭑.ᐟ Where had you thrown his shirt? — Dante searched, unhurriedly and with little interest or convenience, for the gray piece of clothing, which you had removed and left somewhere inconspicuous. — The demon hunter, during his search, passed by the piece of broken mirror stuck in the wall structure; it didn't hurt to pay attention to his appearance before anything else, right?

⤷ Dante's charming, lazy, and bold frown was always there, just like an incontinent and unruly mess in his white hair; nothing that could bother him. — The piece of reflective glass didn't show his entire image, so his attention was fixed on the attention on his neck with small bite marks and hickeys made by you.

⤷ On Dante's lips, a smug smile, so debauched, curved; of course he could just walk out with those traces of pleasure on the street. — Upon learning to use his regeneration suit, the cursed man would love to show it off. — You were trying to mark your territory, what a beautiful thing; well, he couldn't judge, since he performed the same action. — Displaying the visible muscles, Dante turned his body frame to see his back. — Holy shit.

⭑.ᐟ Marks, scratches from nails, had a deep presence on your boyfriend's back; thin, thick, some incomplete, but they were there. —The reddish lines, some showing thin trails of blood, against his skin were something divine. — Evidence of the pure pleasure, excitement, desire that had risen in your chest the night before; sensations that only Dante could give you, and would be the only and last one to do so. — Oh, he remembered.

⤷ Your moans, — which sounded identical to meows, melodic whimpers — were melody, harmony that Dante learned to be obsessed with. — While he was, perfectly, with his balls inside you, feeling more and more, and making him crazy with desire, your beautiful and so delicious pussy squeezing his cock, Dante knew, from the first day he looked at you, that you would be the death of him. — And he never had so much pleasure at the end of his life.

⤷ Dante was a drunk, fucked up, and needy — and also miserable — for you, for your pussy; don't blame that poor guy. — The wet, dirty, dirty noise caused by the fast thrusts was too much for you; like the stretching, which never got used to, delicious in you. — Or when you stuttered, begged, with so much affection, allowing, and sweetness for Dante to cum inside. — Dante would never deny anything to his beautiful girl.

⤷ For mercy's sake, Dante felt his dick swell, ache with excitement and throb even more as he looked at the marks.

⭑.ᐟ Now, his canines stood out in his proud smile, pure lust — experiencing an electricity of debauchery, taking on an almost feral sensation — in front of the broken mirror. — Dante did not need his regeneration with that gift.

⭑.ᐟ The beautiful kitten showed her claws, wanting to signal a territorial marking that would only be seen if Dante wanted it to be; in other cases, leaving a reminder so specific to him. — Only him.

[pinkmoonastro]

Every planet in the 12th: Observations

The 12th house shows you in which ways you can leave the biggest impact on the world in the purest most intentional way if you so choose.

*I didn't feel like proof reading spare me*

sun in the 12th often misperceived or seen as having underlining motives even when that is furthest from the truth. Actually quite often upfront with their intentions regardless if they know more than they've led you to believe. The projection others put on them is veryyy high, sun person unconsciously triggering deep seated wounds in others while they just assume they’re having a normal conversation. They either love gossip or are always being brought up in gossip. Attracting secret admirers bc of the taboo aspect of their personality. They teach others how to be themselves through example and that gives them the popular loner vibe, everyone wants to know whats going on in their life. Though Its often not as interesting as the stories that are being created about them (probably at home chilling). Unintentionally very funny their light hearted nature makes others feel comfortable. They know how to create warm welcomes. They can read animals minds. They dress how they feel. Escape artist. Probably through music, film or imagination. Gift for photography.

moon in 12th romantic relationships have a big influence on these people. They'll change their whole life around to fit into their lovers life for better or worse. Naturally harmonious these people are seemingly unsuspecting until you piss them off then you realize they just choose to keep peace. Prone to escapism usually through some sort of creative pursuit turned business. Obviously not forward with their feelings ppl tend to label them as having their head in the clouds when in reality they have plans its just nobody else's business. There's a love/resentful relationship with the mother. The mother could've been a physical provider but not emotional. These ppl had to nurture and comfort themselves and it made them very good at being those things for others. Children and animals loveeeee them. They are givers and don't mind sharing for the greater good. Dependable and persistent they can stick out something they feel is important. But if they don't care... Oh its very obvious. That job they don't like? Oh don't even worry about it they'll quit. They don't like feeling stressed or unharmonious and don't mind removing anything thats trying to hinder that. In the lower natures this creates a person that ignores anything that would make them have to readjust their behavior. Extremely delusional and misreads the room quite often. Very emotional changing how they feel about you frequently. It can become hard to give and receive trust.

Mars in the 12th manifest things/experiences so easy especially through their connections. They know how to put themselves in the right rooms with the right people. They date people that improve their social standing and they do the same in return. When its comes to career they could've seemed like the runt in the group but they grew themselves to be well respected in their field. Often hearing ''you only got this because''. They attract a lot of haters jealous of their success or the way they got their success. these people are attractive and naturally have a body others envy, they always have options and good ones at that.

Venus in 12th boy oh boy the hopeless romantics, but whats so hopeless about it? Others may often wonder why you picked the person you did viewing you as opposites. There may be an age gap or cultural difference. The women often choose partners that have a different social standing or perception than their own. The Men do the same though their more willing to be in relationships with unrequited love. Have had their fair share of infidelity issues until they found the person that would ride or die for them and vise versa. Privacy and trust are high priority for these people. Very good at socializing they know how to read what is needed to improve the energy of a space. Their parties/hostings are always so inviting and rememberable. They work very well with children and animals. Especially those in need. Fostering is something they wouldn't mind doing, along with nursing things back to health. Examples hair, nails. Plants etc. Very crafty they'd create beautiful jewelry and clothing. Their style is unique and acquired taste even. Controlling an image or narrative comes natural these Pol could do damage control for celebrities. When Ppl are in a frantic state they know how to calm assist.

Mercury in 12th are good at controlling the narratives around themselves. People hand on to every word that's said. These are the types that prefer to talk when necessary and not give out to much information. Just enough to keep you hooked. They have a unique sound and are musically inclined it helps that they think outside of the box. Usually the leader of the group because of their ability to see the broader picture and keep everyones best interest at heart. They attract haters bc they set high goals for themselves they get viewed as outlandish or unpractical when actually they just believe in themselves and remain optimistic. They know alot about very specific niche things.

Jupiter in the 12th don't get the credit they deserve for being so iconic. They really are trendsetters that break molds and stereotypes and tend receive backlash for the things they say & do simply because they were the first to do it. Opening up the pathway for others to show up more authentically and protected. They have big expression and are passionate about the things they choose to do. Their not afraid to speak their truth and having a forgiving nature. Creative pursuits are well received by the public attracting sponsors easily. Its also easy for them to find/create a community ppl reall gravitate to them. Their kryptonite lies in their self esteem. If they can't face rejection they'll hide the best parts of themselves. Only seeing the beauty in others and not what they offer the world.

Saturn in the 12th need to know when to stop while their ahead. They get into unnecessary battles bc of a fragile or inflated ego. When the ego is healthy this makes for a very powerful person that commands rooms with ease. They make Pol want to sit up in their chair when they walk in. These Pol are stubborn but more often than not it works out in their favor. Very hard workers and the same energy they apply is expected from those around them. If they put in 80 hrs a week they expect the same from you, if I can do it why can't you mentality. They achieve alot and Ppl notice it but its like no one ever sees them working they just see the finished product and know a lot had to be done behind the scenes. For example let's say someone is very popular you know they would've had to built those relationships you just didn't see it happen. They could have a guilt complex about their achievements and feel like theirs still more they should be doing for other ppl. Growing up as the star, the golden child, the one thats going to help the family put a lot of pressure and responsibility on them. This could've also affected the relationship between the others siblings. Lastly these Ppl are either very serious about punctuality or show up whenever they want to. Maybe even both they could've started out one way and over time became another way. When saturn is damaged they run from responsibility and are viewed as childish and never learning from their lessons.

Neptune in the 12th know how to win over the audience. I chose the word audience bc they love an audience. Ppl will make excuses for their behavior like ''you know they had a rough childhood'' as if that excuses hurting others. Professional sympathy grabbers even when their not even trying and great ass kissers when they want to be. That is in neptunes lower natures ofc. These ppl speak their mind without a fuck given. This is like the only pile im cursing in and that kind of explains them. Their going to say what they want and don't mind shaking the room up. Image is important to them. They'll study their own footage to see what they looked like, sounded like, acted like, and change anything they deem as not fitting. They could be great actors or social media personalities. Also would be good at managing social media accounts. These ppl may be easily persuaded especially by those they view as having a higher social ranking than themselves. Knowing how to adapt to any environment is their strong suit. They act as a mirror in their environment and reflect back whatever energy you give them. To a T at that. They know when to play it up or be more lowkey. This is type of person to always leave lasting impressions on ppl. They could be the first in a taboo field to achieve something. Like being the first pornstar to get 100 million views. Its like when you think you have them figured out they do something else that shows there's many other sides to them. Often hearing ''i didnt think I would like you at first''. With a great sense of humor they know how to laugh at themselves and lighten the mood they don't take life to seriously. They attract a lot of unique ppl their friend group is very expansive. They could be friends with a stripper and an attorney. Hell they might've been a stripper and an attorney.

Uranus in the 12th they just pop up and ppl are surprised like ''omg what are doing here'' these ppl are held in high regard mostly bc their very selective with their energy, your viewed as a busy person so when you come around it makes ppl feel lucky. You treat others fairly and want everyone around you to feel accepted. You value keeping the peace. The fact that I'm even using you instead of they is a reflection of how inclusion is important for you. Having an eccentric vibe is more obvious here but alot of ppl go the opposite way and don't want to appear uniquely at all they actually want to be as plain Jane as possible. This can actually rub ppl the wrong way and make them feel something is being hidden from them like your pretending. Feeling criticized in childhood is why accepting others is something they prioritize. They end up in rooms with many different types of ppl. This placement has a lot of experience in a lot of different areas. With a free spirited nature they are open to trying new things pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone quite often.

Pluto in the 12th, a quiet energy standing in the back of the room scoping out the scenery. They notice more than ppl realize and are smarter than they let on. Often having their power tested bc of their calm observing demeanor. Ppl try to make them feel they don't belong in certain environments or that their not really qualified but they don't mind showing you why that perception isn't accurate. They know how to push back. The type to pretend they don't care about popularity but they work very hard at obtaining it. But maybe they don't care about the popularity just the power that it brings. Knowing the value of relationships they put alot into maintaining them. They are very giving to those around them. Self sacrificing even, its like they believe thats how you show someone you really care. These are some of the most passionate people you'll meet. They just know how to make you feel understood and seen. They make everyone feel special. This is one of the most intense placements for the 12th house. The transformations are deep, murky, confusing but it breeds and very self sufficient determined person. They question everything and are always growing and adapting. When they find something they like they become obsessive about it. They will work for extended amounts at a time. Like binging behavior. In Pluto's lower natures they develop a chip or their shoulder and use their influence to hurt others. If they are operating from that place they become very good at it. If they are never brought into awareness they continue generational curses but their children will have it worse than they did. These are the type of Pol that will tell you a traumatic experience in such a casual way and your just left like wtf you said that like it was normal. They also could've grew up experiencing their traumas being brushed off like they were normal. They were familiar with death from a young age and may have felt like they never really were a child. They build the trust of others easily and its bc their honest. It is what it is to them. They are natural born leaders it doesn't take much convincing & they don't mind leading the way as long as you give them their accolades for it. Mind you they could have a god complex but to be fair if you've experienced or achieved the things they have you might too.

[fanged-fanfics]

Since Reqs still open, can I request Shadow Milk x Beast!Singer!Reader?

Reader was a Virtue of Harmony, then got corrupted like them, They were once a folktale singer/nature dancer into a evil popstar, being associated to generations but surprisingly got liked by every cookie because of her song? Beast of Fame or whatever? Yeah that's what I could think of-

☆ Razzle Dazzle, Glitz and Glam — Shadow Milk x Beast!Singer!Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Shadow Milk, once being freed from his containment, was glad to see many old faces. Revenge was the first thing on his mind, but he couldn't help feeling his train of thought stutter at seeing your face. A colder demeanor massively contrasting the kind smiles he once recognized

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You looked... so much different now. He remembered a time where he knew of your songs, hearing how you'd comforted many cookies with your melodies. He even used to confide in them himself, a soothing balm to the troubles in his mind

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Seeing you now, on such a similar standing to him, made an odd feeling bubble up in his chest. He felt a flicker of deep concern that was forcefully smothered with glee. Finally, someone who looked like they really got him!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He delighted in offering an alliance with you, telling you that you didn't need to worry about anyone else. He knew you better than any other Cookie, your stories so similar they may as well be intertwined. He promised you freedom from what you were before, a way to make Cookies see you for who you now are

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your drive for a public presence was something Shadow Milk giddily helped you obtain. You were both showy types, and the opportunity to add your wonderful songs to his bombastic tactics excited him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Shadow Milk's minions found you greatly interesting as well. You fit in like a piece of a puzzle, so snugly joining their group that it felt.. right. Maybe more than anything had before. These Cookies accepted you so wholeheartedly, encouraging you and granting a home you haven't felt in what seemed like ages

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Shadow Milk, for all his perceived shallowness, checked in with you frequently. He included you in all his conversations, and would always circle back to your side no matter how ahead he'd get of himself. In a way, he was seeing himself in you. Every time he checked on you was a moment where he knew in your spot he'd wished someone had done the same

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Hear that?" He once asked, standing with you before entering a waiting crowd. They'd all gathered under your combined influence, a sea of cheers awaiting you. "They'll love you, I know they will" he said, giving you a wink with a very wide grin "I know I do"

[trashmouth-richie]

dulcis ut rosa { sweet as a rose 🥀}

part 1 1/2– dulex (the gnat🥀) pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader

summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperors— Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.

tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translation— if it’s wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasn’t so bad?

It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in. 

Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didn’t dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began. 

Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants. 

Some were given to soldiers as a sense of “release.” No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs.  The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a cluster— and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.

Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpable— so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracalla’s grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip. 

You should have known then. The difference between them.

From where you stood, Geta’s dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women. 

Bare toes standing on the marble floor— unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cart— you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises. 

Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sun’s rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal. 

A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat,  he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, “she’ll do.” 

You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves. 

The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?

You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not. 

You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily. 

“Sit.” 

The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before. 

He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch. 

His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip. 

His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. “Out!” “Get out!” Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door. 

Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta. 

Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.

He didn’t soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags. 

“Ah, and what do we have here? My brother’s whore in tears outside his chamber door. Can’t say I'm the least bit surprised.” He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him. 

“Tasteful thing, aren't you?” he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency. 

He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle. 

“Pathetic.” he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held.  “Every single one of you.” His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall. 

“Brought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..” he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, “I don’t miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.” 

“Emperor, please.” 

“Do not speak!” he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing,  “a whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill it— understood?” 

You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, “if you can not please my brother, you will please me… otherwise what good are you here?” 

He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, you’d never imagined one to be so large.  

Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, “open for your Emperor,” he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today. 

You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones. 

He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his length— spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack. 

He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. “The virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good… impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.” 

His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldn’t care either way. 

“Stupid sniffling Caracalla,” he choked out between thrusts, “incompetent bastard wouldn’t know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,” he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, “lucky for you, I do.” 

He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth. 

“You might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you… my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.” 

And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth. 

In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracalla’s beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours. 

You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes. 

How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasn’t large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow. 

During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere. 

It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace. 

Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release. 

He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy. 

You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust. 

Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips. 

You felt sick, defiled and disgusting. 

You’d rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled. 

Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whore’s life isn’t what you had bargained for, death would be swifter— easier than this. 

The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water. 

Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldn’t care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition. 

Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly. 

For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you weren’t sure. You weren’t where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit. 

You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.

“The lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.” his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance. 

“The moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.”

Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, “I wanted… I needed to be clean.” 

His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracalla’s mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter. 

Geta’s face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.

“Come.” he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands. 

—

Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta. 

This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didn’t know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.

Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow. 

He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber. 

It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night. 

His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist. 

Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you. 

“Let me make myself clear,” he stated, “I do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.” 

Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, “You came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperor’s servant or a soldier’s fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must be…but quite honestly,” he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, “I am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their master’s needs.”

Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. “I told you the night we met that if you aren’t pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?” 

Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true. 

“I will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brother’s secrets, using your mouth to fill my needs— it is all very pleasing…”

For the first time you look into Geta’s eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth. 

“… however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover would—I use women to my needs and that’s it.” 

He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, “but you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I can’t decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something else…” His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, “Get on the bed.” 

“Emperor?” 

His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, “do not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.” His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched. 

You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely. 

“The difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and I’m damn good at it.” 

He’s on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you. 

His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. It’s swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you. 

“If your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.” 

You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere… something Geta doesn’t miss. 

“My brother’s whore is quick to becoming wet.” he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth,  “mmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when she’s drier than a well.” 

His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips. 

Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.

“Look how desperate you are, pathetic thing… so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.” He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away. 

That pitiful excuse for a human couldn’t satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.” You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage. 

“You're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.” 

The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, “begging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if I’m your God.”

With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devil’s eyes, a chokehold to your own.

“Ora pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,” he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own. 

He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them. 

Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didn’t care to know the name of. 

His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin. 

“Puella pulchra, pretty girl,” Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. “Mea es, mea es, you’re mine;  no one else’s.” 

His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be. 

With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you. 

Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. “How dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.” 

Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets. 

You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair. 

“Dulcis ut rosa,” he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more. 

Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.  

He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb “you’ve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, I’m nothing but a fool.” 

When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought. 

Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if he’d like another glass. “No,” he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. “I’m tired, leave me now.” 

Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders. 

Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten. 

It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew you’d never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.

Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didn’t know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill. 

Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brother— but it became more to him, you became more. But why? 

The God’s didn’t have the answers tonight, just like they hadn’t the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiter’s mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed. 

The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldn’t risk. He didn’t know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and gold— still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless. 

Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadn’t changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a rose…his empress.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

latin translation:

virgines— virgins

dulcis ut rosa— sweet as a rose

balneum— bathing room

te necessito— i need you

ora pro me deus meus— pray for me my God

puella pulchra— pretty girl

mea es— you’re mine

tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch

[radio-fmm]

Kitchen counter

Fluff drabble + gn reader

Masterlist

Law almost jumps out of his skin when he spots you drowsy on the kitchen counter, alone in silence underneath the white lights of the submarine, almost like a lucid dream

He approaches you from behind, keeping silent

He towers over you even when sitting down, his eyes wonder on your peaceful face, eyes closed, hand under your chin while the other stays clinging to your cup of tea

You hate tea, you must’ve been desperate, looking for a cure to your sleepless night

He admires you for a while, not noticing he may appear a little bit creepy just staring, but you look just so effortlessly dreamy

“I can feel you staring, Captain” you mutter, your voice soft like a summer breeze, but it shakes Law to his core

He takes a step back and panics, but as your giggles meets his ears, he relaxes, a smirk forming in his lips as he decides to sit beside you

“Sleeping on the kitchen won’t help you rest better” you let out a tired sigh, your head turning to your Captain

When your eyes meet, Law can’t help but wonder if you always look at him the way you’re looking at him now, full of adoration, like he’s the answer to all of your problems

The calmness of the late night allows him to unravel, savoring the moment of your shared presence, bodies tired and souls alight

“I just had a long day”

He knew this. At very early hours of the day, he had heard your loud screaming trough the hallways of the sub, bashing over Satchi and Penguin who had thrown away an important paper you had been working on when they were tasked with cleaning your office

So you had to redo the whole paperwork

Because of this, you were late for dinner and the worst thing imaginable had happened, you didn’t get any dessert

Your favorite part of the day

Suddenly, Law feels a weight on his shoulder, he turns to see your head nuzzled on his side, eyes lost looking at the emptiness of the kitchen. A new feeling forms in his heart, he can feel it reeling going a mile per minute, warmth irradiates from his flushed face, and even though this feeling is new and alien, he likes it

Another silence falls over both, but this one’s different, this one is sweet, homely and welcome, a silence that speaks louder than any words could

Scared, Law allows his head to fall over yours, the way his body fits with yours in prefect harmony makes his heart swell. He closes his eyes and prays for this moment to remain forever, he wants you all to himself like this everyday

After a while, your weight falls slack, he peeks to see you completely asleep. He smiles to himself, a hand traveling to push away the lost strands of hair, showing him a full picture of your beautiful face

Big mistake

Another wave of that same emotion he felt moments ago washes over him, what were you doing to this poor man?

What was he to do now?

Ever so gently, he removes his arm to support your back while the other goes down to your feet so he can pick you up bridal style, keeping you close to his chest. As he walks you to your room, he feels you clenching at his shirt, looking for his warmth

He lets you down light as a feather, but a part of him doesn’t want to let go, a part of him wants to take you away

He peeks at Ikkaku’s bed praying to every god above that she hasn’t woken up, to his delight she is fast asleep without a care in the world. He tucks you in with the outmost care, before he stares at you yet again, burning this moment into his memory

“Good night” he whispers, making his way out to his bed

As he drifts to sleep he wonders if having you by his side every night would help you sleep better

It’ll help him sleep better that’s for sure

[anareblogz-posts]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐬

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -Theo Nott's world shifts when he sees Y/N Y/L/N. Theo imagines what it would be like if her name were different—if it fit more harmoniously with his own. 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

Theo Nott walked through the bustling corridor of Hogwarts, he found himself involuntarily pulled into a conversation by his best friend Mattheo Riddle.

“See that girl?” Mattheo murmured, nodding his head discreetly in the direction of a group of students gathered by the window.

Theo followed his gaze, his eyes landing on a figure bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun. There, leaning against the windowsill with a book in her hand, was Y/N Y/L/N. The sun caught the highlights in her hair, making it shine with a subtle brilliance that seemed to cast a halo around her. Her focus was entirely on the pages before her, yet there was an aura of effortless grace about her that immediately drew Theo in.

Theo blinked, feeling a sudden shift in the rhythm of his thoughts. He’d seen Y/N around, of course—Slytherins often crossed paths in the common room, during meals, or in classes. But today was different. There was something magnetic about the way she was absorbed in her book, a tranquil confidence that seemed to set her apart from everyone else.

Mattheo’s voice cut through Theo’s reverie. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he repeated, as if trying to engrain the name into Theo’s memory. “Isn’t she something?”

Theo nodded slowly, his gaze still lingering on Y/N. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She is.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if assessing the name itself. Y/N Y/L/N. It was a name that fit, he supposed, but it felt almost… too plain for someone who seemed to radiate a quiet elegance. He found himself imagining how different it would sound if it were changed.

“Y/N Nott,” Theo said softly, almost as if testing the name out loud. The idea made him smile just a little. It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to his own last name—far from it. It was more about how it rolled off the tongue, how it felt like it might fit just a bit better with her own unique presence.

Mattheo’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What was that?”

Theo shook his head, realizing he’d been caught lost in thought. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

Mattheo shrugged and began to walk away, leaving Theo with his thoughts. Theo’s gaze remained fixed on Y/N, even as she shifted and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her attention never straying from the book.

Theo sighed softly and turned away, the idea of Y/N Nott lingering in his mind like a pleasant daydream. It was a strange feeling, this almost love at first sight, but it was undeniable. As he walked off to his next class, he found himself looking back once, just to catch another glimpse of Y/N, the girl whose name felt almost like it was meant to be his.

[1d1195]

Normal People - Extra I

Read Normal People here | ~2.8k words

From me: from a lovely anon's request. **Reminder: I really didn't like this story by the end of writing it, so please don't be too harsh; it's a little all over the place as always💕

Warnings: mostly fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

Summary: Harry is finally older and wiser. But wisdom comes with hindsight. And with hindsight comes with the knowledge that he is really missing her.

Harry wondered if she thought about him the way he thought about her. She was never too far from his mind. He wouldn’t say he was obsessed, not really. It was more like that space between a dream and reality. She was just there right at the edge of his subconscious always lingering. He liked it. It was a warm feeling to have her at the edge of his thoughts. Like a hand holding his at all the time. It was comforting.

They didn’t work out. Not in a bad way. Their relationship ran its course, and they were meant to be there for each other in university and then drift. But now Harry was almost thirty. Time seemed to be speeding up and slowing down at the same time. He felt like he was missing something but just like her phantom hand, he couldn’t quite place it.

Harry liked himself a lot more. She made him feel like a much better person than the one he was in school and all those horrible “friends” he surrounded himself with. He had a cute little niece thanks to Gemma and his mum was likely his best friend. He had a good job and was well-liked and respected there. Overall, he was just happy.

But sometimes he missed her presence more than he realized. He had a couple other girlfriends after her but when time sped up (usually when he saw the little girl that looked like his sister growing as he was actively watching her) he thought he was missing something more.

Or someone.

He was sitting in his office mixing pieces of music together and finishing songs that someone recorded last week. His skill was top notch, and he supposed he would always thank her for reminding him he should pursue what he loved, whether she heard his thanks or not. The melody and harmony of this particular song fit so well together that it didn’t even need lyrics, Harry was emotional just hearing it.

How sad he would have been if he wasn’t a part of this process. If he didn’t get to hear beautiful sounds every day and get to be the person that helped make good music great.

Some days were long though, and the music didn’t always sound right. Sometimes Harry had to sit with the keyboard in front of him and play note by note until he found the perfect fit. It was worth it in the end. However, it made for those longer days when he needed more caffeine. He would slink out of the building whether it was warm or cold and head to the coffee shop closest to him.

The long days were the only time at present in which he was sadder than any other normal day. It wasn’t like before; but it was when he felt like he was missing something. Like he had walked into a room and forgotten what he needed from it. It happened sometimes when he hadn’t seen his niece, and he just knew she was growing, and he was missing it. Or his mum was aging, and he wasn’t around her enough. Wasn’t soaking in enough of her wisdom.

That he wasn’t in love anymore and he hadn’t been since university.

He pulled the collar of his coat around his neck a little tighter and turned his face away from the blustering wind as it chilled his body. The walk was short enough and the chill actually felt good. Like a shock and reset to get the juices flowing again to get him out of his little rut. A little caffeine and he would be as good as new.

He had no plans for the coming weekend; Gemma was visiting her in-laws and his mum had plans with friends. He was going to be a bit lonely. Maybe he would read a book or watch a movie. He really needed to call Niall and catch up too.

There were about four people ahead of him in the coffee line. Texting Niall was a good use of his time and maybe he would have an idea for the song he was working on.

“Harry?”

Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. His subconscious was joking with him.

His heart skipped a beat and then sped to about a thousand beats per minute. He nearly dropped his phone in his sweaty grip. He turned to the sound of her voice, and she was smiling at him. She looked beautiful as always. That wasn’t any question he would ever have. She looked the same as the last time he saw her—when university ended and so did they. Her eyes held the same warmness as he remembered and so did her smile. It was like he was being hugged, and she hadn’t even said anything more to him than his own name. It had nothing on the phantom feeling of her presence in his mind. This was infinitely better.

“Kitten,” he mumbled dumbly. Her grin brightened.

“How are you?” she asked and reached out giving his arm a squeeze. He was going to forget all about her lingering presence now that he had the pleasure of feeling her in the flesh again. “It’s good to see you.”

“S’nice t’see you too. M’good, how are you?”

“Really good,” she nodded. “I just moved to this town actually, my job promoted me to a new office so...here I am.”

“Oh, that’s great. Congratulations,” was he smiling too much? It felt like he was smiling too much. How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to remain normal in this moment?

His heart was beating too fast. His mind felt like it had turned to mush. She was so beautiful and so lovely. Harry was completely tongue-tied. What was he supposed to say to her? He missed her for so long. Whether their relationship ran its course or not, he knew he wanted her back in his life.

“How about you?” She asked.

God bless her for doing all the heavy lifting in the conversation. Harry was going to end up drooling all over the coffee shop floor because he couldn’t get his mind to work. “Uh, yeah. I work in town too. A music label. I do a lot of the editing and mixing stuff,” he wasn’t even sure if that was what he was actually doing anymore. Nothing in his mind was working at full capacity. It was just thinking of the pretty girl he loved for so long and how lovely she was even after he was a disaster. Harry was a mess.

She grinned. “That’s amazing, I love that for you,” she said cheerily. “How’s your mom and Gemma?”

“Lovely, Gemma had a baby,” he quickly held his phone out and showed her his background of the sweet baby he adored so much. That was something he could focus on. His little niece was his favorite part of his life at present.

Well, until she said his name a moment ago.

She gasped softly. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Tell her I’m so happy for her, that’s amazing. Congratulations Uncle Harry,” she rubbed his arm again. “I’m happy for you too.”

He swallowed, feeling his face warm with her praise. He didn’t deserve it. She was too kind and too good. “You look...happy,” he murmured.

She smiled. “I am. Really happy. You look great, Harry. Handsome as ever,” she winked and stepped out of line tugging him along with her. “Do you still have my number?” She asked.

Harry thought he had swallowed a bug and he nearly choked. “Uh... yeah,” he would never delete it so it was still listed in his contacts somewhere, he had to take the hearts off her name but it was still there.

“Call me sometime,” she squeezed his hand. “I’d like to catch up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if you’re... you’re sure?” He asked.

She nodded, smiling so beautifully, and so brightly it was stunning. She was stunning. “I like that we’re kind of tied together, Harry. After all these years... You’re still one of my favorite people.”

Harry felt nauseous in the best way, and he wondered what on earth he did to deserve someone as beautiful as she was. As forgiving and kind.

Simply put, as perfect as she was.

*

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. It felt almost wrong to be this happy. Especially after everything. But it was so easy. Better. Everything was so much better. Harry loved her loudly and quietly. He said things like “I have t’check with m’girlfriend—no I don’t need her permission, but s’polite,” and his friends all smirked at him glad he found someone that he adored so much. At work they noticed a shift in him too. He was open, happy, bubbly. He was more productive and prouder of his work.

She was the best influence on him.

After a few short months of reconnecting, Niall helped them move into a small little house that needed a good amount of work. They were covered in paint and wood shavings on weekends. Her face was often concentrated on her phone as she watched endless videos to repair their little paradise together.

She was so good with his niece. Gemma said it was like she was meant to be her aunt. She rarely frowned. Only sad movies and books could make her sad these days. She marched herself back into Harry’s life unapologetically and Harry couldn’t thank her enough.

“You are the best thing t’ever happen t’me, kitten,” he pressed a line of kisses along the length of her neck. He did it in public when they waited for a table at their favorite restaurant. He had no qualms of kissing and touching her in public. “M’not sure who decided we should be together, but m’forever indebted.”

She merely laughed. “I always thought we were kind of meant to be together,” she shrugged. “Even when I was sad,” she explained. “You were always a bright spot in my life.”

Harry felt like shit knowing he, in all the shittiest parts of his life, was the bright spot in hers. When he was having a bad day and thought nothing was going right, he thought she deserved so much more. He had no issue telling her so. Groveling and wishing she would make him feel a fraction as bad as he had made her feel.

But she couldn’t. Because she was always too sweet. She turned from her spot in front of the kitchen sink, pulling him toward her with soapy hands and Harry looked at her with an ache in his chest. She was so cute, so pretty, so lovely.

He just wasn’t. Not on bad days. On the days when he felt worthless and shitty that she was worth everything good he didn’t feel good at all.

“We were kids. I’ve had a lot of time and therapy to work through that stuff Harry. You should too, you don’t need to feel bad anymore. Look how happy we are,” she reminded him with a kiss to his lips. “You make me feel special and loved every minute,” she promised him, and she looked so at ease. As if she had forgotten all the bad. Maybe she had. She was good like that, better than him of course. Harry wasn’t sure he could let it go. How could she continually forgive how shitty he was to her? His shirt was getting damp from her hands and they both ignored it. She gestured out the window soap bubbles fluttering about them. The blinds shaking softly in the breeze coming from the spring air. There were birds chirping, squirrels hopping across the yard, and the sun making the flowers bloom in their garden.

“Life doesn’t bloom like that when there’s no love,” she said knowingly.

Harry took a deep breath, buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. She was the best. The most perfect thing in his life and he would spend forever groveling if it allowed him to keep her just like that.

*

“M’fiancée’s going t’love that,” he said to the woman behind the jewelry.

Her faith and confidence in Harry were something to be admired. It made him feel so much better. Or maybe it was the therapy sessions that she encouraged him to partake in. They were finally helping him come to realize that what he did was shitty, but she forgave him over and over. And the person Harry was now, wassomeone very different from back then. Harry had to forgive himself too.

“Is it a special occasion?” The woman asked as she packaged the earrings up for Harry.

“Just Thursday,” he smiled sweetly with a shrug.

The woman looked giggly. “Wow,” she murmured to herself. “What a lucky lady.”

“S’the other way around,” he assured her as he handed his card over the counter to her. “Deserves nothing but the best,” he explained signing the receipt and gave a wave. “See y’next month,” he winked.

Niall was sitting with her on the patio while they drank lemonade, or maybe it was spiked lemonade, but he handed her the little gift bag all the same. “Buying her affection?” Niall asked.

He shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe.”

“He already had it,” she giggled and rolled her eyes at him. “Stop buying me stuff,” she pouted.

Harry headed back to the house to get the food she had laid out on the counter for dinner. Harry would be grilling something for the three of them while she did sides or something. He ignored her request because he would never stop buying stuff for her. She deserved every love language and Harry would give her each one.

*

“M’wife loves the flowers from here. She’s making a garden in our backyard. We want a spot t’have picnics with the baby,” he explained. He was creating a gardening basket. A homage to her mum and a way to bring her closer to the grandchild she would never meet.

“When’s she due?”

“Next month,” he smiled proudly.

“Boy or girl?”

“Not sure, we’re trying t’keep it a surprise.”

“That’s lovely.”

Harry paid for the items and in the parking lot he put all the items into a basket. She would be irritated that he bought more things for her but he couldn’t help it. She was so lovely and deserved the best.

He found her out in their backyard, lying on the ground, her tummy round, a hand on top of it. The skirt of her dress fluttering, by her shins. She was staring up at the sky watching the clouds talking quietly to the little one inside her.

“Hi kitten,” he grinned setting the basket on the ground behind her. “What was y’plan here? Did y’get stuck?”

She smiled and turned to look at him. She shook her head. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I figured you’d be home soon to rescue me.”

He gently coaxed her to sitting and placed himself behind her, her back pressed to his chest. Carefully he lifted her lower stomach ever so gently. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

“Shh, kitten,” he chuckled. “Not in front of our little one.”

“She’s heard worse.”

“She?”

“I wanted a lot of chocolate today.”

“I see,” he chuckled. Yesterday she used “he” because she had the intense craving for pizza and beer (and when only one of those cravings could be satisfied, she frowned at her stomach and told him he was sucking all her beauty away—which was false. But it made Harry love her more).

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Me or the baby?”

“I was talking to you, but I love this one too,” she rubbed her stomach. “Did you buy me more stuff?” She asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Harry,” she sighed.

“M’obsessed with you,” he peppered kisses into her neck and smiled against her skin. “M’not sorry ‘bout it.”

She shook her head but there was a smile as she turned her head toward his chest. “What did you get me?”

“Nothing important. Let’s jus’ sit here a minute,” he turned her a bit more so he could see her pretty face, her eyes covered by sunglasses. He kissed her deeply.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Harry Styles,” she mumbled.

The little one made her quite turned on these days. Which was unlike anything Harry could explain (not that he wanted to—it was special and only for them). “Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles.” She giggled and cupped his face kissing him again and again and again. “You can have whatever y’want of me,” he reminded her. They were just in love after all that time, two regular people who found each other again despite everything and loved more than they ever thought.

And if they continued to kiss inappropriately in the privacy of their own backyard then no one would be the wiser.

--

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[guksfairy]

hidden in harmony | JJK

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

☆ in which you and Jungkook attend a concert together <3 (with friends)

wc: 3.1k

notes: in my universe BILLLIE is as famous as BTS <3, another group hangout yay ! , i decided to use KakaoTalk instead of iMessage bc for the life of me I can't find a good fake text app I actually like, fluff!!!

“You guys should come along! Hyeonjae told me that Tag was told to bring as many friends as he wanted!” Eunwoo takes a sip of your hot chocolate as Areum explains the conversation she had with Hyeonjae a while ago. She said that on her way to this cafe they bumped into each other and got to talking.

Hitting Eunwoo on the chest for stealing your warm drink, you smile and Jimin replies, “What if he just wanted you? You guys were making heart eyes at each other that time at lunch. This could be his way of asking you out on a date,” Jimin finishes and you and Eunwoo agree.

Areum hides her face against her sweater sleeve and you all know she’s blushing.

“What group is performing?” Eunwoo asks, “BILLLIE,” Areum composes herself and replies which causes you all freeze.

BILLLIE? Is she talking about the internationally famous girl group?

“Wait, Areum…BILLLIE as in thinkin’ ‘bout you thinkin’ ‘bout me BILLIE?” you say singing a part of their song that got them to go viral in Korea, and later on, everywhere else in the world. She simply nods and you, along with Jimin and Eunwoo, stay still. Simply staring at her.

“You’re saying we could get free VIP tickets to watch their concert because your boyfriend’s friend produced songs on their new album?” Jimin takes a breath after speaking so fast. You barely caught onto his words.

“First of all, Hyeonjae is not my boyfriend-”

“So you say,” Jimin interrupts and Areum glares at him.

“Second of all, yes. From what I was told, Tag was contacted by their company to produce a couple of songs on their new comeback album. I guess they got along with him so well they invited him to their concert here in Seoul and told him to invite all his friends,” she explains.

If Hyeonjae is going then that means Jungwon and Jungkook are going too. You’re not one to miss a chance to spend time with your boyfriend.

“I’m in! I love BILLLIE. I also think that Hyeonjae and his friends are fun,” you say mostly referring to your boyfriend.

“I’ll go. I have nothing better to do that night,” Jimin says quickly after and Eunwoo follows, “Me too. What’s better than going to a concert of a group you don’t know too well,”

“We’ll listen to them in the car,” you say and he nods.

“Great. I’ll text Hyeonjae that we’re all going,”

“Yeah go text your boyfriend,” you tease and she rolls her eyes playfully before taking her phone out and texting him.

Eunwoo and Jimin get into conversation about how they really need more guy friends and you laugh for a moment before you realize you should tell Jungkook you’re going.

“What are you smiling about?” Eunwoo asks next to you. You quickly turn your screen off and put your phone back into your purse.

“Nothing. I was just looking for outfit ideas on Pinterest,” you say and Areum chimes in, “We should go shopping early in the morning. I don’t have anything I like in my closet for the concert,” she says.

“She just wants a new outfit to impress Hyeonjae,” Jimin mutters and earns a hit from Areum. As he hisses at the non-existent pain you think about tomorrow and how, if you plan it right, you could be right next to Jungkook at the venue.

Your shopping trip was 10% you actually looking for something cute and purchasing it and 90% Areum freaking out over what would look good.

“You look pretty in that too,” you say as you lean against the wall of the fitting room as Areum goes through her 7th outfit option. She looked just as pretty in the other outfits but she was convinced that there was always a better outfit she would find.

“Ugh what if Hyeonjae doesn’t like it! I really like him, Y/N” she says and you sigh walking up to her, “I know you do,” you chuckle as she leans in for a hug, “And if he feels the same way you do, which he does, he’ll agree with my opinion,” you say and she pulls away to look at herself in the mirror for the nth time.

“I liked the first outfit,” she says and you laugh as she begins changing back to the first option. Unlike Areum, you had already chosen a simple outfit for the night. You had texted Jungkook asking what he would be wearing and he told you something along the line of nothing special maybe just all black. You took that note and decided you would also be going in all black.

You had settled on a black lace shirt and skirt. Areum had convinced you to wear a bow in your hair because she thought it put the whole outfit together and you agreed. Purchasing a black bow at the last store you had visited.

The plan was to meet up with Eunwoo and Jimin at Areum’s by 6:30 latest and then meet up with Jungkook and his friends by 7:00 outside the venue. 2 hours before their performance because apparently, something Tag forgot to leave out, you were all going to be meeting them backstage before their concert. Something you got really nervous for.

It was roughly 4 by the time you and Areum got to her apartment because shopping is your favorite thing to do, besides Jungkook, and sometimes you find yourself getting carried away.

Dozens of shopping bags stood by the entrance door as you and Areum took a quick break from walking around all day and laid on her couch simply scrolling through social media.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later that Areum received a message from Eunwoo saying he and Jimin were on their way that you both jumped up and started getting ready yourselves.

When the guys arrived they simply stayed in the living room waiting for you two to be done so they could be on their way.

“I’m so nervous,” Areum says as she adds the last bit of gloss to her lips.

“To meet the girls or because of Hyeonjae?” you ask.

“Both,” she replies and you giggle at her response.

“Is there a way we can rush this process?” Jimin says standing against the bathroom doorframe.

“Relax. We’re basically done,” you say checking your makeup one last time before walking past Jimin to the living room where Eunwoo sat watching some movie.

“Well don’t you look dapper,” you tell him before sitting on the other far end of the couch. He thanks you and you resume your activity of scrolling through your phone once more.

JK 🤍🐰: Photo

The notification distracts you from the cute cat video you were watching. You turn your body slightly away from Eunwoo and watch him to make sure he doesn’t see your screen. When you’re sure he was too busy with the movie you tap on the notification and are met with the picture he sent.

It’s clearly a group photo but he cropped it so he was only one in the photo.

You chuckle and heart the image before replying back that you guys will be on your way soon as well.

“Areum you look fine let’s go!” you hear Jimin say from the restroom and you laugh as you watch them exit the room. Eunwoo gets up and you follow behind.

“Before we go we have to put batteries in these,” Areum placed four white boxes on the dinner table before sliding one to each of you.

“What are these?” Jimin asks opening the box.

“They’re lightsticks,” she replies walking to a nearby drawer and taking out a big pack of batteries.

“She bought them earlier,” you mention and open your box and Eunwoo does the same. You each take four batteries and turn them on to make sure they work. You had purchased some cute cat ears for yours earlier in the day, so you made sure to put them on before you forget. When you all confirm they do work, you all make your way out the door and down to Eunwoo’s car.

You sat in the back with Areum singing your hearts out to the BILLLIE songs playing from Areum’s phone that she connected the aux cord to. Jimin and Eunwoo just laughed and harmonized with you two every once in a while.

After a short 15 minutes of singing and dancing around you all get to the packed venue. Boys and girls posing in front of the place with their lightsticks and others buying merch on the side. You smile at everyone’s eagerness as Eunwoo drives to the other side of the venue to a gate. The security guard asking them for a badge and Areum extends her hand over you and the man scans something on her phone screen before allowing you all to enter the gated area.

You look around and see Jungkook’s car not too far.

“Koo’s car!” You exclaim and only realize what you had said after Jimin turned to look at you.

“Who?”

“Jungkook,” you say trying to play it off.

“No, you said Koo,” Eunwoo says with his eyes still staring in front of him.

“No I said Jungkook. I just didn’t pronounce his name entirely,” you reply trying to move on from the subject entirely. Not exactly a lie.

“So defensive,” Areum laughs and Eunwoo finds a parking spot near Jungkook.

You’re thankful they didn’t say anything else afterwards and ply away at why you called Jungkook by his nickname. Whether it’s because they’re excited for the concert or because they genuinely don’t care, you’re grateful.

The four of you get out of the car and Jimin is the first to spot Jungkook and his friends. Hyeonjae spots Areum and waves her over and you all follow close behind. Tag is the first to say something.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it,”

“I’m just excited to see BILLLIE,” Areum replies and goes in to hug Hyeonjae. No one from either group says anything but, mentally, you’re all teasing the duo.

“We should go. Their manager told us to be there in 20,” Jungwon says holding up a phone.

“Wait! Before we go in…” Tag holds up a handful of badges that state you’re all VIP guests. He hands them around and you place yours carelessly.

Standing next to you, Jungkook looks at the group who are all focused on themselves and takes the opportunity to fix your lanyard for you so it’s straight.

You look up at him and smile when he gives you a subtle wink and an air kiss that you return. You both walk behind your friends, you in front of him with your hand behind your back that he’s holding.

Tag leads the group through the door and a couple hallways before reaching a door with a paper that read ‘BILLLIE’

You felt your excitement rise as you walked through the door, subtly letting go of Jungkook’s hand when the group huddled up again, you heard their voices.

“Tag!” a blonde haired member exclaims and all the girls turned your way. Flustered, you take a small step back, Jungkook takes notice and makes a move to stand behind you before running the back of his hand up and down your back to soothe you. It works. It always does.

“I’m so happy you could make it!” Another member says walking up to the group. Tag reciprocates their hugs before introducing everyone. You all waved as your name was brought up and they all politely greeted you in return.

“I hope none of you mind you’re being filmed for our tour documentary,” the pink haired girl, Tsuki, warns you all but none of you pay any mind to the camera on you.

You decide to be brave and speak up, “Hi, I’m Y/N, as Tag introduced, and I’m a really big fan of you guys,” you sort of ramble but calm yourself before you could continue. You don’t miss Jungkook’s little snicker at you.

“We’re so happy that you are-oh my god your outfit is so cute!” Tsuki says as she looks you up and down while you fluster up a bit. You feel your cheeks heating up.

“Thank you,”

“Yeah you’re even matching with your boyfriend! How cute,” another member, Sua, joins into the conversation.

“My what-”

Before you know it the members are all staring at Jungkook who is stood behind you. He quickly straightens up as he senses his ears go red.

“Oh they’re not dating but these two are,” Jungwon laughs and point his fingers at Areum and Hyeonjae. He doesn’t realize how thankful you are about him changing the subject so quick.

“Really?” quickly the members take interest and start to tease the two as you look up at Jungkook who looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

The rest of the time was spent talking with other members and taking pictures. You, Areum, and Sua decided to make a TikTok together as the others were in their own conversation.

The TikTok dance was fun and energetic leaving you three laughing like you had been best friends for years. Areum grabs the phone to rewatch the video you all made and Sua takes the chance to ask.

“So…he is your boyfriend isn’t he?”

“Huh?” you look at her hoping she was joking but she wore a cunning smile. One that said she knew more than you were letting on.

“C’mon, you can’t seriously tell me that he’s not your boyfriend or something when every single time I look his way his eyes are on you with a smile that tells me he would die for you,”

“…None of our friends know,” you let out. It’s not like this famous kpop idol would tell anyone, besides, it felt nice to tell someone!

“Yeah…if your friends can’t tell that you’re both in love with each other than you might want to buy them glasses,” she giggles and you join. Your flustered state noticed by Jungkook who turned to you the moment he heard your laugh.

“Okay we all look good in this and we totally pulled off that dance,” Areum returns back with the phone still playing the video.

After another 20 minutes or so the staff warned the group they had 40 minutes to change into their stage outfits and finish up anything else needed.

“Bye! We hope you guys enjoy the show!” The members waved as you walked out of their dressing room back into the hallway and were being lead to another area by a staff member.

Again, you walked in the very back with Jungkook.

“You look gorgeous tonight,” his voice was low but that just made the hairs on the back on your neck stand.

“You look handsome,” the group turns a corner and you stop in your tracks hoping that you don’t lose the group or that they notice you to missing.

You lean against the wall and pull Jungkook by the arm onto you in which he gladly leans in for a kiss. His lips always felt like home no matter where you were or in what situation you were in.

Pulling away from the kiss you both stare at each other for a moment before giggling.

“Let’s go before they realize we’re missing,” Jungkook says and you nod as you turn the corner to find the group not too far ahead and catch up completely unnoticed.

The staff lead you to an area where the stage was neither too close nor too far. It was closed off with security at the entrance for your safety.

The seating arrangement was almost perfect. Tag was in the corner with Jungwon and Areum sat between him and Hyeonjae giving Jungkook the perfect opportunity. He sat next to Hyeonjae and you took the seat right next to him. Jimin and Eunwoo on your right. You sort of hoped that you wouldn’t be in the middle of your friends but this was good enough.

“Cute light stick,” Jungkook points to light stick that wore the cat ears from earlier.

“Thanks. Cute face,” you reply and he laughs resisting the urge to kiss you.

You watched as the eager fans walked, some ran, to their seat as you all simply enjoyed the time. You and Jungkook spoke and joked around as everyone else was in their own world. Tag with Jungwon, Hyeonjae with Areum, and Jimin with Eunwoo.

An hour later the lights dimmed and music started to play erupting screams and cheers from all directions including your group. The first song was a hyper one and you all stood on your feet as the girls walked onto the stage and started performing.

Waving around your cute lightstick and singing your heart out, you have the time of your life. You record videos of the them performing and turn the camera to you singing with Jungkook singing a repeating line. At one point, you and Areum stood in front of the group as your favorite song came on and the guys recorded you two. Jungkook’s frame was only focused on you.

You know what the best thing about concerts are? The dark. The way Jungkook can have his hand around your waist when your next to him and none of his or your friends take notice. The way you can hold his hand in the air with an excuse that it’s merely because of the song as you also take Jimin’s hand and wave it around. Only when you let go of Jimin’s hand, you don’t let go of Jungkook’s.

It was possibly the perfect night. A lovely night spent with your friends and your boyfriend. You think back to the conversation you had with Jungkook when you first started dating. About how this should be a private relationship between you two. No friends or family. Perhaps you can tell them. You know Jungkook wouldn’t mind…but then again.

The thrill was also fun and exciting. Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. For now, let it be only between you and Jungkook.

Maybe you’ll just tell them by sending them your wedding invites on a random Tuesday.

[slytherinshua]

ANTON BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

genre. fluff. a lil f2l. warnings. none. pairing. anton x fem!reader. wc. 1.2k. request. no. a/n. anton delusions to start the new year off on the right foot <3

boyfriend anton who is the most attentive person you’ve ever met

maybe it’s because he always waits and listens before speaking and that has taught him to pick up on everything, but he never misses anything

if you shiver from the cold, he notices

if you tense up in uncomfort, he notices

if you’re eyeing that one ring on the jewellery stand in the store, he notices 

he loves to take walks with you, but since it’s gotten colder outside, you often get a lot colder than him

he gets into the habit of giving you his scarf or his coat or his gloves

sometimes he offers to hold your hands to warm them up, gently rubbing them to warm them up when they’re freezing from the outside cold

he’ll give you his beanies to keep your ears warm

and when he notices that your cheeks are dusted pink from the cold, he’ll kiss all over your face to try to warm it up

when he’s listening to you talk, he’ll subconsciously mirror your gestures

he’s quirking his eyebrow when you are, fiddling with his thumbs to match your pace, leaning away from you at the same speed that you’re leaning forward

there’s always a balance, and anton always makes sure to keep the perfect harmony between you two

when he’s away on schedules, he’ll always take pictures of his food to let you know he’s eaten

and he makes sure he’s in the frame of the photo too after you said you wanted to see his face as well

even if he doesn’t look the best or takes it from a weird angle, you were his best friend before you were his girlfriend, so he never feels awkward about it

the comfortableness that you have with your best friend was still a very prominent feeling in your relationship

you were always making fun of each other and giggling and sending the ugliest selfies— it made you feel at home

the only difference was that during those fits of giggles, instead of hiding how much he loves your laughter and your smile, he could tell you openly and shower your face with kisses just to remind you how much he loves you

instead of looking back at the selfies he sent you when you miss him, you could just ask for more

you always felt completely yourself around anton, but once you started dating him, you felt even more comfortable

you don’t really have “date nights” with anton

there’s nothing fancy or overly romantic with you two

you’re more comfortable with just hanging out with him like usual

sometimes you do dress up because you want to look pretty for him, of course, but there is never any pressure to

dates with anton are always low stress

your original fancy dinner date got cancelled last minute, you weren’t feeling up for it or anton was tired from work? it’s no problem— you’ll just get mcdonald’s instead and spend the night cuddling while watching old movies

anton always sends you snippets of songs he’s working on, even if he’s not really supposed to

what harm could happen if you heard a single melody line?

plus, he values your feedback more than anything, and your suggestions work their way into the songs even when you don’t realize it

he always takes your advice on everything, because, well, you’re the person he trusts the most in the world

there’s never a reason you need to lie or hide something from him, and because of that, he trusted you every time

he knows everything about you, and he remembers everything as well

it was easy for him to choose gifts for you once you became his girlfriend

he starts buying something for you whenever he buys something for himself just because you’re always on his mind

or when he passes something cute in the store, his brain just goes

“oh, y/n would like that”

and suddenly he’s at the register already paying for it

he remembers every time you mentioned something in the past to him as just your best friend, so he knows your taste better than anyone else

with how attentive he is, he even knows what your new interest is before you tell him

you’re suddenly hyper focused on capsule wardrobes, specifically ones for couples so that you can match with every piece of clothing you own? 

sure, that’s some interesting information that he definitely didn’t already pick up 2 weeks ago

he’s already pulling out the matching clothes before you can get a second sentence in, and you happily spend the next few months matching with anton without even trying

the same thing happens when you decide to try to make your own sourdough bread as a new hobby

anton saw you reading blogs about bread a little too often to just be mindlessly scrolling through your phone

so he picks up a bread book at the store the next day, naturally

he’s always one to indulge in whatever you’re interested in

even if it doesn’t end up being something he also enjoys, he can still buy you things for it because he loves to see you happy

anton is shy

sometimes a little too shy, especially in front of other people

when it’s just you, he can say he loves you pretty easily, and even kiss you without feeling too embarrassed

but he absolutely cannot handle pda

even holding your hand around the other boys or people he knows will make him blush uncontrollably 

the teasing makes it worse, especially it’ll be the only thing eunseok and sungchan talk about for the next week

when he can, he’ll show you affection in more subtle ways

one of his favourites is making little playlists for you

sometimes they’re long, sometimes they’re just 5 songs

but each of them comes with a little note from him in the description, saying how much he loves you or how the songs remind him of you

there are times when you won’t see each other for a while, but listening to the playlists he sends you makes the time away from him more bearable

when you sent him your first response playlist, he almost cried

you had filled it with the most loverboy coded songs— and some of the lyrics had him questioning how you could pick such detailed songs?

because they all hit him so hard, as if the songs were written about you and him

your favourites from those playlists soon found their way into a joint playlist— one you made on anton’s birthday

the boys always tease him about listening to it too much, but it’s not like he can just stop 

he’s addicted to it

not only were the songs good, but they’re the songs that he shared with you

and he likes knowing that he could share something like that with just you made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside

there’s something so special about the love that you have for anton

the more you think back, the more you realize that there was never any other boy in your brain other than him

he had always been your best friend and your secret crush

and now that you could call him your boyfriend, you want to keep it like that for as long as possible

luckily, anton feels the exact same way

his life feels unimaginable without you right beside him

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr, @chiiyuuvv,, @evalevaeva

[gay-dorito-dust]

Through the eyes of Aunt Alysanne, who could see that her nephew was smitten with you from the moment eyes met, falling evermore when you handed him his ass during sword training.

Through the eyes of Aunt Alysanne, who could see that Benjicot would often act as your second shadow, standing close by but never in the way he wanted as he forced himself to find comfort in your seemingly platonic relationship; however friends do not let their eyes linger on the others lips as much as you and Benji did, nor did they subtly brush the backs of their hands against one another’s like you and Benji often did in reassurance.

Through the eyes of Aunt Alysanne, who could see the anger cloud her nephew’s stormy eyes as his jaw tighten and his fists clenched at his sides, watching in silent hurt and uncertainty as you talk to another from across the room. She could feel his desire to walk over to you and let it be known for all in attendance that you were the other half of his soul, and therefore should be his betrothed, for he knew you better then most men and had moulded himself to fit into the kind of man you’d be proud to seen beside.

Through the eyes of Aunt Alysanne, who couldn’t help but smile when watching you fret over Benjicot, a bloodied and dirtied mess of a man that looked at you with such a adoration unbeknownst to you as you quickly worked to heal the bruises on his knuckles. He had a fight with some Brackens that day and one took a jab at your expense, and just like that he had lost all composure as a fury unlike any other overcame him.

Now within the care of your hands however, Benji was at peace and was as serene as a calm lake, a lake that’s stillness would’ve mistaken if for a mirror of the sky above, while he only listened as you communicated your worries and fears to him openly. Never once did Benji dismissed your feelings or made you feel less for having them, if anything it made him recognise just how much time he had been wasting away pining, contemplating the what if’s instead of acting on his deep rooted feelings.

Through the eyes of Aunt Alysanne who celebrated in silence as her nephew held your face in his calloused hands, whispering his confession so sweetly against your lips as you happily accepted, the the look of content upon your face as you melted into his kiss. The internal war was over for Benjicot as he eagerly pressed more kisses on to your lips and face, all the while your laughter and squeals of a happily ever after reached her ears like a melody.

She was happy to see you both so happy and in utter love, a love so rare within Westeros that it was easily the most valued thing of all, for no amount of riches, glory, nor power would even dare compare to that of genuine feelings blossomed from a beautiful and respectable friendship.

Through the eyes of aunt Alysanne, who spoke the story of your love story with your own children as a bedtime story, hoping to one day encourage to do as you and Benji did; find love through a strengthen friendship for there was no love quite like it as you and Benji watched from the doorway, closely pressed against one another with matching smiles as your souls sung together in harmony.

[inuyashaluver]

can you do reader is very body conscious but lessi helps her? lyy

you’re beautiful - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your girlfriend wishes you could see yourself the way she does

warnings: self loathing, insecurity, tears, slightly angsty?

a/n: YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL AND DONT LET ANYONE TELL YOU DIFFERENT, MY LOVES, thank you for the request, love you, i hope this lived up to expectations because im getting in my head again 😭❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia, had a love so pure, it was sickeningly sweet.

people may say that the term ‘soulmates’ is overused, but alessia russo was in fact your soulmate.

she was your better half, a true soul connection that is truly authentic and genuinely profound.

this girl had you wrapped around her finger and it was very much mirrored for you. the two of you would do anything for each other, without a second thought clouding your mind.

—

you and alessia met years ago in your youth, forming a close bond with the blonde unexpectedly.

alessia in her younger years was quite shy, finding it hard to put herself out there and make friends. whereas, you on the other hand, were outgoing, always the first person to approach when someone looked like they needed a friend.

and that’s what you did. when you and alessia joined the england youth football team, you watched as alessia, wide eyed and nerve ridden, clutched her training top in her hand, you’d been told to find a partner for warm ups.

and you, with your mischievous grin and kind eyes, walked over to alessia and nudged her with your shoulder. “i’m (y/n)” you whisper, alessia looks over at you in surprise, sending you a grateful smile, “i’m alessia” she whispers back.

“you have beautiful eyes, alessia” you grin, alessia cheeks fill with pink, looking down at the pitch with a little laugh before looking back up at you.

“you have a pretty smile” alessia breathes out, you smile brightly at her, offering her a piece of gum while you conversed, unbeknowingly becoming a part of your routine that lasted for years.

you and alessia navigated the ups and downs of childhood together, forming an unbreakable bond.

the more you talked and hung out, the more you realised how perfect you were for each other. and so, at 17, you and alessia started dating, you, as usual taking the lead that alessia was very grateful for.

“russo, i think it’s time we date” you say simply, causing alessia to choke on air while the two of you walked around the pitch. “what?” she mutters, her cheeks bright pink when you interlaced your fingers together.

“i really like you, lessi,” you say earnestly, giving her a charming smile that made her heart leap out of her chest.

“i really like you too” she breathes out, both of you now looking a little sheepish, giving little squeezes of your hands while you looked at each other.

that’s when alessia closed the gap and pulled you into a kiss, you gasp in surprise against her lips, your hand moving to cradle her cheek as you pulled her closer.

it was a little clumsy at first but you both quickly found a rhythm, feeling familiar yet foreign all at the same time.

alessia’s hand makes its way to your bicep, squeezing it gently and smiling against you. eventually when the two of you pulled apart, you both broke into little fits of giggles, resting your foreheads against each other as your breath intermingled with each other. the promise of forever lingering in the air.

everyone saw how genuine your connection was, you brought out alessia’s confidence, alessia brought out your calm side. a perfect balance working together in harmony. the amount of respect, love and admiration for each other never went unnoticed by the two of you.

—

you had always played at arsenal while alessia played at manchester united, ecstatic when she decided to transfer to be closer to you.

you’d always been a woso couple favourite, the amount of edits under both of your names were insane. it only grew as alessia transferred. but something that grew in small but visible amounts, was hate.

it was inevitable, you were both in the public eye and people could be truly awful when they wanted to be. you tried not to look at it but it was incredibly hard when it was directed at you.

alessia was perfect and you could say that with your chest, and everyone else thought that. so people loved to tell you that you weren’t good enough. you weren’t fit enough.

people claiming you were using the girl even though you both have incredibly successful, established careers that no one could deny.

but it didn’t matter, you were scrutinised by a very tiny amount of people but it had a large impact. you thought you would be used to it by now but these comments for some reason just stuck with you.

you stood in front of the mirror in your shared apartment, suddenly your daily training uniform feeling tight on your body.

no matter how you moved it, it didn’t feel right. your eyes welled with tears as your eyes took in your appearance. you felt awful. you shook it off, making your way to alessia who was currently preparing protein shakes for the car.

you snuck up behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle as your chin rested on her shoulder. she was always a little taller but it didn’t matter.

“hey, babe” alessia grins, leaning back into you, “hi, lessi baby” you kiss her shoulder sweetly. she flipped around in your embrace, kissing your lips gently a couple of times, making you giggle against her. she relishes at the sound, pecking the tip of your nose before ushering you to the car.

she drove with her hand gently squeezing your thigh before you both arrived. you were feeling fine up until then, but as soon as the two of you got into training, you felt off, the comments flashing in your mind.

alessia noticed a change in your behaviour. your usual confident and vibrant self was seemingly preoccupied. you trained with her like normal, giggling and chatting but your smile never fully reached your eyes, alessia knew you better than anyone, she could see you declining.

“hey, you okay?” alessia grabs your hand when you enter the change room after training, pulling you close to her before you tried to walk away.

“yeah, baby, i’m good” you smile, kissing her sweetly, she melts into you, kissing you back with a satisfied hum before she pulled away from you.

“don’t distract me, missy” she chuckles, pinching your cheek teasingly before she wrapped her arms around you.

she pulls you close, tucking your head under her chin as she gently swayed you from side to side. you lean further into her, feeling a lump in your throat growing, desperately hoping you don’t look like you’re going to cry.

“can we go home, please?” you say softly, alessia frowns a little at that, “‘course we can,” kissing your head tenderly before dragging you to your cubby.

she sits you down, helping you into one of her hoodies before helping you change from your boots.

“russo spoils you, (y/l/n)” katie teases, “you don’t deserve this little angel” katie laughs, you knew she meant well but it sent a knife to your heart.

you throw her a pathetic smile, looking down as alessia shooed katie away, smiling up at you reassuringly, kissing your knee gently before moving up.

she quickly packs your stuff away, as well as her own and quickly changing, claiming you both could shower at home.

she essentially dragged you out of the room, opening the door for you to her car, doing your seatbelt for you and kissing you sweetly before she went to her own side.

you really didn’t deserve her.

the whole ride home, you stared out of the window, only really contributing to conversation when necessary. alessia was truly worried at this point, but not wanting to push you.

she cautiously grabbed your hand and interlaced them together, worried you’d pull away but you tightened your grip. she sent you a smile even though you weren’t looking at her, so instead she kissed the back of your hand. letting you know she was there, like always.

you both got inside and you trudged to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. alessia’s heart broke a little, you’d usually shower together in times like this, but you didn’t want anything to do with alessia she felt. so she left you alone..sort of.

she placed her ear on the door when she didn’t hear the shower start, instead hearing a heart wrenching sob escaping your throat. she couldn’t handle it anymore.

“baby, open the door, please” alessia pleaded, your sobs not relenting, “(y/n/n), come on, love” alessia tries again, hearing you cry and feeling her heart breaking. she started to panic until she heard the door unlock, not wasting any time and making her way inside.

“hey, hey, hey” she coos, bending down to your level when she sees you cry on the floor, you can’t help but cry seeing her, her own tears streaming down her face when she saw you.

“what’s wrong, love?” she asked softly, wiping your tears from your cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

you tried to open your mouth to speak but nothing came out, her hands made their way to the sides of your neck as she directed your eyes to hers.

“breathe, baby” her thumbs brush against the underside of your jaw, you try to mimick her breathing, little hiccups resulting from your sobs as you and alessia looked at each other tearfully.

she didn’t know why you were crying but all the pain you felt, she felt.

you both sat there for a second, just in silence with occasional sniffles feeling the room. alessia waited until you were ready, her patience unlimited when it comes to you.

“lessi” you choke out, “i’m here, i’m here, baby” alessia smiles sadly, moving to kiss your cheek gently, only making another teardrop from your duct.

“why, though? you shouldn’t be with me” you hiccup, her eyebrows furrow, looking at you confused, she tries to speak up but you cut her off, “alessia, you deserve so much better” you sniffle, alessia looks slightly furious.

“i don’t deserve better, i deserve you, you’re more than anything i deserve” she says sternly, “baby, what happened?” she tries again, “i hate my body, i hate the way i look, i hate that someone as perfect as you has to be seen with me” you sniff, alessia looks almost offended, her hands dropping from your face to grab your hands, both of you sitting on the floor.

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” she starts, “my baby, your beauty is out of this world” she says adoringly, “you’re absolutely gorgeous, you’re so kind, you’re so strong, you’re perfect” she smiles, moving one of her hand up to cradle your cheek again. “who put this stupid idea in you head?” alessia tucks a stray peice of hair behind your ear,

“online” you admit quietly, alessia had enough at that, she lifts you up off the floor, your legs wrapping around her waist as she carried you to the bedroom.

she placed you down with a sweet kiss to your forehead, standing behind you in front of the mirror. you shy your gaze away, looking down at the floor, unable to look at yourself.

“look up, my love” she whispers, kissing your temple as her hands held your hips. you exhale deeply before looking in the mirror, making eye contact with alessia through the mirror.

“i love your legs, they’re so strong, they’ve walked through challenges, through accomplishments. they let you walk to me, they let you run, they’re perfect” she whispers in your ear, a frown was still evident on your face so alessia continued.

“your waist, your hips, i love holding it whenever i can, i love feeling you breathing, knowing you’re with me,” she smiles, kissing your cheek, a little hint of a smile playing at your lips that had her brightening.

“next your arms, also very strong” she winks at you, making you huff out a little laugh, “whenever your arms are around me, i feel so safe, i love when you squeeze me when you get excited, they also have your hands attached and we know why i love your hands” she teases, you laugh at that, throwing your head back with a smile when she chuckles, placing a little kiss on your neck,

“i love your neck, i love your shoulders, i love your pretty face, your gorgeous eyes that light up when you get excited, and your smile” she breathes out,

“you know how much i love your smile, it brightens up the whole room, my beautiful, beautiful girl” she says a little tearfully. you turn around and just look up at her, “i love you” she says softly, that’s when you pull her into a bone crushing hug.

“i love you, i love you so much” you sniff, kissing her cheek repeatedly before burying your face into the base of her neck.

she hugs you tightly, relieved that you felt better, “don’t listen to any of the idiots online, baby” she says into your hair, her hands rubbing comforting circles over your (her) hoodie.

you nod into her skin, letting her drag you to the shower where she really showed you some appreciation about just how beautiful you are.

—

you’d finally woken up to yourself through the help of alessia, you’re absolutely gorgeous no matter what anyone says. it was a relief for everyone when you and alessia came to game day as loved up as ever.

as soon as alessia got out of the car, you latched onto her back, making the girl laugh brightly as she walked with you bumping into her every two seconds, attempting to keep your bodies close together.

“baby, i can’t walk” she laughs, “fine,” you huff, hopping onto her back, her hands instantly catch under your thighs as she smiles brightly when she feels you peck her cheek repeatedly as she walked you both into the emirates.

“lovebirds” leah teases, you wink at her and nod, making the older girl send you a playful grin as alessia continued to carry you into the change rooms.

you and alessia play exceptionally well, assisting her in a goal that had the crowd roaring. you bound over to her with a bright grin as she held her arms open to you, lifting you up triumphantly, feeling more proud about you rather than the goal.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you!! ily tooney

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

alessia: the most perfect human being alive

view all comments

yourname: yeah, you

↳ alessia: we’ve been through this, little one

↳ yourname: oh please, you aren’t much taller

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh, you’re so cute

↳ yourname: what the fuck

↳ alessia: so so so cute

[rs-hawk]

Love this post by @microsff

You went to a garage sale to see what you could find. You had been working on so many projects that you were hoping to get parts for cheap, when you saw an Andrew the Android. He was sitting on a table, swinging his feel that barely scraped the ground. He was an early version. It was easy to tell by his stocky build, and the way he barely looked humanoid. Newer ones looked more human.

“How much is he?” you asked the man sitting by a lock box, pointing to Andrew.

“You don’t want that one,” the man grinned, showing off all his teeth in a way that made you frown. “It’s a weird one. Sent it up to clean my gutters in a storm, you know, testing out that ‘waterproof’ feature.”

“Uh-huh,” you said unsurely, shifting on your feet slightly.

“And it got struck by lightening. Been odd ever since. Telling me to call it ‘Andy’ and asking me questions. Didn’t think these ones of them were meant to be so annoyingly human.”

“I still want him. How much?” you insisted.

You and the man go back and forth for a bit before you finally handed him a small wad of cash. A giddy feeling fluttered in your chest as you approached him. He looked up at you, a blank look on his expressionless face.

“Hi there. I’m Y/N. I just bought you,” you explained as you offered him your hand. “I’m so excited that I found an early Andrew. You’re one of my favorite androids of all time.”

“Andy, please,” was his response. He held up his hands, no, claws, as if to apologize for not shaking yours. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You brought him home, and he settled in quickly. One day, he greeted you at the door.

“Can you make me hands?” he asked.

“Why? Your claws work better, and you can swap them out with other attachments,” you asked back as you started gathering things for the project you were working on.

“I want to pet your cat.”

“You can’t even feel her fur though.”

“But she can. And I want her to like me petting her.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Alright. I can build you hands.”

“I also want to learn guitar. Can you make sure I have good fingers?”

That made a grin crack your face. “Yes, I’ll make you good fingers.”

You two lived in good harmony for awhile, until one day, he showed you a book. “Why is one character being called ‘they’?”

“Oh, because they’re non-binary.”

He nodded as he went back to the book. “I think that fits me better than he.”

You nodded back at them, scrolling through your phone. “Okay.”

Another day, they come to you, holding a book with a picture of a flute. “Can you build me a mouth? And move my port?”

“You want to learn to play the flute?” you asked curiously, looking at the book, their fingers curling around the pages.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

They took to the flute much better than the guitar, but you don’t say anything. Even when they wake you up in the middle of the night. They’re still not very good, but you enjoy hearing their progress.

Yet again, they come to you, showing you a magazine with synthetic skin and hair on an android. They don’t say anything as they hand it to you, looking down.

“Okay. I’ll take you in and let you pick everything out,” you say as you hand them back the magazine.

“Do you think I’ll really be able to feel?” they asked nervously, rolling the magazine up into a tube.

“Maybe. Why?”

They looked away, and you thought if they were human, they would have blushed. “I want to pet your cat.”

“You pet her all the time.”

“I want to be able to feel it too.”

As always, you nodded. “It’s worth a shot at least then, right?”

Andy went in many times for many more modifications on top of the ones they asked you to make for them. Over the span of months, but in a way that hit you all at once, you fell in love with them. The way they laughed. How excited they were to learn. How excited they were to just be.

“Hey, Y/N! Andy! Welcome in yous guys. I got the room set up. Andy’s got a surprise for you, Y/N. You’re gonna let Andy pick out everything as always, yeah?” the mechanic greeted the two of you as you stepped inside.

You thought it was a little odd she just kept saying “Andy” instead of “they” but you brushed it off. “Yeah Sal. It’s Andy’s body. They can do what they want.”

Andy and Sal shared a grin before you were ushered into the waiting room. A couple hours later, a dark haired woman came out, her hair styled into a neat bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were green, your favorite color. There was a softness to her face and features, as well as a stockiness to her build. She reminded you of Andy, in a way, so you returned her smile.

Sal came up behind you, gesturing to the woman. “What do you think?”

“Oh she’s lovely, perfectly stunning, but you know I’m just waiting on Andy,” you said with a frown and furrow of your brows.

“Hi Y/N,” the woman said shyly, looking down at her feet.

“Andy?”

“I mean, I guess, but I want a new name.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

You tilted your head, looking at her curiously. “But you already know every name that there is to know.”

A sweet smile touched her lips as she walked over to you, taking your hands in hers. “I don’t know how they sound when you say them yet.”

[sushirrrry]

PART OF US - PART ONE.

a harry styles x original character, 4-part short-story. themes: dadrry, lhh, coming of age, contemporary romance set in NYC. CW: explicit sex, language, & conversations surrounding mental health. 20.4k words. follow me on twitter @/sadprose_em & wattpad @/sushirrrry for notifications. enjoy <3

Spring.

In a moment of panic, Sofia stopped.

"Fuck," Sofia dug into the contents of the small purse on her arm, knowing that she wasn't going to find anything deeper in the tiny clutch, no matter how hard she tried. "I forgot my phone."

Nat looked at her friend with an annoyed face as they approached the entrance to the bar, her feet slowing down to a a few steps before stopping completely.

"You're kidding me." Nat said, a grunt following, watching as Sofia searched through the small clutch that was quite obviously not holding the device, but merely a lipstick or two.

It wasn't there, but Sofia didn't want to have to go all the way back to her apartment for it if she didn't have to. Her eyes looked up at her friend who rolled her eyes right back.

"I'm sorry, Nat– we don't have to go back. It's fine, just make sure to keep an eye on me, please? I don't want to get stolen."

Nat grabbed Sofia's arm before linking them together as they walked through the doors of the building, almost just the answer that Sofia was looking for. The sound of their heels clicked together against the cement in a beautiful harmony– the girl's night out kind of harmony.

"You look incredible tonight so I would take it as a compliment, personally."

The martini bar where they would be meeting Nat's friend and coworker– who Sofia knew to be passionate about the espresso martinis in the city– Niall, was going to meet them on the rooftop bar.

Sofia had only decided to go because this wasn't just a one-on-one meeting with Nat and Niall, but a bunch of other people from Nat's office would be there, as well. Nat had asked if Sofia could tag along, which meant that Sofia was now dressed in some knee-high boots and a black mini skirt that fit like a glove.

Sofia was feisty but introverted; she knew what she wanted and would talk back to those who questioned her. She was excited to meet this friend of Nat's knowing she had talked about him in quite a bright light– even more so because she knew that this could benefit her, too.

"Remember, Niall's bringing that friend of his," She raised her eyes at Sofia, "From what I hear around the office, it's a friend that's quite easy on the eyes. Apparently, his presence at the Christmas party was way better than the shitty gifts our office tried to pawn off too."

Even in her best feeling, highest confidence moments, self-doubt trickled into the conversation.

"So, why do you think he'd even be interested in me? There's going to be so many more people there," Sofia asked. "Plus, how do you know he's my type?"

"I don't know what his type is," Nat looked at her friend as they stepped into the elevator, "But I can't imagine that you wouldn't be, even for a night."

Sofia pulled at the hem of her skirt, but Nat pulled her friend's hand away before giving her that look. The one that Sofia got quite often– it was a look of not just overthinking, but over analyzing any particular scenario that may arise. The elevator they had gotten into stopped on the top floor, the subtle noise of the bar ringing out as they walked along, and back outside.

Subtle breezes of the spring were feeling quite warm as the girls had been wearing skirts. Sofia's being a solid black, a long-sleeve blouse and leather jacket on top. She wore it with her favorite black boots that gave her a bit of height. Her dark hair cascades down her back; dark leather and dark, shiny hair that sparkles when the night light hits it.

The Brooklyn bar was one of Nat's favorites, she had been talking about going out all week. It wasn't that she was trying to get Sofia out of her comfort zone, but she knew that there wasn't anything to lose.

It was about taking chances.

She knew her friend was a good person– she had a sense of humor that not everyone understood but was appreciated by everyone, she had thoughts that bordered every side, and the empathy that she held was something that only a few people could ever relate to.

Nat felt that Sofia was special; Sofia felt she was misunderstood. When Nat had talked about Sofia in the office, Niall had seemingly believed that he had a friend that was quite the same. It was like shooting two stars had both been spotted in the same part of the galaxy.

This wasn't a set-up, if Nat was going to be asked. Instead, it was a coworker get-together that just happened to have eyes and hearts on a particular two. But as she tucked Sofia's hair behind her ears, and handed her a lip gloss for a touch-up, she knew exactly what she was getting her friend into.

"Oh, over there!" Nat had spotted her loudest friend, surrounded by a few others who were laughing at a joke they must've missed. Sofia had a tight smile on her face as they approached the small group; she didn't like meeting new people because she never knew how to start conversations, she just knew how to finish them and walk away.

Nat and Sofia were still linked in their elbows as they approached, Niall immediately noticing the two girls.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, the cocktail– as espresso martini, obviously– was icy in his hands as he gave a soft grin to them. "There you are."

"Here we are," Nat suggested, her eyes moving to the man a step behind Niall at the bar. He was facing the bartender as he seemed to be chatting the guy up, asking for specifics in the cocktail he ordered. He held the small toothpick with an olive in his fingers, twirling it around the glass.

Sofia had noticed him, but her eyes hadn't allowed her to stare too long at his side profile. Even if maybe she wanted to.

"Guys, this is my best friend– this is Sofia, I've talked about her plenty, you all probably know her life story" Nat giggled, before turning to introduce her coworkers, "Fia, this is Niall, Dana, Marie, and–" Her eyes landed on Niall's friend who had joined the conversation with a fresh martini held in his fingers. The way that his hands spread across the glass made Sofia's heart beat quicker than usual, almost skipping a few.

Niall looked back at his friend before introducing, "Sorry, this is my mate, Harry. We went to college together. He just moved to the city a few months back."

Nat bit her lip, Sofia couldn't keep her eyes on him as she felt the blush by just looking at the way his lips molded around the glass as he took a generous sip, before swallowing and nodding.

"Lovely to meet you." The deep voice of the man surprises them.

Sofia is taken by him, their eyes meeting immediately as she watches him shyly smile in her direction. It's a moment where Sofia feels eyes on her as if this was supposed to be more than it was– as if their connection was meant to be electrifying at first glance.

And she wasn't going to deny that there was an electric field that almost made her skin crawl with desire... but she wouldn't admit that.

"Great to meet you," Nat stuck her hand out and he graciously took it with a smile. "Where are you in the city?"

"I actually live around the corner," Harry tells her, his sharp accent is soft but bold– like a dark roasted coffee with cream, "I've been here about six months so I'm starting to really get used to it. Americans are kind of– no offense– bloody rude."

"America is built on colonialism, so I think rudeness is a bit inherent." Sofia stated; it was the quick wit that Nat knew. Her shyness came from within whenever she was able to get a word in, which made Nat smile at her friend's attempt.

Niall made an audible oof sound, holding onto his chest as if hurt by the comment. But Harry just tilted his head as he glared at her with the most subtle grin.

"I'm going to get a drink," Nat interrupted, looking at Niall and their other coworkers as Niall turned to follow her to the bar. Sofia felt her friend leave her side, leaving her standing there as she looked around the rooftop.

The only person standing still was Harry, who had already received his drink and was standing a bit closer to her now, possibly wanting to offer more conversation.

"Are you from here?" Harry offered, taking another small sip from the wide-rimmed glass.

"Uh, no," Sofia shook her head, "I'm originally from France. People think it's a speech impediment, but it's just because my dad refused to speak English at home, so I wasn't really able to practice it a lot, and it left me unable to pronounce my R's well."

Her long dark hair and soft features were gifts from her mother who grew up in Beijing, moving to France when she was eighteen– her father was French and Italian, which left her being a mutt of sorts. It was a mixture of culture and a radiance of knowledge that left her traveling the world at a young age to visit family here and there, but also experiencing everywhere below the surface level.

"Je connais un peu de français," Harry smiles before pinching his fingers together, "juste un peu."

Sofia's eyes lit up, giving her a small smile before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I got you this," Nat handed her the orange cocktail that had a small straw, before Sofia handed it back.

"I'm not drinking– I didn't bring my phone, so I don't want something to happen." She shook her head, watching as Nat moved her eyes between her and Harry both.

Nat looked up at Harry with a smile Sofia knew was laced with her own intentions, before handing the drink to him, "Maybe she'll take it if you offer it to her, then."

Harry's brows raised as he held the drink between his fingers, feeling the coldness before he watched Nat walk back through the bar. With the subtle movement, her friend had disappeared once again.

It left the two standing there alone again, which Sofia felt more of the pressure of the set-up currently occurring between the two of them. She wondered how much of this Harry had known, and how much he had been fooled too. The man in front of her was attending, though. He seemed quite intrigued with her, not trying to force his way out of a conversation just because it was a bit uncomfortable.

Harry's lip curled a bit, the smirk on his face becoming a bit more of a blush as he extended his arm to offer the drink back to her as her friend had suggested.

"So, would you like this drink, then?" He bit his lip, hoping that she would at least take this one from him. Her hand steadily took the drink from his fingers as she sheepishly shook her head.

"Sorry about all of them." Sofia muttered out, taking a sip of the cocktail.

When her eyes raised back to him, she noticed that he had been looking at her with an admiration that she wasn't entirely sure she had felt before. It was an honesty, like he had never told a lie, and would never think to.

For the first time in a while, Sofia felt seen– like he had really been taken with her. She stood with her hand wrapped around her drink, looking around at the scenery that surrounded them.

"So, you're French?" Harry licked his lips, his hand moved into his front pocket, the dark pants were fitting him snug, "You grew up there?"

"Oui," Sofia clicked her tongue, "Um, yes and no. We spent half the year in Boston and half in Nice. My dad was a banker, and he did a lot of work overseas. But we traveled with him to stay as a family. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, and she kept my brother and I. During the holiday, we would travel to see my mother's family who still lived in China. We were always on a plane, it felt like."

Harry nodded, listening actively to the story she told of her upbringing. She didn't know why she kept speaking so much, but feeling that he was actively listening made it feel upwardly special and like he didn't have anywhere else to be or anyone else to listen to.

"My last name is Treaveau." She offered him another small detail of her background. It may have also been a small detail that he could keep in his brain for trying to track her down later.

He wasn't looking for an out this time. That felt unusual to him, as he settled on the doe-like eyes mesmerizing him.

"That sounds like a lot. But really incredible." He told her, his words having weight to them like he truly believed that it was incredible. "What brings you to New York, then?"

Sofia took a deep breath as she feels like maybe this isn't the right time to have that discussion. Rather, she wants to keep the conversation as far away from Kendall as possible. But, it was her life story and the parts that she didn't want to discuss were seemingly always there.

But, she decides to just answer it without any further explanation: "I moved here with a partner after college and it just became home. Settled some roots here– my job, friends." With a quick nod, she took another sip to stop her from speaking any more on the topic.

Harry hummed, "I see." He shifted on his weight as he noticed the conversation that looked like it stopped as Sofia's body language pointed out that she was uncomfortable with that question, and, more fittingly, that answer.

He knew that from his interviewing he did, watching as the person in front of him started to redirect their body language or try to look away from him as if that would take the situation away. He knew when asking questions and trying to get a response, body language told it all. If he had one talent, it was being able to read someone– read their facial expressions and the way they interacted with him about it.

Instead, Harry offered a different type of way to ease her nerves.

"Would you like a different drink, then?" Harry asked, his fingers wrapped around the wide mouth of his own martini glass. He could see her eyes flicker as she smiled up at him. "Doesn't seem like you wanted the one your friend gave you."

"Um," Fia answered, a soft giggle, "I think I'm okay. This is fine. Not my preference. Not even really a huge drinker, but when I do, this wouldn't be what I prefer."

Harry hummed, narrowing his brows as he bit on his lip in response to her declining his offer, so he dug a bit deeper into it.

"What do you like, then?" He asked.

She purses her lips, "Long walks on the beach. The offspring of a long island iced tea and a sex on the beach."

Harry felt the edge of his lip tilt up at her quick wit at the ridiculous joke. His blood rushes a bit quicker, before he nods.

"In my part of town, we call them 'sex on long island'," He quickly joked back, the dry humor making her roll her eyes.

Instead, he licked over his lips and tried to make more conversation around her now. "So, why are you here, at a martini bar, if you don't like to drink?" He took a sip of his own, the sweetness of the vodka coating his tongue, "I'm certain there's more fun things for you to do in Brooklyn on a Friday night."

The fact was: she really didn't know why she was there other than she had been convinced it could be fun.

As Nat had persuaded her out of her apartment, she thought of all of the things she could have been doing tonight.

Staying home and watching the new season of Great British Bake Off seemed enjoyable enough, but her extroverted friend pushed further for her to come meet this friend of a friend of a friend– however the connection was. And while she wasn't disappointed– far from it– she couldn't answer his questions without smiling. He pushed back on her attempts at bits of flirting, meeting her at her own game.

"I was told I'd have a good time." She felt herself try to hold back the smile, hoping to make him sweat a bit. But she knew she came off a bit strong; her humor and her lightness didn't mix too well. "Is that an alright answer?"

Harry used his tongue to lick over his bottom lip as he stared up at her with the greenest eyes she had seen. The curls that settled on his forehead were messy, but placed properly. They were quite long, around his neck and shoulders.

The silk of his green shirt under the black blazer seemed like it needed a criminal investigation on the salesperson who sold him it, the longer she stared at him. It was opened to reveal he had tattoos across his collarbone, but not open enough for her to make out the design.

"Sure. You're welcome to make your own choices," he tutted. "Just trying to understand you, that's all."

Sofia rolled her lips into her mouth before she turned to the bartender, asking for a Diet Coke with a hint of lime. Harry smiled at the request, eyes staying on her side profile. She took another sip of her freshly tipped-off drink before returning her eyes to him, sparkling and flirtatious. She noticed the way he paid attention, knowing he wasn't trying to leave.

When she ordered, he nodded towards the bartender, "Put that on my tab."

Sofia looked up at him, shaking her head, "No– really, Harry–"

"I'd like another one of these," Harry smiled at the bartender, pushing his empty martini glass towards them, "Shaken, chilled glass, and filthy."

Her eyes darted to him quickly, but she was ultimately caught. He had already been staring at her. The martini was poured into the chilled glass before Harry thanked the bartender again. He took a sip before they started to move back out of the way, towards a standing table towards the edge of the rooftop. It overlooked down onto the streets; Sofia blinked a few times as she noticed the height, taking herself away from it, and setting her glass on the small table.

There was a breeze; it pushed its way through Harry's long hair settling on his shoulders as he looked towards Manhattan and the skyline that was illuminating the city. Not a patch of darkness in sight.

There was silence– an odd silence, because she knew that there were many people around them, music was playing, the city was below them, but her eyes were fixed on his side profile and the way that he stood in front of her.

Her breath hitched a minute before she let the bold words fall from her mouth. "I-I'd like to talk more about myself over dinner. If you're interested in understanding me, that is. You can ask me, if you want."

When she replayed the words in her head, she wanted to eat them all back and take them out of existence. Not only did they sound completely outrageous, but she knew how egotistical they made her sound.

Harry only stared at her, but his smile kept steady.

"I should, shouldn't I?" His accent rang out as he poked his cheek with his tongue. Her stomach flipped when the dimple in his smile popped. "That's a good idea, Sofia. To ask you to dinner. Why hadn't I thought of that?"

She breathed through her nose with a chuckle, "I didn't mean to sound so-"

"Forward?" He finished her sentence before taking another sip of his drink. The olives bobbed in the glass, his eyes just over the rim. "Something tells me you like being forward, but I think you're being a bit shy with me."

Sofia blinked a few times before she held her shoulders back, pressing away from his conclusion of her. "Where would you take me?"

Harry shook his head with a cocky smile that added blush to her cheeks. "Definitely not a martini bar, I'll tell you that much. What do you like?"

"There's that question again," Fia rolled her eyes, jokingly, but she shrugged her shoulders with no pressure, "Nothing too fancy, I guess."

"I can take you to the best chippy on this side of the Atlantic– up in the Financial District," Harry bites his lip as he tries to chuckle but his teeth bare a smile, "I know the area pretty well– I work up there, actually."

"Will it impress me?" She asks, scrunching her nose a bit.

Harry chuckles but shakes his head, "Don't know– you're very hard to read, so I'm walking on eggshells here. I'm trying to impress you, if that makes a difference"

"You're doing well, I'll tell you that– the only bone I'm going to throw at you, though." Sofia tucks some hair behind her ear as she realizes how hard of a time she's giving him. She takes a small step forward so her hip pops a bit. "I'd love to go to fish and chips with you, but I don't eat fish."

"Course you don't," He shakes his head, "You're killing me, you know."

"We all die eventually, I don't think I'm exacerbating it." Her humor stuck as Harry tilted his head back. Her eyes fell to the way that his curls bounced as they fell back a bit at the motion.

"My goodness," Harry shook his head with that eager smirk, "You're really good at this. And I'd like you to recede your statement because I do think you're exacerbating it. I don't feel as young as I used to."

"Good at standing my ground? Or good at fighting off misogyny while our friends think that I'll just fall into your graces like the start of a silly romance book?"

Harry's dimple popped and Sofia drew in a breath when she noticed how it changed his face. It was such a soft feature that drew away so much animosity and an unrelieved tension that she felt between her thighs.

"I'm sorry– is this not the start of our story?" He questioned her now, watching as she sighed outwardly. "Maybe it's sexist for you to think that you should be the one falling for me– I think I'm the one clearly begging at your feet here."

She liked him. Oh, she really liked him.

She knew instantly that she wasn't the type to take him home, but he was certainly the type that she would make an exception for if he suggested anything. It was a classic question in her own brain; was he just as charming behind closed doors as he was standing there in an open bar with a few drinks already in him? That she wasn't sure about.

But what she did know was that she was slowly watching as his walls were broken with every word she said.

"Is that a line that gets a lot of girls?"

Harry took a moment to stare at her. She shifted her weight, now under his eyes moving between her own as she nibbled on her lip as she waited for an equally witty response.

"I'm very enamored by you, Sofia." He told her softly, curiosity oozing from him.

Sofia tilted her head a bit as she questioned him yet again.

"Enamored or infatuated?" She bit back, but her smile kept her fiercely attractive to him. The energy was just a plus.

"Infatuation would suggest that there's a short-lived passion. I don't believe our story is short-lived," The vodka may have spoken there, but the tint of his blush was illuminating him.

"Oh, is that so?" She teased, leaning against the table then. "What makes you say that?"

Her eyes met his as Harry took in a breath. She couldn't have imagined the man in front of her being any more civil, any more kind to her. He maintained eye contact, blushing as she teased. She hadn't a doubt that he could be like any of the others she had dated in this city.

Something about him felt genuine; it felt like he opened his heart further than she was used to, maybe. She wasn't too sure, because his exterior would suggest he was a bit rugged.

His shoulder length dark curls were tousled and gave her the impression that he hadn't done anything about a haircut on purpose, not for lack of resources. His clean jawline was maintained and structured. But he was dressed well– he knew that he looked good, but without effort which worried her.

But she could tell that he spoke from the heart.

Sofia had no doubt he could have fallen in love easily– could have easily been the love of someone's life. So, in her brain, she wondered what on earth could have been wrong with him. He played the game with her– a game that was usually pushed back on rarely. It was a simple game of cat-and-mouse that only one man in a blue moon would understand.

But Harry kept eye contact, wanting more from her than she had been willing at first.

His body leaned in closer to her, sniffling as he found his footing close enough that he had practically pushed her feet apart with his own so they could be face to face.

"In my mirrorball, I see you and I have the time of our lives and not settling for anything that tells us to stop. I'm a visionary– I'm going to put my cards on the table and let you know what I want." The scent of his cologne flourished around her nose, pushing into her memory.

Sofia stares at the man for a moment when he stops talking, recognizing they had just met, and their connection had created such fire that she was certain it would spread wild.

There was no way that it could've been burnt out then; she watched his eyes follow her, almost obsessed as he stood in front of her, leaning on the rooftop railing.

"You don't even know me, Harry," She shrugged, "And I don't even know your last name."

"That's very true," He finished the last drop of the martini, taking a bite of the olive as he let his smirk take over when he chewed.

"The greatest loves of all time started that way, didn't they, Sofia Treaveau? With a bit of mystery and adventure? Do you need to know my last name to truly fall in love?"

She licked her lips, the taste of vanilla from her lip gloss on her taste buds. She nodded, letting her eyes fall back to him as she noticed a strand of his shouldered locks falling around his cheek as the breeze flew across them.

Her heart burned; the wildfire was spreading at an enormous rate. She had wanted to keep her heart from that feeling, but how addicting it was made her knee knock with his as they stood close.

"Then, I accept," She bites her lip, "I'll be ready tomorrow by seven. No later, or I'll keep the door locked."

Harry tried his best to keep his smile demure, but he knew that the heat of his skin had to be felt by her– the way his heart thumped was that one of a thousand earthquakes.

"I'll be outside your door at six fifty-eight, waiting to take you up the green line like every beautiful woman deserves." He raises his brows with a smirk. "Last week, I saw a rat the size of a raccoon."

Sofia hummed soft before she broke out in a few chuckles. "Wow, I cannot wait to see that– who said romance was dead?"

Harry shook his head with a large smile as he let his eyes soften to the way he looked at her. Sofia seemed the type he'd want to wake up in the morning to see; the type who were kind and subtle at first but open with large thoughts when you were able to chip past the exterior.

"How about I cook you dinner instead? I can come pick you up, we can go to the corner store, and I'll take you back to mine. It's a small place, but I think it may be a bit more..." He trailed off, trying to find the word, "A bit more intimate. And cheaper."

She smirked, looking at the way that his arm rested along the railing before she reached out to brush her hand against his, "So, I'm not worth a fifty dollar seafood platter, then?"

Harry shook his head, "Not if you're going to waste it."

Sofia bit her lip, smiling as she nodded her head. "I think that's a date, then."

Harry took a smaller step closer. "First time you actually said yes to me."

"Don't expect anymore tonight. I don't say yes unless I mean it." She tells him, sipping her coke.

An image quickly runs through his mind as he takes a solid breath in, but he blinks a few times to make sure it leaves so he doesn't get caught. He bit the inside of his cheek to feel some pain to try to get his kind off of how else he could get her to say yes.

Over and over and over–

"So, tomorrow at seven?" She interrupted his thoughts, his eyes meeting hers again.

"I told you," He smirked, "Six fifty-eight. And don't be late coming to the door, either."

Sofia exhaled, knowing the smile hadn't left her lips all evening. It was almost painful at that point; her cheeks hurt and she was a bit worried the blush would be permanent. It was a feeling she knew wouldn't last, but she looked forward to her cheeks hurting just a bit in the morning.

She nodded, "It's a date."

Harry rolled his lips into his mouth before he turned towards the city. He leaned against the railing, staring into the abyss of the lights. He breathed in, heavy, before humming out. Sofia did as he did, standing next to him. She leaned against the railing before tucking some hair behind her ear; the spring breeze gave her a bit of a chill.

"What if I'm a bit impatient?" He said suddenly, pushing away as he held onto the glass railing in front of him.

Sofia turned her head towards him, before she felt his hand on her wrist to request her attention. It was the easiest she had ever been to convince when he led her towards the bar. Their hands fell into place as he requested to pay for the bill, taking his card back.

"Where are we going?" Sofia said, a bit of uncertainty in her voice as she looked around. She didn't want to leave her friend without a bit of a notice– she had no way to get in contact with her.

Harry turned his head up after he signed the receipt, dropping the pen.

"We're leaving," He said, without effort, before taking her hand once again. He hadn't recalled that he had dropped it, but he had missed it. "I know a spot that'll be a bit more... private."

"I can't just leave," Sofia explained, chuckling with a bit of disbelief that he was leading her away, "I have to– I mean, I came with Nat."

Harry turned his head to look around, trying to see if he could find the group that had left them alone. He knew that they had to have been spying on them from another part of the rooftop, but he wasn't able to spot them.

"It doesn't seem that they're around, maybe they left. We'll be back. I'll get you home then you can text her." Harry promised, trying his best to get her to leave with him. He was ready to get out of the atmosphere and move onto seeing something else. He wanted to explore, walk the streets with her.

"Yeah, but," Sofia swallowed, turning her head to try and lay eyes on Nat, just to give her an update. It felt wrong to walk away with someone she barely knew– a bit irresponsible, really. A man, nonetheless. She hadn't felt uncomfortable in the slightest, but she was trying to protect herself.

Harry dug his hands into the front pockets of his pants, standing in front of her, waiting for her to come to a conclusion. His hand moved to her shoulder, giving a soft physical connection before he studied her.

"You can blame me. I take full blame if she freaks out on you." His voice was calm, but it was highlighted with desperation to get her to leave with him– to flee into another world, unknown.

He liked the unknown, which worked in his favor most of the time; it was something that was unagreeable in most of his life. His father would hate when Harry said he hadn't planned for that to happen, or that he hadn't thought of that before. It was just how his mind processed things– and being able to live a life where he didn't have to think about it made Harry feel more inclined to do that behavior out of a rebellion.

Stability was never something Harry needed to feel like he had been doing something right. Most of the time, he looked for spontaneity to keep his mind racing, finding people who were there for a season rather than the long haul. It kept his mind fresh.

"We don't–" Harry started, thinking that this would be how he left her that night. He would leave, telling Niall that it hadn't worked out.

Sofia interrupted, "No, let's."

He stared at her for a moment, looking around before he felt her take his hand that time. She placed her fingers between him, holding them firmly.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked her, looking around at the crowd.

It hadn't occurred to him that he really hadn't seen Niall or any of Niall's friends for a bit, which made him a bit leary that they had moved onto a new spot without them anyways. It would figure as such, because he had known that Niall was going to set him up like this from the moment he had mentioned the words 'and this girl is coming'.

Harry didn't do much dating– it hadn't interested him. Talking and getting to know people was the most extent that he went through, which was fine to him. If he ever brought a girl home, it was always going to be for her best interest. Maybe she was going to try and get home but was alone and too drunk– half the time Harry just took her home so she'd be somewhere safe.

But there was a light about Sofia that allowed his mind to wander about the possibilities of what it would be like if she was around– in his space, in his aura.

There was a great deal of satisfaction and happy wonder that came with those thoughts.

Sofia had breathed out, pulling his hand closer to her as they started to walk towards the elevator on the way down. When it dinged, the two of them stepped into the small space to head back down onto the streets.

The vibrant hum of the city greeted them when they made their way back out of the tall building—distant cars rushing by, the occasional burst of laughter from late-night revelers, and the soft rustle of trees stirred by a gentle breeze. The air was cool, carrying with it the smell of distant rain and the earthy scent of summer that felt so far away. Sofia inhaled deeply, savoring the moment, feeling the weight of the crowded rooftop bar lifting from her shoulders.

The streets weren't deserted, but they were limited to the night dwellers now; the amount of bars around this particular area were sparse.

Harry walked beside her, his hands tucked into his pockets now that they had released their hands from one another, a relaxed smile playing on his lips.

"See? Isn't this better?" he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Their pace had a slow marvel to it, the sound of her clicking heels echoed through the narrow sidewalks.

She looked over, a small smile forming. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you were right."

They wandered through the streets in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps keeping time with the quiet energy of the city around them. Every now and then, Sofia would catch Harry glancing over at her, but he didn't push the conversation especially when they both seemed to find a bit of satisfaction in the quietness.

He seemed content just to be walking, taking it all in. It was something she liked about him—his ability to be present without needing to fill the silence.

After a few blocks, neither of them had made a solid suggestion on where to go or where they had been heading, they found themselves in front of a small park nestled between two buildings. It was a quiet spot, they had noticed that a person was walking their dog, with a few benches and a street light casting a warm glow over the cobblestone path into the small corridor.

Harry stopped, gesturing toward one of the black, metal benches. "Want to just sit for a minute?"

Sofia nodded, and they sat down side by side, the city stretching out before them but feeling a world away from the noise and lights of the rooftop bar. She leaned back against the bench, her body relaxing further with each breath.

"Tell me something," Harry said, breaking the silence, his voice soft but curious.

She turned to look at him. "Like what?"

"Something you don't normally share," he replied, his tone easy but genuine. "Something about you."

Sofia raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on her face. "Why do I feel like this is one of those questions that ends with you telling me something poetic?"

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll tell you something poetic, sure. But you first."

She considered it for a moment, unsure where to begin or what she could say to this stranger sitting next to her that had a lingering smell of vanilla and tobacco. It wasn't often that someone asked her to share something real, something beyond the surface-level conversations she usually had with people.

With Harry, though, it felt... safe. His attention to her never dwindled, it never made her feel stared at or under a microscope. It made her feel... looked after. Listened to.

She fidgeted with her fingers for a minute before she took in a deep breath, trying to imagine what she could say to him in this moment that would ultimately feel worthwhile. Something that would allow their time together to be meaningful. The sound of the leaves in the night breeze took her focus for a moment.

"I guess... I don't always feel very confident and comfortable," she said after a pause. "Like, I put on this front—smiling, laughing, having fun," She looks at her hands in her lap, "Going to martini bars with my friend when I really just wanted to stay home and watch Great British Bake Off. But sometimes, it's not really how I feel. Sometimes I'm just... faking it to make it easier for myself." She glanced away, surprised at her own honesty, but she felt a weight lift as soon as she said the words.

Harry didn't respond right away, just nodded slowly, taking in what she'd said. "I get that," he said after a beat. "It's hard to let people in, isn't it? To show them the stuff beneath the surface."

She met his eyes again, a quiet understanding passing between them. "Yeah," she murmured. "I guess it is."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the space between them.

Then Harry shifted to make it so he was turned towards her a little more, his eyes searching hers, his voice softening. "You know, I probably would have chosen Great British Bake Off, too." He bites his lip with an urgent smirk trying not to overpower him, "But I could take you to get a box of biscuits and it might give you the same feeling."

Sofia's breath caught slightly at his words, at the sincerity in his voice but the same goofiness she was trying to stop herself from blushing at. It was as if he could see right through the mask she wore, and yet, instead of being afraid or pushing her away, he seemed to lean in closer, making her feel comfortable.

"Okay, well, now it's your turn," she said, her voice light but her heart racing a little from the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Harry smiled, looking down for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. He clicked his tongue, analyzing what was behind his brain. When he spoke again, his voice was low and thoughtful.

"Alright. Here's something... I guess I've always had this thing about time. I feel like I'm always trying to make the most of it, like it's slipping away too fast. Maybe that's why I wanted to leave the bar earlier. I hate wasting time and just standing around, especially when I feel like there's something more out there, something better. I don't want to miss out on it."

Sofia watched him, feeling a sense of quiet understanding settle between them. "That's why you wanted to leave," she repeated, the words soft as they fell from her lips.

Harry nodded, his gaze steady on hers. "Yeah. And," He shrugged, "Because I wanted to be with you. Just... you."

Her heart did a small, unexpected flip at his words, the weight of them settling deep within her. There was no pretense with Harry, no games or lines. Just truth. And it made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time—safe, but also seen.

She smiled, a small but genuine smile, and leaned back against the bench. "I'm glad we left," She told him, "And that was very poetic."

"Me too." Harry said, his voice quiet but filled with meaning, "And I thought you'd like that."

He took in a breath as he watched her pull her jacket around her middle. It was a bit colder than he expected it to be, thankful that he had brought the blazer too. Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, pushing the hair from his face.

"You hungry?" Harry asked, noticing the way she hugged herself against the breeze. It may have been a way to get her out of the air, too. "There's a bodega down there. Best late-night snack spot in the neighborhood."

Sofia chuckled. "I guess I'm a little hungry, sure, but I don't trust bodegas unless it's the guy at the end of my block."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," he said with a grin. "They have the best sandwiches in the city. And I think I need something to balance all the vodka and olive juice currently swimming around in my system."

She smirked, the idea suddenly sounding perfect. "Alright, then, lead the way to the best sandwich in the city," She stood up, following in his lead, "I don't think the best sandwich is in Williamsburg, but I will try and trust you."

"Have I been wrong at any time tonight?" Harry asked, shoving his hands into his pocket again.

Sofia thought for a moment, shaking her head, "Guess not. But there's still time."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully before knocking his shoulder against hers. "So, you're saying you're ready for a full night, then? It's only," He looked at the watch on his wrist, "Watch says eleven-thirty, but I think I could fill our time for the next six hours, at least."

"The longer I'm around you, the more time I have to search for when you're wrong." She pointed out, her hands in her jacket pocket. "So I would be very careful with your time with me."

Harry hummed, "Well, that's too bad," He shook his head, "I was looking forward to spending time with you. I'm having a good time."

Sofia felt her heart flutter a skip as she tried her best not to turn her head to meet his eyes. She knew if she would, she wouldn't be able to contain herself– holding back the smirk was just enough.

"I am too." She agreed, giving him the comfort and satisfaction she would have needed, too.

They continued walking, the glow of the bodega's neon Open 24 Hours sign drawing them in like a beacon– only the 4 had been burnt out; Harry pointed it out with a chuckle. The place was small and cramped, with shelves stocked high with every kind of snack imaginable, and the smell of deli meat and fresh bread filled the air.

A New York specialty.

"This is very classy," Sofia teased as they stepped inside, the pointed-toe boots clicking against the dirty tile, the bell above the door jingling softly.

Harry shot her a look of mock indignation. "Just wait. You'll see," He pushed the hair from his eyes, "The Queen of England recommended this place to me, actually. So I'd be careful with your mocking tone."

"Was this her last meal?" Sofia joked, which made small crinkles by Harry's eyes as he felt himself laugh quite hard at her dry humor.

He licked his lips, "Yes, actually. The Philly cheesesteak was her dying wish."

"Are we sure it's not what," Sofia whispered, pretending to cut her neck in an attempt to mimic out what she meant. "You know, offed her."

Harry's eyes widened, "That hasn't been disclosed, but I think you may be onto something."

He led her to the counter, where an older man with a thick mustache and equally thick accent greeted them.

"Hey, Pauly," Harry greeted the man, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the menu that very well could have been a novel with the amount of writing that was on it. He squinted, trying to read it as Sofia tried her best not to be overwhelmed with the options.

"Late night?" The man asked, eyeing them with the knowing look of someone used to night owls wandering in after hours.

"The only kind of night I have." Harry replied, already scanning the menu board hanging overhead. "Can we get two of the specials, extra pickles on both, with tiger sauce and chips on top– well, fries, I guess."

Sofia raised an eyebrow at his order combo, biting her lip at the crazy menu item.

"You'll thank me later," Harry said, flashing her a grin before a thought popped into his head which erased the smile, "You're not vegan, are you?"

Sofia shook her head with a laugh, "No– no, I'm not. This may turn me vegan, though."

As the man prepared their sandwiches, they wandered down one of the narrow aisles, picking out a couple of drinks– Harry went with an Arnold Palmer, Sofia got a ginger ale out of the fridge that had burnt out lights. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a soft, familiar glow over everything. It felt almost like a private moment, even though the world around them carried on.

When the sandwiches were ready, Harry paid for their meal and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter to go along with the meal. He thanked Paul generously before he led the way and pushed out of the small store with a brown paper bag in his hands. The lights of the streets were dim; the roads were slow and calm.

The night had grown even quieter, with only the distant sounds of the city lingering in the air. Harry had moved a few feet down, settling himself on a front stoop before Sofia watched him with surprise.

"We're just going to sit here?" She asked him, looking up at the door, knowing that this was someone's home. "I think this is considered loitering."

"Is that an issue?" He asked, pulling a sandwich out wrapped in foil, and handing it over to her. "We're just eating quickly, I'm starving," He scooted over a bit on the stoop, "You can sit."

Sofia felt a burning sensation in her chest when their shoulders touched; there was an electric force that ran through her body as they touched. She took the sandwich from his hands, opening it and noticing the mess that was about to ensue.

When she turned to Harry, he had already taken a bit before throwing his head back in a pleasurable sensation, "Fuck, that's good. So needed."

Sofia felt her cheeks turn hot at his reaction, not wanting to comment further on it because she was afraid of what would happen if he caught her staring at him. Instead, she unwrapped her own sandwich, tucking her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face before she took a bite of her own.

It was truly one of the best sandwiches she'd ever had in her life– she could feel the way that Harry stared at her as she tried to interpret her thoughts, nodding a bit as she covered her mouth.

"Okay, I'll admit it," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke between bites. "This is really good."

"Told you," Harry replied, taking a bite of his own. "You've got to trust me on these things."

There was the silence, again. She felt it as they sat and ate their meal, shoulder to shoulder. Harry ate his rather fast, crumbling up the foil and the paper before he wiped his hands with a napkin and threw it all back into the brown paper bag. Sofia finished hers up too; he took her trash from her without asking, before throwing it in the house's garbage can closest to them.

"I should be getting home soon," Sofia told him quietly as they sat on the stoop.

She watched Harry digging into his blazer pocket and pulling out the cigarettes and lighter he had just purchased at the bodega. His hands slipped a cigarette out of the container before he lit it and took a drag.

"I can help you get you there," Harry told her softly, "I'll follow your lead, then."

They meandered slowly toward Sofia's apartment, the food warming them from the inside out as they found themselves in a slower pace than even previously before. Sofia had never taken the time to study the streets, the trees and the neighborhood around her. There was something so simple and intimate about it—walking together in the quiet of the city, sharing bites of their sandwiches and laughing about little things, the world around them fading into the background.

Harry cracked a few jokes, asking her simple questions about what she did for work and what she thought about climate change. He asked her about her life and her family's ties to Asia and she told him about how her favorite animal was a frog and she thought they were misunderstood.

As they turned onto her street, Sofia slowed her pace, feeling a mix of contentment and something else—something she couldn't quite name. Her apartment was just a few steps away now, but she wasn't ready for the night to end even just hours before she wanted it to be over as soon as it had started.

"This is me," she said softly as they reached the front of her building, a modest but charming old brownstone nestled between two larger apartment complexes. It had a couple of steps before it led into a few cut apartments.

Harry stopped beside her, his eyes lingering on the building for a moment before returning to her. "Nice place."

"Yeah, it's home," she said, smiling as she looked up at the familiar windows. She pulled the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she awkwardly moved to stand in front of Harry. He was taller than her, his hair hanging on his shoulders as he stared up at the building. His hands were pressed into his pockets as he stood with a careless nature about him.

But then Harry seemed to hesitate, his expression shifting slightly, like he was trying to read the air between them. He stepped a little closer, his voice soft and steady. "I don't know about you, but I had a great time tonight."

Sofia felt a warmth spread through her at his words, the sincerity in them making her heart beat a little faster. "Me too," she said quietly, meeting his gaze. "I'm glad we left the bar."

He smiled, a small, almost knowing smile. "Yeah," He bit his lip, "Me too."

The silence between them stretched, comfortable but charged, as if the night had been building up to this quiet moment. Sofia found herself standing a little closer to him, their bodies just inches apart now, the space between them humming with unspoken possibilities.

Harry broke the silence first, his voice a little lower now. "So, are we still on for tomorrow, then?"

Sofia's smile lingered as she looked up at him, her chest tightening in the best way possible. "Maybe," she teased lightly. "Depends if you can find something better than those sandwiches."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but there was something softer in his eyes now, something more serious beneath the humor. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "I'll take my chances."

For a brief moment, neither of them moved, the world around them completely still. Sofia could feel her pulse quickening, the space between them almost nonexistent now. It felt like they were the only two in the world now– silence around them, no cars on the streets, no people on the sidewalks.

Until a few raindrops hit her nose softly; her focus was taken from him, looking up at the sky as she noticed that it had started to rain, raindrops falling above them in an early spring shower.

And then, before she could second-guess herself, Sofia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him—just a light, fleeting kiss, the kind that hinted at something more but was gentle and sweet for what it was. When she pulled back, Harry's eyes were still closed for a second, his lips curved into a surprised but satisfied smile.

"Well," he said softly, opening his eyes and looking down at her with that familiar spark of mischief, "that was unexpected."

Sofia grinned, feeling a little breathless. "Guess you should start expecting the unexpected."

Harry laughed, his voice warm and full of something Sofia couldn't quite place but liked all the same. "I'm starting to get that."

They stood there for a moment longer, the quiet settling back in around them. Then Sofia took a step back, before she took hold of the railing up the steps and towards the door to her building, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Sofia," he said, still smiling as she slipped inside.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sofia leaned against it for a moment, her heart still racing from the kiss, from the way the night had unfolded so unexpectedly. She couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop thinking about Harry and the way he'd made everything feel... easy. She hadn't felt that way in some time.

She hadn't felt security like that in a person in quite a while.

After Sofia had walked through the door, Harry had come to the conclusion that he hadn't even asked the simple question of getting her phone number. He raced up the steps, taking two at a time, before knocking on the door that had simply locked behind her. Sofia's attention grabbed as she looked at him through the glass of the front door that sat between them.

When she went to open it, she was hesitant about what he could have been wanting.

"Need something so soon?" She joked.

"Yeah," He grabbed his phone before handing it in her direction, "I realized I didn't get your number– figure maybe, I don't know– like it feels like we had a good time and maybe I'll text you in the morning."

There was a sense of nervousness that Sofia had felt from the interaction, almost like now that he was standing in front of her he was a bit embarrassed by the urgency that he had felt to knock back on the door when he would be back here in less than 24 hours.

She blinked a few times before she shook her head, "I'm– I'm sorry, I don't just give my number out," It was a rule she had put in place for herself because she knew how many times she sat around wondering when someone would text her. It was a part of her confidence that she didn't want to ruin, especially with the way she was feeling about Harry now.

Digging into her purse, she found a lip liner that was a dark shade of brown before handing it to him. Harry took it with a bit of confusion before Sofia pulled her jacket off of her shoulders to expose her forearm.

"You can write yours down, though," She offered, watching as he held the pencil in his hands. His fingers slipped around the small item, pulling off the cap before writing the 10-digits on her forearm. A small 'x' followed after it before he topped the pencil with the cap and handed it back to her.

"You have to promise to text me," He smirked, "Because I don't know that I can live with the embarrassment, if I'm honest."

Sofia held the jacket on her arm, trying to make sure that it dried down, not smudging.

"I know how it feels to be embarrassed like that– so you have nothing to worry about." Her voice was soft as she stared at him, looking at the way that he held himself between the door and the frame.

"Great," He nodded, feeling excited by her sincerity, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." Sofia said again, a soft tone in her voice as she watched Harry shut the door behind himself. Her breathing became far more rapid as she was able to let go of the breath she felt like her chest had been holding.

And as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she knew this wasn't the end of the night– her brain was far too engulfed in the events of the night for her to fall asleep now. It felt more like the beginning of something new. Something she hadn't quite been expecting—but now, couldn't wait to see unfold.

Spring had a way of creeping in unnoticed, a quiet promise beneath the chill of lingering winter air. Just like the way Harry had slipped into Sofia's life—unexpected, but inevitable, like the first bloom pushing through thawing ground. Their meeting felt like the start of something new, the kind of newness that hummed beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge, to be felt in full.

The city around them mirrored the changing season, shaking off its cold, gray layers and coming to life again. Streets that had been barren now buzzed with the energy of renewal, of second chances.

And in the same way that spring awakens the world with its subtle touch, Sofia found herself waking up to something she hadn't realized she was missing. With every conversation, every shared glance, Harry became like the warmth of the sun after a long winter—steady, inevitable, drawing her out of the quiet hibernation of her own guarded heart.

The warmth of the sunshine was a gift to her cold, unwilling heart.

As she made her way to her room, she passed by Nat's room, seeing that the door was open and the light was on. The clicking of her heels would give her away immediately– and did, as Nat ran towards the doorway. The smile on her face told her everything she needed to know.

"Tell me everything." Nat demanded, but Sofia just shook her head, making her way past her door and into her own bedroom. Not a word more; keeping it to herself felt like the only way to make sure that it had been real.

As she laid back on her bed, the smile never faltered. Her heart never stopped beating at the highest rate– she felt she could become sick with every thought of him. The way he smelled, the way his green eyes shone in the dim streetlights, the way he walked, talked, pondered through his way of life.

The forgotten phone had been laying on her small vanity; she grabbed it, putting his number in quickly before writing out a small message– a photo of her arm included.

Sofia: Guess who?

Only a few seconds went by; he had been waiting for her number to pop-up. Harry had settled himself on the curb only a block away, waiting to see if he would hear from her. When the message from the unknown number came up, he couldn't believe it.

It made him smile, made his fingers shake with anticipation as he lit another cigarette.

Harry: I know it can't be Your Majesty, the Queen. She died eating a bodega cheesesteak. RIP.

Harry: I hope it's someone named Sophia.

Sofia rolled her eyes, but felt the satisfaction laying deep within her.

Sofia: Ooof. Minus 3 points. I spell it with an F. Sofia.

Harry: God fucking damnit. Of course you do.

He drug the smoke of the cigarette, watching as her message came up. When it did, he stared at it, wanting so badly for the night to replay over and over and over again. It was an inevitable feeling that he hadn't truly felt in a long time.

Sofia: Looks like I end the night with you finally being wrong... victory is so sweet.

Sofia: Goodnight :)

___________

Harry hadn't felt the way he felt at the moment in quite some time. It had been a while since there was a pep in his step rather than a drag of his feet. It felt good to be able to look forward to something, and he had been looking forward to this since he shut the door behind him at Sofia's apartment last night.

He looked forward to being able to see her again. Even in that one night, he had felt that there was an immediate connection. Some may call him crazy– but being a hopeless romantic did that sort of thing. It enabled you to make decisions and think about the future in a way that didn't make any sense.

The walk to her apartment, from what he had gathered using his phone map, was quite close to where his apartment was settled now. They both lived in Brooklyn, which made getting to her a lot easier. He wasn't sure if she lived alone or with roommates; Harry did, though, which made him happy to know that they would be going back to his place. While their spaces weren't entirely large or spacious, he knew that he didn't have any reason to be nervous to show her what he had.

Harry had a one-bedroom, practically a studio as his bedroom door didn't shut entirely. He kept it open most of the time, since it was just him.

When he had approached the door to her apartment building, he texted her a quick message to let her know that he was outside. The day was a bit cloudy, there had been some rain the evening prior once they had left the rooftop bar– thankfully, afterwards, and not during. The spring air was rolling through New York, but it still had hints of chill in the air.

Harry wore a dark flannel shirt overtop of a plain white shirt that had a few buttons down the middle. His black jeans and Nike trainers were a bit rugged, as he was one to wear down his clothes quite well. He didn't like the feeling of new clothing, it was a bit too constricting. To his body and to his wallet.

It wasn't that he struggled with money– he didn't, really. His family helped him with a few things while he was just starting out his career. But there were certainly incidentals that Harry's eyes widened at when he saw the bills coming in the mail. It was a strict, harsh reality whenever he realized that the freelance gig of journalism needed to come to a close. He needed to really settle with a company rather than the continuation of contracting positions.

It wasn't helpful to know that his income was a bit of a harsh topic with family, he knew how it would impact him in the future. He was twenty-seven now, with a whole world ahead of him. He was a bachelor– for the moment, at least. He was having fun and able to figure these things out now. He didn't want to have to settle down or to put pressure where there wasn't any.

It was okay now– it felt fine.

When Sofia popped out of the door, he gave a quick glance at the effortless look of her. She was wearing a long-sleeved button down, a steel blue, with a pair of denim that hugged her closely. A pair of white trainers on her feet, as she came out of the building with a bag over her shoulder and a hairclip pinning back the dark locks from her face. The make-up was practically blush and a bit of chapstick; she looked like she hadn't tried at all, which made his heart skip a beat at the idea she wasn't nervous. It made him twice as much.

She sounded a bit out of breath as she approached him, her smile the same as the night before.

"Hi," He said quietly, watching as her eyes trailed over him.

"I think it's seven," Sofia looked at the pretty, gold watch that settled on her wrist, "It's seven twelve."

Harry pursed his lips as he grabbed the cellphone from his back pocket. He gave a once over to the message that he sent her before pointing out the time that the message was sent.

"Six fifty-eight, I believe." He smirked before he watched her cross her arms with a playful eyebrow raise. "I told you that you'd be the late one, not me. Probably spraying some perfume and making sure your hair was perfect for me. And it is, so I forgive you for being so late because you look very beautiful."

Sofia hummed, "I guess I'll let you off the hook since you said I looked beautiful," When she smiled, there was a small dimple at the base of her chin as she looked back at him with her deep brown eyes that had small, feathered out lashes, "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Appreciated." He told her before he turned on his foot.

They were heading down the street to one of his favorite local grocery stores. It wasn't a place that he shopped often, really only when he was trying to impress someone because their selection was quite niche and for restaurateurs who were looking to elevate their dishes.

Their small talk went from one part of the planet to the other, talking about her favorite bagel place that she would get a macchiato from on rainy mornings or a pizza shop that Harry had on his list to go to but hadn't yet.

When they reached the store, Harry grabbed a basket at the front before they walked into it and Sofia looked around.

"I've never been here," She commented softly. A small amount of radio played in the background as Harry smiled at the cashier that he had recognized.

"I come here when I'm looking for gold," Harry grabbed a few peppers from the vegetable stand before he mulled over the zucchini and eggplant.

Sofia grabbed a bottle of red wine from one of the shelves across the way, placing it in the basket. Harry looked down and smirked at her before she started to walk away, obviously filling the basket with her own priorities.

"Thought you didn't drink?" Harry questioned, placing an eggplant in the basket before following her towards the back a bit.

"I don't," She shrugged, "But I like the idea of you taking me to your apartment to cook me dinner while we each hold a glass of red wine and talk about first-world problems. Like how we have an obstructed view from our tiny apartments, but then you show me the fire escape where you sit and have a cigarette every once in a while."

Harry grinned to himself as he placed some garlic and a can of tomato paste in the basket, still perusing the shelves.

"That sounds like a particular experience. I don't know if that's how it's going to go," He shrugs, "But I can definitely show you the front stoop where I smoke my cigarettes at three AM when I get home from the bars. It may not have the best view, but I think it's charming."

Sofia turned her head, nodding. She grabbed a small block of gouda, placing it in the basket and Harry continued to smile as she felt comfortable enough to add her items to his order. It was kind of cute, in a way, he thought.

It meant she felt comfortable enough with him, and he liked that their chemistry had led them here.

Once they were finished shopping, he had gathered the items at the counter in two paper bags, one on each arm before Sofia pushed the door open for his ease. They had moved in the opposite direction than they had just come, so that Harry could lead them back to his place instead.

"You haven't really told me what you're making me," She eyed him, "Should I be surprised?"

Harry rolled his lips in his mouth before he shook his head and gave her a small smile, "Don't believe so. I think it's actually quite predictable, but it's one of the best things I make, which is just strictly to impress you because you are very hard to impress."

Sofia chuckled a bit as she placed her hands in her back pockets as they walked. "No, I'm just particular and want to make sure that I'm choosing wisely."

"Some may call that picky." Harry looked at her, holding the bags against his sides as he teased her.

Their conversation was easy and flowed, but she felt appreciated that he was able to do so. She hoped that he held tough conversations just as well, without the jokes or the teasing elements.

This was just her way of coping– to make sure that all conversations were light and held together with a piece of beautiful ribbon. Once the ribbon was undone, nothing was pretty anymore. Conversations that weren't held together were messy and unkempt; it was an element of relationships that she hated because she had run from them so often. Her family dynamic felt that way half of the time.

"Fine, you caught me," She shook her head, "I'm picky. But that should boost your ego quite a bit."

"Trust me," Harry told her, nudging her shoulder a bit to get her to turn right down one of the streets, "My ego is fucking over the moon as I get to walk down the street with you right now."

"Oh, please," She rolled her eyes, matching his smile as he nodded undoubtedly. "That's a bit dramatic."

They reached Harry's apartment building; it looked quite similar to some of the townhouses, but Harry walked right into the door as he unlocked it. It had a long staircase as they walked into the front area, it was quite dark when they arrived before Harry nudged her to go up the steps.

"It's the first door on the left." Harry told her before they walked up the small building before Sofia took one of the bags from his arms so that he could unlock the door properly.

Once inside, Harry threw the keys in the small dish by the door before he tread inside. Sofia closed the door behind her, taking in the area before placing the grocery bag on the small kitchen island inside. It was a small apartment, a bit bigger than hers. She liked that it had natural lighting, that it didn't feel dark. She liked that Harry had a sense of style, an element of cleanliness that most of the men she dated didn't seem to have.

It was a solid apartment with warm lighting and felt safe to her, in a way. But there may have been other elements present that kept her feeling that way.

"Would you like some wine, then, so I can explain to you about my front stoop?" Harry offered as he pulled the bottle from the bag. He examined it for a moment before giving a nod of approval as he took two glasses from his cabinet.

"Only if I can see your obstructed view first."

He placed them on the counter, using a corkscrew, and removing the cork out before handing it to Sofia.

"Hopefully you like this because it was twenty-seven dollars and you're picky." He cheered towards her, raising his glass a bit before he took a small sip.

"Cheers." She started softly with a giggle before taking a sip. It was a quite bold red wine, but something about it made her tongue salivate when she held it in her mouth. She felt Harry look at her with a lop-sided grin as she hummed to herself.

"Think I could've gone with the sixty dollar bottle," She told him, watching him shake his head.

Sofia wandered around the small apartment as Harry started to prepare the dinner. He threw a towel over his shoulder as he started to chop some vegetables rather precisely. She noticed the photos of him, the way that he kept memories around his apartment like he wanted to fill it with every ounce of who he was. She was rather impressed by it, knowing that she could've just gotten all of his information from walking around the living room a few times.

Her eyes peaked into his bedroom as the door had been open; Harry caught her.

"Interested?" He asked, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the dimpled smile that kept onto the tray of vegetables he had been chopping. He had returned to looking at his task rather than her, but his eyes lifted back to notice that she was slowly making her way around.

"I am quite interested in how old that blue comforter is and if that's one from an old college dorm room." Sofia started with a plain face before Harry acted as if it had knocked him back off of his feet. "Because if it is, I don't believe I am interested, no."

"Damn," He shook his head, "That hit me where it hurt."

Sofia shook her head, "You didn't answer which means it's not the answer I want to hear, either."

Harry wiped his fingers on the towel on his shoulders as he grabbed a baking dish and started to lay a layer of sauce on the bottom of it, before quickly arranging the chopped vegetables. Sofia sat on a stool at the small island, one of two that were there. They were mixed-match, which made her smile as she took another sip of the wine before she realized what he was doing.

Her eyes trailed him as he concentrated on how to place the pieces neatly.

"Are you," She squinted at him before he looked at what he had been doing, to her, "I told you I grew up in France and you decided to make me ratatouille?"

Harry shrugged as if a bit offended by her reaction to him, "It's a meal based off of one of the most critically-acclaimed films of our generation, so I think you may be jumping the gun a bit with thinking it's always about you."

Sofia swirled the red wine in her glass before she looked at Harry, "You think they named the meal after the film? The cartoon about a rat?"

"Put some honor on his name– Remy." Harry's sense of humor echoed as he tried to keep a straight face before he bit into one of raw peppers that hadn't fit into the dish.

"And you should know, I'm making this for you because it's the meal that got me to be featured in The Sunday Times once in college. I wrote a review about this restaurant in London that I went to as an intern and it was the first time I really felt like," Harry swirled his own wine around as he tried to think of the emotions that came with that small feat. "I really felt like I had made it. I was in a big city, I was doing cool stuff. It was just one of those things that brought a lot of comfort to this meal and it's one that I make sometimes just to really," He thought for a moment, "Don't know– remember that I'm doing well. And that I'm happy."

It was a moment that Sofia had not really been prepared for, as she hadn't seen that soft, kinder side to Harry. They were being playful, they were flirty and harmless– but something about his words made her listen harder. He was proud of himself for an accomplishment, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm sure that was a huge deal for you," She nibbled at her lip, tasting the cherry red wine, "Is food what you write about mostly?"

Harry hummed to himself as he thought of her question, "Yes and no," He told her, "I'm a contracted freelance writer at the moment, which means I'm working at this magazine for six months and then they can directly hire me or let me go. It just depends, but I'm not super worried about it."

Harry stuck the dish into the oven, setting a timer on his phone before he threw the towel onto the island. He took the glass by the stem, moving towards the small living room space that was only a few feet ahead of them.

"But yeah, I mostly write about restaurants, the food industry, and the service industry. It's a field that interests me– I want to travel more and learn how to cook different cuisines, but I don't know. I guess the world is at my fingertips, and I always keep it a steady distance so I don't go too overboard with my dreams."

"You have a very wise way with your words, Harry." Sofia's voice was petite, her words were feeling heavy on her tongue as she realized how much the wine had started to take over her. She didn't know how to feel, but she knew that she felt good. She felt ultimately warm and composed gratitude that she was feeling safe in this space with a man.

That wasn't always the case. Her eyes were always on the door, always looking for a way out because that felt safe. That felt more secure than staying. Sofia had one foot out the door at all times because that was the only way she knew how to be.

"I'd hope so," He told her, "How else am I supposed to keep buying you fancy dinners and wines if I don't have a career? I think I need words to keep going on that."

She smirked, "You've already made this a more-than-once kind of thing?"

Harry leaned against the counter, holding his hands on it as he stared at her and nodded a few times. "I don't think this feels like something I want to stop right now," His honesty is refreshing, "Unless you take a bite of the dinner and absolutely hate it, then we might have to part ways."

Sofia finished the rest of her wine, draining the glass before she set it down on the countertop. She removed herself from the stool she had been sitting in before making her way to the small couch that sat against the wall in his tiny living room.

She noticed the stacks of books and DVDs that covered the wall, her eyes moving over them. They told a story of who he was, what he consumed. She settled onto the couch, feeling his presence behind her as he moved to do the same.

They discussed their time in the city; what each of them liked the most about it, what they despised. She told him about her days in college– she had attended a small state school right outside of Boston, where she had grown up mostly. Her high school years were spent in the United States, mostly. She was a good student, she loved learning. Her dreams of being an event planner were more than anything college could have taught her, and she realized that when she started to really make life decisions.

It was when she met Kendall that things had started to take a turn; it was then that her dreams and her hobbies were met with cynicism, not hope. She wanted to start her own business, to create special moments for people who needed that extra bit of joy in their life. Planning parties, birthdays, holidays, celebrations– these were moments in people's lives that made it exciting to be a human being.

It was nice to celebrate being alive every once in a while in a small gesture of kindness, and she loved being a part of that for people.

But her partner was unsupportive, he was pessimistic about that being a career path that would help them advance into the world that they wanted to live in. Sofia didn't come from money– her family was very middle class, but was given the opportunity to travel. They didn't have expensive things, they had memories. They had each other, and that was worth much more than the luxury items that Kendall was used to.

She couldn't help him live the life that he wanted to live because she wasn't making the income that he was. But she was happy. She was excited to go to work everyday. That was the difference, she felt. She had an okay apartment, she had okay clothes and items that worked to the best of their ability– Sofia was living a life that she had wanted, finally.

And something about the used couch, the broken spines of novels that lined the walls, and the mix-matched items that sprawled around Harry's apartment told Sofia that he had the same values that she did.

Harry shared about his working-class family back in England and how they were proud of him, but they also left more to be desired when it came to support. They had told him to stay in London for a bit longer, possibly climb the career ladder in England, instead. But Harry wanted to be more than that, he wanted to take chances.

His father called him irresponsible, his mother had told him that she was angry with his choices to move abroad. They still loved him– maybe that was why it hurt so much more when they said those things about what he was looking for. It may have been quite irresponsible, but Harry knew what he wanted and was going to try to make it work.

If it didn't work, he would have to pick a different path. It wasn't that hard to navigate life when it was just yourself you have to worry about, though.

The smell of roasted vegetables and herbs filled Harry's small apartment, a warm and inviting contrast to the crisp evening air outside. The countertop with his stools was set simply, two plates and glasses of wine, but it felt cozy, intimate. Sofia sat on the couch, watching as Harry moved around the kitchen to try and make sure everything was ready.

"So, ratatouille, huh?" she called over to him, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Didn't realize you were aiming for Michelin stars tonight."

Harry grinned, stirring the pot on the stove. "Hey, I've got hidden talents. Just wait 'til you try it. You'll be saying "Yes, Chef" by the end of the night."

Sofia snorted, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I highly doubt that, but I appreciate the enthusiasm. What is it they say? Confidence is half the battle?"

Harry turned around, giving her a playful look. "Confidence and a really good recipe, which, for the record, I stole from my grandmother. So if you don't like it, you're basically insulting a sweet old lady."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Nice try. Don't think I won't tell her the truth."

He shook his head, ladling the ratatouille onto their plates with a flourish. "Okay, Gordon Ramsey. You're gonna love it. Or at the very least, pretend you do to spare my feelings."

A moment later, he carried the plates over to the tabletop and set them down with an exaggerated bow. "Your dinner, madame," he said in an overly formal voice, pulling out the random barstool that made him laugh thinking about the fact he picked it up from a random street sale.

Sofia raised an eyebrow as she took her seat. "Such a gentleman," she teased, eyeing the colorful medley of roasted vegetables—zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, peppers—perfectly layered in neat little rounds. It actually looked pretty impressive, but she was trying her best to keep her cool about it.

"I only aim to please," Harry said with a wink, sitting next to her and grabbing his fork. "Now, come on. First bite. Let me see if my future as a chef is secure."

She twirled a piece of zucchini onto her fork, pretending to inspect it carefully. " Color looks great, has a good softness to it without being mushy. Alright, moment of truth," she said, before taking a bite. The flavors hit her all at once—the sweetness of the tomatoes, the earthiness of the vegetables, the hint of fresh basil. She let out an appreciative hum, nodding slowly as she chewed. "Okay, okay. Not bad."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Not bad? Come on, give me more than that."

Sofia laughed, taking another bite. "Alright, fine. It's delicious. Happy?"

He pursed his lips to the side in an attempt to break her smile, watching her delicately as he squinted to try to see into her. Sofia was playing a harsh game with him, and he wanted her approval more than he could admit. Even though he knew how she felt, he wanted to hear her say it.

Approval meant everything to him, even if he knew that she was just giving him a hard time.

"Very," he said, taking a bite himself, his expression smug. "Told you I had hidden talents."

She grinned, shaking her head. "Well, consider me impressed. Just don't expect me to call you 'Chef' any time soon."

"Not yet, but give it time," Harry said with a wink, raising his glass of wine. "To culinary greatness... and to not burning down my kitchen."

Sofia clinked her glass against his, laughing softly. "And to not burning down your kitchen," she echoed, taking a sip. As she did, she glanced across the table at him, feeling the warmth of the evening settle in.

There was something so easy about being with Harry, about the way they could joke and talk, and share a quiet meal. It felt... right. Comfortable, yet filled with something more. Something she was slowly realizing she didn't want to let go of anytime soon.

"Tell me other things you do well." She inquired, taking another bite, covering her mouth as she chewed. She moved onto the next question as he found himself wanting to give a certain answer, but shaking his head instead.

She could tell as he started to blush a bit red at the suggestion that lined his brain.

"Uh," He picked at a piece of the eggplant before licking his lips, "I'm very good at crosswords," He told her, "And building things."

"What kind of things?" She asked, taking a sip of wine to wash down the dinner.

"Anything. It's actually kind of nerdy," He tilted his smile, "But I love building, like, Legos. I always have. I'm very step-oriented. Guess it's why I like cooking, too. There's just a lot of steps."

Sofia cleared his throat as she narrowed her eyes to her plate, before looking back up at him through her lashes. "Would you say you're," She paused for a minute, "Good at following directions, then?"

Harry cleared his own throat, chewing a bit slower as he leaned on the island a bit, body folded in half as he looked at her a bit more directly.

"I'm very good at following directions, yes." He suggested, nodding a few times.

The blush on Sofia's cheeks was noticeable now, too, as she found herself giggling just a bit to herself at his answer. She hadn't noticed that the wine may have gotten to them a bit, but it was starting to feel incredibly warm all of the sudden.

"What about you?" He asked in return, watching as she tried to think about the question. "What are you good at?"

Sofia swallowed, licking her lips. "I'm nurturing, I think. I think I'm caring and I'm honest, maybe to a fault. But I think to the people I love, I'm their number one fan. I'm really good at throwing a birthday party and showering my people with love. Again," She paused, "Maybe to a fault."

Harry licked his lips a bit, tucking some hair behind his ears before pushing the sleeves to his flannel up a bit. "That's a bit more deep than playing with Legos."

Sofia smirked a little at his comment, "I'm also very good at picking things up with my feet. I think my toes are quite nimble."

A laugh broke out of Harry that made Sofia start to giggle as well as he covered his face with his hand; he winked at her jokingly, "You'll have to show me later."

"Oh, great. Another guy in New York with a foot fetish," She jokes, "I share something personal to me, and you go and make it sexual."

He finishes the bite off of his fork before placing his fork down on the plate, "You're the one who shared the foot fact. I'm sure they're lovely. You've kept 'em covered up around me, though– little tease."

Sofia laughed at his banter, taking another sip of her wine before she saw the way that his eyes shined at her. She hadn't felt this safe in a while– she hadn't felt this relaxed. She recognized it could've been the wine, but she knew that it was just the way that they spoke to one another. He was extraordinarily normal, caring. He was mature, but not to a fault.

The air in Harry's apartment felt a bit stale now, but it may have been the fact that she was feeling the heated attraction coming directly across from her. Her leaning into the kitchen island was done unwillingly as she realized that they had started to naturally come together as they finished their meals a bit more quietly, then.

Once she took her last bite, she placed her fork on the plate and looked up at him, "Final review is that I'd say this is a Michelin five-star restaurant and I'd definitely come back."

"Restaurants can only have up to three Michelin stars, so I take that as the highest compliment." Harry explained before taking her plate and placing them both in the sink for washing later.

"Damnit, I was trying to impress you." She explained, finishing her second glass. The wine had started to make her head a bit dizzy at that point, which made the goofy smile on her face more noticeable as she tried her best to keep composed.

Harry reached for the bottle, pouring the rest between them as he stared at her directly again. The night had started to grow darker outside; the dimness of the lights in his apartment created a warm atmosphere as they sat practically in darkness with little rays of string lights and side table lamps that he had turned on.

Harry grabbed a lighter from a drawer behind him, lighting a few candles in the kitchen to add a bit of light and warmth to the space before he turned to her and bobbed his head to the side, aiding her to follow him.

"Come check this out," He stated, taking the wine and the lighter with him as he moved into the bedroom. It was practically dark except for the window that overlooked the city. There were dancing, twinkling lights below them, they radiated off of the street from the rain on the road. It was a view he was happy with, as it didn't back to a wall or to a small courtyard behind the apartment space.

He pushed the window up, moving to sit in the windowsill– straddling it to keep himself balanced as his foot hit the fire escape on the other side.

"I thought you told me you didn't have a fire escape," Sofia laughed, mirroring him.

She held the wine in her hands as she felt the breeze on her face, watching as the lights illuminated over his face. Harry grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the floor before taking one and lighting it quickly. The flame to the lighter shone over him, her eyes fixed for a moment.

"I don't think I said that." He explained, "I told you I'd show you the front stoop, so I could be a bit different– that was just to impress you. I think I'm over trying to impress you now, though."

Sofia raised her brows as she took the cigarette from his fingers. The smoke blew back into his face as he tried to blow it away. She took a drag, humming as she held the cigarette between her fingers. He didn't take her as the kind to smoke, but he liked the view as she sat across from him.

"Already done trying to impress me on the first date." She shook her head, "I knew you were too good to be true."

The sinking of Harry's dimple in his cheek brought her heartrate up as he took another sip of the wine; they had finished the bottle quickly, which was a good choice on her behalf. He rattled his brain as he saw the way that the lights shone over her skin. He couldn't help but want to caress it, feel her for himself. But he refrained. He didn't want to move too soon or to push too hard.

With time, it would happen, he thought.

But right now, he wanted to take his time with her. Get to know her properly. Get to know what she liked and didn't like, her favorite spots to go on walks, her favorite place to get a croissant in the neighborhood, her favorite way to drink her coffee.

Harry wanted to ask the questions that he didn't know if anyone else asked her.

"Cause I've realized that all the impressing I've tried to do hasn't really worked on you," He explained, he shook his head a little bit as he pushed his shoe a bit to touch her calf. It was some of the intimate touching that he had been working on pushing; Harry was intimate, he was a skilled lover with a love language that exceeded personal space.

He bit his lip, "You're literally the first person in a really long time that I've been able to be myself around."

Sofia stared up at him, flicking the ash of the cigarette before handing it back to him. She leaned forward a bit, his hand moved to grab it before their hands touched just a bit. Her eyelids fluttered a bit with heaviness at the feeling of his index finger gently moving across hers and the way that they both stared at the interaction was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Is this, uh," She rolled her lips into her mouth as she let her own index finger move across his. She watched the small interaction before his other hand dropped to her knee just a bit. The feeling of his fingers caressing her just enough that she felt secure and safe was enough. "Is this the first chapter of our story, then?"

"Do characters usually kiss in the first chapter?" Harry asked, his voice just a bit raspy as he scooted himself a bit forward, letting his hand move towards her jaw. The way that her head rested against the windowsill was out of comfort, out of letting him take the control which she hadn't imagined that she could have let him have.

"I think that only happens in the movie version," Sofia teased, her voice low.

Harry scoffed, "Damn, and the movie is never as good as the book."

"I guess we have to keep reading to see what happens." She laughed a bit, quiet, even though they were the only two alone.

"Yeah," He laughed, "Keep reading. Promise the book gets better."

The sound of the honking horns, the chatter along the streets– it added to the way that both of his hands wrapped around the sides of her face to pull him closer. He smelled like tobacco and vanilla, the cigarette burned between his fingers as Sofia held onto his thighs as she leaned forward into it. The scent of him and the feeling of his lips against hers were far too heightened from the wine.

Her senses were higher in some elements, lower in others. She had tried her best to try and level herself out, but his tongue licked at her bottom lip and it interrupted all thought.

She tasted sweet like the wine, as he would have imagined. The feeling erupts in him as he had thought about doing this all night and finally feeling as if the moment had come to him in the perfect timing.

Harry fell too hard, too fast. But his values and ideals never changed. He wanted to love– wanted to be loved and to feel the support from someone who was never going to let him down. Harry ached for the love of someone, he had never truly been himself around someone before. He didn't think that being himself was good enough.

He wasn't the man who was going to support the family, he wasn't the person that had all of his shit figured out. That's what scared him the most about being in a relationship; as he sat here, leaving gentle kisses along Sofia's lips, he felt the urge to scream that he had finally found someone who looked at him just a little bit differently.

He had found someone who had opened up a part of him that he had been hiding away for a long time. Sometimes, it only took one night– one decision to change it for the best.

As they pulled away for a moment of air, Harry's forehead leaned against Sofia's for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. She felt a sense of relief leaving her chest, knowing whole-heartedly that he had given her a night that she wasn't expecting. She wasn't expecting to leave here tonight with a smile or with the hope that harbored in her belly; she expected the disappointment.

Her lips tasted like his, and her heart raced at the thought of his lips all over her. Everywhere, all the time.

Her breathing stabilized a bit before she spoke again, shaking her head with disbelief.

"You're right," She nodded. "That was a really good book."

Her eyes were heavy as she watched the smirk of his lips; his face closer to hers as their noses practically brushed together.

"Just wait then," He said, his accent raspy and full of grit as he kissed her lips gently once again. "That was just the first chapter."

_____________

hiiiiiiiiiii <3

even if you're not obsessed with them, I am!

ily you guys for loving me & keeping up with all of my antics ugh thank you, thank you!! remember this is a short story so we're gonna move fast with time but I will try my best to cover as much as possible <3 let me know what you think so far!!!!

love you!!!!!

- em

[sweetteaanddragons]

Back to Middle Earth Month - Fun

@spring-into-arda

For a moment, the stars were obscured by puffs of smoke and the glorious rain of multicolored sparks that danced above them - starbursts of color waterfalling down in splendid chaos until one last explosion split the night and unleashed the image of a dragon over Tirion for what he suspected was the very first time.

“Fireworks, you say,” Feanor said thoughtfully.

“Indeed!”

Even after his unexpected release from the halls of the dead, Feanor was not much given to wishing to be in company with most of the Valar or Maiar. He probably would not have approached this one if he had not for a moment mistaken him for a Man; the long white beard fit far better within Vaire’s tapestries than in the usual guises of the Maiar, and he had hoped for the chance to speak with one.

Still. This “Gandalf” was interesting enough to talk to. Especially since -

“Are those more I spy behind you?”

Gandalf turned to look at his stock in what almost seemed like surprise. “And so it is! I confess, I had expected someone to run off with them by now. They certainly would have in the Shire.”

“They are extra, then? Not needed for tonight’s showing?”

Gandalf puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. “Not needed, no . . . Did you have another purpose in mind for them?”

“The color is most remarkable; I wondered if you had experimented with other elements - the noise, for example, is impressive in volume, but hardly harmonious; what have you tried with that?”

An unexpected flare of delight flared in the maia’s eyes. “A worthy project! And one I would be deeply honored to embark upon with you. If all of us may turn our minds to such things, perhaps we can hold the world healed indeed!”

[alexanderwales]

An Idiot's Guide to Creating Themes

There's something that Wildbow says about themes, which I'll paraphrase here: themes are something that grow without you even necessarily wanting them to, so long as the characters have strong traits and act consistently.

What this means is that if you have a character who has a real problem with authority, then naturally they're going to frame a lot of things through the lens of authority, and they're naturally going to get in conflicts with people in a position of authority. Suddenly, without even really trying to, you have created a Theme.

I don't really think that this by itself is enough, and think that it helps to bring some intentionality to the process. For one thing, if you have two protagonists who have their own strong traits, you might develop two different competing themes that do not work in harmony with each other, and suddenly people will start asking you "why isn't this two separate stories" and you'll come to the grim realization that they're right.

So if you have a single strong trait, you want to pick your other traits to be in harmony, and you want to do the same when you're thinking up secondary characters, villains, etc. Themes tend to flow a lot easier if all the stuff you're putting into the pot has something that links them together. Ideally you want a funhouse mirror where you get to see a bunch of different sides of your theme, different ways that the characters react to it, their different takes on it, even if you're just doing big shonen battles.

Doing theme construction in this way often involves trying to have the story as a prism, and your job as someone writing the story is to break that beam of light down into its component parts. Find as many pieces as you can, then make those into plot points, characters, side stories, etc.

Let's try an example!

I'm writing a superhero story and want to pick a theme, so first I think about what theme I want to spend a novel exploring, and I decide that the idea that's tickling me is the alienation of globalization and the information age, the way that everything feels overwhelming and Too Big sometimes, like there are a thousand things clawing at me for my attention.

So we start with our protagonist, and he's being pulled in a thousand directions at once, never feeling like he has enough time for anything, but paradoxically, for all that people want his attention and focus, he also feels alone. I haven't yet said that he's a superhero, but sure, it's easy to see how we can fit that in: people want him to solve their problems, to settle their disputes, to use his talents, to help them rise through the ranks, and that's not necessarily what he wants, but he feels trapped by it, like there's no other way to live.

If he's a superhero, he needs a superpower, and writing a story like this I would be extremely careful with what I picked since it needs to help carry many many fight scenes and plot points, but teleportation is my first thought: there's disorientation as he enters a new place, a feeling that he's never really anywhere because he could be everywhere, and maybe some secondary sensory powers on top of that, an ability to see and hear that can help evoke an internet connection (I have not at this point decided whether the setting has smartphones or internet, but I think maybe it works better if it doesn't, because one of the things about themes is that sometimes it's best to come at them from an angle).

So I kind of have a sense of the main character at this point, if not an overall plot. If the guiding star is "information age alienation and how it overwhelms us, offering infinite connection that leaves us lonely", then maybe the plot can be something about that. We can go toward the theme by having some plot about alienation, a society that's drifting apart, and probably a significant figure pushing that, or we can go toward the theme from a different direction, having someone who promises an answer. I like the promise of an answer better, something that our hero has tension against, so we whip up a villain whose whole thing is that the world has gotten too varied, too complicated, and promises a return to simpler times. Maybe they're a cult leader, promising family, promising that through their high-control group everything can be reduced down to something understandable.

(There are at this point many many options for our main villain and his/her powers. Maybe it's a woman who makes the world go still and silent in her wake. Maybe it's a time-traveler acting as a specter of the past. Maybe it's someone with mind control powers seeking to expand their reach until they can put the whole city under their thumb. Maybe they're a former superhero who couldn't take the constant desires and demands of the public and have twisted into a dirty form of self-induldgence. There are many "villain" answers to the question of alienation.)

So we add in some side characters. They should also approach our theme in some way. Here's a quick and dirty brainstorming list:

A friend who is terminally cape-brained, always keeping track of their specific domain of expertise, retreating hard into a niche where they know everything, which takes monumental effort and a sort of nervous anxiety approach to information. Probably a superhero with an info power, name of Dispatch or something.

A father who is blissfully unaware, but shows the flaws of that approach, always ignorant, knowing little about the goings on of the greater world, alienated in his own way by that, unable to connect to people because of it.

A government handler/contact who is a friend, but always pushing our hero, always ready with another thing that needs doing, another cause that needs nudging, a criminal manhunt to help with. A symbol of pressure, anxiety, and overload, but friendly in a way that makes it tough to say no. (A stand-in for the kind of friend who always wants to tell you about the latest atrocity, who doesn't quite demand that you know the name of every person brutalized by the police, or the latest list of people whose shittery has come to light, but does seem mildly disappointed that you're not as tuned in.)

A mentor figure who burned out, maybe a speedster who ran too fast, did too much, let themselves get run into the ground both figuratively and literally.

I think that this is a good enough starting point that if I wanted to writing this story, I probably could, and maybe the core of it would evolve as I wrote, but I have a guiding star to look toward, and one of the great things about setting out to write a theme is that if you ever hit a bump, you can look over at the post-it note that describes the theme in a few words and hopefully, get back on track.